Teaching Teacher

"Heather...." Miss Simms was so startled by the sudden appearance of her student that she was momentarily at a loss for words. She was supposed to be grading papers, but first she was snacking on a cup of yogurt she'd taken in to work.

"...this is my study period. You'll have to come back later." Miss Simms managed. She looked out the door of her office. It was just a small office in the back of her room. She could have sworn she had locked the door to her classroom. But perhaps she hadn't. It wasn't as if she had anything to fear. Heddingham High was a private school...very exclusive.

"So I guess you don't want this?" Heather said, tucking the Blackberry back into her purse and turning around. "Fine then. Be seeing you."

"Wait..." The young teacher knew her Blackberry was safely stowed away in her purse, located in her bottom drawer; where it had been all day. But the Blackberry looked just like hers. Perhaps...perhaps she had dropped it on the way in to school.

"...wait." Miss Simms quickly opened her bottom drawer and took out her purse. However the handle came loose and spilled its contents on the linoleum floor. The young teacher was aghast. She'd never seen these items before. And they weren't just regular old items either....there were pictures of naked girls in compromising positions, everal small vibrators, a large dildo in the shape of a very well-endowed male appendage...worse, there were other items she couldn't even ascertain the nature of. She quickly shoved them back into her purse before Heather could see.

"Miss Simms," Heather mocked. "I would have never guessed. So kinky."

The young teacher could feel her cheeks redden. Heather had seen. Lord, the rumors were going to be flying if she didn't quickly nip this situation in the bud.

"Someone has clearly been in my drawer and played a joke on me," Miss Simms said. "I guess that is my Blackberry after all. They must have stolen it while they were here."

"Look teach, your purse doing something," Heather giggled.

And it was. Vibrating away. The poor young teacher hazarded a look inside to find the culprit. A purple jelly vibrator was buzzing contentedly. She traced a cord from the base back to a controller and turned it off.

Only it didn't turn off. It began to move. The bulbous shaped head flexing and turning. Dear Lord! Stop you little bastard! Her cheeks were hot from embarrassment. She hit the switch again and this time a ring of tiny balls began to turn. Miss Simms blushed redder and redder, there with the purple vibe gyrating luridly in her small hand. She was mortified. Absolutely horrified.

But along with the mortification, there was another new feeling. An itch. A tingle in her loins. Very small. Just a little sliver.

"I can't wait till I show this to my friends," Heather laughed. "It's priceless."

The tingle gave way to cold dark fear as she stole a glance at Heather and realized the girl was capturing the moment for posterity with the stolen phone. Her phone.

"You can't," Miss Simms demanded. "Give me that. That's my phone and its.. its stolen."

"This phone?" Heather asked, holding the phone out.

Miss Simms snatched at the phone, but Heather held it firmly in her grip. The young teacher tugged, but her student refused to let go.

"You are being very rude Rena." Heather said. "Didn't your mother teach you not to snatch?"

No one called her Rena. Her name was Serena. Serena Simms. Even as a child she'd been called Serena. Now this girl. This impudent little bitch had taken her name and turned it into some sort of cutsee white girl name. And yet...and yet...she wanted the phone. And she shouldn't have snatched it.

"I'm sorry," Miss Simms offered, but she didn't release her grip of the phone. She needed it. Badly. "May I please have my phone back Heather?"

Still holding the phone, Heather sat down on her teacher's desk, making herself comfortable. At the same time, she did something that made Miss Simms most uncomfortable.

It was such a small thing. Yet, a chill went down the young teacher's spine. The girl, the impudent little girl had reached up and caught her teacher's earlobe. She didn't tug it. It wasn't painful. It actually felt rather good.

And yet. And yet, it was a touch that assumed a great deal. A familiarity that didn't exist. It wasn't sexual. Not quite. But at the same time, it was unwanted. Miss Simms wanted to tell the girl to stop. However, she decided it better to tolerate it until she had her phone back.

"Good. Now Rena," Heather said. "When you call on me in class to ask me a question, how do you address me?"

It was a thing Miss Simms did that most teachers didn't. She would say "Miss Morgan, what was Shakespeare trying to say when he wrote that?" It was her way of treating her students like little adults. To give them a bit more respect and then expect that they live up to it.

If she grew angry with them, she rescinded their status instantly. "Heather if you are going to act like a child, then get out of my class and sit outside."

Though she had never sent Heather out. It was usually one of the boys. It was usually an effective method of control, but now she wondered if it were such a good idea after all.

"I would say Miss Morgan...but..." This wasn't usual. The girl was acting like an spoiled little child, she wasn't worthy of her adult surname.

"Now ask me nicely Rena."

The girl kept rubbing her ear and it was beginning to grow uncomfortable. Worse, the mysterious tingling in her loins was back. The girl had called her Rena. And expected her to respond back with Miss Morgan. It was an unthinkable audacity. And yet it was easier to go along, at least until she had her phone back and got rid of all the sex toys in her purse.

"Miss Morgan," the young teacher began, her former authoritarian voice dropping to a squeaking whimper. Once the words left her mouth, she wished she could recall them back. It felt as if she had given up something precious. She didn't know what it was, but she prayed she could get it back again after she got back that one very important thing. "May I please...have my phone back."

"How do I know that it is yours Rena?" Heather said. "I mean...it could belong to anyone. Did you write your name on it?"

No she didn't write her name on it. Only children had their names written on things. Miss Simms was an adult. Not some child to be treated in such a manner. The poor teacher felt herself growing angry, but bit back her retort.

The grip on Miss Simm's ear was released, but her situation hadn't improved. Now the girl had her by the chin, tilting her head up to look up at the girl sitting so uncomfortably close on her desk.

"No...but ..it has my number." Miss Simms volunteered, her eyes fluttered up, but she was unable to meet the intense gaze of her student, and they quickly dropped down.

"Are you looking at my breasts Rena?" Heather said snidely, shifting her grip from her teacher's chin, back to her earlobe and forcing her gaze back up.

"No..." Miss Simms stammered. "Of course not." She forced herself to meet those intense blue eyes once again. But it was so hard to hold that gaze. Her eyes dropped once again, but she stopped at Heather's lips. To her sneering little smile. Then it hit her that the girl might take that the wrong way as well. Her eyes darted back to Heather's eyes then back down to the girl's breasts once more. By accident, but this time she actually took note of them. They were large. Much larger than hers. And by the look of the cleavage being shown at the top of the girls baby blue blouse, Heather was fully aware of it too.

"Again with my boobs Rena," Heather said. "Pervert. I have half a mind to take you to the principle's office. And your phone too."

"..no please..." Miss Simms breathed. The principle's office. It was a place she sent errant students. A tool to keep her kids in line. But now... now it was a place that struck fear in her heart. Dear Lord, trying to explain the pictures...the sex toys. She could just imagine the look of disbelief as she tried to explain that they weren't hers. That some student had planted them in her locked drawer. Looking up, she knew by Heather's smile, that Heather knew that her teacher would do nearly anything not to go to the principles office. She felt like she was in a hole and getting deeper all the time.

"Focus Rena," Heather said, giving the earlobe she held a nice pinch.

"I'm sorry, I won't do it again." Miss Simms stammered. "But my phone Miss Morgan. I know the number...I could-I could call it. It would - it would ring."

Heather smiled. She had her pretty little teacher right where she wanted her. Now to bring it home.

"But it could be anyone's number that you called. I know...we could look at the text messages," Heather said. "Don't you have something there that would prove it was you?"

"I suppose," Miss Simms said. Although, she dreaded the thought of her personal life being snooped into by her student.

Heather stood up and moved behind Miss Simms, and handed her teacher back her cell phone.

Miss Simms held it with small trembling fingers. She was tempted to throw the little bitch out of her class now, but there was still the purse full of sex toys to contend with.

"Now let's see if it really belongs to you." Heather said.

Miss Simms reluctantly brought up her messages. Now that she had her phone back, she could stop, and call an end to this humiliating display, but she preserved. She'd prove the phone was hers and get Heather out of the office. Then she'd figure out a way to dispose of the toys in her purse and the embarrassing photo on the cell.

"I can't see it Rena," Heather complained. "And you've got it all sticky with your pawprints. Don't you use a napkin when you eat?"

I do, but I don't usually have a student barge in on me in the middle of a snack, Miss Simms fumed. But she dared not utter those words. Instead she meekly said "Yes" and "Sorry" then cleaned the fingerprints off with a tissue. Besides, most of those 'pawprints' as the little bitch put it, were probably Heather's.

As the young teacher clicked over to her messages, Heather looked over the woman's shoulder's and her hands alternated between giving her teacher a massage and rubbing her slender neck.

Of course Miss Simms felt the girl was taking liberties, but she had to admit it was relaxing and she needed all the relaxing she could get after the afternoon she had had.

As the hapless teacher brought up her text messages, she quickly concluded that her afternoon was only getting worse. She scrolled through them one by one.

"Hey Heather. Thinking of u."

"Ok"

"Horny"

"lol"

"I have sum toyz to try on u"

"cant"

"now"

"cant. N class"

"Ill fail u white bitch"

"Plz Already did what u wanted"

"do again or bye bye senior year"

While her teacher read the text messages that had been planted on her phone, Heather grew more audacious. She moved her hands from Miss Simms shoulder's and slid them down her blouse. Heather prayed her teacher couldn't tell she was trembling with fear.

The young eighteen-year old knew what she was doing was wrong. So very wrong. She had read stories about this sort of thing. Stories about taking a woman...a straight woman and seducing her.

Of turning her into a slave. A lesbian.

It was the sort of thing she masturbated to over and over again.

It had been fun at first. Planting the pictures and text messages. Setting it all up. Each night fantasizing of her hot little teacher. Masturbating. Again and again. Dozens of times.

But those stories...those fantasies had never prepared her for this part. In the stories, the protagonist had always been so sure..so matter of fact. A force of nature.

Heather didn't feel much like a force of nature, with her sweaty palms at the edge of her teacher's bra. So close to those soft little mounds. She felt like a scared little girl. A stupid girl. A pervert.

Was it too late? Had it gone too far for her to back out? Expulsion. Humiliation. Her darkest fantasies being known by everyone.

"It was you," Miss Simms said with a sinking feeling in her stomach. "You did this. My God...you-you..."

There was something in her teacher's tone. A signal. An understanding. Heather's hands ...reached into her teacher's bra to discover her hidden treasures. It was all she could do to keep from rubbing off on the back of her teacher's chair.

The further Miss Simms read, the more liberties Heather's hands took with her teacher. They were now down in her bra and touching her breasts, tracing nubby little nipples.

"You - you set me up." Miss Simms said accusingly.

Heather caught tender nipples and gave them a rough pinch. Causing her teacher to gasp. "Forgotten how to address me already Rena?"

This would be the test. It was do or die. Heather's heart hammered in her chest. The nipples between her fingers felt hot...like little hot embers.

"Ouch!" Miss Simms squirmed, but was helpless to do more than say,"No...no Miss Morgan."

"Yes..yes I set you up," Heather said. "And no..you can't do anything about it. I know what you are thinking, but the only fingerprints anyone will find will be yours. You wiped mine off, remember."

Miss Simms brain leaped ahead. Yes, she'd been thinking that very thing. She remembered fumbling with the toys, struggling to hide them. She remembered wiping the Blackberry off...shit! wiping off Heather's fucking fingerprints. God she had contributed to her own demise....

...but there was still a chance...

"Or that you can explain how it was a misunderstanding. How your Blackberry was stolen. But you see Rena, I've been coming in here every day for the last several weeks. We have emails we've sent. The cute little pictures of me hidden on your hard drive. What would the anyone think if they saw those pictures?" Heather continued as she began to unbutton her teacher's blouse.

"Please don't," Miss Simms begged as her chances to get out of this horrible mess disappeared like smoke on the wind.

Heather paid her teacher no heed, unfastening the front clasp of the cute embroidered bra that held her teacher's small ebony fruit.

"Please Heath..." Miss Simms begged. "I mean...Miss Morgan...I'm..not..."

Then hard fingers found tender brown flesh.

"...like that.." Miss Simms gasped.

"I hope not Rena," Heather purred. "That's what makes this so fun."

"My God. Why? Why are you doing this?" Miss Simms stammered. "Is it....is it because I'm...black?"

"Oh I hear how the other students talk about you Rena - even some of the teachers" Heather said as she continued teasing her teacher and slowly but surely stripping her of there blouse and bra. "What's that uppity little nigger doing here? I bet there was someone else much more qualified. Was there someone more qualified Rena? It's okay, you can tell me."

Heather got the idea from the stories she read. A slave needed to second guess the opinions of others. Who could she go to if she believed everyone was against her. A seed had been sown...she'd harvest it later.

"I..I don't know," Miss Simms breathing became labored. Sweat grew on her forehead in tiny beads.

Heather's blue eyes flashed. She felt high. As if she were on some sort of drug. Her fear had given way to power and lust. Her loins were tingling, a buzz of sensation.

"But I defended you. At least to my friends. I can't very well say anything to the teachers though can I? But my friends...I told them that teachers didn't make shit anyway. Who the fuck would want to teach? It's like babysitting but with twenty kids an hour. They could see my point Rena, but they still didn't like it.

We both know the truth though don't we? What really disturbed them wasn't that you were teaching...it was that they had to do what you said. They had to obey the uppity nigger teaching our class.

But now? Now they may have to do what you say, but you? You have to do what I say, isn't that right little Rena girl?"

"No...ouch" A pinch to her tender nipples brought Miss Simms protest short. By then her student was close to her, so very close to her. She could feel the heat from the girl's body. Her mouth moved close. Miss Simms could feel the breath on her cheek. The fingers on her chin kept the young teacher from turning away as a pink tongue darted out and touched her lips.

"Maybe you didn't hear me right," Heather said. "Now you have to do what I say, isn't that right little Rena."

Miss Simms tried to protest once more, but the kiss that followed silenced her.

Her mind in turmoil, all Miss Simms could think about were all those rich little white kids that had been intimidated by her, the only African American teacher on staff at this exclusive private school.. and the teachers too. No one wanted her here. She had no allies to protect her from this - this dreadful girl.

"Stand up Rena," Heather ordered. "I want to see your tight little body."

"Please don't..." Miss Simms begged. "I'll...I'll quit...I'll swear it. I'll never bother you again. I'll teach..I'll go somewhere else. Anywhere else."

"Up bitch!" Heather demanded.

The tone of the command..being called a bitch...once again it stirred something unseen within the young teacher's body. She found herself on her feet and turned around to face her tormentor before she had a chance to contemplate refusal.

"Strip off girl," Heather commanded. "I want to see the merchandise."

By now the idea of resistance was firmly planted in Miss Simm's brain. Fuck this bitch. She had no right.

"No." Reva said. "Now give me my blouse back. Now! Or else I will fail you. Have you expelled for what you've done. Who will they believe, you or me?

That's right. Say goodbye to your senior year...isn't that how you put it? Now let's just...quit this right now...and we'll forget.. forget this ever happened."

Heather's chin began to tremble. It looked as if she was on the verge of crying. Miss Simms was sure she had won her way free.

But then...

"Oh principle...something terrible happened. Miss Simms called me back to her office....and she tried to touch me...it was horrible...she she...took out these things...these horrible things from her purse...and she used them on me..." and those tears disappeared as quickly as the came and the tearful meek voice suddenly turned hard. "Now strip bitch."

There was no recourse. The young teacher knew she had lost. She wouldn't just be fired...she'd likely be arrested. With trembling fingers she removed her skirt, slip, underwear, and shoes; and stood naked with arms covering her privates from the hungry gaze of her student.

"Move your hands Rena," Heather said. "I want to see everything."

With a gulp and great reluctance Miss Simms moved her arms to her sides.

"Put them behind your neck," Heather ordered.

The poor teacher did as she was bid. She jumped at the touch of Heather's cold hand as it felt up her breast.

"So small," Heather said. "I thought you black girls were supposed to be stacked. Maybe you aren't really black after all. Maybe you are just part black."

"I..I.." Miss Simms stammered. There were several shapes for most girls in her family. Most were as Heather said - well stacked, large girls with weighty breasts and full round asses. There were also the tall slender girls with nice thighs and firm round butts. Then there was Serena. Short, only five-two, thin, with small breasts, slender hips, with a cute tight ass.

"I've never touched a black girl before," Heather purred, as her fingers moved down her teacher's belly and into the curls of her sparse down. "Ohh...it feels soft...I expected.." Then the blond student gave a surprised "oh"

Miss Simms clamped her legs tightly together, but it was useless, the little blond bitch had discovered.

She was wet.

"Rena...you dirty little bitch," Heather purred. "I thought you weren't into girls."

"I'm ... not..." Miss Simms gasped. And in truth she wasn't. Her mind was revolted at the concept, and it to every bit of will she possessed to remain still while this girl touched her, but her body...her body seemed as if it couldn't tell the difference between man or woman.

Her body was betraying her.

"Something here says differently..." Heather said as she continued exploring he teacher's wet sex.

Serena tried not to let this girl get to her. The girl was revolting. But God, there was something about standing there naked, while this young girl, this student she was in charge of, fondled and teased her. It made her loins hot. Made her sex grow increasingly wet. She bit her lip as the warming continued to grow.

"Please stop...before I..." Serena breathed.

"Before you what?" Heather teased. Then Heather put her lips to her teacher's ear, so close that they tickled the lobe. The warm breath of her whisper making her teacher shudder.

Then she said the words she never imagined that she would say. "What is my pet nigger going to do?"

She regretted them instantly. She dreaded the slap to her face that was bound to follow. But it never did. It wasn't a slap, but a plaintive little keening moan.

Nigger. Pet nigger. The words cut into Miss Simms like a knife. They should have snapped her out of the muddled haze she was in. Yet, they didn't. Instead, they seemed to sneak inside to a dark twisted place she didn't know existed till now. They snuck inside and began to fester.

She couldn't answer. She couldnt' admit to this little bitch that she was losing control. That the girl's rude comments were getting to her in a way that wasn't expected. That her body was responding of its own volition. That the tingling in her loins wasn't diminishing. It was growing. It was..was..

No. God no!

At the same time, Heather caught Miss Simms and forced another kiss on her. Forcing her tongue into her mouth. Miss Simms was determined not to respond, but her body betrayed her. Returning the kiss of its own volition as her climax hit like a cyclone.

God. Oh Dear God.

Serena Simms clenched her eyes shut as it made landfall in a great gale of heat and sensation. She locked her lips together, determined not to let on what had taken place. But it wasn't enough. The pleasure soon overwhelmed her. Her slim hips pumped. Her breath came out in a ragged gasp. Her legs decided to no longer support her weight, forcing her to hold onto her tormentor for support until her climax subsided.

"Did you just cum on me?" Heather sneered. "You disgusting little bitch. Get off me! Get the fuck off me right now!"

This had been in the stories as well. To make the slave ashamed of the natural needs of her body. The loss of control

"Yes Miss Morgan...sorry Miss Morgan.." Serena stammered.

"Back at attention, you disgusting pervert. Goddamn it. Cumming on me." Heather demanded. "Hand behind your neck. Feet a shoulder's width apart. Now stick that ass out. Are your hips pumping? What the fuck is wrong with you? Stop those fucking hips from humping."

The orders came so fast - so furious that Serena felt herself obeying automatically. And it wasn't until she was her humiliating position that she realized she was still under the influence of her climax. Her back was covered with a sheen of sweat. Her thighs were sticky from her juices. And her nipples were tight little buttons. And her hips were near impossible to stop from pumping, the most she could do was small but occasional twitch.

Heather smiled. This was going remarkably well, and seeing her teacher obediently in such a sexy and humbling position was exhilarating. She never dreamed it would be quite so easy.

"Good girl, maybe I can forget what you did. Getting my fingers all dirty." Heather said as she reached over to stroke her teacher's ear lobe once again. "Now let's get serious. You are going to start doing as I say. And tonight you'll come with me directly from school. I'm not asking. I'm telling."

Then Heather took out an outfit from her book bag and one of the sex devices from her teacher's purse. "But there is a choice. For the rest of the day you are going to wear one of these. Which will it be?"

Serena investigated the two items. The first was some sort of vibrator with straps. She wasn't sure how it worked. The nature of the outfit was readily apparent. The little tartan skirt. The socks. The white starched shirt. The short clip on tie. The flat Mary Janes.

A school girl outfit.

Gods. She couldn't. She imagined the looks the stares she would receive as a teacher wearing such an outfit. She could feel her nipples hardening. Her loins stir once again. Her hips moved twice before she could stop them. What was happening to her?

"I guess I'm going to have to choose for you since you can't make up your mind." Heather said.

"No...I mean Miss Morgan," Serena said, pointing to the sex toy. "I'll take ... that one."

"Ahh the butterfly," Heather said as she buckled her toy on her teacher. "I wondered which you'd choose. A simple outfit or perverted disgusting sex toy. I should have known which one someone like you would choose."

It wasn't like that, Serena thought. She'd chosen the lessor of two evils, but she kept silent lest she end up in the humiliating outfit. Besides, what she wore wasn't much a sex toy. Once she had her clothes back on, except for feeling it brushing against her button, she could barely tell it was there.

"Kiss me again." Heather ordered.

MIss Simms reluctantly kissed the girl, determined not to take one bit of pleasure from the horrible task.

"You are learning." Heather said. "How's that butterfly feel? Want me to tighten it some more, or are you all set?"

"I'm set... Miss Morgan," Serena said just wanting to get it over with so she would have some time to think, time away from this dreadful bitch.

"Well I'd love to stay, but I've got chemistry class," Heather said.

'Thank goodness for small miracles,' Miss Simms thought. Then sure enough, the bell rung.

Heather walked for the door and Miss Simms followed with her lessons for class. Then at the door Heather turned around and blew a kiss and said. "I'll see you in an hour. Ooops I almost forgot."

Then the pretty blond fumbled with something in her bag and her teacher gave a gasp of surprise. She had not been prepared for the device nestled so snugly next to her clit to begin to vibrate - to buzz - to pulse in such a way. A way that made her legs grow weak. A way that her little button swell and once swelled ...oh God.

"Don't you dare take it off," Heather said. "I may check."

There was little Miss Simms could do. She had kids coming into her class and taking their seats. If she went back to her office, would they hear the little hum emanating from her crotch? She sat in her desk. She pushed her chair under her table as far as she could. Perhaps it would be enough. She called on a student to read the next chapter. Thankfully the buzzing stopped.

Maybe now she could get back to teaching. She wasn't the sort to make students read in her class. She expected them to read at home. In class they would discuss what was read...or quiz..or test. She was ready to discuss the chapter and then the vibe sprung to life again.

This time the sensations were stronger, or was it her imagination. Could it be due to her growing arousal. It felt like two vibes. One against the base of her nubbin, and another right at the very tip. Perhaps she could...her hips moved of their own volition...moved in hopes of reaching that buzzing vibe so teasingly position at the tip of her clit.

She caught herself. What was she doing? She was in class. Jesus, there were twenty two students there pointed in her direction, and there she was juicing up under her desk...hips flexing with need. She brought them to a halt. She must resist. Only thirty more minutes.

The vibe stopped again, leaving the poor teacher torn. On one hand wanting it to continue on one hand wanting it to stop - but knowing that it would start back up again.

She looked at the clock. How long would it be before it started up again? One minute? Three? Five? She realized the class was looking her expectantly. Did they know? Oh...class....she called on another student to read. God, her nipples were so hard they ached. She felt like she was sitting in a puddle of her own juices. She needed to plan...to figure a way out of this fix. She needed...

Then it started again. Beneath her desk, her legs opened, then closed again. Ahhhh..

It was pleasure at first. Unwanted pleasure. But then each time she got going, the vibe would shut off. Then each time she managed to get herself back together it would start again. Get her sexed up. Make her squirm in her seat. Only to leave her aching and tingling at the end.

Were her students looking at her? Did they suspect? She knew they were already talking about her...Heather had said so. This tingling rush of pleasure. This aching empty feeling. God...it was torture.... Exquisite torture.

Miss Simms felt as if she were struggling through a haze...a sexual haze. When the bell finally rang, she couldn't remember any details of the class. How far were they in the chapter? What was covered.

Heather was in the next class and the vibe was still buzzing. Serena knew she couldn't teach. So she muddled through, having students read aloud one by one. Heather was up on the front row smirking.

The vibe had increased in intensity. Miss Simms was sure of it. She looked over at Heather...did the girl know?

Heather licked her lips seductively. She looked down at her lap.

Miss Simms followed the gaze and caught herself before she gasped. Heather had spread her legs. Not only was she not wearing panties, her sex was visibly wet. The filthy - the filthy pervert.

Miss Simms looked away, refusing to play the girl's wicked game. But the vibe increased in intensity once again. The poor teacher thought she could hear it. She looked imploringly at her young tormentor.

The girl shook her head ever so slightly, then looked back to her lap again. Miss Simms followed her gaze once again to the girl's naked sex. When she did, Heather reached in her jacket pocket and the intensity of the vibrations diminished to a more tolerable level.

God, so this was the game. The poor teacher was going to be forced to watch her tormentor 's sex. But she couldn't. It would be too obvious to the rest of the class what she was looking at. Well...perhaps she could be...circumspect.

She looked away momentarily. Called on another student to read, surreptitiously moved her book in front of Heather, then peaked over it to spy on the the girl's pink quim...then a questioning glance up. The girl nodded. It was sufficient.

So a routine started. Miss Simms calling on a student to read. Then a glace around the room. Then into her own book which she held in front on Heather...but she wasn't reading along, she was watching her student's sex.

All this time, the buzzing between her legs only stopped occasionally. Miss Simms used these breaks to try to retain some control of her class. It was also during these interludes that Heather would close her legs so she wasn't expected to watch the perverted exhibitionism going on in her class. But soon the buzzing would resume, and so did the show.

Miss Simms felt herself falling back into another sexual haze of desire. She would squeeze her thighs together...and open them. God she was hot. It was hard to talk without her voice breaking. She looked back at Heather..her pink flower wet and dripping. So wet. So very wet.

It was then that Miss Simms realized how far along she was. God, she was in danger. She held her legs still. She wouldn't. She couldn't. It came over her like a crashing wave. She held herself rigid. She willed her mouth to stay silent. She dared a glance at Heather. The girl's legs were still wide. She looked down once more. She stuck out her pink tongue and moved it up and down.

God. The pervert. The disgusting girl.

The teacher quickly searched the faces of her students.Had anyone else seen? Had they recognized the symptoms of her orgasm?

No, the looks were blank and bored. For once she was glad for those disinterested stares. Yes, yes, she had gotten away with it.

But then she caught Heather's wicked smile and the buzzing in her crotch resumed once again. No..no she couldn't take it. She caught herself in the midst of a gasp.. nearly a moan. She looked imploringly to Heather.

Please...her eyes begged.

Her tormentor relented and the buzzing stopped.

Thank God. The rest of the class passed without incident. However, once class was over, Heather came up to her teacher and whispered in her ear.

"That comes with a price you know," Heather said. "I can leave the vibe off next period...but first you have to do something for me."

"What?" Miss Simms was terrified of the answer.

"My finger somehow got all wet and sticky while I was in your class," Heather purred. "I'm afraid it needs to be cleaned off."

Miss seems turned pale as she shook her head no.

"Suit yourself." Heather turned the vibe up all the way and headed for the door.

Miss Simms gasped out loud. My God, the sensations running through her loins. No...no she wouldn't be able to last. She couldn't. She'd make a mockery of herself.

"Wait..." Miss Simms said. "Miss Morgan...please..."

Heather smiled a smile worthy of any crocodile as she closed the door, and sauntered over to her teacher's desk. Her hand hand moved beneath her skirt. Her eyes scrunched and her brows knit. Her tongue ran over moist pink lips. Finally she removed her hand, and held out a slimy digit.

Miss Simms cast a worried glance to the door. No one was there yet. Dare she? She could feel herself building to a peak again. She gulped hard. She felt cold.

"It's gotten all dirty little nigger," Heather said. " Get it nice and clean."

Miss Simms felt a dark stirring of her loins. God, this evil little bitch was getting to her. She felt like a traitor to her race. But the little bitch had her by the short and curlies. She had no choice. She quickly did it. Just got it over with and took the digit in her mouth and sucked.

She could smell the sex - the dank musk of her student. The flavor was tangy. She felt like she was going to retch, yet at the same time lightning danced through her loins.

"Now please turn it off," Miss Simms begged. "You promised."

"I always keep my word," Heather said and turned off the vibe. This was important. It let her teacher believe there were certain boundaries. When in reality the only boundaries were the ones that Heather set.

"I'll see you after school." Heather said, winking at her teacher. "Wait for me bitch."

Miss Simms waited until the girl was out of the room before digging into her drawer for a pack of confiscated gum - anything anything at all to get the horrible taste out of her mouth.

Cunt. A white girl's cunt. She'd tasted it. It didn't make her a homosexual, but all the same, it was a terrible blow. She had been soiled, both mentally and physically. But the vibe was off and remained off. She made it through the rest of the day without incident.

========

After school

"Hurry up you dirty slut," Heather urged the mortified teacher. "A proper school tutor needs a proper outfit."

Poor Serena, she thought she had escaped the embarrassing outfit by choosing the alternative. However, Heather had other ideas. They were in the parking lot behind Goodwill and the young teacher was struggling into the small tartan skirt.

"Please Heather..." Serena begged. "I can't be seen in this."

"Would you rather be seen in this? Or this?" Heather sneered, showing a picture of the naked teacher on her cell. And then another of the woman naked from the waist down, changing into the small mini skirt and another of her naked breasts. "Who should I send it to first? The principle? your dad? Besides, this is Goodwill...who do you know that would be here now?"

"...I don't know," Serena admitted. However, she didn't shop at Goodwill, so she had no idea who she could possibly meet.

"Get those socks and shoes on and stop stalling," Heather said. "Or I send the pictures. Hurry up. 5. 4. 3. 2... good girl. Let's go get you some new clothes."

Miss Simms teetered out of the car. She felt naked. And she wasn't far from it. She was thankful they weren't parked near other cars because she was sure she had flashed her sex when getting out of the small car.

She was mortified. The short skirt threatened to show off more than she was prepare to show with every step....worse, she could feel it flutter with the slightest breeze. She pushed it back down protectively over her rear, to hide the fact that she wasn't wearing underwear. The starched white shirt wasn't much better, it hid the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra, except for the fact that it also left her looking flat as a board. She kept her head down to avoid anyone noticing her and God forbid, they recognize her.

The teacher and her student entered Goodwill. There were an odd assortment of shoppers took little notice of the two girls that entered. No one would have assumed the shorter to be more than 18, much less a teacher. However, everyone took note of the too short skirt, though most did it surreptitiously. The only exception being the male Hispanics who openly stared tried to catch the dark skinned girl's eye.

"Go try this one. And this," Heather said, giving the young teacher several items.

This wasn't the sort of place Miss Simms was used to shopping. The dressing room floor was dirty linoleum. The clothes were used. The place smelled like mold or mildew. She wondered if the clothes had even been washed. To make matters worse, she wasn't wearing any underwear, so the shorts she'd been given to try on would be in contact with her bare skin.

Yuck. Disgusting.

But as bad as things were, they grew even more horrible. The clothes were practically indecent. The shorts were a gaudy gold color and they were not only stretchy, but much too small. They showed off her every curve. Her mons were visible and so was her cleft. The skimpy top was little better. It exposed so much skin...and it was much more form fitting than her starched shirt. Now the shape of her small breasts were visible, worse, her hard nipples were pressed out from the fabric like small erasers.

"Heath..." Miss Simms caught herself in time. "I mean - Miss Morgan...it doesn't fit."

"Let me see," Heather said from outside the door.The eighteen year old senior was hoping it didn't fit. As a matter of fact, she was looking forward to it.

Miss Simms reluctantly opened the door, keeping out of sight to all save Heather as she showed the girl the results of the too revealing outfit.

[

"I can't see you there," Heather said. "Come out in the light so I can get a look at you."

The poor teacher danced from one foot to the other.

"I can't," she pleaded. "Someone might see."

"Come on out and turn around," Heather said. "Otherwise...." She held the Treo threateningly.

The hapless teacher stepped out of the dressing room, her eyes dancing due to her humiliating predicament.

"Move your hands and turn around." Heather said.

The poor teacher reluctantly put her hands down and turned quickly around, showing her tormentor that the outfit was indeed out of the question.

"What's the problem?" Heather asked. "It looks perfect."

Miss Simms felt her cheeks grow hot as she was forced to outline the shortcomings to the stupid little bitch.

"The shirt.. you can see my boobs. And my butt hangs out from the bottom of the shorts...and my God...you can see the shape of my...of my..."

"Hot little cunt." Heather finished.

The poor teacher had never hear her body referred to in such a manner. It made her...it made her tingle. What was wrong with her?

"Now you say it, " Heather said. "Or I'll find you another just like it."

"You can see the shape of my...of my..." the mortified teacher stammered, trying desperately to keep her voice down lest someone hear. "...my hot little cunt."

"What are you still doing out here? Flashing you little cunt to everyone? Get back in the dressing room. What are you some sort of exhibitionist?" Heather said. "Now turn around."

The young blond reached out and touched the exposed swell of her teacher's tight bottom.

"I see what you mean," Heather said giving her teacher's ass an nice squeeze. "It exposes that tight little ass nicely."

Then Heather's hand traveled up between her teacher's thighs. The woman wanted to yell due to the fright it gave her, but her tongue was paralyzed lest she cause people to wonder what was happening in the dressing room. Even as the hand grew more daring and fondled her sex...already responding to the unwanted caress.

The young teacher felt breathless. She felt a speeding of her pulse. A quivering in her loins. She shouldn't be responding to such treatment. Yet, she was. How had this happened?

"Hands behind your head. Turn around like a good girl. You know the drill...and the position." Heather said.

Miss Simms remembered. Yes, she had been ordered into the position before back in her office. Now she assumed it in this dressing room. It made her feel like she was less than a person. Even as it made her tingle inside. Worse, Heather smiled and fired off another picture using her cell phone.

"Good girl," Heather said. "I'll go find you something else to try on."

Waiting in the small dressing room, Miss Simms cursed herself for letting her little bitch of a student grope and humiliate her. She determined not to let the girl get to her. After trying on the next outfit, she didn't let on how inappropriate it was. She turned and modeled it, not complaining once that it was far too short and the top cut far too low.

"You like it?" Heather asked.

"It's okay," Miss Simms replied, smiling innocently and laughing inside as she went back in the dressing room. At last, she had outsmarted the little bitch.

"Good," Heather said. "You'll wear it to work tomorrow."

The color drained from the teacher's face.

"Wait," Miss Simms hissed.

"What?" Heather asked.

"I can't. I mean ... it is far too short for work," Miss Simms said.

"Is it now?" Heather asked. "Come closer...let me see."

The little bitch had outfoxed her once again. She had hoped that by agreeing, she could endure the outfits for just a little while and escape the inevitable groping that went along with complaining. Yet, it she didn't complain, she could be wearing the very same indecent outfit to work. She had no choice. She was between a rock and a hard place.

Hidden by the door, Serena came closer and allowed her tormentor to reach beneath her skirt. Hot fingers found even hotter flesh. Miss Simms felt her cheeks burn as the girl discovered that she was aroused. That she grew even more aroused as those fingers stroked and prodded.

"I guess I didn't realize your skirt was so short," Heather purred. "Why..the slightest breeze and it could show...what exactly would it show little Rena?"

"It would show my v- my v-..." Miss Simms stammered, as she felt her cheeks grow hot as she referred to her nether parts just as she had been taught. " - my hot little cunt."

"That's my girl," Heather said. "Let's see what else we can find."

And they made their way through one outfit to another. If the hapless teacher had no other choice, she complained about the selected outfit, knowing full well that it meant being groped and handled. Tormented and teased. And so she began to look at every new outfit with a critical eye. Could it pass? Could she make it work? If she were careful when she bent over? If she kept the hem down?

Because the girl wasn't just feeling her up anymore. The girl was fingering her. Working her up. Making her thighs slick with honey. Her nipples erect. Making her exit the dressing room to show off the next outfit. To show off her increasingly aroused state to the other shoppers. Hard nipples and leaking juices. Trembling knees. Worse, the little dyke could see that she was getting to her, and Miss Simms hated that smug little look. She wasn't...she wasn't like that.

After what felt like hours to the poor teacher, it was finally over. She had a substantial pile of clothes now. They weren't the sort she normally wore.

No, her usual clothes were conservative and tended to hide the body that lay beneath them. To make her appear on the outside, as old as possible. But these clothes, they tended to do just the opposite. Even the most conservative of the lot fit her snugly and showed off the body that lay within. More ever the colors and cuts were new and young. They were suited more for her students than for her.

"Go pay for them," Heather ordered.

So, Miss Simms piled her clothes on the counter. And old lady ringing up her purchases looked at her with disdain. And the she gave her the total.

"That'll be 57.40"

It was cheap enough. Miss Simms was used to paying that much for one sports coat.

She handed over her card.

"We don't take credit cards," the old woman sneered.

"I..I.." Miss Simms stammered. Everyone took credit cards. Her cheeks grew hot as she glanced behind and caught sight of the growing line behind her. She fumbled in her purse. Twenty....thirty...thirty five...forty...forty one...forty two...forty three...forty four...forty four twenty five...forty four fifty...Dear God, she was counting out change now. She was mortified. She wanted to crawl in hole and die. The old woman was shaking her head now. Tisking under her breath.

Heather was creaming all over herself. Seeing her teacher....her pet teacher there counting coins...obviously mortified in her little schoolgirl outfit. It made her so fucking hot. Made almost cum right then and there.

"I'll guess ... I guess... I have to put something back.." Miss Simms stammered.

"How much do you need honey?" the old white woman behind her asked.

"I-I-I-" MIss Simms stammered.

"Seven thirty four," the woman behind the counter said.

"Here." The woman handed the embarrassed teacher ten dollars.

The clerk gave Serena the change, and Serena tried to pass it back.

"You keep it honey," The woman said, pushing it back in her hand. "I want you to look nice when you go back to school tomorrow...not in these clothes that you've obviously outgrown."

Miss Simms could feel her heart pounding in her chest. God, the woman assumed she was a student. Not a...not a teacher. And that she had merely outgrown the slutty outfit that she was being forced to wear.

"Thank you..."Miss Simms whispered, though the words came painfully. "Thank you very much."

Seeing her teacher's obvious state of distress caused Heather to alter her plan. In the stories she had read, she knew what she wanted to do next. But now she was going to make it even more delicious.

Back in the car Heather told her teacher to go to the bank and walked with her up to the bank machine.

"Get out two hundred dollars." Heather said.

Miss Simms didn't even bother to argue and inserted her card.

"What's your code?" Heather asked.

"Maybe your mom will tell me when I send her a few pics."

Damn it. This little bitch kept digging her claws in deeper.

"It's 3876"

"Good girl." Heather said and entered the digits herself just to be sure. But she wasn't finished yet.

"Wait here," she said and took the money into the back.

The young blond as so hot she was nearly squirming as she handed the money to the teller.

"Can you break this for me?" she asked. "My mom is having a yard sale."

"No problem. How do you want it?" the woman asked.

"Ones...pennies, nickels, dimes, and quarters."

"Fives?" the woman asked. This was a little unusual.

"Nope." Heather said.

"Here you go," the teller proceeded to count out the money. "Some of this is a little worn I can go get another bundle if you like."

"No, this is perfect," Heather said. "This way it won't stick together."

Now it was time to take the next step with her new slave.

"Let's go to the mall." Heather ordered her teacher once back in the car.

"Haven't we done enough shopping?" Miss Simms asked.

"We aren't shopping," Heather said. "Not like you think. And when you address me, you need to remember to do it right."

"I'm sorry ... ah Miss Morgan," Miss Simms said. "Ahh...what are..what are you doing ah..Miss Morgan."

"I'm going to help you remember how to address me." Heather said as she tucked the hem of her teacher's short mini-skirt into the waistband. Exposing the woman's sex to any car that might happen to pass them.

"Scoot forward," Heather ordered.

"But someone might see...."

"You forgot again," Heather said. "I guess you need another reminder. How about we go through the drive through and give them a show."

"Please Miss Morgan," Miss Simms begged. "I'm sorry. I forgot. It won't happen again."

"Maybe you'd like another punishment?" Heather asked.

No. Not really. She didn't want any punishment.

"Yes..Miss Morgan."

"You can also call me Miss for short or even ma'am." Heather said. "But first let's finish the current punishment. "Scoot forward...good girl...now spread."

"Yes Miss." It wasn't easy. Not with driving too. But Serena managed to follow her student's instructions. Her eyes darted frantically from left to right and monitored her rear view mirror. She had to pay strict attention, lest someone pass her and see that she was exposed from the waist down.

"Now on to your punishment," Heather said as her hand reached between her teacher's thighs, and found soft moist flesh and began to rub.

"From now on you are to thank me after every punishment or pleasure," Heather said.

"Thank you Miss." Miss Simms said. It felt nice she had to admit, but being handled by this young dyke certainly counted as punishment.

"If it's pleasure you are to thank me for it explicitly. As in thank you Miss for fingering my hot little nigger cunt."

Surely she wouldnt' - couldnt' make her say such a horrible thing. She felt her anger rise. It wasn't fair. She didn't want this. She hated this little blond bigoted bitch.

"But this isn't pleasure," Heather said. "Otherwise it wouldn't be punishment. But I bet it sure feels like pleasure. Doesn't it pet?"

Serena had to admit that much. Even if she didn't like the girl's touch, her body was reacting to it nonetheless. Even now the girl's finger was pistoning into her tight slit. Her sex was even making wet noises she was so wet.

And Heather was very intent on priming that hot little cunt. Getting her digits soaked, then wiping them off on the woman's tight dark curls. She tormented her teacher mercilessly, She had already given the woman two orgasms, and she didn't really feel that generous at the moment. No, she just wanted the woman worked up nice and hot. She pulled on the woman's nether lips, making them nice and plump. Next came the clit. So stalky, so erect.

Miss Simms's breath grew heavy. Goddamn this girl.

"But it is punishment...as you will soon see." Heather kept to work like an artist. Two fingers then three. Nice and sloppy, just the way she wanted it.

Finally, finally they were at the mall. Miss Simms was especially thankful because she was having an increasingly hard time keeping the car on the road.

"Follow me." Heather said as she got out of the car and handed her teacher a wad of ones. "And put this in your pocket."

"Where are we going? What is this for? Miss?" Serena asked.

"You'll see."

With shaky trembling legs Miss Simms followed her young charge. She had to admit the girl had a nice body...as far as girls went.

God- what was happening to her? What was she thinking? Then it hit her. She was in the mall. Dressed like some sort of teen tart. God, what if someone recognized her? When they ducked into the shop, Serena was secretly pleased...she didn't recognize anyone here. Then she saw Heather talking to someone. Pointing back at her.

She caught Heather's words.

"My friend wants a Brazilian."

No! Oh hell no! But what could she say? No I don't. Then what would Heather say? I got these nice pictures I can send to your folks. Then she'd end up right back here and the humiliation would be even greater the second time around.

"Right this way," said a cute brunette with short spiky hair.

But in the back it was a fat red head that was to do the waxing.

"Take off your skirt and panties and get up on the table," the woman said.

Mortified, the poor teacher stepped out of her short skirt. She tried to pretend like she was taking off her panties at the same time, but the woman had seen. There was a look. A condescending look that made the teacher's heart pound in her chest.

The teacher mounted the table and the woman pulled apart her knees. Then it hit her. The thick musk of arousal. Oh God! It was her. She reeked.

"Shit..goddamnit.." the woman muttered. "I don't get paid enough for this."

But the woman was fastidious. She proceeded to work immediately, if not delicately. She wanted to move up the ladder. First this. Then shampoos. THen finally she could cut hair. These young sluts. She knew the kind. They got off on the thought of getting a Brazilian. The pain. The exhibitionism. Sick little bitches.

Apply, press, rip. Apply press, rip. She'd teach her a lesson.

The black bitch smelled like a fuck farm. The girl wasn't only aroused. She was wet. Apply press rip. Apply press rip.

A typical Brazilian wax usually took thirty minutes.

This one was going to be done in just over five.

"You are lucky," the woman said. "That kinky hair really grips the wax."

Rip. Ow...shit. Serena's pelvis bucked into the air before slamming her sweat covered bottom on the paper covered table with a thwack.

Apply press rip. Apply press rip.The poor teacher was gasping with every rip. Her fingernails dug into her palms. God. And her thighs. Her thighs knew what was coming every time the woman pressed that cloth to her mons. Knew that the sharp rip was next. They knew and they clutched together to delay the pain. And that big fat bitch just sighed with exasperation each and every time.

"I ain't got all day," she said as she chewed on a piece of chewing gum

Tears were trailing down the poor teacher's cheeks. This bitch. She felt as if she wasn't even being treated like a human being. And animal No sympathy. Oww- Jesus.

"Now let's pull your leg over like this," the chubby woman said. "And hold it. I said hold it."

Oh God..no no no. Serena wanted to crawl under the table and die as wax was applied even back there. Then the cloth. Oh God, this was going to be even worse. She was sure of it.

"I don't think I can take anymore..." Serena admitted.

"No one does," the woman said, and then gave a final rip.

Serena gave a one last groan. God. God damn it.

"You're finished." the woman said. They'll take you at the counter. Matter of fact, I'll go with you to make sure you find your way alright."

To make sure I pay my bill, Serena thought to herself as she put her short skirt back on with shaking fingers. Her legs trembled. She could barely stand, much less walk.

"That will be ninety dollars," the short spiky haired girl said.

"Plus tip," Gina added from behind.

Serena dug out the money from her pocket. Then she realized with increasing dismay what Heather had done.

Shit. Fuck, they were all ones.

One bill after another after another. She had never been so mortified. And the looks they gave her. God, she could see the thoughts going through their brains. What was this girl? Some sort of two dollar whore?

One bill after another after another. Ninety five. It wasn't enough tip and she knew it. But the fat bitch didn't deserve even the five she was getting. But still, if she had more she would have given it just to get the look out of these women's eyes.

The teacher slunk out to where Heather was sitting in front of the salon.

"It was a good punishment wasn't it?" Heather asked.

"Yes Miss Morgan," Miss Simms said. "It was a good punishment. Thank...you..."

"I bet you don't forget how to address my anymore will you?"

"No Miss never." And she meant it. Never again. Anything so long as she didn't have to go back to that horrible place again.

"Or to thank me after?"

"Yes Miss..."

"Let's go home and get you started with your night job."

Dressed up in a short tartan skirt, looking every bit a young black school-girl, with no panties, and a freshly shaved sex, Serena was happy to go to someone's house...even if that house belonged to her student.

But little did she know that Heather was only getting started.

*************************

At Heather's house

The bathroom vanity Serena was perched on was cold and uncomfortable. She was naked and chill bumps covered her dark skin. One arm draped protectively over her breasts. The opposite hand protectively over her newly denuded sex.

The only way out was past her student, but the girl wasn't only bigger, she held a camcorder in her hand, recording her teacher's humiliation.

"Get started slut." Heather said.

"I won't - Miss," Miss Simms said determinedly. Her student had enough evidence, and she refused to let the girl gather even more leverage to blackmail her with.

"What are you worried about?" Heather asked. "You are already smooth as a baby's bottom. This is just for show."

The teacher didn't need reminding. Her freshly denuded sex felt foreign beneath her hand.

"You already have enough blackmail Miss Morgan," Miss Simms said, adding the Miss Morgan at the last moment, and glancing down at the razor and shaving cream Heather had placed on the counter. It wasn't enough that she had been waxed...the kinky bitch wanted a video to rub off to or to make her do other ....worse things. "I refuse to give you any more."

"You refuse huh?" Heather smiled, her eyes narrowing to a steely glint. "I wonder what mom will think when she comes home to find my teacher naked and in my bathroom? Oh momma, I couldn't help it. She made me. She wanted to film me."

"But you...but you..." She was the one being made. She was the one being filmed. Not this little dyke bitch. Damn. Damn. There was no hope. Deeper and deeper.

She picked up the shaving cream. Shit! She was in a real fix.

"I thought you would see it my way," Heather said with a smile. "Now lather that cunt up."

Miss Simms proceeded to follow instructions while maintaining as much modesty as possible. However, Heather was having none of it.

"Spread those skinny black legs," Heather said. "And move that hand. Don't act so embarrassed, I'm sure I'm not your first student to see that black cunt. I bet you show it to all your students. I bet you've been holding out on me."

"No Miss," Miss Simms said haltingly as she spread her legs, her cheeks becoming hot at her vulnerable state. "I haven't shown any of my students. And no one...no one has seen me ...bare...like this."

"Lather that hot little cunt up," Heather said, sticking her hand down her pants with her teacher's admission.

"Yes Miss," Miss Simms said. She was glad to obey, to at least have a little shaving foam to hide behind. It was cold, but it effectively hid her sex from view. However, she knew it wouldn't last.

"Now pick up that razor." Heather said, as she panned up from her teacher's sex to the anguish in her face.

"I just don't understand why you want me to do this..." Miss Simms picked up the razor with trembling fingers. "Why the waxing just to make me do this?"

Because both scenarios were in stories she read and she couldn't decide? Heather couldn't very well tell her teacher that. Instead she said the first thing that came to mind. "Because I said so. Now do it."

She was already bare. It should have been easy. Yes, there was no danger in cutting herself with the razor. However, each swipe was like stripping. Stripping for her white bitch of a blackmailer. Stripping in front of the video camera. Stripping...oh shit it was getting to her. Her nipples were hard peas on her chest. Her lips...the were beginning to open like petals of a flower.

"Why all the complaining when it's obvious you enjoy it."

"I don't enjoy it...Miss." Miss Simms said.But she wasn't very convincing. Not to Heather.

And not to herself.

Why was this happening? She should be angry. Mortified. She should not be growing aroused.

"My little pet nigger gets off from being on camera, doesn't she?" Heather teased.

"No!" Miss Simms said, her voice stern and angry, and for just one moment, almost that of a teacher in control.

"Look at those nips..." Heather said as she panned from the teachers nipples, then down to her sex. "And that fat little puss. She obviously loves something. If not the camera teach? Then maybe it's me. Is it me? Are you getting off on being my little nigger pet? Or perhaps it was the camera after all."

It was neither. In truth, the poor teacher didn't know what it was that was effecting her body in this fashion. That made her tingle in such an unwanted fashion.

"Which is it Rena?" Heather asked. "Tell me."

"It's.." Miss Simms began. "...the camera."

"Then smile pretty for it," Heather purred.

It wasn't the camera. Surely it wasn't. And yet having to smile for it. The to bite her lip. To stick out her tongue. Like some sort of porn star. The poor teacher felt the tingly feeling grow. To become a yearning.

A need.

"Now stroke it." Heather purred.

"I can't."

"Just a bit."

"I can't." But with razor in one hand, the other snuck in. It was already so close. So very close. And the tingling wouldn't stop.

A brief circling of the clit didn't stop the sensations. If anything, it magnified them. A delving down between her lips only made her want to insert her finger to calm the hunger in her loins.

"Stop." Heather ordered. "Now shave some more."

Miss Simms shuddered as she complied. And though her finger was removed, her loins seemed determined to have it. Her pelvis pushed out. Her legs parted. Her thighs opened wide. Her tongue darted out to moisten dry lips. She drew the razor across her sex exposing a new swath of smooth ebony skin.

"Now stroke."

There was no I can't. No I won't. Eager fingers found her hungry sex. Naked, perched on her student's vanity, she moaned. This time her fingers didn't just delve down between her nether lips, she pressed a finger up into the hungry mouth of her hot sex.

"Dirty little bitch." Heather growled. "Faster."

"God..." Miss Simms moaned as she pumped her finger faster and faster, no longer thinking of her modesty or of the video being made of her humiliation. Now there was only one goal. Bliss. Bliss to make her forget everything.

"Stop." Heather ordered. "Now shave the rest."

The first time the finger had been inserted reluctantly and removed swiftly. This time it was reluctant to leave, giving the teacher a few extra pumps. And though it had a bit of shaving cream at the base, it now shown with nectar.

The teacher ran the razor over her sex. This time with purpose. She was nude now. Bare. Nothing but smooth ebony flesh.

"Stroke it." Heather said.

Miss Simms's eager finger was already ready. It sped around the teacher's clit. It pumped into the mouth of her hot sex.

"Bitch." Heather said breathlessly.

Miss Simm's finger sped. Fuck she was so fucking hot.

"Look up here." Heather ordered her hapless teacher. "Slut."

Miss Simms looked into the camera. It felt as if she were giving up. Giving in. Masturbating. Being called names. Slut. Whore. Cunt. She should be mortified. But though her cheeks burned and the shame made her want to crawl under the table, her loins were afire.

"You like that?" Heather asked. "Does my little pet nigger like it?"

"No...godamnit...no..." Miss Simms said, but it was far too late. And the words came not as an argument, but an admission.

For though she struggled against it, to fight it, the point had been reached. She had fallen over the edge of the chasm and was already on her way down.

Her loins felt like she was on fire. A wave of pleasure condensed inside her sex and forced it's way out. Her face winced. Her slim hips pumped. She grunted. She gasped.

She came.

The sensations, if only for a few moments made the young teacher forget about her humiliation, forget about the blackmail, forget about the video camera trained on her as she came. But her bliss was short-lived.

And the recriminations returned many fold.

"Did I say to cover up?" Heather asked.

"No...no Miss," Serena said. But she wanted so desperately to cover herself. Her nipples were hard little points. Her clit was engorged. Her petals open. Moisture was leaking from her sex.

"You didn't seem worried about it a few moments ago," Heather said. "Did you slut?"

Slut. She'd been called slut several times now, but she never felt like one. Not till now. "No...no Miss."

"Get those legs back out. Get 'em out." Heather said. "Do it or I send a copy of this tape to your mom. How would you like that?"

With cheeks burning in shame, the hapless teacher put her feet back on the edge of the vanity, her body displayed in shame.

"Good girl." Heather said. "Now thank me for the orgasm. Always address me properly and always thank me after your orgasms."

The words were a struggle to get out. The seemed to hang her her throat. "Thank you for the ...orgasm.... Miss Morgan."

"Let's get you dressed," Heather said. "My mom will be home soon."

"I can't wear that...Miss Morgan," Miss Simms hastily added. It was the same short tartan skirt and form fitting top she had worn that afternoon. "Your mom would have me fired for sure."

"I doubt she even remembers what you look like," Heather said, idly twirling her finger in her teachers hair. "But just to be sure."

Heather's fingers kept twirling, but this time with purpose. When Miss Simms caught on to her student's plan, it felt as if her stomach had dropped to her knees.

"Please Miss," the poor teacher begged. "Please don't do this."

"Shhh..." Heather urged her fingers deftly looping the three strands of hair together. "You don't want my mother to recognize you, do you? Well with these cute little pigtails, she'll never imagine for one moment that you are a teacher."

No-no-no...This was horrible. It was the very thing that Miss Simms always struggled to avoid. Due to her small stature, she made sure to wear clothes suitable for someone ten years old, a hair style for someone in her thirties, and she avoided events with a lot of young people.

But now. Now, looking at herself in the mirror. The girl she saw looking back at her, with her trendy little clothes, her pigtails, and a bit of bright colored make-up, wasn't a teacher. Wasn't someone to be respected. She was just a young girl. A girl who could be dismissed and told what to do.

"Now don't you look pretty?" Heather said. "I want you to make us some dinner before my mom get's home."

"Dinner?" Miss Simms didn't know these people's kitchen. She wasn't their servant.

"Dinner." Heather said, picking up a hairbrush. She lifted her teacher's short tartan skirt and applied the back of the hairbrush as if she were born to it.

"Wait - ouch," Miss Simms begged, dancing nimbly out of the way. "I-I ouch- don't even know what kind of owww...food you have in your kitchen."

"Only one way to find out," Heather said, keeping hold of the hem of her teacher's skirt to keep the woman in arm's reach and applied the brush again and again.

"Okay...ouch...okay..." Miss Simms said. "...I'm doing it."

The hapless teacher walked briskly to the kitchen. As fast as was able with her student one step behind, paddling her on one cheek and then the other with her every step.She opened the refrigerator and looked inside. It was so hard to think whilst being paddled. It didn't hurt, but it did sting. Most of the blows were more for show than anything. Yet, every once and a while one of those blows would land with force. It was enough to make the teacher hussle. It was enough to make her jump in anticipation with every new blow that landed.

"I could make a chicken stir-fry," the teacher remarked.

"I don't want chicken," Heather said. "Look in the freezer and see if we have any fish."

The blows kept landing, and Miss Simms was an even better target as she bent down to check in the freezer.

"You have... ah... shrimp," Miss Simms said. "Stop spanking me...please...I can't think...ouch...I can..ah...make a shrimp stir-fry."

The poor teacher was pleased that the spanking had finally stopped.

"That sound delish," Heather said. "Do you think we have enough?"

"You have nearly a poun - oh!" the teacher gave a startled yelp.

Heather pushed her finger further up her teacher's tight wet sex and had to smile. Not only because the woman was taking it without argument, but because she was clearly aroused at the prospect.

"You like being spanked, don't you little bitch?" Heather asked. "That hot little cunt of yours gives you away."

"I don't..I don't ...like being spanked." Miss Simms demurred. God, this white lesbo was getting to her. "Anyone could be touching me right now. It's just an involuntary reaction to sexual stimulation."

"So if *anyone* touches you; you get hot?" Heather asked.

"Yes..." Miss Simms whispered. Her hips were moving now, no matter how she tried to still them. God, wouldn't this girl stop if only for a moment?

"You sound like quite the slut to me," Heather said."That is..if you have this reaction every time someone touches you."

"I-I..I've never had anyone to..." Miss Simms stammered. She wasn't a slut. She wasn't a lesbian either. She was good. Not some wierdo like Heather. But at the moment it didn't seem like her body was living up to her expectations. It was busy working itself on the finger embedded so delightfully in her sex. Her body didn't care if the finger belonged to a girl - her student. Her body only cared for more.

"Get to work," Heather urged, giving her teacher a smack on the bottom to get the woman in motion.

But it wasn't easy work. Trying to slice with a knife, all while being felt up.

"Please Miss," Miss Simms begged. "I'll cut myself."

"Then open your mouth," Heather said. Then when seeing her teacher's puzzled look, she expounded. "I'm going to put my fingers somewhere. If you can't take 'em in your puss, you'll take 'em in your mouth."

"I ah...I don't mind..," Miss Simms lied. She tried to ignore them. God, how she tried. But they were taking her further and further. She couldn't concentrate. She was bound to make an error with the sharp bladed knife. There was no other choice she told herself.

"In my mouth," Miss Simms said dutifully. "Will you put them in my mouth Miss Morgan?"

"You want to clean my fingers for me pet?" Heather asked. "You are right, I seem to have put them in something filthy and disgusting. Just look how slimy they are."

Heather held the digits in front of her teacher and spread them apart, a strand of the thick fluid stretched between her middle and forefinger. She felt a shudder run down her teacher's small frame.

"Who could have got them so slimy and filthy?" Heather sneered. "Who?"

"Me Miss," Miss Simms said and took the soiled fingers in her mouth. She didn't think she'd ever get used to that tangy slightly musty flavor, but at least this time it wasn't a surprise. She proceeded to get back to work chopping vegetables.

"Give me that carrot," Heather said. Keeping her fingers in her teacher's mouth was fun, but hardly practical while the woman struggled to made dinner. That was where the carrot came in. Every few minutes she pushed her teacher down over the counter and rucked up her short skirt. Then she used the carrot on her as some sort of makeshift vegetarian dildo. Fucking her teacher with it. Not just fucking, but teaching her how to fuck.

"Move those hips," Heather ordered, slapping her teacher's ebony bottom for emphasis. "Are you useless? Some sort of wet fish? For a girl who gets off when anyone touches her, I expected a bit more fun. Is that how you do it, just lay there like a corpse? Do you have one of your boyfriends phone number handy? I bet there's one in that phone of yours isn't there? Now get those hips busy before I give him a call and find out how bad a lover you were."

Serena Simms had by now had several boyfriends so far in her 26 years. And with a blush, she realized that they had all...every last one, wanted her to be more adventurous. And that yes Brian's phone number was still in her Blackberry. She couldn't let this little bitch call him. Couldn't be shamed in such a fashion. Even if it mean being shamed in another almost as humiliating fashion instead.

Miss Simms began to move her slim coltish hips.

"Is that better?" she asked timidly, her cheeks hot as flame.

"It's a start," Heather said, grinning sadistically. "But there are more ways to move than back and forth dimwit. Why there's up and down? There's side to side. And even around and around. Fuck you are boring. Where is that phone? Let me get a few pictures to send, I bet one of those boyfriends will have some pointers."

"Wait..please...Miss.." Miss Simms begged. God how she hated this. Hated begging for it almost as much as the doing of it. "See I'm doing it. Look. Isn't this...ahh...better..uh..uh..."

Yes it was better. God, the woman was doing it. She was humping the carrot like some sort of sex starved rabid rabbit. Fucking it. Flexing her hips. Rotating them. Her cute little asshole winking in the process. Heather felt her pussy throb watching her teacher submit to her sadistic whims.

The poor teacher also felt her sex throb with excitement, however, her excitement was unwanted. Dear God, it was a vegetable she was fucking for heaven sakes. She shouldn't be feeling this warm welling in her loins. Not for this. Not this quickly. However, it seemed as though moving her body like some sex starved tramp...was actually turning her into a sex-starved tramp.

Yet, she had no choice in the matter. Her boyfriends, at least the two she had been intimate with, would have been satisfied with her laying there- would have been thrilled with a little back and forth of the hips.

But this girl - only a student, wanted more. She had her writhing around in a most humiliating manner. In a manner that threatened to send her quickly over the edge.

"Please Miss," Miss Simms begged as she slowed her hips to a steady back and forth.

"Why are you slowing slut?" Heather asked, suspecting the answer already. "Getting lazy again?"

"No Miss Morgan...I'm ahh...I'm close..."

"Close huh?" Heather smiled as she popped the carrot out of her teacher's wet sex. "Well we can't have that. Get off the counter and get back to work. But kiss me first."

Once more, Miss Simms kissed her student. To her horror she realized that her body sought out the kiss this time. Returned it and gave it in turn.

Miss Simms returned to prepping the stir-fry, although her concentration was faltering. By the time her passions would cool, Heather would use the carrot on her once again.

But there was worse to come. The first time, Miss Simms had been rudely pushed over the cutting board. The second time she was ordered on top of the counter, with her legs spread wide. Then against the stove with the heat of the wok licking her breasts.

And so by the time the poor teacher finished dinner, Miss Simm's mental state was beyond impaired. The girl was doing things to her. God, making her fuck that carrot. Fuck it like some sort of porn actress. Working it. Back and forth. Up and down. Around and around.

Reaching back and pulling apart the cheeks of her bottom. Mashing them together. Worse, she was moaning. It couldn't be helped. Neither could the moisture leaking down her thighs. Moisture she was made to lick with fingers and tongue. She thought of nothing..nothing but the orgasm she dreaded at first, but now yearned for so desperately.

That is...until she heard the front door open and a woman say loudly, "Heather...I'm home."

"Shit! It's mom." Heather said, quickly throwing the carrot away and washing her hands. She was pleased that her teacher had used the time to smooth down her skirt and otherwise make herself presentable.

"Let me out the back door quickly," Miss Simms whispered urgently.

"Something smells good," Miss Janice Morgan said as she walked into the kitchen. "Did my darling daughter pick up dinner?"

Then she directed her stare to Miss Simms, then back to her daughter.

"Who is ... this?"

"This is my friend Rena," Heather said. "Remember? I told you I was having a sleepover."

"But.." Heather's mother was unsure of this Rena. For one, the girl was black. For two..she was black. Three..what was her daughter doing with a black friend, when she attending a perfectly good private school. Well, hopefully, the girl came from money. Obviously she would or she wouldn't be in Heather's school.

"Who are your parents dear?" Mrs. Morgan asked. "Have I heard of them?"

"They are nobody..really.." the poor teacher said. She was going to have to keep up this charade. It was far too late to stop now.

"I mean surely they are-" Mrs. Morgan continued.

"Heather is a scholarship student," Heather said. "They give out one place a year to someone who can't afford it. That's why I invited her over. I thought that maybe I could give her some of my old clothes."

I'm going to have to make sure that's all she takes and not anything valuable, Mrs. Morgan thought to herself.

"She made dinner." Heather said.

"Thank you dear," Mrs. Morgan said, and not able to resist, gave the young one of the young black girl's pigtails a playful tug. "That was very sweet- and I love your cute little hair style."

"Thank you ma'am." Serena said, feeling her cheeks flush. God, the woman had tugged her hair as if she had every right. It had been ten years or more since endure such treatment back before she had become an adult.

"Come on mom," Heather said, taking her mom by the arm and leading her to the dining room. "Let's go sit down so Rena can get on with serving us our dinner."

Mrs. Morgan tugged free from her daughter's grip. "Young lady, you can't invite someone over and expect they serve you like some sort of sl.." Then she looked hastily at her daughter's friend to see if she had offended the girl. "I didn't mean anything by that Rena. Do your people get offended by the 'ess' word?"

"No ma'am," Miss Simms said, but in truth she was shamed by the word. Because for all intents and purposes, she was a slave now. Enslaved by Heather.

God, was this how here ancestors felt? To have to say yes miss and no miss. To be told what to say and what to wear, even by some girl nearly ten years her junior? Dear Lord, she should be horrified, yet the thought caused a hot throbbing deep in her loins. What was wrong with her?

"Mother," Heather said. "She wants to do it to make up for the old stuff I'm giving her. "You are just making it awkward. Besides, Rena wants to go into food service when she graduates. It'll be good practice. Come on...just play along. It'll be fun."

"Okay Heather," Mrs. Morgan replied dubiously. Then to Serena: "Young lady, thank you in advance for dinner."

For awhile Miss Simms wondered what sort of dad Heather must have, because the girl's mother was gracious and kind. She wasn't the sort to blackmail a teacher and make her do such perverted things. Perhaps she could befriend the woman and use it as leverage to get free from the tentacles of her daughter.

However, her illusions about Mrs. Morgan were soon dashed, as the woman's true nature quickly became apparent as she served the two women dinner.

"We always serve from the left and pull from the right Rena," Mrs. Morgan said.

"I'm sorry ma'am," Miss Simms said, cursing herself, for she should have known that, before moving on to serve Heather.

"Young lady," Mrs. Morgan said. "You said you wanted to work in food service, didn't you?"

"Yes ma'am," the poor teacher said. But she never said such a thing. Heather had.

"Then do it properly," Mrs, Morgan said. "As I always say, if a thing is worth doing, it's worth doing well."

"Yes ma'am." Miss Simms bit her lower lip and lowered her gaze, and her ankle turned over on its side, putting her in a pose she hadn't been in since her mother used to scold her when she was young.

Then she moved to the left of Mrs. Morgan to pick up the plate.

"Young lady," Mrs. Morgan said. "You serve from the left. Where do you pull from?"

Mrs. Simms felt her cheeks grow hot. God this infuriating woman.

"The right Miss."

"That's correct."

And so the teacher walked all the way around the woman and pulled the plate from the her right, then served it from the left.

"Wonderful." Mrs. Morgan said.

Mrs. Simms felt angry and upset. Both at herself, Heather, and Heather's mom. How had she gotten into this mess? The woman had praised her, but it felt somehow demeaning to be praise for serving a dish correctly. Who the hell cared where a dish was served from other than long dead Emily Post. And by now the poor teacher was to serve Heather, and she moved to serve the plate, but then hesitated. Was she on the girl's right or left? The left. It was okay.

"Very good," Mrs. Morgan praised. "A few more times and you'll have the knack of it I'm sure."

"I need some more drink please." Heather smirked.

"Yes Miss." Miss Simms made sure to take Heather's cup from the right.

"Leave the cup." Mrs. Morgan said. "In the real world, what if you have another customer while you are refilling the cup? Poor Heather would be famished by the time you returned. So what should you do?"

"Get another cup ma'am."

Damn these people, Miss Simms thought as the fixed another cup of drink for Heather. At least Miss Simms's drink was easy enough to fill. The wine bottle remained on the table.

Damn them both. Serve from the left. Pull from the right. So what if she's thirsty for a few seconds? It'd do the little bitch good. It's probably why she turned out the way she did.

And so the dinner went. Replenishing cups. Fetching a fork from beneath the table that Heather 'accidentally' dropped. Getting felt up by Heather while she was bent down to fetch the fork. Pulling plates. Serving ice-cream. Pulling more plates. Going back for spoons. Going back for cookies. It was maddening. It was pissing her off. By God, she was a college graduate.

"Young lady," Mrs. Morgan said. "Dinner was excellent and so was the service. I know you have worked this out with my daughter, but I want to give you something as well."

Mrs. Morgan handed the entrapped teacher a ten dollar bill.

Miss Simms blushed. She felt dirty taking the money, but extended her trembling finger nonetheless.

"Thank you Miss."

"Mo-om" Heather said. "Come on..."

"She probably needs the money honey," Mrs. Morgan lectured her daughter. "You said she was on scholarship. If you can give your classmate clothes, the least I can do is this. Besides, my mind is made up."

And she probably doesn't like to be talked about like she can't hear what you are saying, Miss Simms thought to herself.

"Now you two go slumber party and I'll clean up," Mrs. Morgan said. To Mrs. Simms: "And you young lady. You take a plate of food with you to eat too."

"I'll get it mom," Heather said.

"That is sweet honey," Mrs. Morgan beamed.

But the proud mother didn't see the cold calculating look in her daughter's eye, but Miss Simms heard it in the girl's voice and a shiver went down her spine. Miss Simms followed her student back to her room. She was certain the girl was taking extra care to walk as seductively as possible. Little did the girl know, the effect was lost on her teacher.

At the door, the pretty senior turned around.

"How silly of me Rena," Heather said. "I've forgotten your drink. Be a pet and go fetch it for me."

'Fetch this pet. Fetch that.' Miss Simms thought as she meekly trotted back to the kitchen.' By the time this is over, I'm going to need a drink.'

But she knew she couldn't, for Mrs. Morgan was under the impression she was eighteen instead of twenty-six. She went to the kitchen to make a glass of tea, but once there Mrs. Morgan put her to work drying dishes, while she continued to wash and rinse. One last swallow and Mrs. Morgan's wine was gone.

"Be a dear and finish up," Mrs. Morgan said, leaving the poor teacher to finish up the dishes.

By the time she got back upstairs, she was certain that her dinner would be cold. On a positive note, she would have probably missed out on fifteen minutes of being locked alone in a room with a certain perverted high school senior. The girl couldn't very well get mad, Miss Simms had a good excuse.

However, when Miss Simms opened the door to Heather's room, it was she that was in fora shock.

Miss Simms stood on knees barely able to support her weight, mouth open and aghast. She almost dropped her drink at the sight in front of her.

"Close the door and lock it stupid." Heather said.

Miss Simms did so with trembling fingers. Part of her screamed run...run! But the other part, the more pragmatic, intervened.

"You dinner was getting cold," Heather said. "So I decided to keep it warm for you."

How kind of you, you little bitch, Miss Simms thought to herself. For the sight that had shocked her so, was that Heather was naked on her bed with her legs spread. She hadn't seen the girl naked before, which was startling; but the shocking thing..the horrifying thing, there was her dinner, emptied from the plate, and resting on Heather's naked crotch.

"I got bored, so I've been playing with my nipples till you arrived." Heather's hands roamed over her large smooth breasts, bunching them up, before letting them hang back down with a lurch. Her fingers then tweaked hard nipples, making the high school senior's hips pump in response.

"Dinner is served." Heather said, feeling clever.

"I won't do it." Miss Simms stated. No she wouldnt'. This was taking things entirely too far. The little bitch could send her little blackmail pictures out if she wanted. There might be repercussions, but then Miss Simms would be free. Free from this blackmailing little dyke.

"Oh mo-om," Heather said. "Guess what? My high school history teacher snuck into your house pretending to be a student, hoping to sleep with me tonight and make me do all sorts of perverted things. Oh no mom, please.. don't call the police..or your attorney. Please mom...I - I -care for her."

Miss Simms felt as if a knife had been plunged into her gut. Hearing the girl say it. She was trapped. Stuck. A pawn. A puppet.

"Come here pet," Heather said. "You won't have to eat it all...unless you are hungry. Are you hungry pet?"

"No Miss." Miss Simms said despondently as she shuffled closer to the bed. Dear God, she was going to have to do it.

"Are you sure?" Heather smiled. "There's plenty."

"Yes Miss." The small dark skinned teacher gently sat down on the bed, doing her best to avoid touching her student. She reached down to pick up a shrimp that seemed to be avoiding being in the more disgusting areas of Heather's sex.

"No paws pet," Heather ordered. "Use your mouth."

Oh how she hated this girl. This perverted little dyke. She wouldn't have done this for her boyfriend - even for her first boyfriend. She ate as carefully as she could. Using her lips to touch only food and not student. Her efforts would have been successful had it not been for Heather's hand closing along the back of her head. Fingers caressing her, running through her hair. The touch was tender, so very different from the cruelty she had known the girl to possess. And the touch was intimate. It was the sort of touch she had once given to an old boyfriend that went down on her.

Four bites of food. Four terrible bites later and her duties were complete, and the remainder of the food was returned to the plate.

"Come up here pet," Heather said, patting the bed next to her. "Let's watch some TV. How drunk was my mom before you came up?"

"Pretty drunk," Miss Simms said as she remembered how the woman had staggered from the kitchen.

"We'll give her a few more minutes then."

Miss Simms hoped that at last she would have a break. But Heather had other things on her mind than watching CSI. And it wasn't only what her mind was on, it was what her hands were on.

The poor teacher did her best to ignore her student's advances. The eager fingers touching her breasts, bringing her nipples up to a peak, the hot breath on her neck....oh God...in her ear. The naked body of her student pressed so tightly against her. The heavy breathing. The soft moans...growing louder with every caress. She had to get the girl to be quiet. Lest her mother come in and all hell to break out.

"Please Heath....I mean Miss Morgan...your mother might hear."

"Then take off your top baby."

"I can't..." Miss Simms whimpered. But when she said she couldn't...what she meant was the she wouldn't.

"Take it off..." Heather said with a bit more force and a bit louder as well. But with a laugh in her voice. "Show me those cute little titties....you dirty slut."

"Shhhh..." Miss Simms begged, pressing her fingers to her student's lips to hush the girl. But her student surprised her once again, taking her fingers in her mouth and sucking on them.

"Come on teach, show me those titties."

"Shhhhh." Miss Simms plead uselessly. God, the girl was going to get her arrested...Wouldn't she just please be quiet. Or at the very least, not call her teach. There was only one way to keep the girl silent. "If I...If I do it? Will you be quiet?"

"As a mouse," Heather smiled knowingly.

It wasn't just the top itself; Miss Simms had been in less in the company of another woman. It was the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra. That her student was naked. That...that the damned girl was getting to her, despite the fact she wasn't into girl...at all.

"Okay." Miss Simms said, reaching for the bottom of her sweater.

"No," Heather said, stopping her teacher mid motion and patting her lap. "I want you up here...facing me."

Miss Simms had no choice in the matter. She had to give in to this perverted bitch, else she be exposed as some sort of lecher herself. But God...it was as if the girl found every weakness and exploited it. There was a tension in the air, the room...the bed....even Heather...everything seemed so much larger than life, and Serena felt so very very small as she straddled her student. She had figured this position to be sexual, but she never realized the extent until she sat facing her student. The girl was forward and her hands settled on her teacher's bottom, pulling her firmly onto her lap, till Miss Simms could feel the curly down of her student's pubes against her smooth mons.

"Now show me," Heather whispered. "And we can be quiet like this...or we can get as LOUD as you want. How loud do you want to get teach?"

Miss Simms once again began to pull her sweater over her head, and Heather stopped her yet again.

"Slowly..." Heather said. "We have all night."

Miss Simms moved more slowly. Her fingers trembled as she lifted her sweater and looked into her student's eager eyes. Staring into the piercing gaze, Miss Simms knew she was lost that night. The girl was going to have her...sexually, and there was nothing she could do about it, but go along for the ride. And that's what she'd have to do; just let the bitch have her way with her.

Miss Simms trembled at her student's touch as knowing hands moved up and down her back. Kneading her firm backside. Caressing her nipples. Giving them a sharp tweak. Making her gasp with surprise.

"Quiet as mice," Heather chided. "Remember Rena?"

"Yes..." Miss Simms whispered..her voice broken due to the feelings in her loins.

"I can feel that hot little nigger pussy Rena," Heather teased. "It's all wet and squishy. Rub it against mine for me."

"Please...." Miss Simms whimpered. She no longer knew if she meant please no, or please yes, as she worked her hips, drawing her smooth sex over her student's hungry clam. It felt good. It felt really good. How was this happening? Her body's reactions were confusing. What was this tingling in her loins? Was it because this was a girl? Her student? Or was it the same reaction if she were touched by anyone...anything? How was she going to get out of this? Would it be best if she just closed her eyes and imagined someone else?

"Look how small your breasts are compared to mine," Heather said. "Look at 'em I said. God they look so small."

And Miss Simms couldn't help but look. Always so self conscious over this subject, and now having her breasts right there. Right next to another girl . A high school student eight years her junior. It made her feel...her cheeks grew hot as she felt...felt like she were back in high school herself. A butt of the jokes from girls like this. An outsider who was too studious to hang out with the cool black girls and too black to hang out with the white girls. She had one friend...a Vietnamese girl who was afraid to take her home because her parents wouldn't approve.

"Keep those hips moving," Heather ordered the small black woman riding atop her lap. "And tell me ....would you say that your titties are a little smaller than mine...or a lot smaller than mine?"

Miss Simms continued riding her student's crotch. She could hear the tell tell squish of their two sexes grinding against one another. She kept silent, hoping the girl would cease asking such embarrassingly personal questions.

"Still not sure?" Heather teased. "Then here, hold mine up for me. Go on. Give them a nice feel."

Miss Simms couldn't stop herself. Couldn't stop her hands from doing as the girl bid. The ivory skin so pale against her own dark palms. The breasts felt so soft...silky. Yet possessed a heaviness she wouldn't have guessed.

"That's a girl," Heather urged. "Give them a lift and let them go."

Whether it was curiosity or some sick hidden perversion, Miss Simms couldn't help it as she let go of the girls pendulous breasts. Watch them go down with a bounce and then settle back into place. Looking at them now, it was apparent that one was a bit larger than the other, hanging lower and a little more to the side. This was...this was why girls like this were more popular. Why her boyfriends...inevitably broke up with her.

"Now yours," Heather said.

Miss Simms felt her face grow hot.

"I...can't." she admitted.

"Do it anyway." Heather ordered.

"Please...." Miss Simms begged, as her own small hands reached up to cradle her tiny orbs. They ....they covered them. What the girl asked was impossible. But the teacher made a valiant effort. She hiked up those high proud breasts and jerked her hands away and gave them the merest of jiggles.

"So would you say?" Heather purred. "That they are a little bit smaller...or are they a LOT smaller."

She almost said a little. But then she caught herself. The tingling in her loins had grown to a raging inferno. She was close. She was so very close. She was riding this girl...this white perverted little bitch...and she was enjoying it. Her pussy so wet and silky, gliding against another girl.

Miss Simms caught her lower lip between her teeth. She should stop. She was being coerced, but not being made to do this. She was...she was...

"A lot smaller." Miss Simms admitted. But why? Why had she said it? Why was she even more turned on than ever after admitting such a humiliating detail. Why were her hips moving, rubbing her hungry loins against her student's.

"They are aren't they?" Heather teased, and seeing how her teacher reacted...seeing how the woman had lost herself in her passions, she pressed on. "Go on. You can touch mine again. Go on little girl. Touch them. Touch a real woman's breasts."

Seeing the hunger...the almost reverence in her teacher's eyes, Heather knew she had found a little crack. A dark place in the woman's id. A place to exploit.

"Kiss them. Suck them. Worship them. See how big they are? Don't you adore them?"

And Miss Simms did. She couldn't help herself. She wasn't gay. She wasn't. Yet why...why was she doing this? Why did it feel so good?

"Why do I waste my time with you?" Heather asked. "When I could have my pick of girls?"

I wish you would. Miss Simms thought. But then the thought began to fester. Wasn't she good enough? She had done everything the girl had asked. Every embarrassing thing. She couldn't help the size of her bosoms. She couldn't help...

Oh God, if she couldn't keep this girl...how could she keep anyone else? She couldn't. She felt her body surrender. Her orgasm riding. Heather would use her up just like everyone else. Then she would leave.

"But you have something those other girls can't compete with don't you Rena?" Heather asked.

However, Miss Simms had no idea what she had those other girls didn't. If she did she wanted to know what it was.

They were younger. They were prettier. They were more shapely. Oh dear Lord, a digit was worming its way into her nether region. No one had ever done that to her.

"Do you know what that is Rena?" Heather asked.

"No Miss Morgan," the young teacher replied. And this time the title rolled off her tongue. It felt natural. It felt right.

"Because you are my little pet nigger, arent' you?" Heather said, her voice thick with lust.

Miss Simms shook her head violently, but she didn't utter a word, lest her voice betray her. Sweat was running in a cascade down her back. And her sex, her sex was a veritable river.

"Don't be shy," Heather said. "I want to hear you say it."

The poor teacher shook her head again. She couldn't say such a thing, she couldn't. That word...it had so much baggage. It made her cringe even to hear people of her own race to say it. My niggah. Didn't they know what they were saying? My slave. That's what it amounted to. A person who will do whatever asked, no matter if it was wrong or right. No matter how embarrassing. No matter how humiliating.

Didn't the girl know what she was asking? Didn't the girl know that Miss Simms would be turning her back on all the trials her forebears had to bear? She couldn't. She must never.

"Go on..." Heather said, this time encouraging her teacher with a pop on the cheek. Not hard. Just because she could. Then she held the woman by the chin, forcing her to look her in the eyes. Forcing her to watch as she held her hand to the side of her cheek and pop her once more. Then she held her chin once again, but instead of a slap on the cheek, she extended her finger.

Her pussy danced as her teacher opened her lips and took in the digit. Took it in and sucked submissively.

Heather carelessly pulled her finger free and popped her teacher on the cheek once again.

"Get off me," Heather said cruelly. "I see that I've been wasting my time with you."

"Wait," Miss Simms begged. God, she was so close. Too close to be robbed. Too far along to be discarded in such a manner. This girl. This infuriating girl. She should...God for everything that had been done...she should hate this girl. She needed...she needed to hate her. And yet, somehow despite it all, the feeling not just in her loins...but the one higher up...that aching feeling. Of needing to belong. She knew what was about to happen, but she was powerless to stop.

Serena hugged the girl close. Bent close to her ear, and wrapped her arms and legs round her tight. She was always an outsider. One of her people would never ...ever... utter......not in a million years...not in a moment of passion...not even in a whisper....

"I'm ...your pet nigger." God, uttering such a horrible thing should have cooled her passions. And if not that, the finger buggering her tight arsehole, had grown more and more uncomfortable. Or the crotch...while hers was newly smooth, the one she humped with such wild abandon, was covered by a thick curly down that while nice at first, was feeling more and more like sandpaper to her tendermost parts.

"Again," Heather urged, once again lightly smacking her teacher on the cheek.

"I'm your pet nigger." Miss Simms admitted. God, oh God. She was so close. She worked her hips with reckless abandon. No longer concerned if the girl's mother was around to hear the creaking of the springs or the headboard against the wall.

Heather was in heaven too. This. This was what it was all about. Owned Teacher. Stacy's Senior Year. All those stories she had masturbated to. Wanting. Yearning. No longer being satisfied with boys. No longer being satisfied with girls. Needing more. Needing a ...slave.

And poor Miss Simms. She needed to be needed. A pretty little thing. She would have put up with a lot from a man. She read magazines to learn how to please her eventual husband.

But, tonight she learned to please her new lover.

A woman.

A girl.

Huddled in the larger girl's damp embrace, uttering the after sex I love yous to one another. But there was much more to learn than she reckoned. She discovered it at 2:00 in the morning when her head was pushed down beneath the covers. It was hot. Hard to breath. And the air was heavy with the musk of sex. Not fresh sex, but dank.

It was intimidating. Scary. But she could do this. She would do it. For her lover. She kissed. First here. Then there. She used her fingers to spread the girl's lips.

And was rewarded with a slap and a sharp tug on her ear.

Ouch! The ungrateful little...

Heather hoisted up the covers so her teacher could hear.

"Use your mouth," Heather said. "And keep those paws out of the way. I'll tell you if I want them."

Bitch! Little spoiled bitch! But Miss Simms held her tongue. And soon it was too late because the covers were down once again, sealing her into her tight cocoon. God it was hot down there. She began to kiss the girl once again. But this time, something was different. The moment had been lost. She stuck out her tongue and licked. The flavor was tangy. More so than before. Slightly unpleasant. But perhaps it wasn't the flavor. Perhaps it was this new feeling that wasn't there before. She felt like...

...a servant.

This wasn't making love. That was made clear when she was ordered not to use her hands. Now she was serving. Orally serving this spoiled little rich girl. A nigger the girl had said. A pet nigger. Was this her role now? Oh God...

The hapless teacher gave a moan, partly of despair, partly of desire. She was rewarded as Heather opened her thighs in response. The eighteen year old's fingers running lovingly through her teacher's hair.

God, even this. Even this was a turn on. Well if the little bitch doesn't appreciate my fingers, I'll make good use of them, Miss Simms concluded. The teacher gave a low moan as her fingers delved into her wet sex. A moan the turned to frustration as her ear was sharply tugged. She reluctantly brought her hands back up. She wasn't even to be allowed the joys of masturbation. Her job. Her job was to use her mouth and lips. To pleasure. To service.

And it took awhile. It took over forty-five minutes beneath those hot covers. It took perseverance. It took fortitude. But eventually. Eventually she learned the right buttons to press. The buttons to make her student tremble. Her legs to spread. Her hips to thrust. To breath heavy. And finally to quake with orgasm.

It was quite a turn of events. All day the last thing Miss Simms wanted was an orgasm from this spoiled rich girl. But now? Now she craved one. It was all she could think about now that she was above the covers and clutch embraced from behind. A hand was between her legs. Perhaps she could? A little thrust of the hips?

A slap on her ass.

"Stop that. Did I give you permission?" Heather warned. "Now apologize."

"I'm ahhhh...." Miss Simms couldn't prevent the moan that escaped her lips. The hand returned between her legs, but this time a finger was thrust into her wet hungry sex. "Sorry...ma'am."

"Now be a good pet and stay still and quiet so I can get some sleep."

"Yes ma'am." Serena said. But she couldn't think of sleep. Just sex. Sex and the finger. If only it would....but it never did.

But sleep did eventually come. However, it proved short-lived. Two hours later, and she servicing her student again. This time she was above the covers. That should have made things easier.

Only it didn't.

Slap. Slap. A pop to one cheek and then the other.

"Not like that," Heather said. "Turn over."

Another slap on her cheek as Miss Simms hurried to obey.

"No dummy," Heather said. "I'm not licking you. Turn the other way."

Miss Simms was manhandled into place. She was on her back. The top of her head was between Heather's shapely thighs. Her legs hung off the bed. ]

"Get up there," Heather impatiently demanded. "Lick."

Miss Simms gave a groan of despair. What the girl was asking was impossible. Although...perhaps...her head was already tilted back as far as it could go. Yet, if she arched her back, putting her weight on the top of her head, bending back as far as she could, extending her tongue, she could just...

"Oh yeah, that's it," Heather purred.

Miss Simms was doing it. She was licking. It was awkward. Unnatural - upside down as she was. It was also uncomfortable.

Very.

Her back ached. Her neck felt even worse. But Heather seemed to be enjoying the attention, though sometimes it was hard to tell.

"Oh yes," Heather moaned. "Lick it. Lick it you sweet bitch."

Yes, the girl sounded happy enough. However, the occasional slap on the cheek or the abrupt tug on the chin made the poor teacher wonder if the girl was getting any enjoyment out of the situation at all. Worse, the teacher's legs hung off the edge of the bed, putting more of a strain on her spine. She tried to inch her way up, however, at the same time, Heather slid down and tilted her hips up.

It was a more comfortable position for Miss Simms, except for one small detail. Now her nose was buried in the young girl's ass. She tried to wriggle back down, but Heather caught her behind her neck kept her from escaping. A couple of light slaps persuaded the teacher it was in her best interest to stay right where she was. Even if...

Even if she was extremely uncomfortable. Even if she was no longer smelling the musky scent of sex, but the more earthy scent of ass. Even if there seemed to be no reciprocation for her own growing needs. Even if she were being manhandled like never before, her tongue gripped between forefinger and thumb and pulled out till the root ached because she wasn't licking precisely where told. Having her cheek slapped. Being gripped by the chin and made to shake her head this way and that, drilling her nose into that tight hole she didn't want to think of.

The moaning was louder now and the bed was squeaking once again. Miss Simms merely had to hold on for the ride because Heather's finger sped about her clit. Even still, Miss Simms was made to compete with the more dexterous digit, lest she get slapped or berated. But finally..finally the girl stiffened. Her legs thrusting out into the air. A trembling pervaded her body as her orgasm slammed home.

The poor teacher did her best to cope with the girl's copious discharge. However, some still ended up going into her nose, making the woman cough and sputter.

Miss Simms was pulled back up into Heather's arms once again. The teacher was hot. So fucking hot. She rubbed her body against her student. Feeling the heat of the girl's crotch against her ass. Thrusting against the finger that was thrust into her wet and hungry sex. God...she was close. It wouldn't take long. Not at all.

"Stop moving so much," Heather said. "You are keeping me awake."

Miss Simms bit back an angry retort. She was the one who had been awakened and made to service the girl. And now the girl was satisfied, while her loins were aching with need. And the finger inside her taunting her. Teasing her. Well, the girl didn't say she couldn't move at all. She would just not move as much.

A gentle thrusting of the hips was all that was required.

Oh that was nice. She could even make the tiniest of circles.

God her juices were running down her thighs. She felt a trembling in her abdomen. Fuck she needed this. But it wasn't enough. She thrusted more vigorously.

"You are such a slut." Heather said. "Now stop that right now."

"... sorry," Miss Simms whispered. She slowed her hips. Rocking them imperceptibly. Slowly - slowly. Every so slowly. But God, it wasn't enough.

"I said stop." Heather said.

Miss Simms gave a weak gasp. She'd been better off doing nothing. Now she was more turned on than before and it was obvious that further action on her part would only result in more distress. Perhaps once more. Even knowing she wouldn't be sated. She rocked her hips gently for a few minutes more and then tucked herself as close to her student as she could, until she could feel the girl all along her body. She gave a dissatisfied sigh and did her best to go to sleep once again.

Heather smiled unseen in the darkness. Her teacher was owned now. Owned by her. There was still more training. There was a lot more training, but the hard work had been done.

++++++++++++++

The next day the training continued. Heather made her teacher shower with her. Made the woman wash her body and shampoo her hair. To give her another orgasm. She even returned the favor, except without the orgasm. Instead, she teased the woman mercilessly.

After the shower, and the endless teasing, the poor teacher's legs could barely support her weight. She let herself be drawn into the young girl's embrace. Let herself be kissed. Even kissed the girl back. It felt odd still, to have soft breasts rubbing against her own. To have long hair in her face. To know that yes, she was kissing a girl. That at the very least, she was bisexual.

But there was something else odd about these kisses. They felt wetter than usual. Like her mouth was awash in ....

Dear Lord, it was the girl's saliva. She should pull away. God, it was perverse thought. But perhaps it was only her imagination.

Yes, perhaps it was. Surely she had imagined it. Then once again she was kissed more forcefully, and once again that same wash in her mouth she had to swallow to continue.

Heather could feel the heat mount in her loins. She was abuzz with the secret knowledge that she was training her slave and the woman didn't even know it. But the woman was going to learn...and she was going to learn to love it.

Heather tilted her teacher's head back by her chin. She kissed the woman forcefully, exploring her mouth with her tongue. She broke the kiss, then returned again, this time with her tongue extended. The teacher met it with her own then took it eagerly into her mouth. Heather repeated this a few times, warming the older woman to the idea of accepting what she was given.

Finally Heather moved down for another kiss, but stopped before contact was made. Then she allowed her saliva to slip down her tongue.

Miss Simms saw it coming. She knew for certain that she'd been drinking from the girl along now. It hadn't been her imagination.

This was....God this was dirty. This was subservience.

She opened her lips. She took it in. And was rewarded with a kiss and wonderful hot hand roaming freely over her body.

"That's my good girl," Heather purred. She was so proud of her teacher. Her slave teacher.

Miss Simms looked up at her student with puppy dog eyes. She was at a loss for words. She didn't have time for words because the girl had opened her lips once more and more saliva was on the way.

The teacher accepted it meekly. This time there was no kiss to follow. Her student merely put her finger to her teacher's lips and closed them.

Miss Simms felt the heat rush to her cheeks. This was different than before. Before, there had been a kiss. A kiss she could hide behind. She had shared it back with the girl. A kinky moment between them both. But now?

Now the girl's saliva was in her mouth. Even in her childhood, she'd always know that spitting was nasty. That one of the worst things someone could do was to spit on you. The few times she'd ever witnessed it happen, it always came to blows.

Yet, here she was. With a girl's spit in her mouth, and the worm inside her, the worm that had been asleep began to stir. It stirred in that hidden place she never knew existed. What was this feeling that made her feel like a paper boat caught in the current. It wasn't just sex. That would be easy enough to explain.

But this girl knew it was inside her. This strange strange feeling. This girl with her expectant eyes. This girl that whispered in her ear.

"I want to hear you swallow."

She knew. She knew - and she approved.

The teacher swallowed. The girl smiled.

The training. Oh yes, training was going better than Heather ever imagined.

The training continued. The stories Heather read served as a blueprint. Her teacher was dressed in skimpy little clothes. A thin pink tank and a cute little mini skirt. A band around her hair and cute little platforms completed the outfit.

In the stories, Miss Simms would have worn similar clothes, only the overall effect would have been to make the woman look like some sort of streetwalker. However, a girl...a girl knew better. A girl could take the very same clothes and make an entirely different effect. Instead of a streetwalker, she could take a twenty-six year old woman, a tiny petite woman and transform her - turn her from a woman - and into a little teen tart. Not a slut. No. Worse.

A wannabe.

A girl wearing heels to appear older. But they were too cute, too cute and plastiky to ever be worn by a woman. A girl of a certain age wouldn't know better. But a young girl. A girl without much up top, who compensated by wearing the shortest skirt possible to show off her lean legs.

"I look like a fool," Miss Simms thought to herself. But at least, at least the girl had taken her to a town forty-five minutes away to play this cruel -cruel game. Yet, though being forty-five minutes away from home provided some protection, it wasn't complete. She could still bump into one of her students, a parent, or a fellow teacher.

In her little outfit, with no panties, no bra, and those shoes...God those shoes. She felt like such a tramp. She could feel people staring at her. And Heather wasn't making things any easier. She was constantly touching. Even now...even walking down the aisle of the mall, her hand rested on Miss Simms backside. Not just rested, but moved between the cheeks of her bottom. Touching her nether hole through the weave of the skirt.

"Please Miss Morgan," Miss SImms begged, trying to dance away, only she couldn't because the girl held her by the hem of her small skirt. "Someone could see."

"They'll see more than that if I pull the hem of your skirt up," Heather warned. "They'll see you aren't wearing any panties for one thing. And why is that Rena? Why aren't you wearing any panties?"

It felt like Miss Simms would choke on the words. The words Heather had said early that morning. Words she'd been forced to repeat over and over. Words she didn't want to say, but she knew she had to say them, lest the girl raise the hem of her skirt and show the world what lay therein. And it wasn't just the people in the rear, getting a glimpse of bare bottom. There were those in the front to think of, those whole would see a smooth bare sex, and a moist aroused sex.The would assume..they would assume that she was a party to this..that she enjoyed it. That it turned her on.

"Because my hot little ass and my juicy little...my juicy little cunt...belong to you," Miss Simms stammered, as her cheeks grew heated. "And I have to keep them available to you."

"And your bra," Heather said. "Why aren't you allowed to wear a bra pet?"

"Because my tits...are too small," Miss Simms squeaked. And just then she saw one of the two young women that were passing do a double-take. Saw her eyes widen in response, the the quick glimpse down to her chest, and a superior smile form on the woman's lips. An elbow to her friend and a whisper in the ear. God, had she heard?

The pink tank did little to hide her treasures. Her small mounds were displayed for anyone to see. She was used to being ignored. But now she kept catching people glancing at her chest - at everything.

And it was unwelcome attention, especially with her nipples standing out like erasers. Even her the shape of her aureoles were visible.

God, she had never felt so humiliated. And worse, she was wet. She could feel the juices running down her thighs.

Why had she allowed herself to be taken out looking like this? Sure there was the matter of the blackmail material. She should be trying to find away out of this horrible mess instead of going along with it. She was the teacher. She was used to dealing with troublesome students. And that's all Heather was. A troublesome student.

But it was getting harder and harder to think of the girl as a student. Not when they were in Victoria's Secret, and Heather was holding a see-through bra and panty up.

"I bet you'd like to see me in this wouldn't you Rena?" Heather asked.

"Yes," Miss Simms said, with her cheeks growing hot. God, the store clerk was right there.

"Can I help you young women with something," the woman asked.

"Just looking" Heather told the woman. Then held up a tiny g-string and turned to her teacher. "Or would you prefer me in this?"

The clerk looked uncomfortably between the two girls. She was supposed to stay close to them, to keep an eye open for shoplifters. Yet, she felt conspicuous with this intimate turn of conversation.

"The other," Miss Simms squeaked. The g-string was so small. Images of the girl in them were clouding her mind. Yet, they had an audience, so she choose the panty with the most cover.

"Because it's see through?" Heather asked. "And you like to see it huh? I bet you'd like to do more than see it, wouldn't you?"

Miss Simms couldn't look up to meet the audacious girl's eyes, nor those of the embarrassed clerk. She couldn't bring herself to say anything in response.

"If you want me to wear them for you," Heather said. "Then buy them for me."

"I-I-don't know if I have enough money," Miss Simms stammered. More and more the woman's voice was changing. The authoritative and eloquent teacher's voice was long gone. Now it was resembling the high-pitched timbre of a someone much younger. Someone much much younger than twenty six.

Miss Simms opened her new purse that was purchased from Goodwill the day before. She had no wallet. Just a bunch of ones and change lumped into the bottom of her purse. Six dollars for the panty. Twenty-five for the bra. Thirty one. She fumbled through the ones. Her pulse pounded in her ears. Her breathing began to speed. Her voice, her voice was almost husky when she replied. "I think I have enough ...for the small one...Miss Morgan."

Once it was out, she realized she had called the girl Miss Morgan. This clerk. God, she would know that there was more to this relationship than two lesbian girls. She'd know that one was dominant and the other was submissive. That she was submissive.

"Why don't you ask the nice woman if she will ring it up for you?" Heather suggested.

Miss Simms turned to the young woman. The girl looked to be in her twenties, probably a college student, while Miss Simms was a graduate. A teacher.

But from the dark skinned beauty's body language, no one would have ever suspected. The way she bit her lower lip. The way she looked kept her gaze cast down so timidly, and glance up only when necessary. The way she said nothing as the girl behind her possessively over her neck, down her spine, and then to rest on her tight bottom. politely said, "Miss, could you...could you please ring this up?"

"Ahhh..sure," the clerk said, still unsure of these two customers. And her opinion of them didn't get any better. Especially this petite little black girl. Watching the girl dig into her purse and take out thirty crumpled dollar bills, unfold them and hand them over. God, next came the change. Counting it out. The poor things hand were shaking. She was clearly embarrassed, as well she should be. Hardly anyone paid in cash, not here. And no one, no one had ever dug into their change. The girl was probably on food stamps..and this was how she chose to blow her money. On expensive skimpy underclothes.

The clerk couldn't but notice the girl's clothes. And there wasn't much to them. A pink tank top with some sort of design the was popular three years ago and a tight pink denim mini that was faded and slightly thread bare. The girl didn't need to be buying expensive panties. And especially not for the young white girl that stood close by. Her clothes were nearly new, and they were expensive.

What was the deal with these two? The only scenario she could imagine was that the black girl didn't think she could do better. That she was probably giving up money she needed, to impress this girl she was with. It wasn't right.

"Don't worry about the change," the clerk said. "I'll ring you up with my discount. Just don't tell anyone."

"Thank the nice lady," Heather said. "It was very nice of her to give you her discount."

"Thank you miss," Miss Simms stammered. "I really...appreciate it."

It should feel nice getting a discount. But somehow it didn't. It felt humiliating. Degrading. And yet...she was hot. Wet. What was wrong with her?

Then they went to the bookstore and Miss Simms was given further instructions.

"Please Miss Morgan," the young teacher begged. "I can't do that. Please..."

"Fine then," Heather said and took out the phone.

"Okay..." Miss Simms said. "I'll do it." Then headed to the counter.

She headed for the counter, picking the one manned by a girl in her early twenties. She look middle eastern, so it was a safe bet she'd never been to the private school she taught at.

"Miss..." Miss Simms stammered, feeling her face burn with humiliation. "I'd like ..ah..what sort of magazines to you have behind the counter."

"We have all sorts," the girl responded.

"Do you have any with just girls," Miss Simms said. "But not playboy."

"We have Hustler."

"I'll...take it." It was one of the hardest requests Miss Simms had ever made.

"You have to be eighteen," the girl said. "Do you have id?"

Miss Simms fumbled through her purse, but Heather had removed her id along with all her credit cards.

"No ma'am." Miss Simms said. "I must have left it at home. Look...I need that magazine....please...I swear I'm old enough. I'm twenty-six."

"Nice try kid," the lady said. "Come back with your id. A real one - not fake."

Crestfallen, Miss Simms went back to Heather, failing in her task. Praying the girl wouldn't send anything from her phone that could embarrass her.

"They- they wouldn't sell it to me.." Miss Simms said. "Not without my id."

"And why was that?" Heather smiled.

"I...I looked too young..." And when she said it, the realization struck home. She didn't look twenty-six. She looked like a high school girl.

"That's right. As long as I have your id, no will would ever thing that you are more than some other high school girl. Okay, I'll let you slide on that one. Now one last place," Heather said, and took her teacher to the drug store and handed her a few more dollars. "Here's what I want you to buy. And two other things. You'll have to ask for them. I hear they keep them behind the counter."

Heather left her there in the store alone. She looked at the contents in her basket. 3 fleet enemas. Oh God, and the instructions for the last item!

Her knees felt as if they could barely support her weight as she walked up to the pharmacy counter.

"Excuse me ma'am," Miss Simms said.

"Yes?" the clerk answered.

Miss Simms leaned over the counter and said softly, "I was wondering if I could purchase a personal massager."

The woman looked into the contents of her basket. Miss Simms swore she could here the girl snicker.

"Sure." And the woman went to the display and returned with one. The wrong one. A back massager.

"Here you are young lady," the clerk said as she put it on the counter.

The woman knew it was wrong. she was having fun at Miss Simm's expense. The young teacher felt her cheeks grow hot.

"I need - I need the other one," Miss Simms stammered.

"Are you sure," the clerk sneered. "This one is quite relaxing."

"I need the other," Miss Simms .

"This one?"

"No miss," the teacher said. The woman was toying with her. That was a damned seat cushion. Next was a pad to rest your feet on. There was no hope for it. "That one. The one on the bottom shelf. The...ahh...the pleasure-izer."

The clerk grinned and put it on the counter. Then looked into Miss Simms basket, before the teacher could put it behind her back.

"I suppose you'll be needing some lube to go with that then."

"Yes," Miss Simms said before she caught herself. How had the girl known the other item she was to request? Then she thought of the vibe and the contents of her basket. Surely not? But what other reason? Oh God, and now this girl knew. Knew what kinky games Heather had in mind.

Miss Simms had assumed that the vibe would be used on her sex. But Heather meant to...put it in her butt. Yet instead of horrifying her, the thought...the thought made her loins dance, even as her cheeks blushed, even as she counted out the one dollar bills and change for her purchase. Even as the girl shook her head and mumbled, "You can't be serious- little freak."

This girl wasn't nice. There were no discounts. No double bagging of the embarrassing purchase.

Only when Miss Simms left did she contemplate her actions. Why had she gone through with it? She should be fighting Heather. Working on getting out of this horrible situation, not meekly accepting every humiliating demand.

But then she was outside the store and there was Heather. Pulling her close. Feeling her up. Nibbling her ear. God, the girl knew which buttons to press.

"Did you get them?" Heather asked.

"Yes..Miss," Miss Simms whispered.

"I'm wearing the panties you bought me," Heather said. "Do you want to see them?"

"Yes Miss Morgan," Miss Simms breathed.

"If you do, then you have to do something for me," Heather said. "Something dirty."

"What?" Miss Simms gasped as Heather's searching fingers touched her bottom through the weave of her skirt. Then Miss Simms felt her chin lifted, and a tongue pressed between her lips. And Miss Simms met its advances with her own. Then kept her lips parted as she accepted the girl's saliva. All the while praying that no one would recognize her.

Soon the teacher found herself in the restroom. There were more instructions to follow. These weren't the sort of things that her friends had ever talked about. An enema? Those things happened, but for another reason entirely. They weren't a part of sex. She had no experience with these sorts of things.

First off, the tip burned as it penetrated her bottom. Then she discovered it wasn't so easy to get the stuff up inside her. She had her best luck by squatting on the toilet and inserting it from the bottom and squeezing. The liquid burned. And it felt cold. She felt full. Uncomfortable.

She dialed Heather.

"Yes," Heather said.

"I've done it." Miss Simms said. "Just like you asked.

"Good girl," Heather said. "Now hold it. I'll call you when it's time."

"But it's cramping.." Miss Simms said, but the line was dead. She continued to hold it. She began to sweat. How long must she continue? Why didn't she just release? Heather would never know.

The phone rang. Miss Simms quickly answered.

"Are you holding it?" Heather asked.

"Yes Miss," it came out in a groan.

"You can let it go now."

"Oh God," Miss Simms grunted as she voided her bowels. She had imagined the sense of relief she would feel for these long minutes of holding it in. However, it didn't feel so much like relief. It felt...Oh God, another cramp hit, and then another.

"Are you finished?" Heather asked.

"I think so," Miss Simms replied, but in truth she wasn't sure.

"Then give yourself another enema," Heather said. "I want you squeaky clean."

Miss Simms was reluctant to obey after her experience with the first enema. However, the next proved much easier, and the last was no trouble at all. This time her phone buzzed, but instead of a call, Heather had sent a picture.

It was a picture of Heather. The pretty blond was wearing nothing but the panties and bra Miss Simms had purchase earlier, save her shoes and socks. The bra was not only see through, but much too small. It pushed the girls well-endowed breasts up high on her chests giving her a pronounced cleavage. Like-wise, the small thong had slipped between the lips of the girl's sex..making a cute and kinky pout with her nether lips. She held her phone in one hand and the vibe in another. She used the mirror in another restroom to take the photo. At the bottom of the photo was a message.

"Do you want it?"

Want what? Heather or the vibe she held teasingly to her lips?

In truth she wanted both.

"Yes," she texted back. It was more evidence that could be used against her, but at this point did she really care anymore? No, she was in it now. All the way.

"Then show me where you want it." Heather texted.

Nervously, Miss Simms unlatched the door and threw away the empty enema bottles. What she was about to do was bad enough, she had no desire to compound matters with additional evidence lying around.

She had a few moments to contemplate what she was about to do. Show me where you want it. Miss Simms thought about raising up her skirt to show her student her very wet and hungry sex. But the beast in her wanted something else. Something more. It was the beast that made Miss Simms strip off her skirt and tank top. That led her to quickly open the stall door and prop one foot on the toilet. To arch her back. To reach her hand back and take hold of the firm cheek of her bottom and pull it apart. To show off her tight crater. To take a picture with her other hand.

The teacher quickly shut the door lest someone come in. Then with trembling fingers she forwarded the picture. Her finger hesitated on the send button. This would be it. This would be additional evidence that could be used against her. She shouldn't. She knew full well she shouldn't. By God, she was an adult. A trained professional. But she was helpless to the beast inside her. The beast that pushed send.

'My ass. I've given her my ass.' Miss SImms thought. And now she was plagued by doubt. Would it hurt? Was it too late to send a text message saying she didn't want to do it after all?

But Heather had no doubts. On seeing the picture the girl knew exactly what she wanted. A part of her urged her to wait. To make her pet stew for awhile. That's what usually happened in the stories. But in the stories the main character was as hard as iron and getting sent a dirty picture from their teacher didn't make turn them on so ...didn't possess them with such need. She looked down at her phone again. Ah...that hot little body. That tight little ass. The look in her teacher's eye. The need.

Heather's legs were a blur as she rushed back to where she left her teacher. She didn't bother to knock.

"Let me in," she said as she tugged on the door. "Hurry."

And then she was in. She had planned to tease her teacher. To show her new bra and panties. To tease her teacher with the vibe. To get her hot with it. Then to start teasing her ass with it. But those plans were dashed once Miss Simms sent that photo. Offering her ass from the outset.

Heather captured the woman in her arms. Forcing her tongue into her teacher's mouth. Biting her neck. Kneading the cheeks of her bottom as if she owned them.

"You ready for it?" Heather asked, her voice husky with lust.

"Yes," Miss Simms gasped.

"You ready for that dick?" Heather teased. "You ready to be fucked?"

"Yes..yes..." Miss Simms moaned.

"You need it don't you?" Heather continued. "You need that dick. Tell me where you need it."

The teacher shrugged her shoulders. The beast that had possessed her had gone into hiding. Now she just felt....afraid.

"So coy all of a sudden?" Heather asked. "The photo you sent wasn't very coy at all. It was a nasty little perverted photo. What happened hmmm?"

Oh this was going better than Heather hoped. Things were back according to plan. And were perhaps even better than she had planned.

"I'm scared," Miss SImms breathed. "I've heard...I've heard that it will hurt."

"Oh pet," Heather said. "It's supposed to hurt....and you're supposed to like it. Now turn around."

Miss Simms turned around and leaned forward, supporting her weight with her hands on the toilet seat. A tremble went down her spine.

Heather turned on the vibe and touched it to her teacher's crater, causing it to clench in response.

"Such a filthy little hole," Heather said. "Did you get it nice and clean for me?"

"Yes Miss Morgan," the teacher replied. The vibe felt cold when it touched her. The touch was forbidden, it was taboo, it also made her loins melt like butter.

Heather moved the vibe to her teacher's very wet sex, teasing the woman's lips, making her moan and swoon. Then without further ado, she plunged it in with one long stroke.

"Rena loves a dildo, doesn't she?" Heather teased. "That nigger pussy is hungry for some plastic dick isn't it?"

Miss Simms pushed her hips back in response. Yes. God yes, it felt good.

However, instead of the fucking she had hoped to receive, the vibe was withdrawn, leaving her empty inside, and now was teasing her once again.

Miss Simms moved her hips back further, yet the vibe was withdrawn even further. The girl was purposefully teasing her. The teacher gave a mewl.

"Please..." Miss Simms begged.

"I want to hear you say it," Heather said, and with a smirk as she continued to tease her teacher, she grasped the lube in her other hand and opened the top with her teeth. She had a plan, and she wanted to be prepared.

"I want It," Miss Simms begged, her cheeks burning in response. "I want to be fucked."

"You should listen better pet," Heather said. "That wasn't what I said. Rena loves a...what does little Rena love."

Oh God. Now she was at the crux of it. Miss Simms had heard, but her mind hadn't registered. However, now it did.

"A ....a dildo." Miss Simms said haltingly. A dildo. Not a cock. A fake cock. A sex toy for lesbians. And here she was...begging for one. Yes, she had ... pleasured this girl. Had played sex games with her. But now...now it came crashing home. She was...she was ...

"Good girl,' Heather said. The young girl inserted the tip of the vibe into her teacher's wet sex. Then she began to fuck her with shallow strokes. "Now say the whole thing like a good pet."

"I-"

"Not I. But Rena. Now say it." Heather purred.

"Rena." Serena Simms already knew full well that she wasn't an equal in her relationship with this young girl. This girl that was her student. It was made apparent by how the girl addressed her so casually, and yet she, the teacher, was expected to say Miss Morgan. Now this. It seemed like such a small thing when she thought about it. But saying the words. Rena. Addressing herself in third person. It felt as if - as if she had taken yet another step down a ladder. further and further into a pit where the worm inside her lay.

"Please...." the teacher whispered. "Rena loves...Rena loves a dildo."

"Good girl," Heather said as she withdrew the vibe and inserted the top of the bottle of lube and gave a good squeeze. "and Rena's nigger pussy is hungry for...tell Miss Morgan what it's hungry for."

A cold feeling, a squishy feeling was spreading in her sex. It must be the lube. God, she was on fire. The worm inside her was fully awake now. Miss Simms didn't have a prayer to resist. The words began to spill.

"Rena's nigger pussy is hungry for that plastic dick." This time Miss Simms didn't feel the flush of her cheeks. The only flush of heat she felt was in her loins. Nothing mattered now. Nothing at all, save quenching the flames burning in her sex. And it was being quenched. The girl was working the vibe now. Fucking her pussy for all she was worth.

"Oh God yes," the teacher moaned. "Give it to me. Give it to Rena. God it feels so good."

Heather smiled and removed the vibe once again. Leaving her teacher gasping and teetering on the edge of orgasm. This time instead of teasing the woman's sex, she touched the tip of the bottle of lube to her asshole.

"And that nigger ass?" Heather asked, giving the bottle of lube a squeeze, removing it, then placing the vibe there now. Before, that crater had been resistant, but now it was soft as butter and the tip slipped in easily.

It was much too late to resist now. Miss Simms had given herself over to the pleasure. To the beast that lay dormant inside her and this beast of a girl who had wakened it. And the beast grew stronger as the vibe was pushed into her tight asshole. God, so tight. It made her feel so full. Full to bursting. Maybe this would quence the fire that burned within.

"Rena loves it. Rena love plastic dildos in her hot ...hot nigger ass." Miss Simms didn't understand these feelings. She had always been taught not to say that word. Her parents, her parents would have spanked her had they heard her. It should have been mortifying, yet saying it was somehow liberating.

"Stick it..." Miss Simms moaned, thrusting her hips back. "Stick it in my nigger asshole." It did hurt, but Heather had been right. It felt good. Damn good. All she needed now was just a few strokes on her clit, and life would be complete.

Miss Simm's supported her weight with one arm, and the other drifted to the hot core between her legs. However, before she could get to business, she heard the slap of flesh on flesh and a sting on the cheek of her bottom.

"Pervert! Slut!" Heather scolded. "Give me that hand, I'll keep it out of trouble."

The poor teacher grunted as her arm was twisted uncomfortably behind her back. Thankfully, the girl let go of it. Well, if she wasn't going to be allowed to touch herself, at the very least she could put it down and use it to support her weight.

"Did I say you could move it?" Heather said as she twisted her teacher's arm back behind her back. "I want you to keep those paws out of the way. Didn't you learn anything last night?"

In truth that detail had been lost on her last night. The lesson she had learned was to lick and to obey. Now she remembered the finer details. Trying to masturbate Heather with her fingers, only to have her face slapped. Of being manhandled. Having her arms placed above her head. Of having her face slapped whenever she tried to move them.

God, the little pervert expected...this was actually the way of things now. Dear Lord what sort of demon had she fallen under the spell of.

Heather smiled as her teacher moaned in realization. This was the bd in bdsm. Only she didn't need ropes and cuffs. She would do it with her brain. She slapped her teacher on the ass again.

"Work those hips pet," Heather purred. "I you want this dildo you little dyke, I want to see you work for it."

Miss Simms moaned as she humped harder. She could feel her body sweat from her exertions. Both her arms ached. Her calves were threatening to cramp. God, she was so close. So very nearly there. Yet she could never seem to quite get there. But that didn't stop her from trying.

"Shit...fuck.." Heather gasped as she yanked the vibe from her teacher's asshole.

What? What was going on? Why had Heather stopped? Why had she been turned around and sat on the toilet? What was Heather climbing up on the seat?

"Idiot," Heather said. "Pick your clothes up before we get caught!"

Caught? Shit! Then it hit the teacher where she was. What she was doing. She scrambled for her clothes and sat them in her lap. She heard the sound of heels on the tile floor. The squeak of the stall door. Toiled paper. The sound of urine. A grunt. Damn it! Her loins were cooling and it looked as if the hunger she felt might not be sated.

The Miss Simms felt a tug on her chin. Her head was tilted up. Then she saw what her young lover meant to do. Here? Now? Oh God, what choice did she have? The teacher opened her lips and extended her tongue. She felt the girl's saliva on the back of her tongue. God, this was so perverted. She could feel her nipples harden as she swallowed.

Heather smiled. God this cute little bitch was something else. She needed an orgasm - she needed one now.

...well why couldn't she? She was in the perfect place. She tugged her panties to the side and smiled wickedly down at her teacher.

Miss Simms shook her head and mouthed a no to her student. But Heather just smiled and shook her head yes. If only she could talk, and explain there were a million billion reasons they shouldn't do this. That they could both be arrested. That she could lose her job. That she would never be able to live down the humiliation...that...

But the girl had no intention of stopping. Even now the girl had shifted her stance and placed a leg over Miss Simms shoulder. Had lifted her skirt and placed it over her teacher's head. There was a creak of the toilet seat as Heather shifted her hips and rubbed her slick clam over her teacher's lips.

Miss Simms felt dizzy from the danger. They were going to get caught if Heather kept at it. Perhaps she could...do it quietly.

She began to lick. Using gentle flicks of her tongue. God, the girl was wet. She had to swallow repeatedly to keep up with the flow of tangy girl juice. There was no longer the creak of the toilet seat to contend with. However, Heather's breath was ragged. And every once and awhile she gave a tiny mewl of pleasure. Miss Simms prayed it would be interpreted as something else. After all, they were in the restroom.

It felt as if it took forever. In truth it had only been four minutes before the leg behind her shoulder's pulled the teacher in tight and her student's clit had swollen to a small pearl. Miss Simms attacked that taunt pearl with vigor, until her student began to tremble with orgasm.

The commode flushed, just as Heather came down from her orgasm. The poor teacher thought perhaps now...now would be her opportunity to orgasm. To think it had been such a short time ago she despised the idea of having one at the hands of this girl.

But it wasn't to be. Instead she and her student dressed, freshened themselves, and resumed shopping. Only this time shopping was even more humiliating.

They were in one of those hip stores with loud music. Heather was her usual self. She was holding a small ...it was less than small...it was tiny..skirt over Miss Simm's midrift.

"Do you think this is hot?" Heather asked the clerk.

Then it happened. Miss Simms felt it first at the lips of her sex. She tried to tighten them, only to drive the liquid out faster. Then it was down her thigh. Then it landed on her shoe with a plop.

She prayed. She clenched her eyes shut, and oh how she prayed the clerk wouldn't notice. Then she dared to peek. God, the woman was looking down at her shoes.

"Rena," Heather said. "What were you doing this morning...or should I say...who were you doing this morning?"

Miss Simms was mortified and could do nothing more than shrug her shoulders. She had never before felt like...like such a pervert. This woman. Oh the look in her eye said it all. That disdain. But God, she was wet. Wet and hot as ever. What was wrong with her?

When they left the store and safely in the car, Miss Simms was driven to act. She had to.

"Why...why did you do that?" Miss Simms asked. "I wish - I wish you wouldn't embarrass me like that."

"Like what?" Heather teased, darting her hand between her teacher's legs, and teasing her wet quim.

"You know..with that girl," MIss Simms continued, but now it was becoming so very hard to concentrate.

"When your cum leaked out?"

"Mmm...yes..I mean..it wasn't.." But it wasn't like that. It may have been her secretions. It may have well been some of the lube the little demon had squirted inside her.

It was the lube and it had been done on purpose. It wasn't training. Not quite. However, it had been in a story Heather had read, one of those that made her cum each time she read it. There had been a girl that had been turned into a sex toy by her boss. She had been bent over a desk and fucked. Afterwards, she had been sent back to work. And leaked cum onto her heels.

It was a scene Heather had orgasmed to time and again, and had been determined to carry out with her pet teacher.

"You should learn to control yourself better pet," Heather continued. "I don't know if I can take you out if you continue to be so embarrassing..."

"I didn't mean...." By now it was so very hard to think. She hadn't realized that she had embarrassed Heather too. Perhaps if..."Maybe if I could have some panties...it wou...ouch.."

The girl had slapped her. Right on the tender lips of her sex.

"You know better than to ask," Heather said. "The only panties you will be getting into anytime soon are mine."

The drive continued on this way, with Heather using the time to tease her teacher's sex mercilessly. Only it wasn't home they were stopping at, but a restaurant.

"Why are we stopping?" Miss Simms asked.

"For lunch silly." Heather said.

"I thought we could..." Miss Simms began, but this wasn't the same woman the had ridden in this car such a short time ago. This woman was horny. She needed it. Desperately. She took her student's fingers in her mouth and cleaned her juices from them. "...go home and ....Rena needs to cum. She'll do..she'll do whatever you want."

"I know she will," Heather said. "But right now it doesn't matter what either of us want, because we are having lunch with my mom."

Miss Simms heart began to pound. Lunch?!? With Heather's mom? No! She couldn't!

"We can't!" Miss Simms gasped as she looked down and surveyed herself. Jelly heels. Lean ebony legs spread wantonly. A smooth mount, with dark purple lips, swollen, wet and ready. Hard nipples straining against tight fabric. "Look at me."

It was one thing being dressed like this in another city. It was quite another in her own town. Worse, having lunch with Heather's mom. A woman she had met with in teacher's conferences before.

"It's too late," Heather said. "She just pulled in."

Miss Simms quickly pulled down her skirt and did her best to smooth down her nipples. However, it only seemed to make the little nubs stand on end even more.

"Tell her we can't," Miss Simms begged. "Tell her we made other plans. Oh...that we already ate."

"You may have eaten already," Heather laughed. "You had a full serving my taco for lunch, but as for me I'm starving. Come on. Let's go."

"Please...Miss Morgan..." Miss SImms pleaded. "I'll do anything you want. Just not this."

"Come on Rena," Heather said, as she opened her door. "It's just lunch. It's not like I'm gonna fuck you in front of my mom."

"I still say this isn't a good idea," Miss Simms lamented as she got out of the car. She still had reservations. Boy did she have reservations. But, it wasn't as if she had a choice. Saying she was staying in the car would have looked even more suspicious.

And the teacher's reservations were confirmed when she caught the look in Heather's mom's eyes. The woman clearly didn't approve of the way Miss Simms was dressed. The bright side, if there was such a thing, the outfit so far and away from something she would have worn, no one, not even Heather's mom, would ever suspect her of being Heather's teacher. The young teacher did her very best to assume the role of a high school senior in order to keep from arousing suspicions. It wasn't easy. Last night she'd been able to deflect any questions by serving dinner. Now she was expected to mingle. To make small talk.

"So how are you enjoying school Rena?" Heather's mother asked. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

"I like school a bunch," Miss Simms replied. "And I ...I don't have a boyfriend."

"A piece of advice from me," Heather's mom replied. "-I know you feel a need to compete with these other girls at school. They may drive better cars and wear nicer things. They may be taller. They may have more curves in the places that boys tend to notice. But take it from me...those heels you have on and that short skirt may get you attention, but it isn't the sort of attention you really want. I'm sorry...am I making you uncomfortable? I'm told I'm too blunt for my own good sometimes."

But it wasn't the older woman's words that were having such an effect. Sure, they didn't make the dark-skinned teacher feel good about herself or her predicament, but it was the girl sitting next to her that was making her squirm in her seat. A presumptuous girl, whose hand was now between the teacher's legs. The teacher tried to clamp her thighs tightly together and turn them away, but the girl was determined.

God, the little deviant was determined to get them both caught. Right her in front of her own mother. Had she no shame? Worse, Miss Simms couldn't resist, lest she draw even more attention to what was going on beneath the booth.

"It's just that...the ...the shoes were on sale," Miss Simms stammered. "and I thought they were pretty."

"And they might be considered 'pretty' where you come from," Heather's mom continued. "But you have been given quite an opportunity by being allowed to attend Heddingham. And this is a different class of people. You should wear clothes that preserve a bit a mystery. Sensible shoes. A well starched shirt."

Dear God...Heather's fingers were working her now. Gliding sensually up and down her wet slit. It felt so good. So damned good that it was impossible to resist. Yes, she knew she must resist, but she didn't have it in her. If they were going to be caught, they would be caught. The poor teacher gave in to her student's deft fingers. Spreading her slim thighs to give the girl access to her charms.

There was still the girl's mother to deal with. What was it that she was talking about. Ahhh...her clothes. The young teacher looked a the older woman with a critical eye. She was older. In her forties, but she looked fit. She was attractive. Like her daughter, her clothes accentuated her body, whereas Serena Simm's clothes displayed hers. Even before the drastic changes, Serena never wore clothes like this woman's. Her clothes had been something she hid behind. A shield.

"I wish I could be pretty like you," Miss Simms stammered, her cheeks growing hot. And her cheeks weren't all that was hot. Her loins were afire with desire. Her student's finger driving her mad.

"That's sweet," Heather's mom said. "But you are pretty in your own fashion Rena. Even in those ridiculous clothes. They make you look like..." Jane Morgan's nostrils flared as she caught her tongue. The girl looked like..the girl she was an eager little tart. But the look in her eye and the way the clothes she wore didn't quite go together, gave her an entirely different impression. A girl who wanted very much to be a tart...anyone's tart. But for now hadn't been picked by anyone as of yet. Images of the dark-skinned girl naked and over her knee flashed before her eyes. The older woman blinked the images away. What was she thinking? This girl was the same age as her daughter.

"Someone who's a bit desperate." Mrs. Morgan finished.

"Mom," Heather spoke up. "You are embarrassing me. The other girls at school wear clothes like this all the time. Thanks to you...I'm the one that doesn't fit in."

"Well I still say," Mrs. Morgan persisted. "No matter what all the other girls are doing...preserve a little mystery. Every man loves a mystery." Mrs. Morgan turned to Heather and said in an entirely different sort of voice: "God knows your dad did." Then back to Serena: "He did. Chased anything in a skirt, that bastard did. I'm sorry...it's the wine talking. I know I embarrass my daughter. I don't mean to. I think it, then I say it. Now what was I saying...ah mystery...like that little shirt of yours..I bet you are an A. 32 or 34?"

God, the woman was looking at her breasts now. Miss Simms looked down. Dear Lord, her nipples stood out like small pebbles. Meanwhile, Heather was still frigging her beneath the table. The young teacher blushed, her hands moving up to cover her breasts, she had never felt so self-conscious. Worse, the woman was waiting on an answer. She wanted to crawl beneath the table.

"32"

"See," Mrs Morgan exclaimed. "I know you don't need a bra, and I admit I'm envious, because I hate mine at times. But at the very least...a nicely starched white shirt. Maybe undo the first two buttons. There's not a boy alive who wouldn't try to sneak a peak whenever you bent down in hopes of catching a glimpse of those cute little perkies."

Mrs. Morgan felt a throb in her loins talking to this pretty young thing. At first the girl didn't seem like much to look at. But the more she looked, the more she wanted. There was something about her. The way she bit her lower lip. The way her eyes appeared to be dilated. The nubby nipples. The faint sheen of perspiration on her brow.

"Put your hands down dear," Mrs. Morgan said in a hushed voice. "You are going to draw notice. Besides...you have cute little breasts my dear. They are nothing to be ashamed of. I spent my youth wanting more, now I'm destined to spend my old age wanting them higher."

Serena put her hands down quickly, not just because Mrs. Morgan had said so, but because the waitress had walked over and the young teacher wanted to make sure that what was going on beneath the table was sufficiently hidden. She had hoped Heather would stop stroking her clit for at least long enough to order. But the girl kept her finger softly stroking her beneath the large napkin in her lap.

It was so hard to concentrate. Miss Simms had no idea what she ordered. No idea what Heather's mom was rambling on about. The only thing she could think of was that stroking finger. Up and down her slit it traveled. Then it spun around her clit only once before traveling up and down again. It was perverse. It was maddening. She wanted to thrown all inhibition out the window and plunge those fingers in her hot cunt. God, what was Mrs. Morgan going on about now? Posture. Sitting up straight. But it was so hard to sit up straight...when her pussy was being teased mercilessly.

Thighs spread. Tits out. Back straight. "Yes ma'am, posture is very important. I don't want to be humped...I mean my back to get hunched." Fuck. Oh fuck she was so close. Any moment now.

"Yes ma'am. Start with the silverware on the outside and work my way in. There's dressing on my chin?" Miss Simms looked down helplessly into her lap. To the busy hand hidden beneath her napkin. Her skirt was rucked up. She wasn't even sitting on it because she was bound to soak the fabric of it were her copious secretions. Her pink tongue darted out and captured the errant liquid. Heather's mom was looking at her oddly.

"Did I get it all ma'am?" Miss Simms asked.

"Your ..." Napkin. But Mrs. Morgan was struck momentarily dumb. There was something in the way the girl's tongue darted out that made her loins grow hot. your napkin...that's what napkins are for you low class little beast. But the words never came. "You...ahhhh... missed a bit on your upper lip. To the side. No the other side."

I'm afraid I've made a bit of a mess between my legs you little minx...do you think I could trouble you....The fantasy grew and took life of it's own. God, this young girl was something. She wanted to dress her. To boss her.

"Elbows off the table. You are slouching again." Jesus. The girl obeyed her every whim. Meanwhile, her own daughter's posture and appearance were unnoticed.

"Ahh...." Miss Simms moaned. Something was different down below. Something rough rubbed against her clit and into her sex. God...what was it?

"Are you okay dear?" Mrs. Morgan asked.

"Yes...ma'am.." Miss Simms said softly. "I ...just a bit of stomach discomfort. I...I don't normally eat food this rich."

"Maybe you should have a bit of my bread stick," Heather smiled as she passed the bread stick to her teacher.

The smell hit her as she put it to her lips. Sex. Musky raunchy hedonistic sex. Now she knew what the rough feeling was that had been rubbing her sex. A bread stick. This bread stick.

"Is something wrong?" Mrs. Morgan asked.

"Yes, is something wrong?" Heather said archly.

"No ma'am..." the young teacher replied sheepishly, as she closed her eyes and took a bite of the bread stick. The beast inside her was fully awake. She took a swallow of water and nibbled another bite of the bread stick, Dear God, she was turning into a pervert, just like this pervert girl next to her. The teasing finger returned to her sex - and she welcomed it. "I'm fine."

"I may have a Tums in my purse," Mrs. Morgan said as she opened her purse and dug around.

The teacher noticed that Mrs. Morgan's bra was visible when she bent over. The woman's breasts jiggled as she rooted around in her pocket book. She almost told the woman, no, she was fine. But by then there was a quivering in her belly that would not be denied. Her body grew stiff as a warm wave of heat passed through loins. The teacher gave a small gasp.

And then it was over.

"Here you are dear," Mrs. Morgan said as she handed over a pack of Tums. "Take as many as you need."

With trembling fingers, Miss Simms took out two tablets and popped them in her mouth.

As her orgasm faded, the guilt and recriminations mounted. The young teacher was ashamed. She had orgasmed in front of Heather's mother. In a crowded restaurant. She had gotten away with it...even though she deserved to be caught.

The coming weeks brought many more such guilty feeling for the young teacher. The days at school pretending that everything was like it once was. But it wasn't.

Her clothes were different. Her hairstyle was different. She wasn't permitted to wear undergarments. Every work period was spent engaging in perverse sex acts with Heather. They were careful, but even so, the other students knew something had changed with their history teacher.

She seemed more timid. She seemed sexier. They suspected she had a new boyfriend. It was evident from the hickies she attempted to hide.

Once school was over, Miss Simms became Rena. An eighteen year old sex tart. A little pink on her lips, a bit on her cheeks, a little glitter above her eyes. A wig of curly short dreads. A choker. A short skirt. And usually a tank top, to better display the cute piercing through her belly button.

No one would ever suspect her of being a twenty six year old teacher as she walked through the mall eyes downcast lest someone recognize her.

But they recognized her at the spa.

"You again...."

Miss Simms felt her face grow hot. "I need a wax. Is...Liz in?"

"I'll get her..." Gina replied. "But this time you clean up after yourself..you got that?"

"Hi Rena," Liz said as she came up to the counter and invited the young teacher to the rear of the spa.

"Make sure she cleans up," Gina warned. "I've never been so mortified as I was last week when I took a client back for a wax after you two."

Gina looked on disapprovingly as the two woman walked back to the back of the spa. The little bitch had come back a week after her first wax wanting another. Once again a bunch of ones and no goddamn tip. She was about to show the bitch to the door, but then she had a better idea. One a bit more sinister. With a smile she had turned her over to Liz, a purple-haired lesbian that she worked with...with a warning about the tip.

Liz gave a wink and a smile and said she would get her tip one way or another.

Miss Simms had tried her damnedest to get out of these weekly spa visits, but Heather was insistent. She liked her bitch smooth.

Miss Simms assured the girl, she could buy a waxing kit and do it just as well. Better even...

"Not like they do it."Heather refused to budge.

But Heather didn't know what it was like to undress in front of this hungry-eyed lesbian. To get on the table and spread for her. That this wasn't a usual waxing. Gina had been efficient, maybe even too efficient, as there was no compassion in her five minute wax.

Liz wasn't efficient. A wax could last upwards of an hour.

An hour of being groped and fondled. FIngered in both her pussy and her ass. Waxed smooth. Waxed over and over again til not even the most microscopic of hairs remained. Waxed and oiled until she gleamed. Fingered and fondled till she came. The young teacher felt such guilt it threatened to overwhelm her. She was cheating on Heather. Cheating with this girl at the spa.

Still, it wasn't over yet.

"You look so pretty now. So pretty and smooth." Liz said as she circled the young teacher like a shark. "Do you have my tip today?"

"No..."

"You naughty girl," Liz said. "After I spend all that time and effort on you...and did you extra special. Now you plan to stiff me. I should call the cops on you. Perhaps you could...ahh..."

"I could make it up to you," Miss Simms finished, as she dropped to her knees. She knew where this was heading, it had headed that way often enough already.

"I don't know if I should," Liz said.

"Please..." Miss Simms begged as she dipped her head beneath Liz's skirt and caught hold of her panties between her teeth. The panties were leopard print. The sex was shaved. Liz had a tattoo of a thorny rose above her mons and a stud through her clit. The antithesis of Heather's young sex.

The odor was pungent. Liz knew that Rena came for her wax on Fridays and for fun had stopped bathing on Thursday nights.

"Why do you do this Rena?" Liz asked. "It's not like I do it for you. Just bring in your money with you next time...or damn, just say you'll go out with me tonight. I know I must smell, I didn't bathe last night."

"I'm already in a relationship."

"Are you?" Liz asked gripped the dark-skinned beauties hair. "Are they taking care of you? Just look where you are."

On her knees. Licking. Sucking. She was a disgrace.

Still Rena licked. Flicking the stud with her tongue and sucking the woman's cunt with growing experience and dexterity. As Liz began to coo and her clit to enlarge, the young teacher began to feel an increasing sense of dismay.

"Fuck fuck fuck.." Liz cried and her hips pumped.

Liz closed her eyes and opened her mouth as wide as she was able. It wasn't wide enough. Liz was a fountain. A gusher of cum. By the time she had finished, Serena was soaked all over.

The young teacher went to stand, but Liz held her firmly in place.

"You remember what Gina said," Liz warned. "Clean up after yourself."

You are the one that made the mess you mean little bitch, a part of Miss Simms screamed. Oh but the beast in her .... the beast had her on her hands and knees, licking that vile fluid from wherever it landed.

Then there were the weekends with Heather. The young girl continued with her program of training her teacher. There were so may good ideas she had learned about in the stories she read. There was spanking. Bondage. Strapon play. Exhibitionism. So much to teach and so little time to teach it.

Little did she know that her time was shorter than she had thought.

Miss Simms was let go just a few weeks later. There had been complaints from her fellow teachers. Her classes were too loud. Her outfits too young. She wasn't the kind of image that Heddingham High wanted to perpetuate.

She was no longer a teacher. But what could she do?

Thankfully, Heather was there to come to her rescue.

***************

Serena Simms's fingers lingered over the soft expensive fabric of Mrs. Morgan's intimates that she was diligently folding. She remembered longingly that she used to have such clothes...well maybe not quite so nice. But so very much softer and luxurious than the coarse, unyielding, heavily starched fabric of her maid's uniform.

Perhaps - perhaps her uniform wouldn't be so uncomfortable if it were a bit less form fitting. Worse, with no bra, it tended to rub the sensitive flesh of her nipples raw. And it was tight. She'd requested a uniform two sizes larger, but Mrs. Morgan was insistent.

"That's a uniform for a big girl," Mrs. Morgan had said. "We need something suitable for a girl of your stature."

A size zero it was, but Serena was no size zero. She might have been lacking up top, but she had thighs and a plump ass that protested against the confines of her too tight uniform.

"What's keeping you girl?" Mrs Morgan said. "How long does it take to fold my laundry? You are useless, truly useless. Well instead of standing there stupidly with my knickers in your hands, you might as well make yourself useful and bring them to me."

"These ma'am?" Heather asked, holding up a pair of silk black panties.

"Idiot!" Mrs. Morgan sneered. "You can see I'm wearing white, can't you?"

Already used to being waited on by this dark-skinned girl that was more servant than maid, Mrs. Morgan stuck out her legs so she could be dressed. Again there was the constant buzz of desire that this girl invoked in her. Thus far she had resisted,after all the girl was a friend of her daughter.

Yet, that didn't stop her from pushing the boundaries. A maid was supposed to wear a uniform. Mrs. Morgan chose the smallest she could find. A maid was supposed to be helpful, Mrs. Morgan would call the girl to fetch her towel while she was nude. And like now, she'd even taken to being dressed. To be waited on hand and foot.

Serena obediently pulled put the panties over Mrs. Morgans feet and proceeded to pull them up her calves. Right then and there she was overwhelmed by an urge, so powerful yet so wrong. She should wait for Heather to return from college. Yet, the girl was calling her less and less. She was lonely. She even missed her trips to the spa. She had no one save this dreadful woman. A woman that was such a perfectionist and who seemed to be in one constant bad mood after another. A woman in desperate need of....

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Mrs. Morgan asked.

Serena didn't know herself till just then. Instead of dressing her employer, she was...she had placed her head between those thick thighs and...her loins tingled. The demon inside her had betrayed her once again. She cursed herself.

Serena quickly pulled away. God, what was wrong with her. How could she explain?

"Sorry- sorry ma'am. You seemed tense," Serena stammered. "Rena-just..wanted to help you relax."

When it was out her cheeks burned. It sounded so stupid. She'd surely lost her job. Worse, like an idiot she'd referred to herself in third person, just like Heathe made her do.

Now that it was out, what would she do? She had no home anymore. She lived in a spare room in the converted attic here. Her savings had long since disappeared thanks to Heather.

"Out!" Mrs. Morgan ordered. "Get out of my house."

But then she had a chance to think it through as the small dark-skinned maid stood and shuffled to the door of her bedroom. She was no lesbian by any stretch of the imagination; although, there was something about this girl that made her loins moist.

Besides, it had been so long, so very long since she'd been properly satisfied. She was divorced. And she still had flings, but, well, men no longer went down on a woman her age, although most all of them expected her to. It wasn't fair. Not at all.

"Wait..." Mrs. Morgan said as Serena stepped over the threshold of her bedroom door.

"I'm so sorry ma'am. I don't know what possessed me." Serena begged. Tears flowed from her eyes. "It'll never happen again. Just let me...just give me a week before you throw me out. I have no where else to go."

"You're not fired...not yet," Mrs. Morgan said as she stepped out of her panties, hitched up her skirt, and spread her thick thighs. "But you are right. I am feeling a bit tense. I have been all week. Come on girl. Don't just stand there like a dimwit; it was your idea."

Serena dried her eyes. Not only had she not been tossed out on her ass, but it seemed as if she wouldn't be quite so lonely anymore. To be sure, this would pose some complications. After all, she loved this woman's daughter.

Serena could see that Mrs. Morgan was different than her daughter. Twenty-one additional years had made the woman's slim sleek thighs dimpled and plump. She also had a belly and a large hairy bush. It was quite a contrast to Heather's slim delicate triangle and toned abs.

The former teacher knelt between Mrs. Morgan's thighs and breathed her aroma. There was only a hint of musk. It wasn't overpowering - not yet.

"Let me help you relax," Serena said, and warmed the older woman with her breath, then applied her tongue to the delicate folds of her labia.

"Say it again," Mrs. Morgan said. "Like you did the first time."

Oh God. The former teacher knew that there would soon be no turning back.

"Let...Rena help you relax..."

"I'm only doing this because I'm tense," Mrs. Morgan said to no one in particular. "I'm not like that. Gay I mean. I was married. I have a daughter. It's just that...oh my fuck...that feels good."

Serena felt a thrill of satisfaction. She was having an effect on this woman. She took a bizarre degree of pride for causing such a reaction form a straight woman.

"You are still my maid." Mrs. Morgan said. The woman was amazed by her maid's skill. No one had ever made her..God, so hot..so damn quickly. Her loins were quivering and that tongue, that tongue touched her in all the right places. "I don't fraternize with the help...oh goddamn that tongue..fuck..oh...oh fuck....."

The former teacher brought her employer down from her orgasm slowly and languidly. She'd done it. She'd broken that tough exterior.

"Thank you Rena," Mrs. Morgan said. It took awhile for her to say it, so strong were the after effects from her climax. God she had missed them when they were like this. Had it really been so long? Too long.

"That was lovely. Be a dear and pull my panties up for me. I must get to Harvey's for lunch with the girls. You've caused me to be late enough as it is. Remember. I'm still your boss. And you are still the maid."

Serena realized that perhaps she'd not broken through that exterior after all. She numbly pulled up Mrs. Morgans panties and walked her to the door.

"Rena," Mrs. Morgan said. "I don't want you masturbating while I'm away. Not on my time. I want you working instead."

How did the woman know what she'd planned. The dark-skinned maid felt her cheeks burn in response.

"Yes ma'am," Rena said with disbelief.

Watching the woman peel away in her white convertible. Feeling used...like some sort of sexual servant.

***************

Over the course of the next few weeks, Serena came to regret her moment of weakness, because of the one-sided nature of the relationship.

"I'll be home in five," was the usual customary signal. A perfunctory phone call.

Serena would drop what she was doing and open a bottle of wine. She'd pour a glass, then take it and bottle to Mrs. Morgan's favorite chair in the living room. Next, she covered the chair with a large towel, then knelt on another folded towel at the foot of the chair. She'd undo the top two buttons of her too tight uniform.

'Why am I doing this?' she'd often wonder.

Serena heard the door open and the click click of Mrs. Morgan's heels on the expensive marble floor.

"God, I've been thinking about this for the last hour," Mrs. Morgan said as she stepped through the door and was already in the process of stepping out of her skirt and panties on the way to her seat. "The girls went on and on. I didn't think they would ever shut up. So fucking tense."

The older woman gulped a swallow of wine and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"I'm sorry ma'am," Serena said. "Was it Kelly again?"

"Sush," Mrs. Morgan said. "I said I was tense didn't I? You are just making it worse."

"Sorry Miss." Serena found another use for her mouth, and applied herself with diligence, even though the woman seemed to always be tense morning noon and night, while the former teacher's own needs were woefully neglected. The worm inside her relished the humiliation of this servitude, yet, the needs of her body could not be denied. She took Mrs. Morgan to the threshold of bliss, but this time she stopped short.

It was difficult to stop short and took a great deal of will-power, for the older woman had reached her hand into Serena's gray uniform and pinched sensitive nipples - hard.

Serena moaned from the pain, but didn't hurry her tongue. She had good reason.

"God....little bitch..you know I don't like it when you tease me," Mrs. Morgan said. "Finish up...fuck finish up..then start again if you must."

"Rena ...is tense too," Serena said, and it took all her backbone to utter those words. Words that had needed speaking for several weeks.

"You know I'm not like that Rena," Mrs. Morgan said her voice thick and throaty.

"I know..but..."

"You ungrateful....haven't I tipped you every week?"

"Yes ma'am," Serena said. All while thinking thirty dollars for nearly just as many orgasms. "I'm grateful. It's just that...I'm tense too. May I - may I at least touch myself..while I ...finish you?"

"But you are young," Mrs. Morgan said. "A little tension is good for a girl your age. And I must admit...there's something about what you are doing for me. "

Mrs. Morgan ran her fingers over her very wet sex and collected some of her moisture and held it up to her young maid's plump lips. The poor former teacher was helpless to stop her lips from parting and greedily sucking the nectar.

"The way you .... please me...with no thought to your own pleasure. It makes me hotter than I imagined. I never thought I was gay..but now? Now I'm beginning to wonder."

"Really?" Serena said hopefully. It was to much to hope for. "You mean..you like me?"

"Maybe," Mrs. Morgan admitted. "At the very least I like the thought of you."

At last, Serena had finally broken through that exterior.

"I like you...I love you.." Serena said. "And I'm sorry ma'am. It's just that Rena is ..so tense.." God the woman didn't realize just how 'tense' she was. Three weeks of sexual servitude all while the older woman forbid her to pleasure herself. Sure, she could cheat, but she couldn' bring herself to.

"Perhaps there is a way..." Mrs. Morgan said. "Just this once. But you'll have to do something for me too."

Serena damp face eagerly burrowed between the older woman's thick pale thighs. "Anything..." She breathed.

Mrs. Morgan nudged her expensive red pump between Serena's thighs.

"Go ahead." Mrs. Morgan said. "Here I'll do you. Go on idiot girl. Move your hips. I can't do it all myself."

No..that wasn't what Serena wanted. Not what she meant. Her nostrils flared. She wanted...she wanted a sweaty body on top of hers, heaving, hot lips and clit rubbing against her own. She wanted... a dildo fucking her hot ...nigger pussy.

Not this..this shoe. But by now the demon inside her had reared its ugly head. Her slim hips pumped. She was already wet and soon, so was Mrs. Morgan's pump. She was so close...

"Not yet," Mrs. Morgan purred. "Me first..."

The former teacher shuddered as the demon inside struggled for control. Begged to hump the red pump no matter the consequences. Ignoring her own needs, Serena brought her skilled tongue to bear, and deligently brought the older woman off.

"Okay - now it's your turn." Mrs. Morgan smiled wickedly and held out her slick wet pump.

The woman was helpful at first. Crossing her legs and moving her foot back and forth. But soon she grew less helpful. Instead, reveling in her maid's humiliation as she attempted to rub herself off on her foot. Laughing and feeling mischievous, she put her foot on the floor.

"What are you waiting for girl," Mrs. Morgan said. "Get to it."

Serena bit her lower lip then lowered herself in shame and continued humping that foot for all she was worth. Oh that worm inside the young maid was fully in charge. It had total control of the young woman's body, making her hump and pump. Making her mewl in dissatisfaction as her employer's foot was moved to more and more humiliating and uncomfortable positions.

Making her do it on the floor. On her hands and knees. In reverse. Even so far as to fucking the tip of it inside her sex. Over and over. Again and again. Finally, her body drenched in sweat, the poor maid was able to come to a shuddering orgasm.

It was her first in a long while.

"You've made a mess of my shoes maid," Mrs. Morgan said. "What are we to do about that?"

"Rena is sorry." Serena muttered as she went down to her hands and knees and began the task of cleaning the expensive leather with her tongue.

"Bottoms too," Mrs. Morgan said.

The former teacher, a college educated woman from a good family, then cleaned the dirt and grime with her tongue,

"That's better," Mrs. Morgan said. "But they are still wet. What are we going to do about that?"

Serena draped herself over her employer's lap. "You could spank Rena miss. She's been a very bad girl."

Serena had been spanked by this woman's daughter. But those spanking had been accompanied with rubbing and loving. This spanking was hard. Hard and without compassion. It was then that Serena realized just how far she had fallen. Yet, curiously enough, the demon inside her was finally content.