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The Teacher Next Door

It was an unusual situation and something I was unprepared for. My neighbors next door, whom I was friendly with but did not know very well, asked if I would tutor their son because he was doing poorly in his English classes. The boy, thirteen years old, was not one of my students at school.

His sister, however, was a senior in high school and was a student in my Advanced Composition class.

Often in the past, students has asked if I would tutor them. Not their parents. I smiled inwardly at the thought, because students who asked me to tutor them were primarily my male students and I was used to dealing with their ?crushes.? Not that I discouraged their affection exactly. I was aware of it, and truthfully, I used it as a means to get higher performance from them in their schoolwork. Of course, I never let their adolescent fantasies go anywhere. If truth be told, I admitted to myself, I actually did things in class that encouraged all the boys to develop an interest in me.

A lot of it had to do with my looks. As a teenager and into my early twenties, I had been a model. For a short time after that, an actress, actually having appeared in a police drama for four years. Not as the main character, but as one of the supporting cast. Some episodes did concentrate more on my character, but that was rare. I made a decision that acting was not a life for me, but I had saved quite a bit of money, so I went to college at the age of 27 and over the next few years earned a degree and a teaching certificate.

I still had the looks, bearing and face of a model, even though I was now forty-one and had one child. Of course, I would not have been able to work at it anymore, but I was proud of the way I had taken care of myself over the years. My hair was jet black and my eyes almost as dark. I was five feet nine inches tall, slender and lean, with taut muscles moving smoothly beneath soft supple skin. My facial features were sharp and angular with extremely prominent cheekbones which I admitted I accentuated even further with what might have been a touch too much rouge. My lips were wide and full and I had two rows of perfect teeth. The only real criticism I ever had when I looked in the mirror was that I felt my mouth was a little too wide.

And if I did act a little flirtatious in the classroom, or dressed a bit more sharply and sexily than the other teachers, well, my students tended to get better than average grades.

For some reason, I did agree to tutor young Mark. His parents offered a lot of money. Not that I needed it, but it was an enticement. Having invested during my higher income years, I was quite comfortable with a fair amount of savings and a very nice house in a very nice neighborhood. Now I had become the tutor of the boy next door.

It was no inconvenience, as he just came to my house in the evenings twice a week, after I returned home from teaching. My daughter was spending a few weeks at my ex-husband?s place, which was only across town. Being sixteen, she had decided that she wanted to experiment living with Dad for awhile, and he and I being on friendly terms, we agreed, but only for a trial period

Of course, there were many other things going on all around me, and I had no idea. At least, not then.

This is the story of my downfall.

After a couple of weeks it seemed natural to have Mark around the house, even though he began dropping in at times that were unscheduled for tutoring. I could recognize the familiar signs of infatuation beginning, but I did nothing to encourage of discourage it. Since he was not one of my students from the school, I did not really worry about it as much as I would have with students from my own classes. Besides, I was used to that kind of behavior from adolescent youths, although they weren?t usually so young.

And I dressed a bit more casually at home than I did at the school.

Mark would start coming by whenever no one was home at his house. This began to include weekends when I usually wanted privacy or I was out in the back yard by the pool soaking up some sun in a bikini. It did not seem appropriate for him to be seeing my in my bikini, but since he lived just next door, I assumed he had seen me like this before. How my students would have liked to seen that! Anyway, Mark was lonely, it seemed, and I could not bear to kick him out, so I let him stay. Even with my eyes closed, I could sometime feel his eyes feasting on me. Sometimes I would sneak a peek from beneath my sunglasses just to be sure. I guess it was kind of cruel for me to untie my bikini top when I turned over to get some sun on my back.

Mark was not a shy young man, by any means. He would often make comments about my looks, and he did not act shy about looking at me. In fact, he was quite bold. It would make me smile sometimes, and I admit that I would sometimes have secret fantasies about things that could happen. Of course, I did that with my students, as well.

Sometimes we would just have our tutoring sessions outside. Since these were usually ?extra? ones, or unscheduled, I really just let him do the work while I bathed in the sun. Since his parents were absent so often, it did not even occur to me to wonder whether they would mind. I just got used to it over time, I guess.

He began to ask if he could spread the tanning oil on me, as if he was doing me a favor. That triggered another secret smile and I always turned him down, of course. However, he was persistent and kept asking, so finally I seemed to break down and said he could, but only if he got an A on his next class assignment. At his level of expertise in the subject, this should have been quite impossible. How he managed it, I don?t know, but he did.

Later, I realized he must have had help. I tried to go back on my word, but he was adamant about the fact that I had promised, so I relented. I was nervous, though, and asked if his parents were home, because that was the only house that could see into my back yard. I was crossing a line and I knew it, so I wanted to be sure we would keep this secret. I was allowing a thirteen year old boy to spread oil over my body, and it almost seemed like I was agreeing to let him feel me up.

So I handed him the bottle of tanning oil and I laid down on my stomach.

He started on my back. The oil was warm from sitting in the sun, and it simply felt wonderful. I think part of why it felt so good was that it was so wrong. Time stopped. I don?t know how long he rubbed oil on my back, and legs, I just know that the closer and closer he came to my bikini bottom, the more I anticipated his hands and wanted it to continue and continue. I didn?t even realize until he asked me to roll over that he had untied the string to my top. Keeping my eyes closed, I felt his oil slicked hand exploring my body, then slide over my bare breasts.

And I did not stop him.

I was barely aware of anything at all, just laying there in the sun, eyes closed, feeling hands all over my body. Feeling the trembling desire in my pussy, sometimes biting my lip not to gasp when I felt his fingers come close to where I really wanted him to touch me. I found myself parting my legs a little so he would know what I wanted, and where I wanted him to touch me. It was wrong, but I was not really thinking about right and wrong. The feeling?the desire?had sneaked up on me. He pushed my thighs a little further apart. It seemed like he was purposely teasing me, touching the tender insides of my thighs, getting close, then moving away. Finally, he touched me. There. My pussy. My mouth was wide open by now and I am sure I must have been pushing myself toward him. He took this as encouragement to reach inside the waist band and begin to pull my bottoms down. I lifted my hips to make it easier, not even thinking about the fact that we were outside.

A thirteen year old boy was playing with my pussy and I was spreading my legs for him. Both of us completely silent the entire time except for when an involuntary gasp would escape my lips.

I couldn?t help it. I opened my mouth and said in a whispering but urgent voice, ?Fuck me.?

And he did.

It did not last long before I felt his wetness shoot into me, and I wasn?t done, so I laid there and masturbated while he watched. After I came, and was silent a moment, catching my breath, I realized what I had done. I sat up and said, ?We shouldn?t have done that.? Holding my arm across my breasts, I said, ?You should go home now.? Then I added, ?Don?t tell anyone.?

Instead of leaving, he moved closer. His pants were pulled up, but his zipper was undone and his cock was hanging out only inches from my face.

?I won?t tell anyone, ? he said, ?if you put it in your mouth and suck it.?

I looked up at him, astonished at his nerve, but there was an unexpected firm look on his face. So I opened my mouth and took him inside. He grew hard readily enough, evidently recovering while I had been frantically seeking my own orgasm. Sucking always gets me excited and he wasn?t coming as fast this time. I was having to work at it. My hand slipped into my lap and I began fingering myself as I sucked him. Just as I was coming, moans escaping my lips, his cock erupted into my mouth. I was unprepared and some of it escaped my lips with the groan of my orgasm and dribbled down my chin.

He pulled his wet cock from my mouth and sort of hugged my face tight against him. His hardness pressed into my face. As it softened, he withdrew, taking the tip of his cock and rubbing it into the stream on my chin. Then he rubbed it all over my face.

He zipped up his pants after awhile, saying, ?I?ll sneak back over after dark, once my parents have gone to bed.?

Before I had a chance to protest, he was gone.

I did not know about the video camera until later.

CHAPTER TWO

INTERLUDE (MARK)

Mark tried to stay calm as he walked home. Once he got to his own room, however, he pumped his fist into the air in a burst of momentary elation and victory. It had never even occurred to him it would be that easy. The plan had never anticipated a voluntary seduction at all. When that possibility even occurred to him he had automatically dismissed it. Not in the beginning, but later when he had thought about it more and had set the plan in motion. His vision of future events had assumed blackmail or the threat of potential blackmail. His hope had been to maneuver Nancy Costain, the teacher next door, into a situation that, if not compromising, at least gave the appearance of being so. And he had only hoped he would be able to somehow capture it on camera or videotape. Failing an actual compromising situation, his alternate plan had been to lie. Quite simply, he would make up a story and threaten to tell it to his parents and the authorities. Not only would Ms. Costain come under investigation and probably lose her job, but she would be smeared in all of the newspapers and on television. Her past celebrity as a model and actress would guarantee that. Would she submit? He thought so.

It would have been a bigger story, he thought, than the teacher who went to jail twice for fucking her sixth grade student. That, and another story about a female bus driver had been the initial inspiration for his interest and desire in the dark-haired woman next door. It was something else entirely that had modified his plan so drastically, crystallizing it into the total domination of a sexy older woman, instead of being just an infatuation and sexual desire of a young boy for the lady next door.

As part of a younger brother?s obligation to spy on an older sister, he had sneaked into her room and turned on her computer, hoping to find a diary or something personal to use in exchange for future ?favors.? He was astonished to discover that she did not even use a password, and partly because of that he did not expect to find anything important or personal.

What he did find, however, was a downloaded story from the internet called, "Owned Teacher,? by someone called Thumb. It made him wonder a little about his sister, but more importantly, it changed what he wanted to do with the teacher next door.

His plans became incredibly insidious. Even evil.

As he continued to sneak onto his sister?s computer he followed the developments of the story and it inspired his own imagination.

The key to his own plan now was the videotape. He took the tape from the video camera which he had set up on a tripod looking down from his bedroom window on the second floor. He looked through the viewfinder and was encouraged to see that it was still focused in close-up on the chaise lounge where he had enjoyed himself with Ms. Costain. Often he had watched her from that very window. Mostly back when his fantasies were more innocent.

He grinned. His intentions certainly weren?t innocent now.

He reveled in his success, remembering how easy it had been.

His favorite moment had not been fucking the long-limbed former model. He remembered how she had tried to send him away afterward, sitting on the edge of the chaise lounge. He remembered how when had tried to send him away afterward, sitting up, trying to cover he nakedness with her arms, looking down at the ground as if she was ashamed.

He smiled as he remembered how easy he had told her.

?Put it in your mouth and suck it,? he had said, ?and I won?t tell.?

And she had done it!

No arguing, only a moment of hesitation, and like a slut, she had done what he said. That was the moment he had begun to think of her a a slut. His plan had always been to turn her into one, but he reasoned that if she was so easy, she must be one already. His opinion of her, which had once been one of admiration, had decreased substantially. It was just that he had imagined a little more effort would be necessary to initiate the first stages of his plan. Consequently, his ideas for using her became more?.detailed and intricate.

Puffed up with feeling of success and power, he took the videotape downstairs to view it before his parents came home. Viewing the tape only served to intensify his confidence. She liked it, he thought to himself.

She got off on it! Not only being fucked by a thirteen year old boy, but she got off on blowing him, too. This is just going to be too easy, the thought.

As he copied the tape, he remembered conversations he had overheard and even taken part of at school. A girl named Reba with big breasts and tight clothes and how the guys laughed when they talked about her. One guy called her a slut, so another called her a whore, and one even called her a ?pig.?

He wondered what they would say about Ms. Costain if they knew what she had done, and the things he knew he could get her to do in the future. Maybe someday, I?ll find out, he chuckled.

He had only told one person about his plan, can he considered telling of its initial success. Instead, he decided to wait and enjoy it for himself for now. There was time to tell someone later.

Then he made a copy of the tape. Just in time, too. Just as the tape machine clicked off, the heard the garage door opening as his parents and sister arrived home.

CHAPTER THREE

INTERLUDE (NANCY)

After Mark left, I went inside and took a long hot shower, trying to wash away the experience and the shame. Fucking a young boy like that! And sucking him! After I had spent years making sure to do no such thing with anyone underage, in spite of the fantasies I had sometimes had about certain students. I had never even come close to succumbing to those fantasies.

I opened a bottle of wine and curled up on the sofa, wearing only a silk robe, trying to escape thinking about it. I tried reading, but could not concentrate. Stray thoughts kept filtering in. I turned on the television.

Paying attention was impossible. My mind kept replaying the events of the afternoon.

Without realizing it, a finger had strayed to play with my pussy.

What must he think of me, I wondered. And would he tell anyone?

What I had done was so obviously wrong, and I?m certain he realized it, too.

Yet there were countless stories in film and print of younger boys ?making it? with older women. I wracked my brain, but could not think of any story where the boy had been quite so young, however. I was quite worried about it. In the news not long ago there had been an incident about a teacher who had been to bed many times with her sixth grade student, and she had ended up going to jail over it.

I had to make it stop, and make it stop now. At the same time, I had to convince him to keep quiet about it. I was positive I would be successful.

After all, he was just a boy.

Maybe if we did it one more time? What could that hurt now, I thought, since we had done it once? And he had said he was coming back this evening.

Quickly, I discarded those thoughts. Nothing good could come of it. At least, something very bad could result. I began concentrating on the possible negatives to firm up my resolve.

Plus, I had been mostly ?good? for awhile. Regardless of things I had done in the past.

I remembered how silent we had both been though the whole thing. The only words I really remembered was when he had stood in front of me and said, ?Suck it.?

It did not seem like the behavior and attitude of a typical thirteen year old boy. He had said those words like he knew I would do it. Like it was an order. My fantasies began again, but I quickly quashed them. This had to stop and stop now. I was determined.

The decision having been made, I was finally able to relax.

I drifted off to sleep on the couch.

The Teacher Next Door, Chapter Four

Awakening from my sleep, I heard the slight scrape of the sliding glass door, so I sat up and pulled my robe together. It was Mark, of course.

When he came into the room, I turned on a lamp next to the sofa and said, ?You and I need to have a talk.?

?Okay,? he replied. ?What do you want to talk about??

?This,? I said. ?You being here now. What happened this afternoon. It can ?t happen anymore. It shouldn?t have happened today.? I felt myself tremble as a spoke. I was nervous. I pulled the robe even tighter and covered my long legs. I felt him staring.

He walked directly in front of me, then got down on his knees, placing one hand on each of my knees. ?Okay,? he said, ?we?ll talk. Then he added, ?But you seemed to like it.?

?That is not the point and it is not important,? I insisted. ?I?m an adult and you are only thirteen.?

Looking directly into my eyes from his position on the floor, he said quietly but forcefully, ?And its possible that you could get in a lot of trouble.? Immediately he began to push my knees apart, spreading my legs very wide, as if this veiled threat suddenly gave him power. My pussy was wide open and completely visible to him. I tried to close my legs, but he held them apart with surprising strength. So I remained sitting like that, wide open. I moved a hand down to cover myself where my robe had parted. He slapped it away with the back of his hand.

?This has to stop!? I insisted.

?What if I don?t want it to?? he asked. Then he pulled my robe the rest of the way open, baring my breasts.

?Then I have to be the one to stop it! Right now,? I insisted, even while the ridiculousness of my position occurred to me, sitting with legs spread and breasts revealed to his view. This wasn?t going the way I had planned.

?You can?t stop it,? was all he said. He looked at me as if waiting for me to say something, but I could not think of anything to say for a moment.

Slowly he reached up to my nipple and pinched it. It didn?t hurt. It felt good. But I was attempting to control my reactions.

?Now you do it, ? he commanded, meaning I should pinch my own nipple.

I hesitated.

?Do it!? he said again.

Almost of its own volition, my arm moved up and?I pinched my nipple.

?Both at the same time,? he ordered next.

So I began to pinch and play with my nipples, sitting on the couch in front of a thirteen year old boy. I found I could not help myself. I closed my eyes and my mouth fell open, my breath coming in gasps. I sensed him move to a standing position, then felt his hand on the back of my head, pulling me forward. He began rubbing the head of his dick all over my face, and I felt a little bit of moisture oozing from the head of his cock as he first touched my cheek, then spread it around. I was still playing with my nipples and I could hear involuntary noises escape my lips. My pussy was soaked. Already. I opened my mouth wider so he could put his cock inside.

I wanted him in my mouth.

How quickly I had given in.

Again.

Instead he just rubbed the tip of his cock around my lips. When I tried to lick it or fit my lips around it, he pulled it away. Then he stepped back a little, which caused me to open my eyes. By then, I had one hand in my lap rubbing my clit. I couldn?t remember when I had moved the hand from my breast to my pussy.

His cock was standing straight out, the head only inches from my face. He held it in his right hand, grinning.

?Suck it,? he commanded.

I?ve been trying to, I thought to myself, not even realizing I was back in the exact same position I had been earlier. Only this time, instead of looking serious, he had an evil smile on his face. A smile full of confidence.

So I leaned forward to put his cock in my mouth, wondering why he did not understand that I had been trying to do that already. Just before my mouth reached it, he moved it aside with his hand.

?Try again,? he said, just a tinge of humor reflected in his voice.

Once again, he moved his cock aside as my mouth approached.

?Keep trying,? he said.

Over and over again, the scene was repeated, with my mouth following his cock around, realizing he was playing with me the way I?d seen people sometimes teasing a dog. It was humiliating, yet I could not stop.

Finally, he stopped me.

?I guess since you said I shouldn?t be here and we shouldn?t be doing this, you?ll have to do without.? After a brief pause, he added, ?Unless you say ?please.??

I looked up at him, not believing he was making me do this. I waited, expecting him to change his mind. Finally, after an eternity of a few seconds, still looking into his eyes, I heard myself quietly say the word.

?Please?? It didn?t occur to me that I could have made this stop right then.

?Please what?? he prompted.

?Please,? I said again. ?Please, may I?.suck your?dick??

I couldn?t believe the words were coming out of my mouth. I was begging a thirteen year old boy to let me suck him off. The thing of it was?I meant it, and begging for it was turning me on. Having him make me beg for it was turning me on. It reminded me of something that happened years ago, in my mid-twenties when a black man made me beg for the same thing. Sometimes he would let me and sometimes he would not. Now the same scene was playing itself out.

Then Mark?s voice jerked me back to the present.

?You probably want to be fucked, too, don?t you??

This time I did not look at him. I just whispered, ?Yes.?

In a sort of teasing voice, he said, ?I?ll let you suck my cock?if???then he paused.

I looked up at him then, waiting for him to continue.

?If,? he continued, ?you admit you?re an easy fuck.?

My eyes narrowed as I felt anger begin to burn through the lust.

?Think about it,? he continued when he saw the look on my face, ?This afternoon all I did was rub tanning oil on your back, and the next thing I know, you?re asking me to fuck you. Then tonight it wasn?t more than a few minutes after you told me we shouldn?t be ?doing this? and you?re trying to get my dick in your mouth!?

He started rubbing his cock on my face again.

?On top of that,? he said, lowering his voice, ?I?m only thirteen.?

The veiled threat was obvious. I felt I had no choice, so I relented.

?I?m?an?easy?fuck,? I said.

?Say it again,? he laughed in victory.

?I?m an easy fuck,? I repeated.

?Again,? he ordered.

?I?m an easy fuck,? I repeated over and over at his insistence. Somehow saying it was releasing something inside me. At times in my life it had certainly been true. And it had certainly been true today. I felt myself getting wet again. All the momentary anger was gone.

?What?s another word for ?easy fuck??? he asked.

I though for a moment before I answered. ?Pushover,? I replied.

He laughed out loud. ?Look at you, he said. ?Legs spread wide, rubbing your cunt, playing with your tits, trying to get my cock in your mouth! You can think of something better!?

I knew what he was looking for.

?Slut,? I said.

He just stood there, waiting.

?I?m a slut,? I said finally, knowing that is what he expected to hear. It made me feel nasty to say it, like it had made me feel nasty saying I was an ?easy fuck.? And I knew I was being easy, but I didn?t care anymore. Not that I felt I had much choice either. I guess that just made it easier to give in. The thoughts of defying him had faded, and I?m not sure it was mostly because his threats to expose me. It would be his word against mine, and I could probably have created enough doubt to not get in serious trouble. However, it would probably be quite public, and my reputation as a teacher would carry a taint from that day forward. It could become very embarrassing. At that point, I guess I assumed I would be able to figure a way out of it later. Right then, I was not really worrying about it. I was wet, and puffy, and incredibly excited, even though I did not wish to be.

?Say it again,? said Mark.

I responded. ?I?m a slut.?

?Has anyone ever called you a slut before?? he asked.

I hesitate briefly before answering. ?Yes,? I admitted.

?So kiss my cock, slut,? he ordered.

And I began kissing his cock.

Kissing a thirteen year old cock.

For a boy who called me a ?slut? and an ?easy fuck.?

I knew it was wrong, but I wanted to kiss his cock and I did. When he told me to ?kiss it like a slut,? it drove me a little further beyond the bend and I began to slide my lips along the sides of it, up and down, half open, sliding my tongue along it, too.

?A slut would be naked on her knees,? he said.

I pulled the robe the rest of the way off and got down on my knees. He told me to rub my ?tits? on his cock. Next he said, ?sluts always suck, don?t they?? So I sucked. He told me to ?slurp? on it, and I slurped, making noisy sucking sounds like a cheap whore. He was about to come and I knew it and I slurped harder and noisier, then he pulled out and pumped his cock with his hand and came all over my face while I was trying to get my mouth closer to his cock again. He told me to leave the come on my face, saying sluts need come on their face. He could tell I needed to come and he told me to rub my ?cunt? on the arm of the sofa. My beautiful white sofa. I did it, facing toward him, with his come dripping off my face and drying. While I was straddling the sofa arm rubbing my cunt against it, drenching it with my juices, he kept telling me what a slut I was and he popped a videotape into the machine and turned it on.

It was us together and what we had done that afternoon and it totally looked like I had seduced him. While I was watching and masturbating, he told me it was a copy and said it would make a good ?show? if he decided to let someone see it. ?Of course,? he said, ?as long as you?re a good slut and do whatever I want, I won?t have to show it to anyone.? All this while I?m masturbating against the couch. He said I had to be his slave, do whatever he wanted. Any time. Any place. I said I would. I knew now that I really did not have a choice, even if I wanted to say no. Right then I did not really care. I just wanted to come. Even though I knew I was making a spectacle of myself.

And finally, I did.

Sweating, breasts heaving, I allowed myself to slide off the arm of the couch and collapse on my side upon the soft cushions. My eyes inadvertently caught the part of the video where I knew he had said, ?Suck it.?

I was so ashamed. It was a great orgasm. A fantastic orgasm. But I was so ashamed. I even started to cry. I was also afraid. Afraid of what he might have me do. Afraid because a thirteen year old boy should not be acting like he was, and wondering why he came to be like that. Wondering what could cause a thirteen year old boy to want to treat a woman like a whore. At the same time a glimmering in the core of my being was secretly glad that he did. That thought shamed me even more.

?By the way,? he began as I lay somberly on the couch. ?My dad is rich, and spoils me. I rigged most of the rooms of your house with miniature video cameras hooked up to a central recorder. The cameras are triggered by motion detectors. All easily available at local electronics stores. What happened tonight got caught on tape. Anything you do will be caught on low-speed video tape.?

I just laid there, numb, not knowing whether to believe him or not.

?So now we have first rule for a slut,? he continued. ?No clothes on in the house. Period. Without advance permission. You have to ask for that permission if you know someone is coming over.?

I nodded weakly that I understood.

?So from now on you dress and undress in the garage.?

I nodded again.

?Next rule, ? he continued. ?Sluts don?t need panties. Do they??

?No,? I said quietly.

?Tomorrow is Sunday. Gather all the panties in your house tonight and put them in a pile in the living room by nine o?clock tomorrow morning for disposal.?

Once again I nodded to indicate I understood.

?Well, you?ve got a lot to think about,? he said, ?so I?ll be leaving soon.

Then he added, ?But before I leave, slut, you can suck me off again.?

And he smiled that evil smile.

CHAPTER FIVE

Sunday morning I woke up around seven-thirty, having had only about five hour of fitful sleep filled with strange and unusual dreams. Decadent sordid dreams about what had happened and what might happen in the future.

I did not get dressed. It was not allowed. I did not know where the cameras were, or if there were any at all. I did know he already did have the one incident on tape, which would be damning enough, whether he just distributed it at the school, or to the neighbors, or even to law enforcement officials.

I made breakfast naked, ate naked, and wondered if I was being watched.

>From my bureau, I removed all my panties and carried them downstairs, piling them onto the living room floor. It did not occur to me to not do as he said. It was obvious that, at least in the near term, I was going to be his sex slave. I would have to figure a way out of it later. I guess I was hoping he would become bored after a while or become more interested in girls his own age. In the near term, I could figure of no way out.

Betrayed by my own lust, I thought. If I had not been so needy and had done nothing when we were outside, I would not be in this precarious situation now. I blamed myself, not Mark. It was my wanting to stop it that had made him angry and start treating me badly, I reasoned. So, maybe I was nice to him, he would be nice to me.

I looked in the mirror, at my naked body. At age forty-one, most people who did not know me assumed I was in my early thirties. At least until you looked up close, and I mean really close. I had taken care of myself well.

After all, as a model and an actress, that career had depended a large part on my looks, and I had developed a habit back then of taking care of myself.

I had done a pretty good job of it, too, I reflected.

So maybe if I said I was sorry, things could be more normal between us. At least as normal as it could be between a young boy and a much older woman.

Of course, I did not realize then that it had always been his plan to do this to me, and I had made it much easier for him by being so ?easy.?

Just before nine o?clock, Mark came in by the back sliding glass door again.

I waited for him, naked, in the living room.

?Good morning, Mark,? I greeted him sweetly as he came into the living room.

He eyed the pile of my panties on the floor.

?Is that all of them, he asked coldly, not responding to my greeting.

?Yes,? I said. ?I emptied my bureau drawer this morning.?

?I know,? he said. ?I saw. What about ones you?ve already worn? Were there any in the dirty clothes hamper??

I had not thought to remove them from there, and I told him so.

?Go get hem, too,? he said.

I went to the washroom, breasts bouncing as I walked, and emptied the dirty clothes hamper, finding three more pairs of panties. I brought them back to the living room and added them to the pile.

?It was a very simple order I gave you last night, and you couldn?t even get that right,? he said, sounding cross. ?Are you stupid or something??

?No,? I responded.

?What?? he shouted, looking at me with intense displeasure.

I stopped, standing in front of him, totally vulnerable in my nakedness.

?I asked if you were stupid,? he prompted.

I started to say ?no? again, but from the look on his face I could tell it was the wrong answer. So I said, ?Yes.?

>From the way he smiled, I knew I had given the correct answer. For some reason it made me feel good to make him smile, even though I did so only by denigrating myself. I certainly knew I was not really stupid. But why did my pussy get wet when I said ?yes? in response to his question?

?You need to be spanked,? he said, ?for being so stupid.? He said it in such an off-hand way, as if it was unimportant.

?Mark?? I ventured, interrupting him.

?What??

?It doesn?t have to be like this,? I proceeded. ?Perhaps I was wrong when I said this had to stop. What started outside does not have to stop. I was wrong and I?m sorry for even thinking it had to stop. I?m sorry I made you angry when I suggested should not continue seeing each other. Wouldn?t it be better if we just went upstairs to my bedroom and?made love??

His reaction was a huge smile and I thought I had been successful. Yet his smile turned quirky, then faded.

?It might have been better,? he said thoughtfully, ?but since then I have learned other things about you. Didn?t I hear from your own mouth last night that you were just an ?easy fuck???

?Well?yes,? I admitted.

?And that you are nothing more than a slut, a cunt, and a whore??

?Yes,? I admitted, ?but??

?And just a few minutes ago didn?t your just say you were stupid??

?I did, but??

?So why would a guy want to ?make love? to a stupid, easy-fuck slut??

I was speechless, not knowing what to say. Then I made an attempt. ?Don?t you want to fuck me?? I asked, knowing that he did. I had only rarely met a man who, if not gay or married and loyal, had not had the thought at least pass through his head. Mark?s answer was not what I expected to hear.

?I?ve already fucked you once,? he said. ?You fuck a slut once, what else good is she? I should probably just turn that tape over to someone now, instead of later.?

This thought made me shudder.

?Besides,? he continued, ?As good as you might look to men your own age, or even younger, you?re an old hag to me. I prefer to fuck girls closer to my own age. Maybe a few years older, like your daughter, but not a forty year old bitch like you.?

He paused a second, as if in thought. I started to react to his mention of my daughter, but he began talking right away. ?Maybe,? he said thoughtfully, ?if I put a paper bag on your head I could pretend??

He paused a moment before he asked, ?Do you have a paper bag in the kitchen??

I did not answer right away, not liking the way the conversation was going.

?Probably,? I answered hesitantly.

?Then go fetch it like a good dog,? he ordered.

I started moving slowly toward the kitchen. As I passed by him, he reached out and slapped me on the ass, hard! ?Dogs run when they fetch!?

So I ran to the kitchen, my breasts bouncing up and down and from side to side as I jogged into the kitchen. I thought I heard laughter, but was not sure. I went to the broom closet, grabbed a paper bad and ran back. He definitely was laughing when I came back.

I stood in front of him holding the paper bag. I was certainly beginning to feel stupid.

?On your head,? he ordered.

I put the bag over my head. My pussy was beginning to leak. I could feel a small bit of my juice as the air hit it on my upper thigh. I sensed Mark walking around me, appraising my body. I knew it looked pretty good. Then I felt his hand lifting my buttocks one cheek at a time then letting them fall. ?Hmm?.? He said as is thinking to himself. ?Not a lot of sag there.?

Then, in front, he did the same thing to my breasts. ?Not much sag here, either, but not as firm as a teenaged girl.? He lifted them a few more times, and I felt them bounce as he released them. ?But fake. Girls my age don?t have fake tits.? The he slapped them lightly so they swayed from side to side. ?That looks funny,? he mused with a small laugh, doing it again.

Next I felt his hands on my ankles, working their way up, the way horse trainers do when checking out a horse. ?Firm, taut, good muscle tone,? he muttered as if examining an animal. ?Quite long. Attractive. A little too lean, maybe. Young girls have a little bit of baby fat on them, which makes them more attractive to guys my age. A bit of wrinkling around the knees, though. Common, I guess for old bitches.? Then he pinched my skin and let it snap back into place. ?Not as supple as a young girl,? he decided.

He was coming up to my pussy, which I had received countless appreciative comments on in the past. I kept my bush neatly trimmed and many men had told me how tight it was, and how lovely.

He slapped the inside of my thigh and said simply, ?Spread.?

I moved my feet farther apart, and he started poking my pussy.

?The pussy?s the most disgusting part of an older bitch,? he continued as if murmuring to himself. ?Too much hair, kind of coarse. Not thin and silky and sparse like a girl my age. Ugly. All that hair makes it look so ugly.

Used, too. Looks like its been used a lot, with these cuntlips all sticking out.? He grasped my pussy lips between thumb and forefinger and pinched them, just to drive his point home. ?Smells, too. Practically stinks. Not clean and fresh like your pussy.? Then he stuck a finger inside me.

?Loose. Just like I remember from fucking it yesterday. My cock got practically lost in there.?

That is because your cock is not fully grown yet, I thought in silent fury, enduring this endless trashing of what I knew was a beautiful body, standing silent while he poked and prodded me and insulted me. Standing there with a paper bag over my head.

He pulled his finger out from my pussy, and I felt him wipe it on my breast.

?Wet, too,? he went on. ?Soaking wet. Of course, I should expect that from an old slut. At least she isn?t dried out and withered like an old bag. Cunt gets wet when the whore is treated like a piece of meat.?

It was true. I could not deny how wet my pussy had become.

He stopped for a moment, as if he had an idea.

?Bend over and pull your ass cheeks apart.?

I did what he asked, making sure the bag did not fall off my head.

?Hmmm?? I heard him ponder. ?wet a finger in your cunt and stick it up your asshole.? I obeyed, feeling how wet my pussy really was, and being embarrassed. Then, reaching back between my legs, I was able to slowly push my finger inside my rear opening.

?That looks tight enough to be fucked a couple of times,? he decided. ?Try it with two fingers.?

Redfaced beneath the sack, I pulled the finger out of my rear, and inserted it and another finger in my pussy to wet them from my amply flowing juices.

Then I struggled to insert the two fingers in my rear, knowing that he was watching intently. When I got hem inside, he sounded disappointed. ?Well, maybe not good enough to fuck. We?ll see. It looks like you?ve been fucked back there a few times, too.

?You can stand up now,? he said.

I removed the fingers and stood up straight.

?What we have here,? he observed, ?is just an old bag in a paper bag.

Nothing more. An old stupid whore with a slime-drenched cunt. If you admit that?s all you are, you can take the bag off your head.?

I was tired of having the paper bag over my face. I was tired of enduring the ceaseless insults. I took the bag off my head and repeated what Mark had said. "I?m an old stupid whore with a slime drenched cunt.? I was giving up, putting myself entirely in his hands. There was no way to escape this any more.

?Well, then,? he began, ?since you?re useless to me as a fuck, I guess I should just turn the tape over to someone in authority then, shouldn?t I??

?Please don?t,? I pleaded.

?Why not?? he asked. ?You?re useless to me as a fuck. I prefer girls my age.?

?I?ll lose my job,? I said quietly.

?You?ll probably end up in jail, too. You?ll certainly be disgraced in the tabloids. ?Ex-television actress and model turned teacher seduces young student??.I can already see the headlines!?

?Please don?t do this to me,? I pleaded again.

?Like I asked before, why not? What?s in it for me??

?You like when I sucked you,? I said, trying to find something he had liked about me.

?So? That?ll get pretty boring after awhile. Plus, I know two others that?

ll do that for me pretty much when I want.?

At thirteen? I wondered what had made him like this. Is this what young people are like now, or just him?

?I?ll do whatever you want,? I said. ?Just like I promised last night.

Anything.? I was broken. I did not want the public disgrace. I gave in.

Totally.

?So I own you,? he observed.

?Yes,? I agreed. ?You own me.?

?That might be fun for awhile. At least you will be postponing what may turn out to be inevitable. You already know I?ll treat you like shit??

?I know,? I said. ?I figured that out.?

?And the moment you don?t do anything I want, I?ll release the video, and all the other videos and proof I gather from now on.?

?Yes. I realize that. I know.?

?You can start by licking your fingers clean. They?re dirty.?

Without arguing, because there was no point, and because I knew that much harder things were to come in the future, I did as he said. I licked and sucked the two fingers that had been in my pussy and asshole while he watched. ?Stupid,? was his only comment. Inside, I silently agreed with him.

?Then you can burn all your panties in the fireplace. I?ll be back in an hour and I expect you to be dressed and in the garage waiting for me. Wear whatever skirt you have that has the highest hemline, a white blouse that buttons down the front. No bra. And heels. I would tell you no panties, but that will be a moot point soon. No nylons, however, and I?ll check your other skirts later, so be sure to wear the shortest one. Don?t try to trick me by hiding anything. Remember, the video cameras are motion activated and record automatically over at my house.?

As I fed my panties one by one into the fire after he left, I again wondered what made a thirteen year old boy like that.

Just before he left, I had asked him where we were going.

?Among other places,? he told me, ?to your school. There shouldn?t be anyone there on a Sunday, should there??

I?d never been there on a Sunday before, and I did not know.

-------------end chapter five-----------------

The Teacher Next Door CHAPTER SIX

Disclaimer: This is a story about sex and humiliation. If you are under the age of eighteen or it is illegal in your area or region, please do not read it. If you object to strong words or the subject matter, please do not read the story.

As soon as Mark had told me now to dress, I was worried.

My shortest skirt was extremely short and I had only worn it once. It was a faded red color, made of very thin denim material, but not thick like jeans or anything like that. I had bought it at a thrift store when cruising shops with a guy I had been seeing some time back. It had only cost a couple of dollars. When I tried it on for him after we got to his home, we were both amazed at how short it really was. I swore I would never wear it in public. After some time had passed I had forgotten about the skirt and on Valentine?s Day I asked him if there was ?anything special? he wanted me to wear that evening. He talked me into wearing the faded red skirt and even into going out with him to a bar he had been wanting to go to where he could shoot pool.

I agreed to wear it, sort of as a ?Valentine?s Day? gift.

We were at the bar about three hours all together. I watched him shoot pool and drank as the waitress came by to replenish my ?Dewar?s and water on the rocks with a twist.? In the beginning, I mostly stood, not wanting to sit down in that skirt. People, especially guys, would stare at my legs. It seemed that this bar had a lot of ?regulars,? and neither my date nor I were frequent visitors there.

No one was really talking to me much, except for a couple of young girls, and later a tall slim girl with short hair and a tattoo around her next in some bizarre barbed style. It was obvious to everyone that I was there with someone, and although I was stared at quite a bit, no one wanted to come and talk to me to avoid the appearance of ?hitting? on me in front of what they assumed was my boyfriend. Plus, when I would look around I would see heads snap in the other direction or eyes suddenly avert away from my gaze. The skirt was that short. It barely covered my ass.

It was weird. Like there was a bubble around me that everyone could see through but no one could talk through and approach me. As nervous and embarrassed as I was to be standing there dressed like that, it seemed that I also made those around me nervous as well. I was too embarrassed to initiate conversation. I spent a lot of the time alone, because my ?boyfriend? was shooting pool. Sometimes he would come over between shots, and sometimes he would stay and talk to those he was shooting against. We would exchange looks, however, and he always had this huge grin on his face, like he was leaving me alone on purpose, knowing I was being stared at and getting off on it. He mentioned how I was the ?center of attention.?

After a long while, I could not bear to stand anymore, and knowing that my panties would be entirely visible, I still sat down on this high stool next to a tall table against one wall. I used the wall to lean against and watch the pool game. Sometimes he would come over and tell me which guys had been looking up my skirt, then go back to his game. If it had not been for the liquor I would probably not have had the nerve to sit down. At the same time, I was getting used to being stared at and not talked to, so it was not that much more of a step to let them stare at my panties, too. I pretended not to notice, but I noticed.

Anyway, after a while we left and went back to his house and made love, but I swore to him that I would not do anything like that ever again.

And this was the skirt that Mark wanted me to wear. At least it was the shortest skirt of mine in the house. I certainly did not want to wear it, especially since I knew I would not be wearing panties.

Did I dare take a chance and not wear this skirt? In spite of his warning that I should not try to ?trick? him? That he would check? Plus, what if there was someone at the school, even if it was Sunday? And where else might we go?

All this was going through my mind as I decided what to do.

The first thing I did was carry a full length mirror from my bedroom and carry it to the garage. It was heavy, but it stood on a stand and I could not bear the idea of getting dressed as Mark wanted without being able to see what I looked like. Then I got the required clothing, including the red skirt and took them to the garage to get dressed. I took a pair of tennis shoes instead of heels, hoping he would not notice the difference, and because heels looked really stupid with this skirt. I dressed in the garage, looking in the mirror.

I pulled a chair over in front of the mirror and sat down to see what was visible. I would need to bring more lamps into the garage later so I would be able to see better. Even though it was dark, you could see my pussy hair simply by looking under my skirt. Closing my legs tight did not help much.

Crossing my legs seemed to make it worse, causing the skirt to ride up higher on my legs. My nipples poked out at the thin fabric of the white blouse, but I could not be sure exactly what was visible in a stronger light or the sunlight.

As I was sitting in front of the mirror, looking at myself, Mark came into the garage from somewhere in the house. ?Jesus!? he exclaimed.

I took that to mean I looked good.

?Aren?t you a little old to be wearing skirts that short?? he asked.

I was taken aback. ?But you said to wear the shortest one,? I managed.

?you said you were going to check!?

?So you?re not totally stupid,? he snapped. ?And you?re right. I?ve already been through all your clothes when you weren?t home, so if you had worn anything but that, you would have been in pretty deep trouble. But yes, you do look pretty sexy for an old broad. I just wonder why a supposedly respectable teacher owns a skirt that?s not good for much except flashing pussy.?

?I only wore it once,? I replied, wondering how he could so easily make me feel so small.

?Flashing pussy??

?I wore panties,? I said.

?So you gave panty shots to anyone who cared enough to look??

It was pointless to argue with him or explain. ?Yes,? was all I could say.

?Did you carry a big sign that said ?Slut? on it??

?Of course not.?

?No, it would have been better if you had written ?slut? in red letters on the crotch of your panties. Too bad I already made you burn them all. It would have been an idea,? he said. ?Of course you realize everyone who saw your panties thought you were a slut, don?t you??

?Maybe,? was all I would commit to.

?Funny answer,? he responded. ?At least YOU know what you are. Right??

?Yes. I do.?

?And what is that??

?A slut.?

?Of course. And what about anyone who sneaks a look up your skirt today?

Will they think that ?maybe? you?re a slut, or will they be certain??

?I imagine they will be fairly certain,? I admitted.

?Certain of what?? he prompted.

?Certain I am a slut.?

?Because???

?Because they can see my pussy.?

He changed the subject a bit. ?What sounds nastier?? he asked me. ?Pussy or cunt??

?Cunt,? I agreed, knowing it was the right answer.

?And what is this?? he asked, reaching a finger up beneath my skirt and touching me.

?My pu?.my cunt,? I answered.

?Good dog,? he answered. ?There may be hope for you yet. From now on, you are forbidden to use the word ?pussy.?? Then he showed me his finger. ?Wet again. Already. What a slut.? Next he lifted up my breast and asked me what it was.

?My breast,? I said.

?Incorrect response. It is a ?boob? or a ?tit.? Now, what is this?? he asked again.

?My boob,? I answered, feeling my pussy juices begin to flow again.

?Correct, slut.? Then he slapped me sharply across the face.

?What was that for?? I shouted, bringing my hand to my cheek in shock and surprise.

?Because, in spite of how good you look today, I didn?t want you to forget your place. And because I own you, and I can.? Then he slapped me again.

?I told you I was going to treat you like shit, didn?t I??

?Yes,? I admitted. ?You did.?

Then he surprised me by saying something totally unexpected. ?Besides, you get off on it.?

I said nothing. In some ways, I did. In some ways, I did not.

?It?s okay, you don?t have to answer,? he said as he reached beneath my skirt again and stroked my pussy. ?Your cunt answers for you.? He wiped his hand across my still stinging cheek to show me how wet I was.

My pussy was soaking wet. I knew it and was embarrassed at the way it betrayed me, but could do nothing to stop it from reacting this way to him and how he treated me. Neither could I fully understand it.

?On your knees, cunt,? he ordered. ? I haven?t had a blowjob yet today.?

Obediently, I got on my knees on the hard concrete floor. I undid his pants and pulled down his zipper before pulling down his pants and briefs to take his member into my mouth. I blew him. The third time in less than twenty-four hours.

When he was about ready to come he pulled from my mouth and I expected him to shoot off onto my face again. Instead, he shot onto the floor of the garage.

?Lick it up,? he said routinely as he pulled his pants up. ?I?ll be waiting in the car.?

As he walked to the passenger side of the car, I leaned over and began licking his come off the cement. My tongue also came into contact with the grit and dirt on the garage floor. Maybe I am stupid, I thought for a moment. Then I finished licking up the globs of sticky goo.

When I climbed into the car, he said, ?Let?s go to school.?

folding my legs beneath me, when Mark reached up and pulled my blouse apart roughly, spraying buttons all over the interior of the car. My breasts swung freely, fully visible.

?Now pinch your nipples and fuck it,? he ordered. ?Slowly.?

My nipples are extremely sensitive and playing with them always gets me excited, whether I play with them myself or someone else plays with them.

Doing it myself, on display, enhanced the sensations. The brake handle felt awkward inside me, as I very slowly slid myself up and down on it. First of all, it was not entirely smooth. It had the finger ridges, the button on the end, and a rough texture. Second, it was fairly thin. To fit it inside me required me to be in a quite awkward position with my back against the dashboard and head tilted to the side to avoid the rear view mirror. It was placing an incredible strain on my thighs.

I looked down and could see the emergency brake glistening with my juices.

?Oh god,? I muttered.

Suddenly, Mark slapped me. Not hard.

?Don?t you feel stupid, slut??

I was pinching my nipples and slowly riding the brake handle. Of course I felt stupid.

?Yes,? was all I could manage.

?Then say it,? he commanded.

?I feel stupid,? I said.

?No. No. No,? he said. ?Not you FEEL stupid. You ARE stupid.?

?I?m stupid,? I said immediately, fucking myself on the handbrake, sliding up and down more easily now, getting a rhythm to it, pinching my nipples, breathing faster.

?Again!?

?I?m?stupid,? I said again.

?Only a stupid bitch would fuck a parking brake, wouldn?t she??

?Yes?.only a?.stupid?bitch.?

?Are you going to ask any more questions, stupid??

?No.?

?Why not??

I wasn?t quite sure what to answer. ?Because?I?m stupid??

?That?s right. And stupid people don?t need to ask questions, do they??

?No,? I answered. ?Stupid people don?t ask questions.?

?And??

?And?I?m stupid?a stupid slut.?

He grinned when I said that last bit and I couldn?t believe I said it myself.

?Okay,? he said, ?you can get off now. You?re boring me.?

For some reason, that simple statement he had uttered, ?You?re boring me,?

left me feeling hurt and crushed. I couldn?t figure out why his opinion had become important or why I wanted so much to please him. Slowly, I extricated myself from the unusual position and got back behind the steering wheel. I felt cheated, I don?t know why. It?s not like the parking brake was going to make me come or anything. Then I looked down at my blouse, which no longer had any buttons and tried to figure out what to do about it.

?You can take care of that later, ? Mark said. ?Right now you?re forgetting something.?

I had no idea what he meant.

Mark saw the confused look on my face. He gave me a glance that made me think he was going to start up with the ?stupid? comments again.

?You left your slimy cunt juice all over the parking brake,? he said. ?Lick it off.?

When I bent over and extended my tongue to lick my own juices, he laughed.

I could feel my skin burning red from embarrassment and a shudder of shame washed through me. My tongue was snaking across the molded black plastic, when he added, ?That should be nearly automatic for you by now. Whenever anything comes out of your cunt, it should go in your mouth.?

So, in addition to licking the hand brake while he smirked at me, I put it in my mouth as if it were a cock. Which made him laugh again.

Afterward, we drove to the school in silence. When we arrived, I reached down and tied the bottom corners of my blouse together. At least it would somewhat cover me. Before I got out of the car, Mark seemed to take pity on me for a moment.

?I?ll tell you things when I want you to know,? he said. ?You CAN ask questions, but if I don?t feel like answering, I won?t. And that is a risk you will have to think about carefully. However, to answer your original question, none of this was my idea originally. Someone else thought it up, and I had my own reasons for going along.?

Not his idea?

Someone else was in on this?

I looked at him, but his face was clearly signaling me not to ask the questions that were running through my mind.

?And if you want to know why I?ve been so mean about it,? he continued, ?there are reasons for that. First, because it was WAY too easy. And second?.?

He paused.

??because you get off on it.?

?Now kiss your new friend, the parking brake, and let?s see what?s going on at school on a Sunday.?

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

----------------------------

End, part Seven.

Teacher Next Door, part eight

Disclaimer: This story is intended only for mature open-minded adults who will not be easily offended. It is a sexual story about the humiliation of an adult by a minor and is intended only as a fantasy. No portions of this story may be reprinted without permission of the author with the exception of reposting it to the alt.sex.stories and alt.sex.stories.moderated newsgroup. Permission will definitely not be granted to post this story onto any website that charges for access in any way, including paid adult verification services.

Please excuse any errors. I wrote this using new voice recognition software and since it is new, there were several mistakes. I tried to correct those that I could find in editing.

Teacher Next Door, part eight

I kissed the parking brake that had been in my pussy? my cunt? earlier, and climbed out of the car. Mark was already waiting for me. There were no cars in the parking lot, it still being over two weeks before the school year began. Tomorrow, being Monday, the first of the administrative staff would begin showing up to prepare for the upcoming school year. My first meeting would be on Wednesday.

I was thankful that no one was there, as with all the buttons missing from my blouse, the only thing that kept my breasts?my tits?from falling out was the knot I had tied. As it was, anyone standing in front of me or to the side would get a pretty good view.

As I walked up to the door, clicking along in the high heels which did not fit at all with the extremely short denim skirt, I could feel my?tits jiggling and bouncing the entire way. It made me think of the term that was used for one of the television networks in the late ?70s. Jiggle television.

My series had been on in the early eighties and my dress reminded me of those episodes when my character had worked undercover as a whore. But even that was not as revealing as this.

As I started to unlock the door, Mark reached into his backpack and pulled out a camera.

?Push your tits together so the nipples show and smile for me as you unlock the door,? he said.

I looked at him for a moment.

?Photo opportunity,? he said jokingly.

?Don?t you already have enough on videotape?? I asked.

?Plenty,? he said, ?but it seems only fitting that if I have a teacher who is a slut, then I should have some slutty pictures at school, right? That?s what we?re here for.?

There was no sense in arguing, so I arranged my?tits?so that the nipples showed and faked a big smile for the camera. I knew the photo could be used against me, but the tape he had on me was so much worse I did not give it much thought.

?One more, lifting your skirt,? he said, and I did that, too.

Once we got inside, he directed me to lead him to my classroom. Once there, he posed me in several provocative positions, including sitting on my desk facing the emptied desks of the classroom, then sitting in one of the student desks. In each photo I had to spread my legs far enough so my pussy?cunt ?would show up in the photographs. He called those ?Sharon Stone? poses.

Then I removed all my clothes and was directed to other poses. Poses of me pushing things up my cunt, a photo of me bent over my desk with a pencil sticking out of my rear, and others. Each time I put something inside me, I had to put it in my mouth to lick it clean. Then he began with the sexual photos. Some with me on my knees and his cock in my mouth, using the automatic timer on the camera. Some with him fucking me. He snapped one photo looking down at me kneeling in front of him just as his cock exploded in my face. Then a close-up of my face with his come all over it. This continued for some time.

Next, he had me stand next to the chalkboard while he outlined my figure in chalk. He told me what dirty words to write along the outline. They included words like slut, cunt, whore, stupid, cocksucker, and more, all of them spreading out like a halo around the chalked figure. Then I stood back in front of the chalked outline while he snapped more photos.

He handed me a felt-tipped pen and said, ?follow me.?

Walking naked down the school corridor made me feel even more naked. I imagined the hallway full of high school kids scurrying to class while I walked naked down the hallway. Being naked in a public place, even though no one was around, made me feel more naked than I had ever felt before.

?What do your students call you?? Mark asked.

The question came out of left field so it took me a moment to answer. ?Ms.

Costain,? I finally replied.

He walked into one of the boys? restrooms. Hesitating at the door, I followed him in. ?Get on the floor like a dog,? he said, so I got down on all fours. I was beyond disobeying him by now. It had been too long a day and I had no idea what might happen if I resisted again.

?Play with your cunt,? he said.

To do that, I lowered myself onto my left elbow and reached back with my right hand to touch myself. Mark walked behind me and kicked my knees further apart, then snapped another picture of me playing with myself on the bathroom floor. It made me feel nasty to be doing this in the boys?

bathroom, a place I had never been. I felt?humiliated.

?Lick the floor while I look around,? he added.

I groaned.

Then I began licking the floor. The floor of a bathroom. Luckily, since the school year had not yet started, it was fairly clean. Meanwhile, Mark was walking in and out of the stalls, taking some time in each. Doing what, I did not know.

I was getting extremely turned on in spite of myself. I was finding out that any time Mark treated me nastily, I got excited. Being very oral, just licking the floor, as nasty as that was, got me excited. Masturbating upon command got me excited. Yet I felt so ashamed of what I was doing and did not even like what I was doing. It confused me, but excited me too. Just as I was having an orgasm I saw the flash of another picture being taken.

I was so ashamed.

?Come here, dummy,? he said. ?I can?t believe you just had an orgasm! Have you no pride at all?? He laughed.

That made me feel even more ashamed.

I got up and went into the stall where he was standing. On the walls of the stall were written all kinds of things, from comments on the cafeteria to comments about some of the girls. He pointed to a spot on the wall and said, ?this is a good place.?

He handed me the felt-tipped pen and said, ?I want you to write ?Ms. Costain doesn?t wear panties.??

?What?? I said. ?I can?t do that!?

?Why not?? He said.

?Be? because!?

?Because why?? He asked with a smirk.

?Because then?everyone who reads it will be trying to look up my skirt!?

?You?re too modest,? he said. ?Don?t they do that anyway? When you?re sitting up on your desk lecturing the class??

?Well? yes? but? this is different!?

?The only difference is that before you did wear panties and now you don?t.

Did you ever purposely show your panties to anyone??

?Well?no??

?To your knowledge, did anyone ever get a glimpse of your panties??

?No?but??

?So what is the difference? Only you will know what is different.?

?Yes, but?this is almost like advertising it!?

?Ah,? began Mark, ?that will just make it more exciting for you. Surely a slut who has an orgasm licking the bathroom floor gets turned on by having adolescent high school boys trying to look up her skirt! Tell me you weren?

t doing just a little bit of a tease all these years in your classroom?

Tell me it didn?t turn you on? Am I wrong??

My chest was heaving. I did not want to do this.

?You?re not wrong,? I admitted.

?Then write your little advertisement.?

?Please?? I pleaded.

?Please what??

?Please don?t make need to this,? I cried.

?You stupid slut,? he snapped and slapped my right breast! Hard! ?Right now! Feel your pussy! Feel your cunt!?

Crying, I reached down and touched myself.

I was soaked.

?I don?t even have to ask how wet you are, cunt,? he said. ?I can smell you from here. You want to do this! You want adolescent boys staring up your dress! You probably even hope they see your trashy smelly old cunt so they can talk about what a slut you are to their friends! Doesn?t that turn you on, slut? Doesn?t it??

I was crying by this time. I wiped away a tear and nodded my head. ?Yes,?

I admitted.

?Then write.?

Naked, I got down on my knees and wrote with the black felt-tipped pen, ?Ms.

Costain doesn?t wear panties.?

?For trying my patience, I think we should add something more, don?t you?

As a sort of punishment??

I was too beaten down to argue.

?Y?. yes,? I struggled to get out.

?Then add this,? he said. ?Write, ?she must be begging for teenage dick.??

Oh god, I thought.

Then I wrote it, hoping that janitor might paint the walls before the school year started. I wrote, ?she must be begging for teenage dick,? on the boys?

bathroom wall.

?You want me to fuck you again now, don?t you?? Mark asked.

I was still crying, still on my knees. I nodded.

?Too bad,? he said, laughing, and he walked out of the bathroom. After a moment, I followed.

When we got back to my classroom he allowed me to get dressed, such as it was. Back in the white blouse with no buttons, tied below my breasts.

Extremely short faded red denim skirt. And heels. I know I looked like some kind of cheap whore.

When we got in the car, he made me kiss the hand brake again. He said he wanted me to do that whenever I got in or out of the car so I would be constantly reminded of how low I was.

I couldn?t stop crying.

?It?s good for you to cry,? he said. ?I imagine a slut like you must get pretty ashamed of herself. That?s why you?re crying, isn?t it? You?re ashamed you?re such a low life slut??

?Yes,? was all I could say.

The end, part eight, the teacher next door.