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.

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.

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. I suppose I was one. 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 scooted forward to hurriedly reapplly 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. But what if they did? What if they asked about it? How could anyone take a woman seriously when she has make-up all over her overly exposed butt? How could she be taken seriously dressed this way?

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.

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 me 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 and my purse 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 shaped my mouth so the words would only be heard on the other end of the line.

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

"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.

My light headedness forced me to hesitate before repeating it, since I wanted to make 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, being tall and well muscled. 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.

The conversation was led mostly by Jake. He made a lot of small talk, asking what I do, what television programs I like, and other such irrelevancies. I don't think I said a single word I didn't stuttor over, for the first few replies I made. I told him that I work as a toll booth operator, and that I like televisions shows I don't even watch. I absolutely did not want to tell these guys who I actually was! And that got me to feel less uncomfortable. I could eventually stand without leaning against the wall behind me or stuttering. It was as though I was playing a role. I got to see myself from outside myself, as though this was a TV show and I was doing as I was only vicariously.

I think I don't remember most of the conversation because the kisses were so... ambivolently accepted. Both men were cute and they didn't seem too dumb, but this was forced, unnatural. I didn't want to kiss them because Darla told me to. Jake leaned right down, put his arms around me, and pulled me in for a kiss. My surreal perspective almost cracked, but I maintained it. It was big, wet, and sloppy. Jake moved away slowly, winking. Then, Tony came in for a kiss. He came in slower, lower. 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. The motion started slowly, and I was dubious, but he completed it quickly. I wasn't ready, so could not stop him. He grabbed a hand full of butt-cheek. I must have stopped kissing, because he got slightly more aggressive. I kissed back a bit, just enough to mainatin my surreal screen, and his hand grasped my butt tenderly. I expected the kiss and my eyes were closed, so I could mostly ignore it's bothersomeness. That hand on my butt almost made my screen collapse, though. In retrospect, I would have liked to slap that man and run away into the mall, but that, too, would have shattered the screen I was looking through.

"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. Doing anything else would have been out of character, forcing me to face the facts.

"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. I don't know how I knew Darla would never know, but I couldn't imagine how she would. Besides, I already disobeyed one order, why not 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 must have 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, shouting in surprise. 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. If you do it again, 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. The plug stretched me the whole time, still sore. I wished I could relax! 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 made up my mind to continue playing Darla's game to avoid situations like this, but I had an idea for now. When I got back to class, I did what I did the previous week. I wrote everything I needed to on the board. When I sat down I used the tape on my desk, folding it over so it stuck on two sides like when you put up a poster, and stuck the skirt to my legs. Now I would neither have to get up, nor would students see how severely short my skirt was from the side. My plan even worked. Certainly, some of the boys looked at me a bit longer than I'd have liked, and it did make me suspicious they knew why I shifted my weight so often. However, it only seemed natural to look at someone who's attractive after a show like the one I put on last week. Such slutty clothes... in front of my classes. But that was not the time to self-condemn. I followed my plan through.

By lunch, I was grateful to actually stand. I had enough of boys staring at me, the reasons they would pestering me all morning, so I was flustered. Primarily, though, the butt-plug I had in began to actually chafe and otherwise annoy the insides of my cheeks, anus, and sphincter. I didn't stand until the period bell, of course. I didn't want to risk someone walking by and seeing what I had happening, if I could avoid it. When I first got up, the pressure inside was relieved slightly, but it was replaced with the sensations of bothered flesh as I actually moved towards the door. The pressure was down, but I felt proddings with each step, and it continually chafed some more on my cheeks and sphincter. I also had what felt like a very mild cramp inside my gut. But I got to the door and almost shut the door. Almost.

I shouted when Darla came around the corner of the cranny the room's door was in. She was smiling and holding a brown paper bag, "I brought lunch for both of us, bitch!", she whispered as she pulled the door shut behind her. I came pretty close to panicking. I planned on using this time to plan for the next class and writing things on the board! Not only would Darla's presence deny me of that, I'd also probably have to do humiliating bitch things as always! The wind of the shutting door and her walking past me made me realize how short the skirt was and that there was no underwear under it. I had known it before, but Darla's presence seemed to fling it to the front of my mind, whereas I was thinking of other things before she got here, I was distracted. Of course, I was distracted by the butt-plug, which was still annoying me just as much as before she got here except now I was worried she might make it vibrate, further bothering me.

I made sure the door was locked before turning to see what she was doing. As I suspected from the sounds, she had sit down in the desk she was at earlier in the day. Her backpack was to the side and the paper bag was on the desk in front of her. She was going through it as I turned. She wasn't looking at me, and I was happy about that, for the moment. She took out a sandwich in a plastic baggy, a can of coke, and a bag of baked chips. She crumpled up the bag and tried to toss it into the garbage next to my desk. She missed by almost three feet. I've never seen anyone miss a garbage can of that size by so much from about eight feet away.

"Bitch, go pick up that garbage and throw it away", she ordered, cooly. Ah, so she must have missed on purpose, to get me to bend over for her. She seemed nonchallant enough for me to consider it possible she simply missed, though. Well, that wasn't really that big a deal, so I figured I'd do it in a way she enjoyed, anyhow. She took a bite of the sandwich as I walked over to the garbage. I placed one hand on the rim of the garbage can, faced away from her, and bent over. I considered spreading my legs a bit, but that consideration was immediatly dashed by what little of my self respect remained. As it was, I bent mostly at the waste, bending my knees only out of habit, and not much. I grabbed the balled up bag at about the same moment the butt-plug began to vibrate. It wasn't Particularily strong, but it gave me the sensation of being a bit fuller and it bothered the agitated skin of my cheeks and sphincter. The fulness, I think was simply the vibrations rumbling the flesh, which was still a sensation I considered weird and, considering the source, gross.

Why hadn't she made me have the dildo in, instead? Actually, I'm sure the answer is because the dildo wouldn't stay in on it's own. Butt-plugs are designed to stay put, while dildo's are designed not to. In that regard, anyway, I was glad which she chose. But only that regard. Anyway, my attention was reoriented, back onto the garbage. I grabbed it, I must have dropped it when the plug started vibrating, and began to slowly stand. Before I had gotten halfway back up, Darla said authoritatively yet not very loudly, "No, get on your hands and knees, then come here when it's thrown away."

I was sure worse was to come, so I didn't have much worry about doing that. I got down on all fours, a bit faster than I was just rising. After getting on my knees I threw the bag away, then I put my hands on the ground. I turned my torso so that I was facing her, then turned the rest of me to catch up with the front. She motioned me to her with her finger, smiling with a full mouth. I lost the will to look directly at her, prefering the floor, and I crawled over to her. I moved with a short gate, since the plug was bothering me. When I got over there, without saying anything, she motioned me to the front of her desk. I eventually got maneuvered to being on my hands and knees, with an arched back to stick my butt up and tits out. I faced the window, my butt towards the door, the plug (not so) proudly displayed to anyone who might have come in. I worried I did not lock the door, that my memory decieved me on the point, but I had to trust that I did.

When I was finally how Darla wanted me, without giving me the chance to say anything, she put her feet up on my back. She was using me as an ottoman! A foot rest, an inanimate object, unworth any respect! Without saying a word, she reminded me of my place. Perhaps that was why she was here, only to remind me of her power. Making me wear the skirt with the butt-plug was enough, or so I thought, but obviously she disagreed.

And so I sat for some number of minutes. I couldn't move my body in such a way that I could see the time, so I had no idea how much time I had remaining of the lunch period, precious time to write on the board and prepair for fourth period. I could guess, perhaps even well, but when it came right down to it I did not know. Darla seemed to take her time eating in silense. I could hear every crunch from her chips, and she seemed to chew her sandwich longer than necessary. I accidentally distracted myself from self-pity by counting and estimating an average in the number of bites of sandwich and chips she ate between drinks of pop. Three and two, respectively. That was a guess of an average, but I have no reason to suspect it was off by any serious amount. It didn't matter anyway, it was simple distraction.

Some time later, I got distracted again, this time by the major distration of the day; the butt-plug. It began vibrating much more powerfully. Darla lifted her feet from my back and set them on the ground. I looked over and saw her sitting upright, at my strange angle, "Get up.", she ordered.

The vibrator made me stand slowly. It felt... the best word I can think of is "awkward". I simply couldn't close my legs all the way, nor could I stand straight, though I'm sure being in the same position for so long had something to do with that. The plug felt larger. The vibrations could be felt down my legs and in my belly. My feminine parts were exposed to the quaking. A loud buzzing could be heard reverberating around the room. I felt almost as though I was getting shocked by it. I felt like I had a mildly upset stomach. The label claiming these things were powerful wasn't lying. I was uncomfortable in abdomen. I simply couldn't stand properly. It wasn't possible. By the time I was finally oriented, Darla was to me.

"Full power, bitch", she said in a loud whisper, "Imagine if it were the dildo. This is exactly why I bought them. Though they go through batteries like hell."

Darla embraced me. She started kissing me. I kissed her back, but it had to be consciously forced. It didn't take too long before she pushed her tongue into my mouth. It felt awkward kissing like that without actually having any desire for the person you're kissing. I knew what to do, mechanicially, but it still felt wrong. She seemed to get excited, but I was still only reacting to her. As we kissed, she moved her hands along my back. Her nails dragged across the back of my shirt softly. The vibrations seemed a little more intense, but only frontwards. I wondered if it had shifted position, but the vibrating was strong enough that I was simply unable to tell.

Darla's hand moved down to my butt-cheek, after a few minutes. She lifted the skirt with her thumb and dug her hand under it to actually get my cheek, and my cheek covered by cloth. She made a noise and her mouth stiffened a little. it seemed an affirmation, but I couldn't tell what of. Her hand moved inward, and I felt some extra pressure on the plug. Her fingers tickled their way down from there, and I soon felt them on my vulva. I remember getting exceedingly upset, but focused so as not to get in trouble. The vibrations were flowing through her fingers, perhaps because her palm was pressing the plug. Not only was my vulva shaking a bit by itself, but now there was a second reverberation on it, with a little resistance. My anger, though, was overcome by how good it felt. She stopped kissing, or more accurately "making out", with me long enough to whisper, "You're a very wet little slut."

She followed it up by immediately thrusting some fingers into my vagina. My throat got tight with frustration, but I actually started enjoying the making-out. It seemed like Darla could tell. Her fingers moved around. I prayed they would stop. How would I be able to look at myself in the mirror ever again if she kept making me cum? I had to resist the pleasure. I thought about where I was. My classroom. Mid-day, lunch time. No doubt the end lunch bell would ring soon, and I had to not be found like this! To make matters worse, I had to write on the board still! No... I was getting close! So fast? How could she do this!

Suddenly, she withdrew her fingers, stopped kissing me, and flipped off the vibrater. I couldn't tell exactly what was going through her mind, but she seemed upset about something. I just hoped she wouldn't punish me for forgetting something small and arbitrary, again. She pushed me away and shortly announced, "You be ready for me at the door after school, bitch. On your knees, tits against the door. You'll get your lunch then. Here."

As she finished, she released me and moved over to her bag. She got into it and pulled out her video camera, "As you wait for me, this will be recording you. You'll earn bonus points for finding a good angle."

Then the bell rang. I was dazed for a moment. No food, no time to write on the board. I had to hide the camera! I grabbed the camera, but she didn't immediately let go. I looked up at her face, finally, curious why she wouldn't just let me take the camera. As though it were for any reason other than to torment me. She licked her lips and leaned closer. I hesitated, as my head seemed to be getting warmer, but leaned in to kiss her. It wasn't a long one. She released the camera almost as soon as I kissed her, and I didn't bother continuing the kiss once I got the camera. I realized that was a bad move as I walked to the door. Darla probably wanted a longer one, but I couldn't afford to hesitate. Couldn't replay the past, either. So I continued to the door and unlocked it, then quickly strode to my desk realizing I didn't want anyone to walk in while I was bending over.

I risked a glance at Darla as I put the camera in my desk drawer, and she still seemed upset. I was probably going to get it after class. That realization gave me a bit more haste. If I was in trouble anyway, I was going to write everything on the board that I needed at least. She was satisfied, it seemed. She sat in her desk without saying anything. I tried to hurry, but my legs were shaky.  To my surprise, class occured mostly normally. I was very uncomfortable in that skirt, with the plug in, but Darla didn't demand my attention in any special way, and she left like any other student at the end of class. I got the board ready for the next class before any students showed up. Of course, I didn't have to write much for that class, but I still considered it lucky. And the class after that I didn't have to put anything on the board, I realized, so I just stayed at my desk.

After class, after all the students left, I waited. I had placed the camera in my desk. I forgot how much I was dreading it, durring my last class. If placed on my desk, it would get me from behind. I wondered if that would be a good angle. What would she consider a good angle? I didn't feel like worrying about it too much, so my desk was decided upon, though I didn't contemplate it long. I almost slammed the camera down. What if she made me cum? How can she even do that? Why didn't the fact she doesn't arouse me factor into that? I decided to see a shrink. I wasn't sure what I would tell a shrink, but I had to figure that out. That was the worst thing about my situation. The fact my feminine parts betrayed me only made it appear I liked things I decidedly hated! I almost slammed my head into the blackboard, but decided to stop thinking about that.

I strpped down to nothing except the butt plug and my shoes. Suddenly realizing I forgot to lock the door, I heard something on the other side of it. I felt suddenly dizzy and unable to react. I wished to high heaven I could have reacted faster, but I didn't. I knew I had two choices. I was still near my desk, so I could dive under or behind it, even though my feet and hands, and perhaps more, might be visible. Or I could charge the door. Shut it as it opened, if I were fast enough, and then lock it. That would certainly be more suspicious than an empty room, but hiding would be more likely to end in discovery. But I did neither. I staired at the door, fully nude and exposed. Whomever came through would surely find me stairing at them, nude, with a stupidly blank stair. How would I react? How would they react? Who would it be? Why wasn't I moving?!

After several moments, the door remaned closed. Maybe nobody was there? But what if someone was, and they were just... taking a long time. ... To open a door. I realized how long the moment became, and loosened my muscles. Nobody was there. There weren't even any noises. The original was just some noise from the hallway. But what if someone started coming in, saw me, and shut the door? Was I looking at the door to have realized it? The camera! I realized I had started it before stripping! It was a pretty straight-forward camera, and it took me no time to figure out how to work it. However, I erred on the side of precaution and locked my door as I tried to figure it out! I watched the whole twenty seconds of video, and my door remained closed throughout. I caught the noise, though. After replaying it several times, I hypothesized it was a book that fell from someplace out in the hallway. I didn't care where, since I knew it wasn't someone seeing me as I was.

The experience unnerved me. I found myself looking at the window, expecting to find someone looking in on me. What if a superintendant was climbing either to the top of this building or the one across the field, in view of my window? I continually glanced that way as I set the camera back up and went over to the door. After getting on my knees and spreading them to touch the door frame and placing my hands on my head, I didn't have the guts to look. I pressed my breasts against the cold door, and could feel someone stairing at me from the window. I knew it was my over reacting, but the sensation would not go away. It seemed better to not know about it. Even if it were true, I prefered thinking it was my imagination, no matter how real it felt.

I heard some people walk along the hallway. Five times within ten minutes. I was growing bored and worried, so I eventually looked at the window. Nobody. I kept looking, thinking maybe they were hiding from me. I couldn't see anyone, so I looked back to the door. The door was boring, but I felt someone looking again. Maybe it was just the camera. With this tape, she could embarass me more. Was she really broadcasting the things I did onto the internet? I didn't think about that very long. I assumed she was bluffing, when she said that. I wouldn't allow myself to believe that. She might lose her power over me, and I my job, if that were true!

Before I expected it, slowly growing footprints and three knocks. My heartbeat increased and I felt hotter. The lock rattled then clicked. The door swung open. There was Darla. Her dress was already over her waist. She didn't spend but a moment standing still. She ordered me to grab my elbows behind my back and display my "tits". I did, and she stepped over me. She placed her vuvla over my mouth, shut the door behind her, wich pushed her vulva into my mouth harder, and she grabbed my head. I knew what she wanted, and I did it. I tried to get her off quickly, as she moaned curse words at me. Then she got off. Very quickly, I thought. And she kissed me, then opened the door, let her dress fall back in place, and she left, shutting the door behind her.

No, that was too easy. I wasn't convinced that was all she wanted. Why didn't she torment me? Why was the plug not turned on? Granted, I didn't want any of that, but it seemed... off. She barely even spoke, except in the throse of passion. But, then, I suppose I had only known her in her current position over for a small while. Could I expect more of this? I think I could stand my life if that was all she expected each day. But I knew she expected more. That day had to be an exception. Why was she in such a hurry? I continued to ponder what had happened as I stood and removed the plug. My rear felt empty afterwards, but I was more than fine with that. I placed it in my briefcase, put my clothes back on, and thought about how to get to my car. I tried for hallways that avoid the offices, and I only encountered one other teacher, sort of. It was a math teacher, but I don't think he noticed me, as I turned a corner as soon as I knew he was there. There were kids in the soccer field as I walk towards my car, but they were far away and I didn't pay any attention to whether they were paying attention to me, though it felt like they were. And I drove home. That Monday ended too easy. It almost bothered me as much as everything else.

To make matters even stranger, she only showed up outside of class a total of five more times that entire week. The very next time was the next morning, when she showed up before classes started to tell me to be at my door every day with only one of my new pairs of underwear, as originally planned. The other four times were each day after classes had gotten out. Just like on Monday, she showed up with her skirt hiked up at least most of the way, forced me to service her, and left without a word. I began thinking that this situation wasn't all that bad after all. The risk of getting caught was stil there after school each day, but it was reduced a bit. She also didn't torment me further. In class she was just as any student. By Thursday I thought that perhaps someone was simply suspicious of Darla. She was playing it cool so that whomever it was did not catch on. But she still wanted to use me for her twisted pleasure. The oral didn't last long. She came, but she was fast each time. When she showed up Friday, I was sure that was the case. She must be trying to play it down so that someone didn't catch on. But who? Who could know?

Was one of my other students the one who took the pictures last spring? I looked through my classes when I got home each night. I did have some students this year that I did last. But that was almost 20% of all of them. There was no way I could narrow anything down that way. And learning that depressed me. With Darla's growing collection of indecent pictures and video, I was firmly in her grasp. But if someone were suspicious, I needed to know. That person might ruin my career regardless what Darla does. They might also help. Why wouldn't Darla tell me. I figured I'd ask on Friday. This was something I needed to know.

After she came on Friday, before she could open the door, I asked, mekely, "Mistress?"

"Yes, bitch?", she said with a sneer. I was afraid to ask. She didn't seem to be taking any joy in my humiliation. It was still as though she were in a rush. Which I realized I should be thankful for, but this was too important.

"Mistress, is somebody on to you? Is that why you've been so fast, lately?"

She smiled. I hoped that was a good thing, but I presumed the worst. Her reply was in a more conversational tone than I had heard from her all week, "bitch, I've simply been testing you. And you're going to be punished."

She moved down and grabbed my chin as she finished speaking. I was suddenly intensly angry. How dare she let me think she, and through her I, was in danger of getting caught, of MY life getting ruined! How dare she keep information from me like that! Mostly, what the hell did I do wrong?! I did everything she said to, she's the one who told me to do less than usual! She could tell I was upset, I know, because she still held my chin, but pulled me too look into her eyes. Desperately I wanted to defy her. To slap her in her bitch mouth! She always calls me the bitch, but I wanted to show her that it was actually her!

"bitch, why did you leave the school each day?"

I was still angry. I was curious what she was leading to, but I had allowedmy anger to rouse. I replied flatly, "My work was done here."

"But I didn't give you permission, did I?", she said teasingly.

"I don't need permission to go home!", Even though I allowed my anger to show, my arms were still behind my back, my legs still spread out, and very little was hidden under my blue thong panties. I wasn't ready for it. I had almost gotten used to a lack of physical abuse. She slapped me hard, and I almost fell over. She slapped me again, on the other cheek, just as hard.

"I'm your Mistress, you little whore bitch.", she said evenly, letting it roll out of her mouth, "and I will ruin your life if you forget your place, do I make myself fucking clear?"

I realized I had moved my hands to my sides, to stay balanced. I slowly put them back behind my back, I swallowed my pride and anger, "Yes, Mistress. Perfectly clear."

I wanted to say 'fucking clear', but I knew she wouldn't let that slide. She placed a piece of paper on my head and left just like she did those other days. This time, though, she left the door ajar. Nobody could see in, but it obviously couldn't be locked. I read the note. It said, 'The camera's still rolling. If I see you move except to read this note for the next fifteen minutes, you will be even more severely punished. Bring the camera to that Mall I had you go to last weekend, on this Saturday night, but leave it in your car. You will be wearing ONLY a coat. You will not have your purse, and you will keep everything you bring with you in the coat, and that will be only your keys. You will get there at 9PM, one hour before the mall closes. You will go directly to the restrooms near the main entrance and wait in the third stall. If you're even one minute too late, you will be whipped on your both your ass and tits like I whipped your ass last week. If you solve the puzzles quickly enough, your punishment will be less severe.'

The note was written neatly, but something about the way she wrote it seemed different. I put the note back on my head, careful not to get punished more severely than what she was already going to do to me, I looked at the clock, slowly closed the door with my breasts, and waited. I could still feel eyes looking at me from behind. The fact that I heard movement out in the hallway made the wait horrible. I didn't shut the door, but I was ready to if I heard or saw anything that hinted someone would see me. When I finally got dressed and left, the building seemed emptier than usual.

I didn't presume Darla wanted me to be barefoot at the mall. After all, it's against the rules. I might have gotten kicked out before getting into the bathroom. I'm sure she didn't want that. I wore tennis shoes to match my coat, since tennis shoes go with just about anything. I made sure to shave before heading out, but I had grown used to doing that anyhow. I stopped even thinking why I was doing it, it was just an automatic part of my showers, now. I even ate relatively healthily earlier in the day. There was a slight breeze, but I wasn't too cold if I didn't stay outside too long. Again, the drive took about an hour, but I left earlier than last time. I wasn't as scared this time. I think it was because I didn't think about what I was going to have to do. Also, there were less cars and I got to keep my coat on, this time. I didn't allow my imagination to wander. I could only see a handful of people, and they were leaving. I could tell they were looking at my fully exposed legs, but I avoided embarrassment by not thinking about it and reminding myself it was dark. Well, I was embarrassed, I won't lie, but not as much as I expected. I was more comfortable with the situation than I should have been. I knew that, but I didn't allow myself to worry. Maybe I had developed that as a habit, to cope with what was happening. I showed up in the third stall with ten minutes to spare. I waited what I presumed was most of an hour before Darla showed up. Other people used the bathroom, but nobody said anything about me or the stall I was in. I just acted like a pair of feet in a stall. Not many people. Darla was, by my estimate, the seventh person to enter the bathroom.

"bitch?', I heard her say loudly at the door to the stall.

"Yes, Mistress?", I asked. My voice cracked in the middle of 'Mistress'. A part of me thought nothing was really going to happen, I guess. I felt that Darla was going to go softer on me, like during the week before. But then she was there. I knew I was wrong. Tonight was real. I had convinced myself tonight wasn't really going to happen, and that's why I was able to relax and avoid embarrassment But there was Darla. I suddenly realized how little I had on. Shoes and a coat. I was totally indecent. Even if nobody could see any of my privates, my coat simply wasn't long enough to allow me to do simple things, like sit or even bend at any significant angle, without showing off. Except I wasn't showing off, I was being forced to display myself to strangers! I almost had an outburst, but I remembered that my life as I knew it was at steak, so I calmed myself.

"Invite me in, bitch.", she ordered with mock patience. I'm not sure how, but it was there. I don't know how long my thoughts were, in between my answer and her mocking, but I knew I took too long.

"Please come in, Mistress.", I said softly, as I unlocked and opened the door. I hoped I was hiding my anxiety and anger well enough that she either didn't notice or care. Or maybe I should have allowed her to notice just in case she would care? No, she put me through too much to presume she cared about what I want.

She did come in, and she didn't hesitate or move slowly. I almost sighed or trembled or something. I couldn't be sure what I was holding back, any more. She had a large shoe box in her arms. It was pink and had red lines all over it, but nothing that would indicate what kind of shoes were inside. She set it down at my feet, then stood right back up, opened my coat, and wrapped her arms around me. I froze in fear. Why was I at the mall naked? What horrible idea could she be forcing me through in a public place after close? Well, at least it was after close, I reassured myself (slightly). She moved her hands from around me and started caressing my breasts with soft, circular motions. Then she licked and sucked on my nipples. I was already a little cold and wasn't sure if my nipples got hard from her or if they already were, but I told myself it was the cold. Still, I couldn't help but think of how she had forced me to orgasm. Somehow, that felt like the biggest injustice about the whole situation. How can I physically enjoy any of this if I mentally hate it? It doesn't make sense, and my recent research seems to agree. She smiled at me, as though she was not a manipulative, immoral bitch. She could have been cute if I didn't hate her. In a platonic sense. She slid her arms out from under my coat and bent at the knees to open the box. I could make out dark clothing, including a set of knee high, high-heeled boots. She reached in and took out a little plastic box about three or four inches on each side. She set it on the toilet paper dispenser and shut the shoe box.

"In this box is a timer. When it buzzes, you must leave this stall, go through the door at the back of the bathroom, not the door patrons come through, and walk down the hallway. You're going to be behind the stores, in the area employees use to get around. By the time the buzzer goes off, all the employees except night security will be gone. On the back of the first door you come to, there will be a note from me. Read it, and follow the instructions.", She motioned to the box at our feet, "This box contains everything you will wear tonight, plus one magazine and several tools. Instructions are written on the top of the lid. Follow them."

Then, she kissed me deeply, and I put effort into kissing her back without slapping her.  It never gets easier. I promised myself I'd try to please her, but I simply wasn't sexually attracted to her. Not consciously, anyhow! Kissing her under these conditions made the cold dissipate due to my anger. She looked me over and held out her hand, "Give me your coat, and those shoes will cost you points."

I took my coat and shoes off and handed them to her. She looked me up and down, licked her lips, and reminded me, perhaps not on purpose, how exposed and vulnerable I was. I feared my anger was apparent but she didn't delay, she left. She shut the stall door behind her and I could hear her exist the bathroom the same way she wanted me to go. There was no reason to wait, so I opened the box. The dark black instructions written in marker on the underside of the lid read as follows;

1; Use the douche and the enema. Make sure you're thoroughly clean!

2; Put all items of clothing on in the manner it's obvious they go, except the gloves. The boots were difficult to find, but I managed it. There's a collar type thing at the top of them. Snap the locks snuggly into place after they're on. Everything else is intuitive.

3; Use the lube on the butt plug and the dildo. Thrust the dildo into yourself five times, then insert the butt plug. Put more lube on the dildo, and thrust five more times, then remove the butt plug and apply more lube, then replacing it. Repeat until the lube begins to drip down both of your legs, but repeat the cycle no fewer than ten times.

4; Squeeze a few gobs of lube onto each tit and all over your torso. Moisten your tits, your torso, legs, and ass. Get as shiny as you can

5; Put the gloves on.

6; You may read the magazine as you wait for the buzzer.

7; If your tits or ass ever get dry, take off a glove and lube them again from your cunt and asshole, since those parts will have some spare lube, then put the glove back on.

8; I won't tell you how, but I will know if you don't follow these instructions exactly, so don't get into even more trouble.

I had a sinking feeling in my stomach as I read the list, and my stomach stayed low when I was done. The douche and enema were in either boot. I I douched first, since I had done it before and would not consider it disgusting. The fluid seemed fairly cold and it was uncomfortable. I feared someone would come in while I expelled it and that they'd somehow know what I was doing. And would it normally bother me if someone knew I was douching in a public bathroom? What would get me to?! This whole situation was artificial and scary. Douching is something you do in private, period.

I had never used an enema before, and it was exactly as gross feeling as I imagined. It felt like I had diarrhea while I was filling my bowels up and releasing. The nozzle on the end of the tube was easy enough to get into my anus, but it just made me realize how exposed I would be if security came in and found me. What would I tell them? To reduce the odds that I'd get caught doing something that compromising, I hurried. The instructions on the box said to do it twice for best results, and there were two solutions. I figured I'd do it twice, since Darla would mysteriously know what I did. I thought I could hear people walking by the bathroom doors, so instead of allowing myself to worry about it I quickly gave myself a second enema. The second solution came out really clean, but it felt just as gross when I did it. Ironically enough, it made me feel dirty and wrong, when I was technically getting cleaner.

Without any protection in the form of clothes and feeling violated, I looked through the box. The clothes consisted of the following things; The twice mentioned boots, which had claspy things at the top and near the ankles, and seemed like they'd be very tight; pleather dress gloves, like the kind you'd wear with an expensive cocktail dress except made out of plastic; A thick, black belt about three inches wide, a black ski mask, and a hair tie. After checking a fourth time, I began to get fearful if Darla was going to have me rob a store. In the nude! Those clothes obviously didn't count as such. They wouldn't cover anything I'd want covered! And they didn't. The boots were tight in the calves, but well-fitting for the foot. The clasps had small locks attached to them. I could adjust their position, though. I adjusted them to be as comfortable as I suspected I could get in them, and locked them. Where would anyone find boots like those? They clacked on the floor, too, so I'd have to move slowly to reduce how much noise I made. Perhaps Darla didn't want me taking them off to avoid that clacking. And I know myself, perhaps I would have.

The gloves, on the other hand, protected me. I couldn't get my fingerprints on anything. I knew I was going to be doing something illegal, and I might even get some jail time if I got caught.... but how much? For walking around a mall after close in the nude, the punishment couldn't be any more severe than what I'd get for having sex with a student. Could it? What if I robbed a store? With the context of being nude, would I be able to teach again? The mask did something miraculous. Right before I decided I'd try to find a way home --nude and without keys to my car-- I felt that I was safe. Not wholly. In fact, almost not at all. But My face being hidden behind a mask gave me just enough nerve to continue what I was doing. Not only was my face covered from being identified on cameras, which reassured my consciously, but it made me feel like what was happening was less real. I could almost pretend I was simply watching what was happening from some other place. The belt fit snuggly, but not tightly. It served to accentuate my hips, and of course the fact I wasn't wearing any pants or a shirt. I got the feeling I would have started crying then, but the mask still had that "not really me" feeling going.

Before putting the gloves on, I got out the dildo, butt plug, and the lube. The lube was at least twelve ounces and was exceptionally viscous, more than I'd have expected. The toilet looked clean, but I didn't trust it anyhow. I left the stuff by the box at my feet as I stared down at the dildo I held. Of course I didn't want to do what I was about to do. I just... I want my private parts to be private. I didn't want to have stuff shoved into them on command. But I already came here. Before actually being on the spot, you don't have to think about it. The threat of losing my career and getting prison time is a big motivation when the horrible thing I have to do to avoid it isn't happening, but when it is happening it still rattles the nerve. But I decided I'd have to get it in, so I pretended I was in the high school bathroom again, with Chad.

What is it with me and Chad? Why was I stuck on him like this? Why hadn't I dated anyone since him? Why did I masturbate more often than I used to after he left? He was the sexiest man I had ever known, sure. He could even turn me on in a situation like this, when he wasn't even around! Why? He had an average sized penis, from my experiences, he wasn't particularly impressive physically, so why? It had to be his personality. How was he different from every other guy I had ever been with? I still couldn't figure it out. Regardless the reason, it allowed me to use the dildo without loosing my mind.

I don't often have epiphanies. Usually I use reasoning and think of something and the answer comes to me methodically. But it hit me very suddenly that time. He had a commanding personality. When I was in high school myself, all the boys were... well, boys. They were more interested in playing than in serious conversation. I never pretended I had anything serious with any of them. I fell in love, sure, but I never fooled myself into thinking that would last forever. At the time, it seemed like it would, but I reminded myself not to get my hopes up. And I don't think my hopes ever did get higher than they should have. In college I had a few boyfriends. They tended to be intellectuals like myself, though I don't like calling myself one. Praise of one's self is often exaggerated or outright wrong, and I'd rather be an intellectual than tell people I am one. If they pay enough attention, they'll figure it out. College me thought I wanted that, a smart, educated man. But every one of those men I had before Chad had one thing in common; They always asked me what I wanted.

Chad never asked me. He simply did. He made a decision, and I went along with it. I may have tried to change his mind, and I was even successful once or twice, but he never asked permission and he never apologized for being presumptuous. He wasn't rude, my any measure, he simply took charge and made things the way he wanted them to be. And he wanted me, he pursued me, and he got me due to that. I knew I let him call the shots, but I had never before realized I WANTED him to! But what does that say about me? If I want a man who takes control of me, what of my own dreams and passions? But... my passion was for him, and he never interfered in my other passions. He wanted me for me, and made decisions I was comfortable with. This epiphany lead me to hypothesize why Darla was able to make me orgasm. I liked being dominated. And when I thought that word, "dominated", it seemed almost offensive. My entire life I had presumed being dominated was a bad thing. Maybe it is. But I seemed to have some sort of craving for it in some capacity. I wished I were able to explore that with someone I respected and trusted, though, instead of a vile little girl. Then, maybe this would allow me to get over my strange attraction to domineering men. But if I like it, is it really bad? Anyway, I didn't have time to think about that. I had gotten the dildo in, but I had stopped to think for upwards of a minute. Thinking of Chad (which was now a bit awkward, but also a bit more exciting, somehow), I began to thrust the dildo.

No sooner did I get to the third thrust did someone walk into the bathroom. I didn't want attention drawn to my stall. It might be security... what if I were told to leave?! I'd have been found like that! What would they do when they saw I had a ski mask on?! What if the security officer were less than noble?! I could delay, but certainly not long enough. My tears certainly wouldn't do much for me as I was. I stopped thinking and picked up the lube, placing it on the toilet paper dispenser. I picked up the butt plug and didn't really have much of a choice but to put it in. I had already lubed it up when I lubed the dildo, so that saved some time. I scooted my foot as I tried to get it in, and the boot clacked. I realized how I looked. I was standing with my legs spread almost as wide as the stall, one hand shoving a dildo in my vagina and the other forcing a plug into my butt, a ski mask on, and no possible way to hide the fact I was essentially naked. Worst of all, I realized how loudly I was breathing. There was almost zero background noise, so I had to control my breathing. I slowed it as much as I could while still actually breathing. I slowly pressed the plug against my sphincter, and I realized how anxious I was. I was having a hard time even starting it in. I breathed deeply a few times, slowly. I pressed again, and it started to squeeze in.  I pressed evenly, allowing my anus to relax and accept the plug. I breathed heavier than I wanted to, and it slid out a little when I tensed in realization I could have been heard. I focused on breathing deep and slow, but mostly quiet. I relaxed again and the plug slid in a little faster. Still, I didn't have a lot of experience with butt plugs, even counting recently. It felt like most of it was in, but I didn't dare look because that would make the boots move and clack. My asphincter felt like it was getting warm, and there was some pain, but then the plug slid the rest of the way mush faster than I expected. My tensing made it slide in faster, and it pressed against my insides with a mild pain. I grunted slightly when that happened, so I stopped moving at all to listen to what was happening with the other person in the bathroom. My mind wasn't on that at all until then.

My feet seemed at the right angle to possibly belong to someone sitting on the toilet, so I didn't move them any more. I stood silently, holding my breath. The stall next to me opened, then shut. Someone was in it. Why the stall next to mine?! It seemed far too quiet in the bathroom, as I could hear every sound that lady was making. It was almost obvious the little old lady was not security, but there was still the chance she somehow manages to figure out what I was doing. What if she asked for some toilet paper? A silly concern, as I could then hand her some like I normally would, but what if she realized what the shine on my hand was? I wasn't anywhere as relaxed as I would have liked, and the butt plug seemed to press against a particular thing inside me, making me want to stand straighter to make it hurt less. I stood there for so long that my legs got tired and the imbalance of the high heels was made obvious as I wobbled. I had to stand in the same position for so long that my legs started to burn, but I dared not move. I couldn't afford any attention. The awkward position and my wanting to remain silent and still added up, though. The dildo seemed to be rubbing my insides tighter, due to the dildo, and it felt bad. I couldn't move the dildo at all, though, because the woman might hear the squish and realize something was happening. The more time passed, the more painful my lower body got, but all I could do was breath.

I heard the lady finish her business. She flushed the toilet, left the stall, washed her hands, and left the bathroom. I listened to be sure that was in fact her leaving and not someone else coming in. I didn't finish the third thrust of the dildo. Not only was I not thinking about how many thrusts I had already done, but my vagina was sore. It felt better when the dildo was out, so I tenuously tried to put it back. I didn't want to, but it wasn't really an option. So I put it back in and stroked twice. It felt only very slightly sore, and that could have been because the butt plug was making it feel tighter. I was envious of that ladies ability to just leave. I thrust five times, took out the plug, and reapplied lube to both. Getting the plug in the second time made me just as sore as the first time, but I wasn't as anxious due to the lady in the stall right next door, so it seemed easier anyway. It probably took just as long, though. In fact, it never actually got easier. Since I was using so much lube, not only was it not easier, it felt grosser each time.

When I was FINALLY done with that, I decided to read the magazine. It seemed close enough to closing that I'd either get told to leave by someone, or there wouldn't be anyone. I wasn't really sure which I'd prefer. The magazine was a typical women's magazine. I originally thought it'd be a porno or something, but I was pleasantly surprised, and placed it on the floor where I could see. I at the very least got to enjoy what I read, and it distracted me from the irritation the dildo and butt-plug inflicted on my soft tissues. It felt amazing not having either of those in me. I was actually relaxed,instead of trying to force myself to relax to fit things inside of me. Well, not relaxed, but the elevation of having that part over with made me seem relaxed. I was still really stressed out, but compared to moments earlier I was doing much better.

After reading several articles, the thought that I had no idea what time it was haunted me, suddenly. I was pretty sure the mall was closed, and was curious why I didn't hear an announcement. It seems like most malls announce things like that somehow. Anyway, I had to get the lube out again to lubricate my whole body. I didn't have to spread any onto my butt, as it was already all over it, so I put some on my breasts, legs, and shoulders. I was slippery. The breeze from under the stall was exaggerated by the moisture and I felt even more exposed. I rubbed the excess lube on the outside of my thighs, and put the gloves on. I put the dildo, butt-plug, and lube in the box, leaving the lid open. I guess I was too distracted worrying over how much damage I was doing to my sex organs. I didn't even waste energy being angry at Darla over it, right then. I even if I did get actually hurt I'd eventually heal, so it didn't matter too much. But why did a lubricated dildo and butt-plug do that. Was I just extra sensitive? Was it because I got turned off but kept going?

I started thinking about things as I waited, again. I wondered what Chad would do if he saw me the way I was right then. Perhaps he'd take me to the bed store and tell me to kneel before him to start things off. He wouldn't be too gentlemanly since I was obviously ready for sex anyway. He would tell me, as I fellated him, that it's good I got all oiled up for him, because it makes me shiny and he thinks it accentuates my beautiful curves. The curves he simply must have. He overheard me talking to myself as I realized what differentiated him from every other man I dated (even though I don't think I actually said anything), so he'd be sure to take control of situations more often. I read almost the entire magazine, even though I didn't remember doing it due to my fantasy. I even reapplied the lube on my breasts and parts of my back, but my butt was still sopping. The buzzer took what seemed forever. I started wondering if it had gone off and I somehow hadn't noticed. Perhaps Darla was playing a trick on me, trying to get me to stay in here all night, waiting for the buzzer, just to be found like this in the morning. Might that be preferable? And there was Darla again. I suddenly hated my situation once more. My thoughts were away from Chad, the thing that seemed to keep me sane throughout this, and onto the cause of it all!

And that's when I had my second epiphany. If Chad were making me do this, I'd actually be enjoying it. How does a woman realize things about her sexuality like this so suddenly? Was my subconscious simply making me think this stuff so that I could handle having to do it? So I imagined walking around the mall like Darla would have me, except Chad was telling me to do it. I'd be naked and vulnerable, but nobody would be around. He was going to surprise me. He would be the mall security, and he'd hand-cuff me, and then he'd have his way with me. The fear of getting caught would be there, we'd be role-playing, I'd be hand-cuffed... there's no way to tell how I'd have really liked it, since it was just fantasy, but I thought I would have liked it.

Why hadn't I worked on figuring out how to remove Darla's power over me last week?! I need her out of my life permanently. I need Chad back in my life. I needed to explore this side of myself with someone I actually wanted to explore it with. And that was now another wrong Darla had committed against me. Instead of allowing me to explore this sort of kink with Chad, she's forcing me to do it with her. With a girl. And then I cried. I fell to my knees, which hurt slightly, and put my hands up to my face. I hid from my environment, covering my front with my arms. I rested my behind on the heel of the boots, but it was hard to keep it there due to being slippery. Which just made me cry harder. I leaned forward to get my butt off the heels. My head was against the door, but it still seemed better than having my butt on those slippery heels. I don't know how long I cried, but I finally managed to consciously calm myself down. I took the mask off and wiped my tears off on the back of it. When I put it back on, I was only watching, again. I wasn't really here. It was an illusion, or maybe I was. And then I stood back up.

Before I lost my patience entirely and set out on my own, the buzzer did go off. Until it happened, I didn't realize how loud it would seem. It was trying to call attention to any security or remaining employees within earshot. And I was sure earshot was a wide range. I cupped the box with my gloved hands, but it didn't do any good. The ringing was over soon thereafter anyhow. I had to be collected. I concentrated on being calm. I had to pretend I was simply watching through someone else's mask. I couldn't help but wait and listen for people. I tried to focus my hearing through the mask, towards each door. After what I estimated was three minutes, with nobody coming to investigate the ringing noise, I put the magazine in the box, shut the box, picked it up, flushed the toilet, and stood up. I wiped off my knees, though it did no good, and sighed loudly.

I opened the stall door, and slowly walked out. Each step clacked loudly enough to echo slightly from the bathroom wall. Before actually leaving the stall, I leaned down to see if there were feet anywhere. The clacking of my shoes got me anxious and I wanted to double check. There were none besides my own, so I stepped out. The breeze from simply walking while so moist was enough to remind me what I wasn't wearing. I glared at the door I came in, the one customers enter. I got the impression someone was going to come in at any moment. But I couldn't hurry too fast or the quickly clacking heels would rouse the person's curiosity. But would slow clacks really be any better? Besides I was still clearing my head from the strong emotions I had just felt and the tears I had spilled. I could feel that my vagina and anus were penetrated recently, loosened a bit, and dripping. I felt like I was, indeed, perverted. I had gone along with the plan, after all. The lubricant felt like a loose cum dripping from inside both of my orifices. I was sure to be found and considered a pervert among the ranks of pedophiles and rapists. All the more reason to hurry, I figured. If I were found, I'd be found here. I had to get behind the door.

I clacked towards the back door quickly. The way my breasts slid along each other and the box concerned me. I was so slippery and slick that I felt even shadows would slide off of me, and I was scared to touch anything in case it made dust and dirt stick to me via the lube. I opened the door to see a long hallway with piping near the ceiling. The breeze was stronger back here, even though it wasn't actually strong at all. My sense of touch was simply sensitive to wind with how wet I was, which was something I realized each time I moved. The breeze was cold, too. I huddled up a bit, clacking my way through a well-enough lit back hallway, the shadows sliding off of me. The door shut quietly behind me, as it was made to do, but it still shook the air of the hallway. I heard a click as the door shut. It was locked. I checked. It locks on the side I was on, but you still needed a key to unlock it. Such a strange design. But I guess it made sense, since it lead to a bathroom. Unfortunately, I was trapped. More, I guess. Now I was in this hallway, and I had to press on. A moment before, I wanted to leave the unsafe bathroom, but then I realized it was actually a good place to hide in. I was truly without a place to hide. Someone really could come around the corner at any moment and find me.

My clacking was louder than the door closing and locking, as I quickly marched down the hall. I knew then that I would have certainly taken the boots off if it were possible, which is why Darla made it impossible. Fifteen feet down the hundred or so foot hallway was the first door, on the right. There was a lock on it, and I was concerned it would be locked, too. If so I could not get further instructions, and would be forced to stumble around without hints what Darla wanted or how to avoid getting caught. I presumed Darla would not really let me get caught. Perhaps it was naive, but it kept me sane.

The door was not locked on the other side, but it was dead bolted on my side. After looking the part of the fool I felt and clanging into the door, and leaving a partial torso lubricant print, I slid that over and opened it. It opened inward, towards me, making me feel even more dumb. I could see a truck bay. It was a wide open area, and some of the bays were fully open, but there were many things lined against the walls. The racks and boxes and pallets would not hide me very well, if I had to hide, though. Two of the bays at the far right had truck trailers backed up to them. I hurried in case the truckers were around. Anyone could have come in through the open bay doors, too. Anyone could be lurking behind a bunch of pallets or trash bins. At least I could hide in here, unlike the hallway. It'd be very difficult, especially with the clacking boots, but it was technically possible, and that helped relieve me as much as it made me nervous a rapist was around the next stack of boxes. An already naked someone who's vagina and anus had been opened and lubricated for them could hardly put up much of a fight. I convinced myself the odds of it were poor, but it didn't reassure me much. The bay, unlike the hallway, was dark. The breeze was uninhibited and cold. I saw a piece of paper taped to the door on that side, flapping in the slow wind. I checked the hallway before retreating all the way back in. Nobody was in it, and the door shutting was louder than my boots clacking. I waited for a moment, listening for approaching footfalls, but I heard none. Back in the hallway, I couldn't tell which seemed safer. The hallway was less likely to have rapists, but it also made it impossible to hide. Either way, I stayed where I was, since I couldn't read well without the light.

As I read the note, I realized staying warm might be a problem. It could have been the cold bay, but I had goosebumps. That included my nipples, a fact that made me worried about being found by a man even more. I had never actually been scared of rape, before. Even when Darla did it, though it was rape, it wasn't as scary as the impression someone might rape you violently, without a care in the world for your safety. And I was prepared for exactly such an event. I was even worried that's what Darla had planned. I didn't consider it likely, but the fear wouldn't leave me alone. I finally distracted myself from my hard nipples and fears enough to read the now partially lubricated paper;

-bitch,

What's happening now is that you're going to go around the mall, dressed just as you are, solving riddles. Each riddle will give you a hint where the next riddle is. That is, if you solve it, it will. You will not find either me or a way out of here with your coat or car unless you solve all of the riddles. I know the person who works the cameras, so I know they do not record anything without a button first being pressed for that particular camera. This person is going to ignore your image in the monitors for all practical purposes. However, there are two security officers elsewhere in the building, and they have radios. If anyone reports seeing you, the person watching you in the cameras will report seeing you right back, and where you are, and even where you're going. You will be recorded, and, if you don't escape, possibly arrested. Unless you think of something to convince them not to call the police, haha!

The sheets of paper each riddle is written on will fit in the wrist of your gloves or a small pocket on the inside of your belt, until you find a place to dispose of them. This paper, however, must be thrown in the garbage in this bay, inside the shoe box, along with everything else in it. Your first riddle will be found on the side of the garbage bin farthest from the door you went through to get in the bay. That's also the bin you're throwing the shoe box into. The riddles will be hidden where they will not be found without being specifically looked for. You're allowed to evade the security men in any way you can think of, so long as no physical harm comes to them and you do not alter how you're dressed. This is your punishment, and the number of riddles was determined based on your disobedience. Now go, have fun.

XOXO, Your Mistress.

She couldn't be serious. This was big. This was potentially a lot of trouble I could get in. I could lose my career without my affair with Chad being exposed! Maybe. I didn't really know what kind of trouble I could get in, but I knew it was big. Then, probably not bigger than having sex with a student. Two, students, counting Darla! The worst part was that I was already stuck! I really didn't have an option! I was already in this situation. Even if I managed to storm right to where Darla was, she had a security team on her side! She could have had me arrested at any moment. I had to play the game! If I weren't so scared of getting caught, I would have screamed obscenities. I even thought that she might just be trying to get me raped. I still seriously doubted the idea, but I couldn't stop worrying. That bay seemed to scare me. Getting raped really did concern me, with regard to that room. Hobos could be in there for the night. or gang members, or simply horny, immoral truckers. Since I had no power over the situation, I opened the door back up, and the wind hit me again. I was officially cold. I picked up the box and clacked right over to the farthest garbage bin. I expected someone to jump out at me. Perhaps only to scare me, perhaps to rape me, but I walked into the trap knowing what it was. Slowly. The clacking alerted the rapist of my presence,but he never showed up. I was relieved, but I still had to go back to the door, and someone could still walk right in a bay door.

The garbage bin was one of the large ones garbage trucks lifted with the forks on their rear end. It was taller than I was. I stopped, shaking in both anger and cold..The cold wind hit me from the bay doors, and made me feel like someone was sneaking in. I looked, and nobody was, but I kept looking for a bit longer. Then I realized the longer I looked the more likely someone who would come right in would. I opened the lid as quietly as I could and tossed the box in. It landed on something soft, and so wasn't very loud. I softly closed the lid, and leaned to look at the side. Nothing. I clacked over to the other side and found the note. This note was much smaller, written on a post-it. I glanced around, worried someone sneaked in while I was walking in my loud boots, and saw that nobody had. Nobody I could see, anyhow. I ran over to the door. I tried to hold my breasts to stop them from jiggling and hurting, but they were slippery and I was freaking myself out too much to actually be concerned with that. I was more concerned with getting out of that bay. I opened the door quickly and jumped through, pulling it shut behind me. The hallway still had no place to hide, but it still felt safer than the bay. Plus, it had enough light for me to read the note I had. It said;

- bitch,

When you need to know

what you need to know

You come to me and borrow

but you can't get any dough.

XOXO, Your Mistress

The first riddle was actually really easy. It was obviously the riddle was about the library, and there was only one in the mall. I had several problems. Problem one; I didn't know where the library was. Problem two; How would I get into the library. Problem three; How do I know where to look for the riddle. The last line must be the key in that. 'Dough'. Maybe it was in a book about baking? Wherever it would be found, I might figure it out on the way, or after getting there. How I was, I wasn't making any progress at all, and I had no place to hide if one of the security guards (or worse) came this way. I began walking down the hallway. As I took my first, slow, step, I folded the note and put it in that pocket in the belt, which in fact was there. Right in the front, too. The boot clacked, softly, since I put my foot down slowly, and rolled my foot forward so that less of the boot hit the floor at the same time. Even though it was quieter than normal walking, it would take a very long time to walk around the whole mall that way. My second slow step is when I got the bright idea to look for a map. Every mall I ever went to before had a map near each entrance. I was sure I remembered such a map the last time I was here, though I was worried it might have been my imagination giving me hope even though it may be false. Either way, going to an entrance would give me sort of a corner to hide in. The middle of the mall and the large hallways were wide open and connected to the whole mall at several intersections. The corners the doors were in would eliminate some chance that someone walking down one hallway would see me when they got to such an intersection.

On my third slow step I realized that someone might see me through the doors, then. Perhaps one of the security men would be in a vehicle, driving around the parking lot, thereby increasing the odds I got seen. However, I had to find a map, and they were near the doors, so I was going there anyway. I'd deal with hiding when it was actually an option and I had an idea of the layout of my surroundings out there such that I could actually consider it. By the end of my third step, I stopped. Those steps were taking far too long. I'd never get anywhere without being caught if I walked like that because I would never get to my destination. I'd be out in the open for too long. But if I moved faster, my boots would clack loudly and draw attention to where I was via sound. For a moment, I thought I was about to have a nervous breakdown. I thought getting caught was inevitable. But then I got another idea. I could crawl.  But then I realized how that would be disastrous; I had lube on my knees. I would leave a trail of it. I could wipe it off, but Darla would somehow find out, and she wanted me to keep my whole body moist with lube. I couldn't even get to a store with towels or knee pads or something because she told me not to alter how I was dressed.

The solution came to me after I almost leaned against the wall, but stopped when I realized it would remove a bunch of lube and would be a hint of my passing (even though I already left something like that on the door to the bay). My boot scuffed sideways. I could drag my feet! It was such an easy solution, I felt badly for having taken so long to think it up. I tried a practice slide, and the boot was much quieter. It still made noise, but only slightly more than when I was walking slowly, and certainly less than walking faster. The noise was different, too. It was a sliding noise instead of a clacking, but that wasn't relevant. I was either heard or I wasn't. I slid several slides before I scuffed the floor and my boot made a squeak like a sports shoe on a basketball court. I was going too fast, without spreading the force across the whole bottom of the boot. I would have to be careful about that. A few more scoots and I was to the first door on the left. It was to a candy store. I figured that the closest entrance was probably the one the bathroom I came from was off of, so the sooner I got to the hallway in front of the stores the better. I could go to the entrance I came in and look at the map there. The door was locked, though.

When I started sliding away from that door, I realized how ridiculous my slides made me look. I had to slide one foot forward and counterbalance it with my opposite arm, as though I were skating. If i were caught, it'd look like I were enjoying myself. Oh well, I had to get where I was going somehow, and the lack of hiding places in that hallway was starting to get to me. Especially since I was still making noise, just not as much as I would by walking. With how otherwise quiet the mall was, I was still concerned primarily about the noise I was making. I slid to the next door on the left and tried it. It, too was locked. Before the next door on the left, there was a cranny on the right. In the cranny, a flight of stairs led up  to a another flight around a corner. There was no elevator, so the only way  could go up the stairs was by making a lot of noise or going very slowly. The elevator dinging would be noisy, anyway. The stairs wouldn't get me to my destination anyway, so why take the risk? Well, they could have maybe gotten me to the other side of the stores, to the main hallway, but I had no idea to suspect it'd be faster than the way I was already going.

The next door on the left was locked, as was the next few. At the end of the hall, however, there was a double door. It was unlocked. Since it was my best option, between it and going upstairs, I pressed the right door open. Some air rushed by to remind me how naked I was. I held the door ajar so I could see outside of it. It was a secondary entrance into the mall. I was in a hallway larger than the one I was currently in, but not nearly as large as a primary hallway with stores lined on either side. A buzz from the other side of the door hinted at vending machines, another double door was across the way from me, and a primary hall was a hundred or so feet to my left. I realized, then, how the hallway I was in was actually much cozier than the one I was about to go into. I had doors blocking the way, and I could retreat to the stairs if I saw someone coming this way. Maybe it was the masks illusion, but I figured I had to keep going, or else I would just be stuck where I was all night, into the morning.

I got up the courage to go through the doors and emerge on the other side. To my right a few yards were doors to outside. Glass doors. The hallway I was then in was darker than the one I was in before it, but it was darker outside still. I couldn't see outside, but I could tell cars were going by on the road, across the parking lot. It made be feel intensely exposed. Anyone could come to the doors, or even look from quite a ways away, and see me standing around in the buff. And what if a security man came down the hallway I was headed to and found me while I was staring stupidly at the dark doors? I hurriedly slid down the hallway, to the larger, more open one. Fortunately, it wasn't well lit, what with the mall being closed. It did feel like the shadows slid off of my wet body, but I knew better. I slid along the right wall, since the right end of the major hallway is where someone would most likely be coming from. As I neared the major hallway I realized just how big it was, and just how visible I'd be walking in it. Stores lined the sides, and there were benches, trees, kiosks, or even sales tents along the middle. Those would give me something to hide behind, but there's still the matter of how noisy the boots are. And if I duck or drop to my knees, I'd leave a trail of lube. Without hiding behind things, though, my white outline would be obvious against the dark background of the hallway. If I'm not careful and I get seen from behind before I can hide, that's it, I can't be unfound.

I got to the end of the hallway, scooting slower as I got close, and I peered left as I neared the corner. Seeing nothing to the left, I slowly moved forward. I got to the very edge of the hallway, almost hugging the right wall, and I glanced around the corner. There was a major intersection of primary halls about a hundred yards down that way, which is the same distance it was to the end of the hall towards the right. There were four benches facing out from a fountain in the center of that intersection, but it was off, so I couldn't count of the water flow drowning out the sound of my boots. Not seeing anyone, I slid a foot forward. As soon as I was about to slide my other foot, I heard something. Footsteps. Soft footsteps, with soft soles. Someone was down the hall to the right. I looked again as I slid my foot back. Nobody. But the foot steps were getting louder. Someone had to be left or right of that intersection. As the footsteps approached, I slid back as far as i could while poking a bit of my head out to watch. My heart was racing. If someone did come around that corner and I could not retreat fast enough, they'd hear my heartbeat.

A man in a security uniform was walking from the right of the intersection to the left. He seemed young, healthy, and able to catch criminals who might try to run or fight. He walked slowly. It would be more accurate to say he was strolling. It made me think that either he had no idea I was around somewhere, or he was toying with me. He was on the far side of the fountain, and he looked down the hallway to his right, then swung his head the opposite way, to look down the hallway the direction I was in. I quickly pulled my head back behind the wall and got closer to it. I wanted to hug the wall, but knew I'd just leave a mark indicating I was there. I listened to the footsteps. Did the man hear me? Where would I go if the man came that way? I needed to find where I needed to go, and I needed a mall map to do that. But I know I can't get to the doors I'm trying to get to in the back hallway, and I don't know where the other other back hallway doors I can get to from here lead to. I could try to make it up the stairs, too, but I don't know what that would accomplish. As I thought about this, I could hear the man's footsteps fade away. I glanced down the way he was again, and I did not see him. I looked the other way, in case I got tricked somehow, and then listened intently to the foot steps. They were getting too light to hear.

I didn't want to go when someone was so close to the intersection and so might come back and see me, but I didn't know how long that part of the hallway he was in was, so I slid my feet as quickly as I could without squeaking them on the polished floor. That was my plan, anyhow. I actually went slowly. I tried not to make any sounds, but the boots had different plans. It seemed to me that they were making more noise than the security man's shoes did, so I got behind a kiosk and hid behind it. I glanced around it for a bit, but the security officer didn't seem to be coming to find me. I had to just hope he wouldn't hear me go the rest of the way. I scooted towards the entrance. I realized it was the main entrance I was going to, so it would be sure to have map if any entrance did. I thought I could feel eyes on my back, but whenever I looked behind me I couldn't see anyone.

The main entrance is essentially a long series of glass doors, with a lot of windows around them. They lead into the food court. The front of the mall is a huge, wide open space, excluding the tables, with restaurants all around it. Before the hallway widened into the food court, though, I heard something from ahead of me and to the right. It was a man talking, followed by a split second of static. Which meant there was a security guard ahead of me, in the food court, right where I was headed. Which would mean both of the two security guards just happened to be in the area I was! My heart skipped a beat, then made up for the skipped beat by accelerating I was scared this security guard might hear my heart if he got close enough, and my boots if he didn't! I looked behind me one more time to see if it was a trick, to see if the first security guard was behind me and they had formed a pincer attack on me. He wasn't, but it hit me that I was naked, and a man was about to find me. Just because he was a security guard doesn't mean he wouldn't take advantage of a situation like that. I felt vulnerable and exposed.

I don't know how far away the new security guard was, but I couldn't count on him staying that far. He had a whole mall to patrol, he wouldn't stay in the corner of the food court all night. The pizza place was the next store to my right, and it makes up the 45 degree corner that opens up into the wide food court, but it had the metal fence down, as did McDonald's on the left corner. There was a cell phone booth in the center of the main hall, but it wasn't very tall and it had a lot of glass. Some benches were behind it, and plants behind them. There was the kiosk I hid behind earlier behind that, and all the stores I could see down this hall had their gates down. My best bet was to head back to where I came from, the secondary entrance hallway, and then into the back hallways, but if the guard came this way he'd certainly see me on my way there, since I'm sure he'd be to the hallway by then. I started to think of how to react when this guard inevitably caught me, but then I realized I wasn't trying. I was making it inevitable by standing around stupidly. So I hurriedly scooted behind to the phone booth, considering what to tell the guard as I went.

I got all the way to the booth without seeing him or hearing him shout at me, so I hoped I did not get caught. I quickly crouched so that I was under where the guard could see me if he was on the other side of the booth. That's when I realized my problem. If, when the guard came down the hallway to actually patrol the mall, he would choose one of the two sides of the booth to walk on. He was on the right of the food court, but does that necessarily mean he'd walk on the right of the booth, or would he move to the left side to increase his scope, his view, on things? I would have to get to one of the two sides soon, before he came this way, because I would need to take time to not make much noise with my boots. But if I choose the wrong side, or if the other guard crosses the intersection while I'm in on the opposite side of the booth as the other guard, then I'm caught! I got up just enough to peer over the edge of the booth, to see if the guard was in sight. Sure enough, he was. He  looked remarkably similar to the other guard in the dark. He was standing at the doors, watching out them. I could also see, to his right, was a large sign, a map of the mall.

Which side to choose? What if the first guard came back through the intersection and I was on one side even before the other guard came through? The guard who was looking out the window turned and started approaching the hallway. Even if I hid on the right side, what if the first guard was on the second floor and coming this way? The second floor is basically just a walkway in front of the stores on the second story. I simply couldn't hide from anyone up there. Not behind this short booth. I had to hope that these things didn't happen, though. I decided on the left side. I had a nagging sensation that it was the wrong choice, but it was better than no choice. I slowly scooted left, to the corner of the booth. I could now hear the guard's footfalls coming my way. I finished my maneuver slowly. I was scared my slowness may get me caught, but it's better than squeaking my shoe and drawing attention anyway. I got to the other side of the booth, and moved a few more slides farther. I heard the man walk by on the other side of the booth. If I weren't so nervous that he might have been walking around the whole booth, I might have sighed in relief. But he did not come to that side of the booth. I heard him continue past walking slowly, calmly.

After a few moments, when I could see the back of his head just past the plants. He was still on that side of the hall, but I wasn't scooted so that I couldn't see the hallway. If I could see him, he could see me. I hoped he didn't turn around. I waited a moment, then scooted slowly, further along the booth. I scooted a few tiles down, and I could no longer see him. But if I stayed there, it would just happen when he got farther down the hall. And if he turned right, he'd see me anyway. I continued scooting slowly. To avoid him seeing me if he got further down the hallway, in the right spot, and just happened to look, I squatted down as flat as I could, and as close to the glass of the booth as I could get without touching it. My legs were spread to either side to facilitate it, and I realized nothing would be left to the imagination if I were caught now. Though I suppose it wouldn't have been before. It just feels different when your legs are spread and things are easy to see compared to when you have the option of closing them. But I guess the booth wasn't looking at me, anyhow.

I got to the end of the booth facing the food court, and I got up enough to watch the guard walk all the way down, past the intersection. I lost the ability to hear his footfalls even before he got to the intersection, so that wasn't a reliable way to tell if the guards were near enough to see me. As I watched him walk, I could feel the wide open space behind me. It doesn't really hit you how vulnerable and open you feel being naked in public until you actually do it. I was ashamed of the crouched position I was in, how if someone were behind me they could just bend a little and see everything I normally took care to hide. And the cool air plus the liberal application of the lubricant made it all the more apparent to me. But the guard wasn't yet somewhere out of sight. If I moved from this position to cover up more, he would probably see me and negate all the work I put into covering up my nakedness. I wished I could just get into a clothes store and put something on. Sneaking around the mall after dark would be scary enough if I were covered, but nude I was too keenly aware of how immoral and sexually disturbed some people could be, especially considering I was were I was due to exactly such a person.

The guard got to the end of the main hallway, finally, and walked around the booths and benches at the end, to continue walking the other direction and on the other side of the hallway. Now there wasn't even any question about it. If I tried to leave where I was, he'd surely see me. He was walking my way. I ducked a bit lower, scared he might be able to see me through the glass, but unable to look away. If he were coming my way and he saw me, it wouldn't matter if I ducked farther, but if I duck so low that I couldn't see him, then he could sneak up on me even by accident, simply by walking all the rest of the way down the hall. Why did I ever leave the relative safety of the back hallways?! I could have walked around not knowing where I was going, but I wouldn't have found the guards and been trapped so quickly! At least I knew where they were, both down the hall from me. Which wasn't as reassuring as I had hoped. I heard a staticy voice come from down the hall, and then a moment of static. The guard I was watching held his radio to his face, said something, and then a moment of static. For some reason, being unable to make out what was being said bothered me. Had the other guard asked if this one found me? Did they know I would be around? Are they normally so apt to patrol and actually do their job? But then wouldn't one of them be in the back hallways? Or did they know I'd have to pass through the major hallways anyway? What had Darla told them? How did she know the person who worked the cameras? Was that person watching me right now? Was Darla? My splayed out position bothered me even more, realizing someone could probably see it. The air had bad timing. Once I had that thought, I felt a slight breeze fly by, reminding me that nothing was covering me from behind. And there were assuredly cameras in the dinning area.

The guard turned! He turned to his left, my right, as he got to the main intersection! Now that I was too far from it to hear them coming, I hesitated going to the door. But then I realized their patrol would probably not have them near the intersection at the same time, so right after I see one of them in the intersection it was probably the most opportune time to stop hiding behind the phone displays. I stood slowly, trying not to move my boots without orienting myself to a standing position. The boots were still loud, though. What if he heard me slide and glanced back around the corner he was still near? Or what if he was coming back down here, but he stopped by a store just off the intersection to look in for a moment? My head was getting a little light, but I had to move. Much too slowly. Sliding was faster than the slow walk I tried earlier, but it still wasn't as fast as walking. By the time I slide ten feet away and to the side of the booth, I realized if he did round the corner there was no way for me to just duck and be hidden. Instead of going for the corner the pizza place was on, and around the corner, out of view of people down the hall, I should have gone backwards towards the tables. Then, if either of the guards got to the intersection, I could duck behind a chair and hope the tables and other chairs obfuscated their view. But in the middle of the open I was instead. Oh well, I had to soldier on.

After getting past the corner and out of view of the hallway, I looked around the food court to look for the best hiding places. From the hallway, the food court opened with walls that were a 45 degree angle from the walls of the hallway. They opened the area to about a hundred feet, then turned back in 45 degrees to come directly at the front wall, closing the area. But they didn't actually close the area. At each of the corners where the walls stopped their 45% divergence, there were hallways. Not large ones, perhaps half the size of the main hallway I was just in. But that meant that this could hardly be considered a cornerish place for me to hide in! Three hallways lead here, and they almost assuredly attach to the larger one that crosses the one I just left. I should have known about those, since the bathrooms are down the one on the right! Actually, the one leading to the hallways stopped at a dead end, if I wasn't mistaken, so maybe the other did, as well. I had to scoot by it to get to the map anyhow so I could look down it as I passed. The room also had two pillars on either side. I felt thankful, I could hide behind them in a pinch, but how slow I had to move to avoid being noisy would still hinder such a thing anyhow. There were no nooks or crannies to hide in, unless you count the restaurants But they all had their fences down and I couldn't get into them anyhow. As I slid past the hallway, I could see the stores lining it, and at the end was a larger hallway at a strange angle. The hallway the one I came from crosses, undoubtedly. There was a raised area with plants, and benches around it.

What if that first guard I saw was also the second? They looked similar enough, it might have been! He could have easily turned, came down this hallway, and then turned back down the primary one. And it would explain why he came from the right (though it was left, looking at it over here)! I quickly scooted past the hallway and glanced around, scared the other guard might be somewhere I didn't bother looking because I didn't think he could get there. I couldn't see anyone, so I continued to the doors. The doors were glass, and I could see the empty parking lot. Not all the way empty, I could see my car. I came in the doors far to the left of my current position. Were the guard curious why it was there, or did they know? I wished I could just leave through the doors and go to my car. There would assuredly be more background noise outside, and less flat surfaces for the noise to echo off of. I might even have left the emergency key taped up under the driver's side door. No, that was stupid, I knew I removed that because it would make it easier for a potential thief to get into my car. And even if I unlocked and opened the doors, there was probably some sort of alarm in place, and it would go off if the doors were opened. It might deactivate if the door is unlocked, which i could do from this side of them, but I simply didn't know how alarms worked, and knew it'd be a bad choice. I didn't want to alert the police to my presence myself! And if it were a silent alarm, I wouldn't even know they were on their way. If I hid somewhere they couldn't find me, somehow, my car's in the parking lot, and that would be suspicious at least.

I stopped looking through the doors. That hope was thoroughly dashed. Besides, if another car did drive by the front of the mall, whoever was in it would certainly see me. I had to look at the map and hurry away from the huge windows. The map showed only the large hallways that customers are supposed to use, and the locations of stores along them. I was never great at map reading, but this was a very simple map. The mall was basically a large X,but it had a few smaller hallways and large store wings off to the sides of each major branch. At the end I was at there was the food court and bathrooms, plus the information desk. The largest part of the parking lot was outside from where I was. I found the library down the major hall, then right down the other major hall, near the doors at the end. It was on the right of the hall. If I had simply followed the back hallways the way I was going initially, I would have eventually found it. I don't know where else Darla was sending me, but I felt dumb for leaving the safety of the back hallways. There was a chance she was going to have me circle the primary hallways the whole way.

I couldn't hang out by the doors all night, as I would surely get caught in my humiliating state, so I started sliding towards the mess of tables and chairs. I was outside of ducking range from the pillars, but I would soon be able to hide behind the chairs and tables. By the time I was into the thick of the tables, I could see down all three hallways, and basically the whole front parking lot could see me. I did not like that at all. If the guards got to either the main intersection or the one at the odd angle, they'd be able to see me, as well as anyone outside. Even if I did leave a trail of lubricant, I had to crawl to avoid being such an easy to find pray. I crouched like I was earlier, placed my hands on the floor, and then slowly moved forward, allowing my knees to contact the floor while moving the boots as little as possible. At first, my left knee slid out from under me. I slapped the ground as I caught myself and that leg shot out straight, but I managed to avoid my boots clicking the ground. But the slap seemed very loud. I hurried my leg back under me and positioned myself behind a table in a way to avoid being seen form either hallway. I listened for a few moment, but I couldn't hear anything or anyone, so I figured I should hurry up. My knees slid the first few feet, but then they didn't have enough lubricant on them to keep doing it, so they were actually quite sturdy, so long as I held my boots up at just the right angle. Every time I crawled from behind one table to another, I thought I'd glance to the side and see a guard much closer than I hoped, watching me. But that never happened, and I made it to the edge of the tables.

My route was parallel the windows, to the other side of the food court. If I had gone to the hallway at an angle, I wouldn't be going the right direction. If I went down the primary hallway, one of the guards would likely get to the intersection before I got to the small side hallway. Or, at least, the one guard I've seen. Where was the other one? I didn't have time to worry about that. I slowly stood back up, careful not to clack the boots. They clacked softly anyway, but then I hurriedly slid across the open space, towards the hall with the bathrooms. My boots squeaked once, but I was already to the hallway and didn't bother looking to see if anyone was around to hear it. I hurried to the women's bathroom under the assumption it wasn't locked. They would have to stay open if one of the security officers was a lady, right? Well, that assumption paid off. The bathroom was unlocked and I hurried inside.

I didn't want to be too noisy while in the bathroom, because then a passing guard would realize someone was in there and probably check it out. I slid to in front of a mirror. I felt like a robber with the mask, but I sure didn't look like it. I was still goosebumpy and cold, which had somehow slipped my mind. The eyes behind the mask were red. I thought this whole time that I'd look like I had been crying, but anyone who found me this way would probably just assume I was high or drunk or something. Even though I was still very shiny, some lubricant had dried. I took off my gloves and placed them on the sink. I scooped up some lube from my thighs to reapply to my knees, and enough remained to get where it was dry elsewhere. I think it lasted so long because it was so extraordinarily viscous. I did not like how gooey it made me feel between my legs, and what little bit I scooped up didn't do anything to change that.

As much as I wanted to hide in the bathroom all night, I would eventually be found if I didn't move. Even if I were found by patrons to the mall the next day, it would happen. I would have to leave and go to work eventually. I hoped to get that horrible game over with that night. Through the door I started this whole thing through, I was back in that first back hallway. I slid quickly past the door to the bay, because it still made me incredibly uneasy. The thought to go upstairs crossed my mind as I got to them, but I wasn't sure how much back hallway there would be up there, and I knew where I had to go anyway. I had to go to somewhere on the first floor. I'm sure I only thought it because the concept of a different floor would get me farther from where I saw the only guard I saw. I was still concerned about where the second guard was, but I figured I'd either find him or I wouldn't, so there was no use worrying. It didn't stop me from worrying, but I had the thought anyway. I was also curious if there were camera in the back hallways. I looked up and down the hallway and, yes, there was one camera at each end. And I knew someone was watching me through them.

And it hit me that Darla had to be watching the cameras. I couldn't know if it was only her, but that would explain why the person watching didn't report seeing me as well as how Darla would know if I did something against her commands. The vile bitch! Not that I liked her using me like a sex toy, but couldn't she have stuck to just that?! Or, better yet, couldn't she have been a decent person and simply not be doing any of this. I wanted to find where she was so I could go punch her out, which was a new sensation for me. By the time I got to the double door, though, all my anger had started turning into depression. I guess anger is against my nature. I tend not to get angry a lot, now that I thought of it. I couldn't finish that stupid, horrible game when I thought about such things, and I had been doing such a good job avoiding it up until that point. I shoved those thoughts out of my head as I opened the door. I looked around and could neither hear nor see anything, so I scooted over to the double doors across the hall. As I suspected, it opened into another back hallway.

I found the cameras, two in this hallway as well. This hallway had a sharp corner, though. After several hundred feet and another stairwell, it turned 90 degrees right. It looked just like the hallway I left behind as I checked around the corner. It had no place to hide if someone came along like the rest, but I wasn't risking it out in the main halls, either. Besides, there were stairwells. I could have technically hidden I them, if I could get to one fast enough. At the end of the hall was another double door. Ten feet before it was a door to both the right and left. The door on the right was labeled as the boiler room. I imagined it would be closer to the bathrooms, but I've never designed a building. The one on the left was the important one. It was the library. My anxiety built up as I reached for the door handle. I hoped it was unlocked, or else how would I get in to find the next clue? The gate was assuredly shutting it from the front, and there were no notes in the hallway or the door jam. I pressed the lever down and pulled.

It opened! It clicked loudly,and I guess I didn't really expect the door to open, so I landed heavily on my right foot as I moved with it, making an even louder clicking. I didn't bother to waste time listening to see if someone heard it, because I could disappear into the library so even if they did hear me, I'd have disappeared from that hallway! I slunk into the library, almost tripping over the edge of the carpet. Oh, beautiful carpet! I shut the door as softly as I could while still being fast, and it wasn't nearly as quite as I'd hoped. If someone did hear me before, they'd know I went into a door. I just hoped nobody heard me or they didn't try the door I went into. I waited on the other side of the door for a while, listening for anyone approaching. Nobody did, so I calmed down and looked around. I was in the back room of the library, which was mostly just filing cabinets and a few desks with computers, and the safe in the corner. I walked to the other side of the room to look out the doorway, for there was no door, into the main section of the library. It was a very small library, just a branch of the larger, main city library, probably. It had books along one wall, but the other wall had mostly movies and music CDs, while the room was mostly filled with computers.

I hadn't thought how wide open the library would be. When I think of a library, I think of rows and rows of book shelves. This was hardly that. The gate keeping people out of the library was down, but it didn't do anything stop people from looking in. At least I could walk normally! The carpeting was very welcome indeed! The guards would actually make more noise than I would! Hoping I could hear them if they were getting closer to the library, I walked over to the book wall and started looking for baking books, or anything about bread. On this side of the library there was the main desk, where people checked things out. If I heard someone coming, I could easily duck behind it before someone saw me. I still felt exposed, but I had what I thought was a sound plan! The library didn't make me comfortable. I was still very anxious and miserable, but it wasn't as bad! I found two whole cook books, one book about baking,and even one book about bread. I was relieved finding those books was so easy, but there were no loose papers in any of them, and no notes behind, near, or under them.

That's when I noticed the register. I was about to pace about, totally baffled, but I saw a post-it on the only register in the library. Dough... as an idiom for money. Something you don't borrow from libraries. The desk was U shaped, the ends of the U against the wall. The door to it was fortunately against the wall on my side, so I just walked right in, got the post it, and walked to the back room. Once I got to the back room, I read the note;

bitch-

It's usually dark

but the focus is on light

Placed on pop-corn

the ninth word is not right

XOXO, Your Mistress

Okay, this one was much, much harder. That is, until I made the association. What kind of store would usually be dark while focusing on light? It baffled me. I thought maybe a novelty store or some other place that might sell lamps or lighted signs. But then I realized the big tip-off was the pop corn. You eat pop corn at movie theaters, where you watch light projected onto a screen, in a dark room. Then I counted the words, and "light" was the ninth. Placed on pop-corn, it's not light. Not light pop-corn. So I was pretty sure my next clue would be on or near the thing that put butter on pop-corn at the movie theater. And, fortunately for me, I remembered seeing the movie theater at the end of the main hallway, the apposite end as the food court. It, too, was on the right side of the hall. In my head, it seemed all I'd have to do is walk across the hall to the doors to the back hallway on the other side of this main hall, then fallow that back hallway like I did this one that got me to the library.

I stood by the door for a moment before opening it. I was both hesitant to leave the relative safety of the library as much as I was listening intently to anything that might be near. I couldn't hear anything, so I tucked the new post it into my belt and slowly opened the door. I was actually quiet this time, and I slowly stepped on foot onto the concrete of the hallway floor. It was quiet, as I planned, but that single step took a very long time. I looked down the hallway and towards the double doors again just to be safe, and then tried to scoot my other foot out onto the concrete. Since the carpet was a bit higher, the boot slid off the carpet and clacked on the harder floor. The hallway echoed it, and I paused to listen and wait again. Nobody came after a few moments, so I slid my foot the rest of the way, easing it onto the harder floor. I shut the door slowly behind me, and succeeded in shutting it quietly. I slid over to the double doors, remembering how awkward that method of mobility was. But it functioned, and I got there. These doors opened near a secondary entrance. I was facing the wall to a large supermarket attached to the mall, and I was in the hallway between it and the stores of the big hallway. This minor hallway had only this entrance to the back hallways, pay phones, a few water fountains, and the entrances on either end.

I slid to the corner and looked into the large main hallway. Aside normal booths, kiosks, benches and whatever, it seemed nobody was around. I started to scoot out into the open area, across the hallway, but I looked down the hall a second time right before I did. The doors on either end of this smaller pseudo hallway were glass, which meant people outside could see me. I doubted many if any people were outside the mall and trying to look inside at the moment, but I hate taking chances. I had to get to the double doors on the other side of the main hallway from me, down at the other end of this pseudo hallway I was in that 'T'ed the larger one. I looked one more time, just to be safe. Nobody was down the hallway on either floor. I started to cross the open area, watching for someone down the hall more than people outside. The people outside couldn't get in to bother me directly, but I still worried about them. I saw nobody as I scooted, and I made it to the other side. I scooted the rest of the way to the double doors as quickly as I could. I pressed on the bar thing, and leaned into it, but it didn't move. The bar thing across it didn't go in. The door was locked!

I stood stupidly for a moment, not understanding how to operate since my plan had failed at the door. Then I realized how stupid I was and tried the right of the double doors. It, too was locked. I didn't remember any ways out of the back hallway I had come from besides the ones I used, so I would have to actually walk down the main hallway. If I went back to where I was last time through the back hallway, I'd still have to go through the main hallway, except through a place that would be even more wide open than this way. Maybe I could find a way back there, or even upstairs, part way down the main hall. I started scooting back across the hallway when I realized the store on the corner I was at had glass for a store front. I could see through the corner of the store, and at a guard who was a few hundred feet down the hallway, walking down the left side.

I quickly scooted back, as near the wall as I could get. I scooted until I got to the double doors, and I tried to sink into the small depression that they were in the wall. I didn't mind leaving a lube mark on the doors if that meant avoiding immediate capture, but the doors simply weren't set in far enough to hide there. I only sunk a few inches. To make matters worse, I clunked the handle. It wasn't very loud, but it was certainly more noise than I wanted to make in that situation. My heart increased it's tempo and volume, it was warmer, and the world tried to spin. I held the world from spinning. I had to focus. I concentrated on breathing deeply. I couldn't afford to faint.

By then, I could hear the guard's footsteps approaching. Why would the doors be locked?! I thought Darla would leave me a way to get where I was going with reduced chances of getting caught! But, then, why would she have me do this at all except to get caught? What was she up to? Had she meant for the doors to be unlocked and a guard locked it up when they realized it was unlocked? Are these doors normally locked? I didn't have time to worry about that, the footsteps were coming closer. I leaned into the doors one last time, hoping hopelessly that they'd open up that time. They didn't. The foot steps were dangerously close, and I could see the guard through the corner glass of the store on the corner. One more step and he'd see me. I stopped breathing. I hoped that if I blended into the wall, if I was quiet enough, he would still not notice me.

He took one more step. I don't know if it was my breath or the air current, but a breeze moved along my body, reminding me one of the reasons I didn't want to get caught. The man took another step, and the world tried to turn again. I focused, but not as well as I'd have liked to. I stayed conscious. the man took a third step before turning his head in my direction. He looked confused. His next few steps were towards me. Then he moved faster, almost jogging. He stopped a few feet from me. He had a huge grin on his face. I recognized him, too. He was Jake, the man who I had met at the entrance to this mall last week. He said he worked here, but I could have sworn he said he works at a store, not as security. My vision started fading, and the world finally spun around me. Jake got very tall, very fast, it seemed. And then it my thoughts faded and it was dark.

I came to with a start. I always expected to have a headache after waking up from fainting, but I was actually just groggy and disoriented. The very first thing I noticed was that my arms were stuck behind me. Having your limbs stuck is alarming, so I lifted my head and looked around to try to orient myself. I was in a small but bright room. The brightness was very different from the ambient dark of the mall, and I couldn't place where I was. The walls were an off white, the lights were florescent, and the only real furnishings were a single desk, a few filing cabinets on either side of the desk, and a large comfortable chair in front of me. The chair was in front of where you'd scoot in to the desk. I was in a metal folding chair, and the door to the room was to my left, and shut. I had less lube on me in some places, but most notable was how much had gotten on the chair. Every movement I made was exaggerated and made me slide a little. The only reason I was still in the chair instead of slid onto the floor was because my hands were hand-cuffed behind me so that my arms caught. I was still wearing everything I was before, except now I was in this room and with hands cuffed behind the back of the chair, too.

My right arm was falling asleep but I could still feel it, so I must not have been there long. I pulled my legs together and pushed myself into a proper sitting position. I was even more helpless and exposed than I was before fainting. Still just as naked, except now my arms were forced behind me and unable to protect anything that happened up front, and it pressed my chest out a bit. I was also still cold, unfortunately. I managed to keep myself calm, but I was very concerned about how I got there and when someone might come back to check on me, or worse. I didn't feel like I had been violated since I was in the bathroom, so that was a half-relief. I considered if I could get out of the chair without dumping myself backwards and possibly injuring myself. I had basically no resistance on the seat itself and very little on the back. The only reason I could maintain my position was because I was pushing with my feet and holding the back of the seat with my hands. I feared moving even slightly might send me into an awkward position and then the chair might tumble over. I was surprised I was still in the chair when I came to.

Right as I was trying to figure out a way to get out of the chair without injuring myself or making a racket, the door opened. I pressed my legs together a little more firmly, but my breathing became sharper. I was exposed and at the mercy of Jake, the mall security guard walking through the door. Would he call the police? Would I get thrown in jail, perhaps prison? Could I still maintain my life with whatever the punishment would be? If he didn't call the police, would he molest me? I've never been ignorant of the fact I'm pretty, which is something I worked out daily and ate a balanced diet to maintain, but I never really considered it might also be a weakness. If I were ugly, none of this would have ever been a problem. But I was also concerned with my health. My looks have never been supremely important to me, but I had never supposed they'd cause such a mess.

"You know, I didn't really expect to find you," said Jake as he walked confidently over to the chair in front of me. His uniform had some big, shiny, dark smudges all over it, "Firstly, I didn't expect her to be telling the truth about it. I thought it was some elaborate joke. But even if it wasn't, I simply didn't suppose I'd have the fortune of finding you."

My suspicions were correct, the guards did know I would be around. There's no way a mall guard would have patrolled so well, normally. What all did they know? What did Darla tell them? Do they know I'm doing this because I'm forced to, or did she allow them to believe I was a thrill seeker and sexual deviant? If the guards thought I was doing this for my own pleasure, and have not called the police yet... I never suspected I'd want to get in trouble with the police, but right then I wasn't sure which would be preferable. And did Jake recognize me from our short encounter a week ago? He couldn't see my face now, but I wasn't wearing too much more the week before. Perhaps he recognized my body. The body I could do nothing to hide from his lecherous gaze, which I noticed right then. If only I could have placed my hands in front of my chest! No, I got the impression he did not call the police. He was going to molest me somehow. I tensed, pressing my legs together even tighter, and my heart was beating quickly again. No matter how tightly I pressed my legs together, I could feel the slimy lube in and around my vulva and anus, reminding me that I was ready for the molestation.

"I don't know the details of your game, but I do know that you're allowed to try to escape from us if you're caught. I think that you're in a mighty tight pickle, though. There's no way you could escape from me with your hands cuffed behind your back like that. Not with the door shut and locked. And you certainly couldn't overpower me normally. So here's my idea; If you would rather continue your game then have me call the police on you, you're going to suck my dick."

I almost lost my orientation, as though I was going to faint again, but not quite enough. More like I couldn't believe what he just said. It was as though I couldn't accept what just happened, and so tried to wake up from the dream that wasn't happening. I wanted to reply to him, to ask him just to let me go, to find my car keys and help me escape this nightmare, but I knew that was even more unrealistic. And if I did talk to him that way, Darla would find out. Besides, talking would make everything seem more real, somehow. If I didn't say anything, I could continue pretending I was someone else, somewhere else, with the aid of the ski mask I had on.

"You're not talking? Fine, spread your legs so I get a good view of your cunt.", Jake commanded, smiling as though this were just a game, as though we were lovers role playing. But I couldn't just expose myself to someone who was practically a total stranger like that. I was waiting for something. I'm not sure what. Did I presume he was joking? Did I think Darla would come save me? She's the one who got me into that situation, why would she save me?! I guess I hesitated too long, because Jake just sat back and grinned. He seemed to think for a moment. He pulled something out of his pocket and dangled it in front of him for me to see. I recognized them from some recent research I had been doing. What he held were called "nipple clamps". The name says it all. They were small clamps connected with a thin chain.

"You're going to spread your legs and suck my dick right now, or else I'm going to put these on you," Jake said. The cold was retreating, but I shivered still. He couldn't have presumed I was here for any reason besides my desire to be in such a situation. If he knew the truth, if any random person knew the truth, they'd try to help me. Instead, he dangled BDSM toys in front of me, threatening me with their use if I didn't please him sexually. But the way I was dressed, why would anyone presume anything different? I don't know if I was frozen in fear or because I was still trying to disbelieve what was happening, but Jake stood up and opened one of the clamps. I certainly didn't want clamps on my nipples, so I looked away and slowly opened my legs to a 30 degree angle. I tried to relax, but I couldn't un-tense my muscles. I was scared. I was helpless, nude in front of a man I knew nothing about, hands cuffed behind me, and unable move for fear of finding myself hurt or even injured by falling oddly.

Jake had made it to me. He was between my knees, and he gently pulled on my chin, until I was looking at his eyes, "You should know that it's already too late, and you should also know that your legs aren't spread far enough." He moved his hand from my chin to my right breast. His hand slid on it but he held it at the base, holding the rest of it steady. I wanted to resist, but the fact of my tight spot remained. I was still helpless, and resisting would only, perhaps, enrage him. The clamp bit down slowly, but it rested at it's maximum force. It was literally pinching my nipple, and would not, could not, stop. I breathed sharply inward, half gasping and half squealing Then he held my left breast, as my right nipple warmed up. I looked at it, and it was white immediately around where it was getting pinched, but redder than normal around that area. Then I felt the clamp bite down on my left nipple. I thought I could better prepare for it after experiencing the first clamp, but I was wrong. I gasped again. When Jake's hands left my chest, I tried to wiggle the clamps off, but that was a mistake. Wiggling did two things. First and foremost, it caused the clamps and the chain connecting them to tug on my nipples in strange, painful ways. Secondly, I almost lost my footing and fell off the side of the chair. I had to grab the corners of the back of the seat and spread my feet farther to steady myself.

While distracted by the clamps, Jake grabbed my hips and pulled forward. It was a simple matter to slide me, despite my clenched legs, and the process pulled my legs open farther, to perhaps a 90degree angle. I was open and physically, if not emotionally, ready for what Jake was planning! I came close to losing my footing entirely, but managed to keep it and not slide the rest of the way off the chair. In addition, my arms were pulled back tighter, forcing my breasts forward more. The clamps jiggled, but not significantly enough to alter how uncomfortable they already were. I looked up to Jake, wondering what was next. To my surprised, he had a thoughtful, soft expression. "You're really nervous about this, aren't you, Lisa?"

He knew my name! He knew who I was! Immediately, the mask's alternate persona guise fled. I was me, I was exposed, vulnerable, and in real danger! My breathing picked up pace and sharpened, and I held back tears so that I could continue seeing, but it wasn't easy. He continued, in a softer tone than he had been using, "I'll tell you what; since we haven't gotten to know one another, we shouldn't be doing this just yet. I'm still interested, and I'm very curious about the details of your position, but your comfort in all of this is also very important. Frankly, it doesn't seem I've earned your trust, yet. And how could I have? I was foolish to think you'd actually be ready for this. So is Darla. She's too inexperienced for this, I think. But don't let me try to persuade you away from her without giving it a fair chance. I'm not going to try to manipulate you, that would be wrong. However, I do want to get to know you better and try to persuade you some things in a more comfortable setting, so let me get those cuffs off of you."

Sitting through that small speech, I had a difficult time comprehending even the what he was refering to, exactly. My emotions tied themselves in knots all over my belly. What was he saying? What was he doing? Not try to manipulate me? He was getting the cuffs off of me? Of course he thought I was here by will. Not ready for this? What did he think I was up to? What did he think Darla was up to? As thoughts raced through my mind at the speed of sound, Jake retrieved his keys, walked behind me, and un-cuffed me. I was too nervous and confused to know how to react, but knowledge didn't effect it. I pressed up against the back of the seat where I was holding it. This propelled me up and forward, allowing me to balance on my newly spread legs. I quickly closed my legs and turned around. I don't know what emotions might have been showing through the mask, but I know I didn't contain them all. I was still concerned about the clamps, but I only crossed my arms under my breasts in false hope that it'd alleviate some of the pressure. I didn't want to make Jake change his mind by removing them, after all. I was still confused over his motivation, and I didn't want to ruin what chances it seemed I was getting.

Jake still seemed softer than before, and he walked over to me. He placed his hands on my shoulders and rubbed deeply, but slowly and softly. His hands were strong, "You're a nervous wreck. This was obviously a bad idea. Tell you what; I'll let you get out of here and keep going with your strange game, if you let me take you out on a date tomorrow."

He kept massaging my shoulders, waiting for a reply. This was the most awkward way to ask me out, ever. I don't know why I said yes. I wanted to get out of there, yes, and I doubted I even could have said anything besides yes. That was undeniable. However, Jake had shown me real caring. He even kissed me after I agreed to the date. He had saved me what was supposed to be a punishment for getting caught, or whatever. I was intensely thankful for that. Even though the clamps were still on and I was too nervous to take them off, I agreed to the date and, I think, even looked forward to it. Jake walked me to the door as a possible gentleman in my eyes. What a fast transition. I still didn't trust him, and suspected this was a trick or some new kind of torment the punch-line of which was waiting still, but I was such a wreck I allowed myself the chance. He opened the door for me, made a joke about dressing more appropriately for a black tie restaurant tomorrow, he'd call me, and shut the door behind me.

For un-kept moments, I stood there at the door, facing the hallway. I simply didn't know what to think or do. I was just helpless against that man, he could have done anything he wanted to me, and there was, I knew, no chance he'd get in any legal trouble. Or any other kind, for that matter. And he chose to ask me out on a date. I still had the clamps on. It wasn't rational, but I considered them a kind of good luck, since the man had softened after he put them on me. They did hurt and were uncomfortable, but they weren't so painful, at that moment, that I felt the need to remove them immediately. I still wasn't sure about my situation, after all. Perhaps removing them would get me in trouble somehow, and after I started thinking more about them after the emotional roller coaster, they didn't hurt as bad. I did want to remove them, but the chance of consequences and the impression they were lucky seemed to outweigh it, even though I wished it didn't.

I realized I wasn't as scared about getting noticed. As far as I could tell from earlier, Jake was the only guard inside the mall. There were supposed to be two, but I... well, I can't explain my reasoning, or lack thereof, but I clomped all over the mall. I was still intensely uncomfortable from the situation itself. I was still fully exposed in a mall, where someone could find me and get me in trouble or worse at any moment. Jake could even change his mind on a dime and come rape me. I ran to the theater, entering it via the backside, as I had the library. Right where I expected the next note to be, that's where it was.

For the greater part of an hour, I clomped around the mall. I took the nipple clamps off after about fifteen minutes, since it was getting more difficult to handle them and I figured any possible trouble for doing so was worth it. I massaged my breasts for a minute or two, then continued. I got a total of eight post-its, and they eventually led me to a door on the opposite side of the hallway the office was in. I wished I had known I would end up there earlier, but it was too late for that. I opened the door, and it was the camera room. All of the stress, all the anxiety and pressure, all the strange, twisting emotion, everything, came out then. The door shut as I entered and began to break down. The far wall was covered with monitors, each showing a store or hallway. I knew I had passed many of them, giving the person at the controls a bird's eye view of my adventure. That person was Darla. I took some steps towards her, which was when I collapsed. I put my face on her lap. She was going to use me, perhaps even punish me for God knows what, and make my life even worse than she had already made it. I could do nothing about it, so I simply cried in her lap. As I kneeled over her lap, I imagined she'd abuse me. I relaxed. I had taken the nipple clamps off, but I still held them. I imagined she would reattach them, cuff my hands behind my back, and force me to follow her around by tugging on them, but she simply let me cry in her lap. Why was everyone so nice to me?

Just as that thought crossed my mind, right when I decided to look up at Darla for answers, the fact she was nude sunk in. On the counter/control panel in front of her, there was a dildo and a butt plug. They were both pink, not the ones I had used earlier. Darla pulled my head up by the hair, and began kissing me. I was mostly done crying by then, and it was obvious she didn't care anyhow. She was letting me cry so that I could get over it and focus on what she wanted. She didn't actually care about me. Not a bit. As she kissed me, she put the clamps back on my nipples. I feared she would, and hoped she didn't, but it seemed inevitable. I knew what to expect this time, but I was wrong. She wasn't as gentle. Which was an odd realization. I had never considered nipple clamps might be put on gently. She put them over my nipples and let them clamp down, she did not do it slowly at all. It hurt much worse than when Jake had done it. The pain slowly numbed as she stood, leaving me next to her chair. She picked up the butt plug, and I expected she would demand I put it in myself, or she'd do it herself. I waited, on my knees, numbly. I was wrong, she bent over slightly and put it in her own anus. She moaned as she did it. She liked it. The dildo, too, was for her. When she sat down, she put it in her vagina. She guided my hands to her crotch. One hand was put under her, to play with her butt plug. The other hand was placed on the dildo. She then pulled my head down to her crotch, and I licked her clitoris as I knew she wanted.

At first I simply held the plug and dildo as I licked, but Darla soon ordered me to put pressure on the plug and to move the dildo. She writhed and told me to go faster every few minutes. The entire time, her hands outlined and rubbed my back. It was common for her to scratch. I was neither into what I was doing nor accustomed to pain, and I arched my back to try to avoid the scratches. But there was nowhere for me to go. She started breathing loudly, writhing harder, and she commanded me to thrust the dildo harder. She scratch my back hard enough to draw blood, and even leave scars I'd discover later. I tried to arch to avoid it, but I could do nothing. That was pretty fast, but she had me keep going. She played with her breasts while I did my un-willful duty. I still wasn't done having my pangs of emotion, and I cried intermittently as I built up Darla to another orgasm. She scratched my back again, and I shouted into her vulva. I was shaking as I cried, but I somehow managed to keep eating out the vile bitch. At the time, I just wanted to get it over with and leave. Darla had her third orgasm, scratching me as I shouted into her womanhood again, when my tongue was so tired I thought I'd be unable to continue. Fortunately, I didn't have to.

After that ordeal, she pulled me up to sit on her lap. "You're getting even batter at that, bitch." She was very relaxed. "I won't be able to feel your tongue on my cunt until Monday, though. Stand up."

I did as she said, and she pulled out a pair of handcuffs. I don't know where she had them before, I think behind her in her chair, but they were different from the ones Jake had. Darla stood up, turned me around by my shoulder, and cuffed my hands behind me. Then she turned me back around. She opened up my key ring, which I also wasn't sure where she got it from, and slid it around onto the chain connecting my nipple clamps. The added weight made the clamps hurt a bit more, and I scrunched my face up. "Aw, does it hurt?" Darla asked with mock sympathy. I first wanted to tackle her, but then remembered not only that I was cuffed and so handicapped, but also that it would ruin my career. Which was responsible for the entire mess as it was!

Then, Darla slapped me. "Answer me when I ask you a question, bitch!"

"Yes, Mistress." I breathed shortly at her. I was done crying. I knew it wasn't all out, yet, but I didn't want to and perhaps couldn't, right then.

She walked over to the door, leaving the butt plug in but placing the dildo on the controls, and opened it for me. "If you try to get those cuffs off before you're out at your car, I'll come get you and whip you. Go home, bitch."

I knew she would know, too. I could see the cameras out to the parking lot. Right across the hallway, though, Jake was outside the office door. My emotions were still mixed. I feared him, but I also respected him. I felt safer with him than with Darla, but I shrunk away from both of them anyhow. I might trust him more, but he seemed like he could be more dangerous if I were wrong. Darla scowled at him and said, "What are you looking at?!"

"I was just about to make rounds, I won't be held responsible for looking at what's in plain sight." With that, I had gotten out the door, in plain sight of him. I wasn't sure if he was tlaking about the sight of me, Darla, or both, as I didn't have the courage to look at him.

Darla smacked my ass hard and said, "I guess you caught her again.", then she shut the door and retreated into the camera room. I stood for a moment, not sure what to say or do. Was Darla embarrassed to be caught like that? She maybe acted like it, but then why didn't she shut the door faster? Did she want Jake to see her naked?

"I'm looking forward to seeing you without the mask tomorrow." Jake said, as he started walking down the hall towards the food court. "I didn't make you keep going when it was obvious you couldn't handle it earlier, and I don't really know what you can handle still. Yet. There's something about you, about this situation. I want to figure it out. But I understand if you want to keep it private. If you want to tell me, feel free to talk my ear off tomorrow. Please. But I can't help but feel this is different than what I think it is, and I don't want to take advantage of you. I called Tony to check the back of the mall. I don't know how long you have, but he probably won't drive by the front very soon. I'll let you out the front, and I won't punish you as I was supposed to for finding you, if you just only consider telling me what's happening."

Again, I was lost for words. Jake led me to the front door. I was as vulnerable and exposed as ever, but he didn't take advantage of it. He wanted me to follow him, and I did. What was his deal? What could I safely tell him? What did he think was happening? Did he know about Chad, did he get the impression I wasn't as willing as Darla may have let on? I thought about that as he opened the doors for me. Before I left, he kissed me again. My breasts, and the clamps on them, pressed into his chest. It was uncomfortable, but the kiss was so very welcome. More than I admitted at the time. He was showing real concern for me, and it's difficult to explain how it made me feel, because I wasn't sure myself. I enjoyed the kiss, at any rate. I felt safe with him. I still didn't trust him fully. Indeed, I barely trusted him at all, but he was vastly more trustworthy than Darla at that time, and he did really seem concerned. I guess I wasn't sure how I felt, yet. He let go of me, shut the door, and waved. I stared at him stupidly, and he waved me towards my car before walking away.

The walk to my car was mostly uneventful, except my shoes clacked on the pavement and cars were out on the road. I wasn't sure how well the trees blocked the sight to the road, as I could see headlights easily, but I hurried anyhow. When I got to my car, I couldn't be sure what to do. It was weird, being unable to get into the car, even though I could look down at my keys hanging from my tortured nipples. I turned around at each door on the side of the car facing the mall, seeing if it was unlocked. Then I tried the other side real fast, and ran back around my car to hide from the road. None of the doors were unlocked. I also noticed the camera was gone from where I left it. And that's when it hit me that I was even more vulnerable than I was inside. I don't know how I blocked it out before then, but the realization was horrible. Jake had the other security guard at the back of the mall, which meant anyone could drive up, grab me, drive away with me, and have their way with me. I couldn't even attempt to defend myself, and I was a pretty obvious target being next to the only car in the parking lot and white against the darkness of night and blacktop

I glanced around and made sure nobody was puling up to me, and that no cars were entering the parking lot. Most of the lubricant had come off of me, but there was still enough I couldn't balance sitting on the hood to get a leg over the chain. On the side of my car away from the road, I tried to hop on one leg and pull the other leg over my hands or the cuff chain. I almost got it, but the toe of the boot caught the chain, and I fell over hard on my left side. Most of my weight landed on my shoulder, but a significant portion got my breast. My shoulder was scraped and bleeding, and so was my breast. My nipples got tugged hard, and the ground against the left clamp smashed my nipple into the rest of the flesh. I also had scrapes on my hip, and very minor ones on my thigh. I realized I was better blocked off from the road being that low, but I also realized Darla had put me in the biggest pickle yet, and I was about to go crazy from all the pains I was accumulating. They were all relatively minor, but the fact I couldn't avoid the clamps and couldn't clean the wounds right away meant they could get infected and irritated. Further, Tony would not be behind the mall forever, but even if he were, I wouldn't be able to get into my car before daytime. Maybe I could run some place safe, like a hotel or maybe I could get back in the mall. But I'd have to get up, first. I thought about the truck bay. I knew I could get in that way.

Staving off the seriousness of my situation, I started getting up. By the time I had figured out how to push myself up to a sitting position, I saw headlights rounding the corner of the mall. I paused in shock, but then continued trying to get up. I simply couldn't get all of my weight onto my hands, and my legs didn't bend easily to do it on their own. The fact I was trying to keep my legs together, a foolish concern given my circumstances, was partly to blame. The cuts I had received on my original fall made it harder still. The white security truck had pulled up next to my car before I had gotten up. It was maybe five feet away and facing the opposite direction, the way my back was facing. I was still sitting on my butt, my legs at odd angles. "Need help getting into your car, ma'am?" came a male voice from around the front of the truck, behind me.

I turned my head to see who it was. The person was already at my side when I turned. Before I could even fail at an attempt to cover myself up or get away, the man had grabbed me by my arm pits. He picked me up slightly, turned me around, and he placed me back on my knees. In the split second I saw him from his arm's length, I knew it was Tony. He was in a security uniform, and he had a big smile on his face. I also noticed that his fly was open, and his penis was out. Before I could react, he grabbed his penis with one hand and the back of my head with the other. He pulled my head towards his penis, which he angled into my mouth. I tried to shut my mouth, but my reactions were very slow at the time. I was shocked it was really happening. I hadn't even realized my mouth was open such that I would try to shut it before that penis was in it. I was still shocked, and Tony had to remind me, in a jocular tone, "Now you suck it, bitch."

I didn't often go down on a guy, and thought of it as little more than foreplay, but I knew I had to try to get him off before he put his penis anywhere else. I started licking and sucking in the ways I usually (though not often) did, but I wasn't balanced. I fell towards Tony, his penis, now hard, going deep into my throat. I started gagging and I pulled away. Tony held my head while I coughed, and as soon as I stopped, as soon as I was about to try to say something, he pulled my head back at his penis. That time, I closed my mouth. I knew it was a mistake, I knew he'd just go for another hole if I closed my mouth, but that didn't make me want to suck his dick any more. To make matter as bad as they had been, no hole on my body could defend against an intruder, since they were still very moist. However, he simply aligned my head again, gave me a moment in which I had enough wit to open my mouth, and he plunged me back down.

"Were you screwing around right here for so long on purpose? You wanted me to find you, huh? You wanted to suck my big dick, didn't you, you greedy whore?!" Tony said as I licked and sucked. I remembered how Jake had reacted when he realized something was wrong. What would happen if I told Jake that, in fact, I did not want to be doing that. But instead of letting me answer, he pulled my head so that his penis went deeper into my throat. "Deep throat that shit, you slut!"

It was actually with Chad that I learned how to deep throat. I had technically looked it up in sex books for boyfriends before that, but I had never actually learned how to until Chad. I simply didn't actually do it until then. All you have to do is sort of swallow the penis. Which is actually a lot easier to say than to do. At any rate, I was glad that I had learned, because I fell forward, Tony's penis down my throat. My lips rested against him for a moment. I felt his scrotum against my chin. I had never been good at deep throating, though. I didn't have enough time with Chad to get very good at it. In addition, the momentum swung my keys forward, and the chain tugged at my clamped nipples. I had the additional problem of the pavement hurting my knees, too. I was in a very bad place, and my gag reflex tried to get me out of it. I could no longer see with all the wetness of my eyes, and I could feel my stomach retching. Tony let me up just before I coughed some slime up from my stomach. It didn't seem any food was in it, and there wasn't much. I drooled it onto the ground, and Tony gave me a moment to breath, then pulled my head back in. Again, before I could say anything. But I was also scared to say anything. If I had the chance, would I have taken it?

"I was told you're really good with your mouth, so you'd better start sucking right!" he said as he guided my head slightly back and fourth. I tried my best to suck and lick, preparing myself better for when he tried to shove it down my throat again. I tried to ignore the swinging of the keys, but I could swear my nipples and aureole were going to be big bruises by the time he was done. It was hard to concentrate with such a pinching, burning pain at my nipples. I listened to his ignorantly humiliating tirade. "Yeah, that is good. Your tongue is strong! You're eager, now, aren't you, slut?! I bet you want me to fuck your cunt, but this feels too good. Maybe your asshole, though!"

He bent slightly and slapped my left butt cheek as he said that last remark. I couldn't fathom having someone have anal sex with me under those conditions. I couldn't allow it. My life was miserable, but I was still an anal virgin. I wasn't going to lose my anal virginity that way. I leaned forward, taking Tony's penis down my throat again. I stayed there for a moment, so that he could feel my throat, then came back up. He didn't stop me, so I didn't gag. "Oohh, your throat feels so nice! I guess I'll skull fuck you instead of fucking your ass, then! You'll love it!"

I deep throated him a few times, figuring I would please him with my mouth to preserve my anal virginity for something that won't haunt me for the rest of my life. I don't know why it was so important to me, but it was. Perhaps because I simply didn't want it to hurt. I wanted to do it for a man I trusted, if at all. My recent experiences taught me that my butt was all kinds of tight, and his penis was easily longer than the butt plugs I found so uncomfortable, though not thicker at it's widest. After a moment, he grabbed the sides of my head, and he pulled me down again. As soon as I had deep throated, he pulled me back up. Immediately, he pulled me back down. I didn't think I could handle it. I simply couldn't deep throat that fast. First I simply had trouble breathing, but then he shoved his penis down my throat when I wasn't ready. I pulled back, and I threw up whitish slime all over my chest. I took a few deep breaths, not enough, and he pulled me right back in.

He started at that same pace again. Breathing took the back seat. My throat hurt tremendously when he jammed it back and I wasn't ready. It was still sore. And it felt like my nipples were going to be ripped off. But I was in trouble. I breathed only small breaths, and not every time I came back. I could feel my lungs start to complain about their lack of fresh air, but Tony was pulling my face along his penis too fast for me to do anything about it. I started to struggle against the hand cuffs, but Tony didn't slow down. The world spun once, and I fell loudly against my car. I breathed heavily and quickly. Tony gave me some time to catch my breath, and then he pulled me in again. I certainly didn't get enough air, but I didn't suspect I would until Tony was done abusing me. Very suddenly, however, Tony stuck his penis deep into my throat and held it there. I couldn't breath, but I could tell he was about to orgasm. He quickly pulled out of my mouth, allowing me to breath, as he grabbed his penis and stroked slightly, then he ejaculated onto my breasts. He held me where I was by the back of my neck. By the fifth or sixth squirt, he aimed at my mouth. I could feel each hot stream land on my chest against the cold air. I was too busy catching up on breathing to try anything, though. The last squirt on my mouth landed more across and over it than in it, but I could taste the salty bitterness.

Tony stooped forward for a moment, rubbing the cum all over my mouth. After several moments wherein I started to catch my breath, he put his penis away. When he zipped his fly, he pulled my chin up so I looked at him and he said, "This was really exciting and fun. I look forward to next weekend at the cabin.". He grabbed the key hanging from my chest when I wasn't expecting it. He tugged only slightly, but they had been on so long and through so much that I shrieked anyhow. He used them to aim me at my car door I was right next to, and I stared in painful surprise as he directed me to next to my car that way, with me squealing the whole way. He used my car key to unlock the door, pulling up on my nipples, and I squealed again. My breath was mostly caught by then, so I looked up at him again.

"No, seriously," He began "I've never done anything like this. It was fun. You're something else."

He then walked to the other side of the truck, giving me a lazy salute on his way. I was on my knees, so I had the ability to stand up, but my knees hurt. I rocked back a bit and stood suddenly, as he began to drive off. He glanced back at me on his way. My knees did hurt. In fact, they had rubbed against the pavement and were bleeding. I realized then that he had planned to open the door for me, but I was still on my knees and in the way. I hadn't moved. He must have assumed I didn't want the help? I turned around, numb to the world. I felt for the latch, and opened the door. The truck disappeared around the opposite mall corner, and I got into my car. I was sore all over, and my nipples especially hurt, but I cried anyhow. I was in the passenger seat, and I sat for several minutes just trying to release the horrible feelings. I was just raped, after all. And the worst part was that the person who did it hadn't even realized. If only he had been observant, like Jake. He would have known I didn't want any of that. But it happened. All I wanted to do was go home and take a shower, but I was stuck with my arms behind my back. And even after the ten or so minutes it took me to maneuver my legs through my arms to get my hands in front of me, the drive home took over an hour. First, though, I removed the nipple clamps. I had learned earlier that they hurt more to take off than to put on. I cried and massaged my breasts as I started my car. Getting those clamps off made the drive home a little easier to concentrate on. It was a huge relief.

I didn't speed at all. There was no way I could allow myself to get pulled over in the condition I was in. I couldn't actually report the rape. I'd lose my career and life and wind up in prison. I had to take my time. My nipples were still sore when I got home. I didn't even realize there were new keys on my key chain until I had gotten inside. They was small. They were to the cuffs. I took the hand cuffs off, and the other key was for the boots, I realized. I took off all of the horrible costume and jumped in the shower. I took a very hot shower, and continued cleaning myself even after the water had turned cold. I couldn't seem to get clean. I don't know why I didn't feel so dirty with Darla, but with Jake it was horrible. Maybe it was the ejaculate? I eventually got out of the shower, bandaged the wounds needing it, noted that my areolas were slightly bluish, and I collapsed on my bed. I was exhausted. I slept on my right side.

When I woke up, I was having a panic attack, again. It didn't help that I was so sore. It wasn't just the wounds and my nipples, either. I had a deep muscle soreness, like I hadn't exercised in a while, even though I had. My throat was sore and my nipples couldn't even be touched without sending a jolt of pain deep into their respective breast. I got the panic attack under control in my room, being able to identify the problem faster, that time. I woke up and went to my desk. I walked slowly, like an old person. I empathized with them, after that. I organized all the papers I had been going through over the past week. Not the school papers, but my own homework. I had papers about Greg, Chad, Darla, and I got all the paperwork I could concerning each of their parents. I did some more research for a while, perhaps a few hours, but it was still dark out and I had to go back to bed.

Before going back to bed, I realized that Darla's step father was apparently a co-owner of that mall she had me go to, and he's quite well off. That explained her nice house, her job there, and perhaps even the ominous cabin Tony had referred to. The bad part of all my work was that Chad's old number was disconnected. I sent an email to him a few days before, but he hadn't yet replied. It was a free Internet based email, and it wasn't even one of the newer ones, so it was possible he had abandoned that address. I hoped he didn't, on all things good. My camera research didn't give me any leads, either. I couldn't find a single camera with a timer that would last long enough for me to hold Greg responsible. But then, that would mean someone else may have done it. Was it Chad, after all? I wished I had more clues to go on. I needed out of that situation as soon as possible. I was going to wind up crazy and jobless anyhow!

The second time I woke up, it was to my phone. In my half-sleep, I answered the phone thinking it was family or friend. It was a male voice. I think how hurt I was could be heard in my greeting, because Jake said, "Are you alright? Tony told me what happened." I didn't say anything. I was in shock and pain, and I didn't want to be reminded of it. However, Jake had seemed kind. Perhaps he could help me out of the situation somehow. Also, how kind he was too me meant a lot. It was probably because of how poorly I had been treated by Darla, and how poorly I started thinking of myself due to it, but his kindness touched my heart tenderly.

"Listen," he continued, "I managed to get a reservation for two at four o'clock. It's in the smoking section, though. I didn't know they had a smoking section until they told me that was all they had left, but I booked the table anyhow. I'm told it looks right over the bay, so you'll appreciate the view. Normally I'd meet you there, but I think we've already gotten more personal than usual, so how would you like me to pick you up at 3:30?"

It took me a few tries, but I found my voice, "Where is it?" I asked much more meekly than I intended to.

"Oh, duh! Yeah, it's The Vineyard. You know the road leading off of the... well, I can show you as we drive there if you want me to pick you up."

I realized he was waiting for an answer, since I had never provided one. I cracked once in trying to find my voice again, and it hurt a little, but I managed to reply with a little more volume than the first time, "Oh, okay, but I live an hour South of there."

"Yeah, I know. You live in the same city as Darla. I live in that direction, too, but not as far. We can get there in less than half an hour. from your school."

He knew I was Darla's teacher! "Oh", I whispered.

"You're majoring in English, right?"

I was confused at first. I had an English degree already. Then I realized he thought I was a college student. That must have been what Darla told him. But all I could say is "Yeah."

"Okay, well, I have some stuff to get to before that, so I've gotta go, but where am I gonna be picking you up at?"

I gave him my address. As I did it, I had a sinking feeling in my stomach, like this was just a set-up. Perhaps he was going to rape me in my own home! No, I had to have some sort of hope. After I told him my address, he said, "Alright, I look forward to this. Remember it's a black tie restaurant, so wear something that brings out your natural elegance. See you at 3."

He hung up, and like that the conversation was over. After hanging up, I saw that I had some missed called. Three. They were all Darla. She only left one message, though; "I heard about you and Jake, bitch." She sounded angry "You're going to tell him that you go to the college and are an English major. If it comes up, you're going to tell him you're my bitch, that you're in love with me, and that you wouldn't have it any other way. In fact, you're going to suck his dick right off, because you were supposed to have done that if you got caught, and you did! If you don't follow these orders exactly, I'm going straight to the principal with my pictures. Call me as soon as he drops you off, after you've sucked his dick, whore!"

What?! This thing was becoming a bigger mystery. Why did she want me to fellate Jake? Why did she have me do that whole thing at the mall? Why did she want me to get caught and be used by men? None of that made sense! And now I was going to be forced to be a sex slave for Darla and two men! Right when I thought Jake might be able to get me out of this, too! Of course this was just some game I didn't fully grasp, yet. No way Jake was actually concerned, this was a set-up of some kind. But what kind of set-up? What was the point? Why did Darla want to share me with these men? Did they have a power over her? Were they making her do this? No, that didn't seem possible.

I rolled over as I considered the possibilities. I simply couldn't put the pieces together. What was Darla's motivation? Why was she so concerned about what I told Jake if my telling him didn't risk her power over me? But then why would she have me do anything with him at all? Or Tony? How did they fit into the picture? And if my telling was so dangerous for her, why hadn't she ordered me not to tell them anything until now? Then I looked at the clock and realized it already past 2 PM! The late night and waking in the middle of the night had made me sleep in for far too long! Jake was probably already getting ready to come pick me up!

What was I going to wear? Did I have to wear one of the thongs? Well, I didn't have any other underwear, so that's irrelevant. I had to. Did I still have my nice black cocktail dress? What was Jake going to wear? If this was just a trick, would what I wear effect what happened to me? Should I wear something sexy to appease the people who used me, or was this a real date and I should wear what I'd normally wear? I decided on a compromise at first. I found a nice red dress that was low cut and somewhat tight, but otherwise covered me well. But I realized I couldn't do that because the scrape form my fall was visible on both my shoulder on the top of my left breast. In addition, there was some greenish yellow bruise developing around my areolas, and the tops of the bruises could be seen.

I finally decided on a black dress. It, too was tightish, but it had a long neck and covered my cleavage and most of my shoulders. It was slightly shorter than the red one, but the scrapes on my knees were covered. They might be revealed when i sit, but my knees would be under the table, so that was acceptable. I showered again, shaved, and was very neutral throughout. I simply didn't know what to feel, and I couldn't afford to break down anyhow. I distracted myself by coming to a decision that could be very harmful to my life. I was going to try to get help from Jake. I couldn't live the slave of Darla any longer. I wouldn't do anything in front of her, but I had to take this chance. And if Jake wound up being just as bad as Darla, if it wound up this was some intricate trick, Jake wouldn't help me and Darla would still have her power over me... or send me to prison and out of my career forever. That was almost preferable to what happened the night before. Was it worth it?

After showering, I dressed. I wore my the black thong I bought, as it matched the dress and was clean. I used some make-up and put my hair up. I dare say I looked beautiful. Perhaps I could use my looks to get Jake's help. Even if he weren't actually very kind, he seemed kinder than Darla. I could offer myself to him, and have it be my choice, instead of Darla forcing herself, and others, onto me. After I was ready, I chose my purse. It was a large purse, and I put copies of all the homework I had in it, as well as my keys and et cetera. I was ready at about 3:10, so I paced my house in worry and doubt. When it came to about 3:20, I put effort into calming down. I meditated a little, something I learned from yoga classes I had taken years before. It seemed to help. I wasn't on the verge of a break-down, but I was still intensely nervous.

My doorbell rang a few minutes before 3:30. I was in the living room, which was in sight of the front door, but I still jumped. The jump reminded me that I was sore all over, but I went to the door anyhow. On that short walk, I wondered if I would chicken out. I never realized before all this how big a coward I was. I was in this situation, after all. There was no way I'd find the nerve to ask Jake for help. But if I didn't, I'd have to go down on him by Darla's command, and he'd think that it was what I wanted. As it was, he probably thought it was what I wanted, he was just trying to earn my trust, to make me less nervous. All so he could get head. No! I couldn't go out with him thinking like that! He would help if I told him, I had to tell him! Probably. Maybe. I had to hope, at any rate!

I answered the door and paused. Jake was hansom, but he was also tall and imposing. The air from outside flew around me, up my skirt, reminding me about the thong I was wearing and how I've never worn one for a man unless I planned to seduce him. I knew how vulnerable I was, especially against a man of his size. He wasn't huge, but he was taller than average and muscular. But he also took so much care for his appearance. How could the only thing he cared about be getting laid if he could get it without so much work? He could have simply taken me, and I would have accepted it, due to my position and cowardice. In the moment I had those thoughts, Jake, looking right into my eyes, said, "Wow... you really are beautiful."

I had taken care to keep from crying, to keep my eyes white with some eye drops. The make-up covered the stress, I guess. Jake offered me his arm, and we walked to his car. It was a newish SAAB. I had no idea security guards got paid as much as it appeared Jake was worth. Maybe he had a rich family. I was walking stiffly, but Jake's smile and compliment had softened me. He opened the door for me, and I got in slowly. I glanced up and Jake had a concerned, nearly pained look on his face. What was with him? How did he fit into Darla's scheme? If he was actually as nice as he seemed, why would Darla include him in any of this, and why would she allow me to go on this date.

And that's when it hit me. If that really was a date, then it'd be the first one I was on in almost a year. It'd be the first date I went on since Chad. Did I want that? Jake got in, and I looked over to him. He was so hansom and kind, and he was even charming, and I figured I'd put my worries behind me and enjoy the date. I didn't know how it fit into anything, but if it was real, I intended to enjoy it. I would tell Jake everything later, after seeing if this was really a date. The car ride began awkwardly. I was still nervous, of course. I could just ignore what was happening to me. Especially since Jake had already seen me nude and vulnerable! After getting on a major road, Jake turned on the radio. It was on a pop station, but he turned it to a soothing jazz. Afterwards, he put his hand on my shoulder and rubbed as he had the night before. It was my left shoulder, which I had fallen on. It hurt, but I tried to ignore it. He looked sidelong at me as he drove, "Hey, we're just going to have fun tonight, right? No pressure, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. We can just be friends and talk about stuff."

The way he spoke to me, it was very soothing. In fact, I found myself relaxing. I was still unsure and nervous, but I was leaning more towards trusting than distrusting. Jake seemed like he was actually a nice guy. He asked me some questions on the way to the restaurant, since it was a relatively long drive. He asked me about superficial facts about myself, such as favorite bands and movies. He was telling me a story about when he was in college as we pulled into the parking lot. I even managed to pull my head out of my worries. It was really going to happen. I was going to find help in Jake. He actually was a nice guy.

The view from the table was as he described it, and there weren't any smokers at the tables around us. I was still nervous and a little terrified of possible consequences, so I didn't talk much. I mostly replied to Jake's stories and questions. I even smiled. I actually had a good time. Jake was intelligent, witty, and nice. He told me all about his family and friends. He even invited me to discuss my family, and I told him exclusively true things. He got a very smooth and not too sweet red wine, the whole bottle. He only had a few glasses, and I had three. I didn't touch my food, which had ordered after recommending something he liked. I had never been, and I felt bad at ordering anything I may have wanted due to the prices. So I was actually relieved when he ordered for me. It was some kind of chicken cooked in a special lemon wine sauce. It was every bit as good as he said.

By the time we got in the car to go home, I was having an honestly good time. Jake and I had similar tastes not only in music and food, but also in recreation and literature. From the first time I met him, I never expected someone so... well, great. I simply never expected to be on such a perfect date, especially with someone I assumed was so creepy before. Though again, it may have been that I was reaching, comparing the date to how horrible my life had been the past few weeks. Jake was apparently studying for a Masters in Physics, but he didn't know what he was going to do with it. He just liked physics. Every fact I learned about him made me respect him even more. How could I have expected such a perfect man to exist?

Why did Darla include Jake in all of this? What was her motivation? I banished that thought from my head the moment I had it, but then we pulled up to my house. I didn't want to get out of the car, but things would get suddenly awkward if I didn't. I didn't want to go back to my life, I didn't want to be forced to face what Darla had created of it. Jake walked me to my door, said he had a wonderful time, and then he asked, "Are you sure you're alright with this whole thing?"

"What whole thing?", I asked, sobered and quiet.

"Well," Jake began "This whole shared slave thing. I won't lie and claim I'm totally comfortable with it. I was only taking part out of curiosity and the assumption you were comfortable with it. I get the nagging impression Darla is too immature to handle the responsibility, and Jake is clueless about the lifestyle to begin with. You certainly weren't comfortable last night, which makes me... well, concerned. You're a marvelous lady, and one I never expected to find in this lifetime. I just... I want to make sure you're okay."

Jake stood and looked to me, apparently waiting for some sort of answer. It seemed like he was asking me to tell him what was going on with Darla. The doubt nagged at me. If he was working with Darla, perhaps they were trying to see how trustworthy I could be with Darla's secret. But I really wanted what I had that night with Jake to be real. I didn't have to wear a mask, I was simply myself. Well, after I finally got comfortable enough to be myself, anyhow.

Then, Jake surprised me. He leaned in to kiss me, and it was slow and warm. He wasn't putting pressure on me to go further, but he let me know he was into me, that he wanted me. Then, he said "I'm not comfortable sharing like this, I realized. If you want this, good for you. I'll even stay along and watch to make sure things are alright. But I know you have my number. I want you for my own, and it makes me feel selfish and a bit dishonest. I know you have your thing with Darla, but I'll always be an option.", and he turned and walked away.

I watched him turn and walk. He took a step, and I realized my chance to tell him what was happening was slipping away. Further, he was, so far as I could tell, everything I wanted in a man. I couldn't take that chance, I couldn't lose that opportunity! I reminded myself of the promise I made to take chances if it meant I could end this whole thing. And this looked like one. He took another step, and I worried that it might still be a giant set up that Darla orchestrated to get me into trouble. And then I took the chance. I shouted "Wait!", jumped off my step after him, caught up, and grabbed his shoulder. He had turned around before I got to him.

I wanted to start explaining things, to invite him in so that we had the privacy required to, but I just grabbed him, pulled in closer, and started crying into his chest. I knew I seemed crazy, but I couldn't help my reaction. I didn't even know if I could trust him, even though he seemed like such a great guy earlier. I still intuited that he was the good guy he seemed, but I was too scared and horrified of the consequences to start talking. I half expected Jake to think I was crazy and try to leave, but instead he pulled me close and said, "My suspicions have some merit, don't they?"

I pulled away far enough to nod at his question, but I couldn't immediately say anything. He put his hand on my head and held me close, calming me. It worked. I may not have fully trusted him, but I wanted to, and it seemed like I should. I was helpless as it was, so I figured letting him hold me like that wasn't going to harm anything. As I cried into his shoulder, he asked, "Would you like to talk about it?"

I was crying less, then, and I had the energy and will to take his hand and brokenly ask, "Would you.... like... coffee?" and then I led him towards my door. He didn't say anything, but he came inside with me all the same. I brought him over to my couch, and put a few coasters on the coffee table. I would have turned the radio on, but I didn't know what kind of mood would be appropriate or if it might send me off crying and unable to talk again. I put a pot on to percolate, and asked him, from the kitchen, if he'd like creamer or sugar. My voice broke slightly, but I was loud enough that he answered. Yes to both. I wasn't sure how to start what I wanted to say to him, so I dallied in the kitchen for a while. The two cups of coffee only took several minutes in my machine, so it wasn't too strange leaving him alone. His concern over my distress would probably excuse my odd behavior anyhow.

I brought the coffee out and sat next to him. I told him I'd get him more sugar or creamer if he wanted it, but he took a sip and told me it was fine. His sip was taken soon after the coffee was done, though, and I could tell he burned his tongue. He tried to ignore the burn, but he made a face that, for some reason, started me laughing. I didn't laugh long or hard, it was more of a giggle or chuckle, but the mood of the room changed. I was comfortable again. Still and obviously not all the way, but I was closer to being able to open up to him. He smiled when I laughed, and I could see the caring in his eyes again. What would bring someone I hardly knew before that night to care so much about what was going on. Well, I guess if he sensed how severely wrong things were, and were a good person, his natural reaction would be to care and attempt to get to the bottom of the problem. Somehow, I felt bad that his attention was on me. Almost as though I didn't deserve it. But that was probably how badly I had been treated the few weeks prior, again.

I picked up my purse, and set it on my lap. I opened it slightly, and put the tip of my finger on the papers. I was too nervous about the possible consequences to keep going, though. I looked up to Jake, and he still seemed concerned. He noticed what I was doing with my purse, and in retrospect I realized I didn't hide it well. I knew I was a coward for trying after getting so close to showing him, too. Even though I had stopped taking them out of my purse, Jake took the initiative. I guess how I was acting would get anyone curious. He grabbed the papers I was fingering, and took them from my purse. He did it slowly, as though testing to see if I'd stop him. I started shaking, but I didn't.

I thought I was vulnerable the night before. Hand-cuffed, legs spread, at Jake's mercy. But his seeing my homework made me feel more vulnerable. He wasn't just looking at my naked body, he was looking at my soul. Specifically, he was looking at the damage that had been done to my soul. Just like a body, it's difficult to not cover a wound on your soul from possible further damage. I just watched him look at the first few photos and shook, fingering the lips of the purse I didn't have the nerve to set back down.

"What's all this?" Jake asked, holding the photos and papers at an angle so that we could both look at them. I tried to answer his question, but I hadn't quite figured out where to start, and all that came out was a creek. I realized I was biting my lip, and focused on my breathing so I could calm down. "What does all this mean?"

I can't remember exactly what I said, due to my anxiety, but, in broken and soft sentences, I explained the very basics of the situation to Jake. His reaction was to stand up sshout, "You can't be serious! We have to call the police!"

I couldn't allow that, as I had already realized the consequences of such an action, so I jumped immediately up and grabbed his arms, "No! No no no! I'd lose my job and go to prison!"

"But we can't allow this to continue! This is immoral to the highest degree! I thought that, even if you were nervous, you were at least WILLING!"

I tried to say "Yeah", but it came out a whisper. I knew nothing could be done.

"Oh my god..." Jake said, putting his fingers through my hair. "You poor thing. You, more than anyone I know, don't deserve this. Would you like me to stay here tonight? I mean... to protect you, keep safe?"

I couldn't say anything. My emotion and my control over them had reached it's limit. My mental resources had been fully tapped. All I could do was nod. For almost half an hour, he held me and comforted me on the couch. The next thing I knew, we were in my bed. I apparently fell asleep on the couch. We were still both dressed, except for our shoes, and my arms were sore. I had apparently been holding onto him in my sleep. I moved so that I could see his face. He was sleeping. There was snot and tears on his suit jacket, so I took the time to remove it without waking him, and I tossed it off the bed and lied back down in his arms. Someone just holding me as I slept made all the difference. It was the most comfortable and safe I had felt since I could remember.

I turned away from him and moved backwards into his arms, to fit better and feel more secure. A moment after I had settled in, I heard Jake whisper "I'll do everything in my power to fix this. I promise." I couldn't say anything. I just pressed my face into his hand, kissed it, and cried softly until I fell asleep.