11 comments/ 198575 views/ 63 favorites Teaching Teacher By: Couture Hey reader, don't read further till we have a few words. I write sex stories. As a matter of fact I've written a lot of sex stories. Over 100 in fact. I write about controversial topics mainly involving the how and why of how submission and how doing what we aren't supposed to do can be an incredible turn on. What that means is that what turns many of us on, what we fantasize about, is usually far from being politically correct. Now I get tossed into the coals by readers all the time. "That story was not consensual. That story involved bdsm. That was anti-gay." Well for one, it is fiction. That's like saying King or Koontz murdered folks, because they wrote stories about it. They write about murder for the same reasons I write about sex - for entertainment. Where's the porn? Where am I going with this? Over the years, I've had several reader requests for a tale of submission with a white dominant and black submissive. I've always declined because I didn't need the outcry. But that really isn't fair is it? If you are black and submissive, shouldn't you be able to read about your fantasies too? This is one such story. If you are offended by the concept of a white dom and a black sub; and are offended by hearing the n-word occasionally, I suggest you do us both a favor and read another story. Now, on with the story. -Sincerely, Couture ***************************** "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. Teaching Teacher a Lesson He'd been trying to dig up dirt on the bitch ever since that first F she'd scrawled on top of his blue book. The course was core, he needed it to graduate, and she'd had it in for him from day one. Where did she get off assigning papers in a course that was supposed to be a gut? He was convinced that she was being harder on him than the others. And he was also more and more convinced that something else was going on. Look how she dressed. Short skirts. Tight pants. Look at how she sat down and crossed her legs until he couldn't think of anything else. She was small and supple and fit. He could tell she worked out. He had to admit that he'd like to see her undressed, even if she was a bitch. Maybe just because she was one. And she mocked him. Every time he tried to smart off she got in a one-liner that set the rest of the class off. There was no winning with her. She had it in for him and it was too late to drop. He'd let himself get so far behind that it was impossible to catch up. All the current material depended on what had gone before. Having blown off the early part of the class, he was in no position to understand what was happening now. He needed some dirt. He'd begun to follow her a couple of weeks ago, on and off, just to see if there was anything at all that he could use. Then paydirt. The bitch smoked pot. Or at least she bought pot in a state where possession could get you years and years and years. One Thursday night he'd followed her to a quiet spot in the park, hiked silently behind her (keeping well to the shrubbery) and seen the goods change hands, all the while snapping pictures with his cell. He couldn't remember a happier moment. This was too good to be true he gloated, retreating swiftly, so as not to be spotted, leaving the bitch to indulge in a joint with her buddy. This was perfect. As he reflected on just how perfect it was, he felt himself getting hard. Who said vengeance was a dish best served cold? As he hoped, she headed back to her office after dark. This was a state commuter school. The building was for the most part deserted. Good. He climbed the stairs two at a time. Again just as he'd hoped, all the offices near hers were dark. They were alone. He leaned on the doorframe. She looked up. A little red-eyed, but hiding it well. "Sorry, Neil, these aren't my office hours. I'm just leaving." "I don't think so." He blocked the exit as she angrily tried to brush past. "I have some research to show you. Investigative research. On the purchase of marijuana." He flipped open the cell phone, showing her his first photograph. "I hear the penalties are steep." "Shit." She took in his resentment and determination at a glance. Well, he'd never thought the bitch was stupid. "What do you want?" "Before you give me the A? I want to pull down your pants, lean you over that big desk, and fuck you until you scream for more." He pushed her back into the room and closed and locked the door behind him. The cell was tossed onto a shelf as he yanked her sweater up, tearing some of the buttons loose. His hands were inside her bra, squeezing and exploring before she had a chance to move. She writhed in his grasp, but he noticed she didn't yell. Right. She knew she had to give in. "Look. We can work something out." "I'm sure we can," he said pushing her down to her knees as he unzipped his fly. "I'm sure that once I'm finished fucking your face we can work out even more extra credit for you." His cock throbbed with a life of its own as he pushed it into her mouth, holding her head steady, sinking into its moist, soft depths. He was rigid by now, loving the feel of her mouth, the feel of her on her knees getting fucked in the face. She was taking him all the way down. Maybe the bitch had practice. He could feel the muscles of her throat contract around the tip of his cock and almost came. Not yet. Too soon. He withdrew reluctantly and pulled her to her feet, spinning her around and leaning her face first over the desk. She was still arguing, but he ignored her. She was wearing a tight skirt. A skirt within the confines of which he'd observed her ass in class, sitting in angry frustration and being shown up yet again. Wasn't this an improvement? He told her so. "Never thought I'd have you bent over your desk with your butt the the air, did you?" He pushed the tight skirt up over her ass and yanked the black silky panties down, ripping them halfway. "Ooh, baby. You're wet. Those panties are all sticky. Your pussy really likes me." She writhed and squirmed beneath him, but he held her down easily with one hand in the small of her back. And he liked to watch that little ass writhe. He said that too. Just before he pulled her legs apart and slammed his cock into her slick pussy, making her yowl and buck, finally making her moan with pleasure as he pounded into her, shoving her face into the desk and lifting her feet off the floor with his thrusts, feeling himself fill her so completely that it felt as if he'd impaled her on his cock. He stopped himself just short of coming, with greater difficulty this time, and leaned over her on the desk, panting. "Tell me you want it up your ass." "Fuck you," came the muffled voice from the desk, her face buried in her hair, surrounded by an avalanche of books. "I'm gonna make you come while I fuck you up the ass. I'm gonna make sure you remember begging me to fuck that little fanny. You'll take it up the ass, once you've begged for it. And you'll love every second." He positioned the camera on the shelf. "And we'll record it for posterity. Just so I have something to remember you by." Now she was pissed. But it was too late. He strummed her clit with one finger and moved another, wet from her cunt, up and into her asshole. "Stop it," she hissed. "Oh now.You like that. I can feel that little clit getting into it." There were two fingers up her ass now. "You want a big old cock up there just filling up that little fanny, making you squeal. Yes you do. Say you want it." She was wiggling now, and the wiggles no longer seemed to be efforts to escape. "You want my big cock all the way up your ass, don't you?" He removed his fingers and positioned the tip of his cock at the crack of her ass. "Push on back, Professor Smith. Take it all. Tell me what you want." Despite herself, she found that she was pushing back, feeling his cock slowly fill her up, feeling her muscles loosen. It felt so good. How could it feel good? His fingers continued to rub against her clit, blending the sensations until it was impossible to tell which was which. "I want..." "Say it." "Fuck me." "Fuck you where? Say it for the camera." "Fuck me up the ass. Please. Oh god. Do it."She pushed her self back onto his cock, moaning, and he felt the indescribable tightness as her muscles contracted. "Do you want me to give it to you? Do you?" "Yes! Jesus. Please. I want it. I want it so bad." With that, he lost all restraint, grinding into her as she squealed and bucked, feeling her clit practically explode as he pumped his orgasm so far up her ass it felt like it ought to be coming out of her mouth. Collapsed over her on the desk, books hurled all over the floor, he whispered in her ear. "Same time next week?" Teaching Teacher "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. Teaching Teacher 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. Teaching Teacher "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?" Teaching Teacher "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.