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Yes Miss Murphy Ch. 01

By: PeterOmez



My name is David Thompson. I teach math at Trentstown Community College, and have for 18 years now. I am 48 years old and the father of three grown children who are all married now and beginning families of their own. My wife Becky and I are now what you call "empty-nesters", and without our children around to keep us occupied, our life together had become pretty hum-drum. That is, until recently...

I must confess Becky and I haven't had sex in many, many years. We do love each other, and Becky is a wonderful partner otherwise. And of course we love our children and grandchildren, who continue to strengthen our emotional bond with one another. But there is no passion at all in our life. We don't even share common interests apart from family concerns. Becky comes home from her office job and makes us dinner. Then she watches TV all evening, and I read, or grade papers. We hardly speak. Then we go to bed. That's our life.

But my sex drive is still strong, and I do have an office at home where I sometimes watch pornography and masturbate after Becky is in bed. I suppose if I had to guess, Becky knows what's going on in there but would rather have me doing that than bothering her for sex. And at least I'm home.

About a year ago, though, I made a terrible mistake. I started an affair with one of my co-workers, Katherine Mullens. She also teaches math at TCC. As if it weren't bad enough to get involved with someone I work with, wait, you haven't heard the worst of it: Her husband is Randall Mullens. That's right, the academic dean at TCC. My boss.

Talk about stupid. But believe me, the affair wasn't my idea. Katherine is quite a hot-blooded woman, and she came on to me. I resisted as much as I could, but my sex-starved self was no match for her seduction skills. I guessed I rationalized what we were doing in every way possible: I certainly hadn't set out to find someone to replace Becky. Indeed, I would never leave Becky. Katherine was actually a GOOD choice for illicit liaisons since I knew she had no intention of leaving Randall, and she knew I would never leave Becky. Plus, if anyone found out about us, she had as much to lose as I did. So (I told myself) it was perfect.

I guess all Katherine wanted out of our dalliances was to feel the rush of doing something naughty behind her husband's back. We didn't have any "pillow talk" or any kind of emotional relationship. It was pure raunchy sex. She always initiated it, and we always did it in either her office or mine, at work. She would come find me, steal me away, and we'd lock the door to an office and quietly ravish each other, while people walked by in the hallway outside. If anyone knocked, we'd just freeze and be totally silent until they went away.

Katherine was so aggressive that I always just went along with whatever she wanted to do. Sometimes she would whisk me away just to suck me off, and we didn't even remove any clothing. She would just open my pants, blow me vigorously, and swallow every drop of my cum. Then we'd compose ourselves and go back to work. I must say, nothing brightens a teacher's mood than a blow job right before class.

Other times she yanked her panties to her ankles and had me get my head under her skirt to go down on her. She'd caress her breasts through her blouse, or thrust a hand under her bra, and pant as I licked for all I was worth. Then she'd send me away pitching a tent in my pants. Those times, I usually stole away to a restroom stall afterward, to jerk off into the toilet.

Now and then we fucked, but I could never last very long because I hadn't had intercourse in years and just wasn't used to that much stimulation. She didn't seem to mind, though; she liked it hard and fast, and she seemed to enjoy her power to make me lose control.

One morning it was just past 9:00 and I was in my office getting ready for my 10:00 class. Katherine slipped in without a word, closed and locked my door, and pushed my chair back a bit as she came between me and my desk. She smirked as she sat on the desk directly in front of me, pulled the front of her skirt up, slid her panties out to her knees, and then pulled my head forward. She obviously wanted me to lick her pussy, so I rolled my chair forward a bit, and dove in. She threw her head back and caressed her breasts as I ate her pussy, which smelled and tasted very strong that morning. "Oh yes," she whispered. "Keep licking. Ohhhh yeah. Mmmm, that's right. Get your tongue deeeep inside. Mmmmm." She pressed firmly on the back of my head, pulling me in tightly, as she kept telling me to get my tongue in deeper, deeper. Deeper.

"Mmmm, yes, lick and SUCK my pussy. Suck it, mmmm. Mmmmm, taste my pussy. Devour it. Suck it, David! Suck it. Lick it, get your tongue in deeper. Deeper!"

I was used to her being aggressive, but she was really in top form on this day. It was unusual for her to speak so much, and she seemed especially insistent on getting my tongue DEEP. Plus she was saying things like "Clean my pussy", which seemed to me an odd choice of words. 

Her pussy juices seemed to be flowing much more than usual, as she was already quite wet from the moment we started, and even though she didn't seem to be spasming from orgasm, she was gushing into my mouth. She usually didn't have a very strong taste, but on this day she was very strong and salty.

When she was finally satisfied, she held my face in her hands and looked down at me, glowing. She was smirking, too, looking at my sloppy face, which was going to need washing before class. That's when she dropped a bomb on me. She said, "So David... how did you like being my little cum cleaner this morning?" I really didn't know what she meant by "cum cleaner", and I guess I just assumed she was referring to her own cum. So I said, "Mmm, you know I always love doing that for you, Katherine." 

"Always? Why, what do you mean, David? That's the first time you've ever done it. But if you like it so much, you can always be my little cum cleaner."

I looked at her quizzically. What did she mean, it was the first time? I had licked her pussy dozens of times by then.

"David... Randall and I had sex this morning."

"Oh kayyy..." I still didn't get it.

"We fucked this morning, and then I got dressed ... without a shower. And came here. Do you get it?"

My face turned white. "You mean ... his ... um ... his semen was ... still inside you?"

"Yes."

"Augh! Are you serious? Ugh. Oh my god. Katherine. You had me go down on you with your husband's semen still inside you? Oh god, Katherine, that's disgusting!"

Katherine laughed. "Oh come on, David. There's nothing wrong with Randall's cum. He doesn't have a disease or anything. It's perfectly safe."

"That's not the issue. It's a man's ... um, it's ... eww! Augh. You had me ... um ... swallowing semen without me knowing. That's just wrong."

"I don't know, David, your dick seemed to be just fine with it until about 5 seconds ago. Well... we can talk about this later. You'd better wash your face before class. Wouldn't want your students to know you just came from cleaning up cum, hahaha." Then she sauntered out and closed my office door behind her.

I was pissed! I had great difficulty concentrating on my 10:00 class that day, because I was so preoccupied with the thought of having swallowed my boss's jizz. Yuck! I mean, being playful is one thing, and I appreciated that about Katherine, but this was like some cruel prank. So disgusting!

I avoided Katherine for the rest of that week, as I really felt quite humiliated by what she had done. I thought it best to allow myself to cool down before discussing the matter with her, because I didn't want her to get angry with me. I suppose this was when it first began to hit me just how reckless and stupid this affair was: I'd put myself in a position that if I ever displeased Katherine, and fell out of favor with her, she could make things very difficult for me at work. All it would take would be for her to put an idea in her husband's head that I was underperforming somehow. Then if Dean Randall Mullens started to give me a hard time, what could I do? Point the finger at his wife? 

Well, for the next couple of weeks, every time I crossed paths with Katherine, she smirked at me without saying anything, and I awkwardly tried to avoid her gaze. We didn't speak, and she didn't try to pull me away for a quick tryst. At first I was very relieved that she was leaving me alone. But after a third week went by, and then a fourth, I began to feel a sense of dread that I had offended her. Plus I was beginning to miss our little escapades. The longer she avoided me, the more I fantasized about her. The fear and dread I was experiencing, over whether she was upset with me, and what she might do next, made me realize how powerless I was in this situation. Then I would think about her powerful sexuality, and her aggressive way with me, and my fear would morph into an obsessive horniness, and desire for her. I even started to fantasize about our last encounter, hearing her voice demanding me to get my tongue deeper, DEEPER inside her ... and "CLEAN MY PUSSY". 

I found myself WANTING her to invade my office, TAKE my head between her thighs, and MAKE me clean her pussy again. Being suddenly cut off from Katherine made me realize how much I NEEDED her... I needed her to be part of my life, and if it meant cleaning her pussy of her husband's cum, then I would do it. Happily. Without complaining. Anything she wanted. Just so she would still be in my life.

Every time I tried to talk to her, she managed to deflect me. I couldn't call her on her cell phone because I didn't have the number. And I certainly couldn't call the Mullens home on the residential line, because what would I say if Randall answered? When I would call her office phone and she answered, she would act as though someone was there in her office and would respond inappropriately, as though she was fielding a business call of some kind. I would say, "Katherine, it's David. Can we talk?" And she'd say, "Oh, right, OK. I can e-mail that to you. Sure, no problem. OK, bye-bye now."

I didn't want to e-mail her because I wasn't sure how secure that might be. For all I knew, Randall might have access to her e-mail account. So I decided a good old-fashioned letter, in her department mailbox cubbyhole, was the best way. 

If you thought the affair itself was stupid, wait 'til you hear what I did next. After writing Katherine a long letter apologizing for the way I had reacted, and assuring her that I would gladly satisfy any desires she had, including eating her husband's cum out of her pussy (yes, I actually put that in writing), I took a picture of my head from an angle above and to the side, with my tongue sticking out. Then I photo-shopped my head into an image of a woman with her legs spread, so it looked like I was going down on the woman. Then I made a print of the picture, and drew an arrow to my head with a black marker. Then I wrote, "Your little cum cleaner." I put the letter and the picture into a large manila envelope and sealed it with generous amounts of tape. I wrote "From DT to KM" in the corner. Then I used a red marker to write CONFIDENTIAL in large letters. 

The next morning when I slipped into the math department lounge, two of my colleagues were there. One was making photocopies, and one was checking his mailbox. We made small talk, as I also checked my mailbox. There were a couple of flyers inside for textbook publishers. I pretended to look at them, as I waited for the room to be clear. I poured myself a cup of coffee, and plopped into a chair. I sipped my coffee and feigned great interest in the flyers. Once both of my colleauges left, I bolted out of the chair and rushed over to the mail cubbies. Quickly I unzipped the top of my briefcase and struggled to get the envelope out. If anyone walked in the door just then, they would see the envelope in my hand, and I didn't want anyone to witness that. I was paranoid. Nervously, I fumbled with the envelope, kept glancing at the door, and scanned the labels on the mailboxes until I found Katherine's. While still furtively glancing at the door, I reached with one hand to lift up the existing contents of the mailbox so I could hide the envelope underneath with the other hand. Then I covered up the envelope so it wouldn't be visible until Katherine took everything out of the box. Once the job was done, I stepped away from the boxes, took a deep breath, grabbed my coffee cup and exited the lounge.

Mission accomplished. Now all I could do was wait.

Probably all of us, at one time or another, have put our hearts on the line and completely bared our souls to a lover, only to get no response at all. A voicemail, a letter, even a heartfelt soliloquy delivered in person, answered with complete silence. Nothing is worse than having the injury of such implicit rejection coupled with the insult of being forced to IMAGINE the thoughts that surely must be going through the other's head, but being allowed no direct knowledge of them. As the hours passed that day, and I distractedly taught my classes and then worked in my office, listening for Katherine's footsteps, I wondered if this would be one of those excruciating snubs.

That night I couldn't sleep. I lay beside Becky and stared at the ceiling, filled with cold dread. Had Katherine found my parcel today? If so, why hadn't she come by to talk to me? Was it possible she never checked her box today? Maybe her habit is to check it first thing in the morning. Tomorrow is Friday, and I don't have my 10:00 class, so I was planning to work at home for a few hours in the morning, before going in for my 1:30 class. But maybe I'd better go ahead and go in early, so I'll be around if she looks for me. 

The next morning, Becky was surprised that I was getting dressed to go to campus so early. I told her I had an early appointment with a student. "Oh. Well, that was nice of you to give up your Friday morning at home. I know how much you like to be able to work here when you can." If there was anything Becky appreciated, it was routines. 

When I got to campus, I swung by the lounge to take a peek at Katherine's mailbox. It was empty. Now I knew for sure she had gotten the envelope, so it was only a matter of time before she responded. Rather than going directly back to my office, I decided to walk past Katherine's office so she would know I was on campus. The problem was, her office wasn't on the way to mine. So I went down one floor, walked the length of it, and then came back up to our floor so I could pass Katherine's office en route to mine. The door was open, and she was in, so as I passed I said, "Good morning, Katherine." 

"Good morning, David."

Ah, good. Contact has been made. Of course, exchanging good-mornings was never out of the ordinary among any of the colleagues in the department, and even over this last month, Katherine and I had kept up such perfunctory greetings when others were around. But surely this morning would be different, as any moment now, as I continued down the hallway, Katherine was sure to say, "Uhhh, David! Could I talk to you for a moment?"

But she didn't. I continued on to my office.

As I sat at my desk, grading papers, I wondered if it was possible she still hadn't opened the envelope. Perhaps she just grabbed the contents of her box and thrust the stack into a briefcase, for examination later. 

Shortly after 10:00, a figure appeared in the doorway to my office. "David?" came a female voice. 

"Yes? Oh. Hi Mandy."

"Haha. Expecting someone else?" asked Mandy Murphy.

"No. Um. What's up?"

"Well, I just gave a test to my Math 190 class, and I was wondering if you could look at it and give me an idea how to grade it."

Ugh. Mandy Murphy. The newest instructor in our department. Fresh from a masters program and in her first year of teaching. You would think they'd have taught her the basics of assessment, and how to prepare lessons, and how to set policies ... you know, the fundamentals of teaching. But she was always coming by to ask my advice on things like this: How many points should I take off for this kind of mistake? How many questions on the test should be about that kind of problem? How much time should she spend in class on this topic? A couple of times she brought a copy of a test she planned to give the next day, and asked me to look at it and tell her if it was a good test. When I suggested some revisions, she said, "Oh, OK. Well, I'll send you the word document. Do you think you could make those changes for me and send it back?" Since I couldn't think of any way to refuse without sounding rude, I did what she asked... grudgingly, of course, and thinking, "Why can't you revise your own test!?" 

Another time, she caught me in the lounge while she was about to grade a stack of tests. She asked for my advice on scoring, and then managed to talk me into grading a few myself, in front of her, while I explained to her how I was scoring them. Once she understood, she said, "Oh, OK. That makes sense. Well, here, since you're kind of on a roll now, why don't you do these, and I'll do these, and we'll get them finished up." Whereupon she handed me half the remaining stack, and obviously expected me to sit there with her at the lounge table and do her work with her. Once again, being completely taken off guard by such audacity, and a complete loss as to how to respond otherwise, I did it.

I was really in no mood for Mandy Murphy today, but I couldn't very well tell her to please go away, because I was expecting my lover, the dean's wife, at any moment. As I started to look at the test Mandy had given, she walked to my office door and closed it. I looked up, a bit surprised, as she turned the lock underneath the door handle. As she walked back toward my desk, she said, "Actually, David... before you look at that test, there's something else I'd like you to take a look at it." She reached into her briefcase and pulled out a plain file folder. She put it down in front of me, on top of her stack of tests, then sat sideways on my desk, looking down at me. She raised her eyebrows as if to say, "Open it."

When I turned the top of the file folder over to reveal its contents, all the color drained from my face instantly. There in front of me, was a photocopy of my letter to Katherine. I could see that there were also two pages underneath. When I looked at the second page, I actually gasped and put my hand to my mouth. It was a photocopy of the obscene picture of my head in a woman's crotch, with the arrow pointing from the description "Your little cum cleaner".

The third page was a photocopy of the manila envelope that had contained these very personal contents.

My mouth was dry. "Oh my god... Where did you get this?"

"Found it in my mailbox yesterday. I must say, I got quite a shock once I got home and decided to take a look at my mail."

Oh my god oh my god oh my god! I had put it in the wrong box!

"Oh god. Mandy. I am so sorry. That was not intended for you."

"Haha, oh, I can see that. It was intended for a Katherine M. I can only assume it's the same Katherine M. whose mailbox is right above mine. Tsk, tsk, tsk. My, my, David. Fooling around with the dean's wife. Using department mail to send her naughty pictures of yourself."

"Mandy..."

"Yes, David?"

"Uhhh ... Look... um, I'm very sorry that happened. Um ... obviously this is very personal. Um... Well, wait... didn't you see that the envelope said, 'To KM' on it?"

"Honestly, no. I didn't notice that. You wrote it so small. All I really saw was the huge 'CONFIDENTIAL' written on it."

"Um, well... Mandy... where is the envelope now? And, um..."

"The letter and the picture?"

"Yes."

"I have them somewhere safe."


Yes Miss Murphy Ch. 01



My heart sank. Obviously, this was bad. This was very bad. If she intended to respect my privacy on this matter, and help me save face here, she would have re-sealed the envelope with tape and put it in Katherine's mailbox, and never breathed a word of what she had seen. Or at the very least, she'd have brought me the envelope and its contents and let me know of my blunder, but then reassured me that my secret was safe with her. Clearly, that was not her intention. Nevertheless, I hoped against hope to get a positive response to my question: "Well... um... can I have them back?"

She laughed. "Oh, no. Hahaha. No, I don't think so. But... I'm sure I can be persuaded to keep them safe, and make sure no one else sees them."

"Oh god. Oh god, Mandy, no. No one else can see those. Oh, please. Please, Mandy. Look, that was... what Katherine and I did... um... we... it was..."

"I don't think you have to explain, David. What you did was risky, and ... well, kinda stupid, don't you think? And I know you don't want anyone else to know. Liiiiike... you don't want your wife to know. You don't want her husband to know. Oh yeah. I get it. Now... let's see if YOU get it."

She stared at me for several seconds, looking smug and amused, until I finally said, "Ummm... get what? I mean, umm... what happens now?"

"Wellll... what happens now is, Your whole future is now in my little hands. You are ... COMPLETELY ... at my mercy. Aren't you?"

A wave of helplessness washed over me, as I had to admit, "Yes. Yes, I am. What do I have to do?"

"Mmm. Good question. What do you have to do? Well, basically... you have to do ANYTHING ... and EVERYTHING... I want. Basically, from now on, you work for me. You do whatever I say. For a start, you can hang on to that folder, and the stack of tests underneath, because you're going to grade those. And ..." She reached into her briefcase to pull out another file folder, and placed it in front of me. "In a few minutes, you're coming with me to my 10:40 class. I'm going to introduce you, and then excuse myself, and you're going to teach that class. I've already looked up your schedule, so I know you're free. Here's my lesson plan for today. Oh. And the students in the 10:40 class are turning in an assignment today, so you'll be collecting that, and grading it this weekend, too."

"Uhhhh... well... OK. So... I cover your class today... and grade some papers for you... and then... we forget all about this?"

"Hahaha. Don't be ridiculous, David. This is just the beginning. Like I said, You work for me from now on. You'll be doing a LOT of grading, and covering classes for me. I spent a couple hours last night dreaming up all the ways you're going to be making my life much easier. And if you complain, or balk at anything I tell you to do, or refuse to do anything I say, then that envelope will mysteriously appear on Dean Mullens's desk. And a copy will also show up on your wife's desk. Yeah. I looked her up. I know where she works, too. So. I think maybe you would be wise to not ask me very many questions, and just learn to say 'Yes, Miss Murphy.'"

I sat defeated behind my desk, and Mandy locked her stare on me as my eyes flitted around the room as though looking for an escape route. When I dared to look back at her, I saw her eyebrows raised expectantly. I sighed.

"Yes, Miss Murphy."

"Come on. Follow me. We have a class."

As you may know, Trentstown Community College has a very large enrollment. The math department has 26 full time instructors, and 30 to 40 part time instructors as well. So we offer many sections of each math course each semester, covering all times of the day and evening. With so many faculty and students, it's rare to have the same student in two different semesters. 

Our class sizes are capped at 30, and they are all taught by faculty, since of course we have no graduate students as teaching assistants. I have 25 years of experience teaching math, 18 at TCC, and before that I was a high school teacher. So you can imagine my dismay when I followed Mandy into her 10:40 class and heard this rookie teacher announce, "Class, I have to attend to some business today, but I'd like you meet my teaching assistant, Davey. He's going to fill in for me today, and he'll be collecting your assignment later. You can call him Davey. Have a nice weekend. I'll see you Monday." 

Before leaving, she turned to me, slipped me a piece of paper with a phone number on it, and quietly said, "Call me after your 1:30 class. If I don't answer, leave a message, I'll call back. Do not go home until you've talked to me." Then she walked out.

Her class ran from 10:40 to 11:50, and about halfway through, a student interrupted and said, "Excuse me? Davey?" I bristled at being addressed by a student not as Mr. Thompson, not even as David - my actual name - but as "Davey". 

"Yes?"

"Are we gonna take a break? Miss Murphy usually gives us a 10 minute break at 11:10." 

"Oh. Um... well... OK. I guess we could do that." At that point, half of the students bolted out of their seats to go into the hallway. I took advantage of the unexpected break to look over the rest of the lesson plan she'd written and try and make sense of it. The way she had the material organized was very confusing, and I made mental plans to reorder it a bit and change a couple of the examples. 

After class, I went to get some lunch, and I couldn't even tell you now what I ate. I probably couldn't have told you ten minutes later, because all I could think about was the twisted turn of events whereby my foolish affair with the dean's wife had delivered me into the clutches of some upstart new co-worker my daughter's age, who decided to take advantage of my compromised position to ... well ... what WAS she doing exactly? Was this blackmail? What was I in store for here? The dread I'd been burdened with for the last month was nothing compared to what I was feeling now. I kept pulling the phone number from my pocket and looking at it, as though expecting the little slip of paper to speak to me and tell me it was OK to go ahead and call early. Wondering what was coming next was torturing me. 

I went to teach my 1:30 class, and when it was over, I couldn't wait to dial the number. Mandy answered, and said, "Well, we have a LOT to talk about, David. Do you know where Mancini's is?"

"No. What is that? A restaurant?"

"It's a bar. It's on Bellewood Avenue. Look it up. Get there by 4:00 and wait for me. You better be on time. Order me a glass of Chardonnay, and a glass of water for yourself."

Meet her at a bar? On Friday afternoon? For a glass of wine? In the hour-and-a-half I had to kill before I was to be at Mancini's, all kinds of crazy thoughts raced through my head. Was this like some kind of bizarre date? Did she intend to seduce me into some kind of Fatal-Attraction affair? Was she some psychotic home-wrecking little nymph, with some kind of unresolved childhood baggage that made her want to destroy father-figure types? All sorts of horrific images ran though my mind when I imagined what would happen if she exposed me with that incriminating envelope. I would surely be fired, but that would be FAR from the worst of it. Becky would certainly find out and be absolutely appalled. And when our children discovered what I had done, how would they ever forgive me? I would lose their respect completely. Becky would surely divorce me. I would lose everything. Absolutely everything. It was true: Mandy held my entire future in her hands. I was trapped. I didn't know what she had planned for me, but it was clear I had no choice but to submit to whatever she demanded.



Yes Miss Murphy Ch. 02



I arrived at Mancini's and took a seat at the bar. I ordered a Chardonnay and a glass of water, and paid the bartender. I sipped my water and nervously waited. When Mandy came in at about 4:15, she reached for the wine glass and said, "Come over here." She continued on to a booth, and I followed. I sat across from her, and as soon as we sat down, I blurted out, "Mandy. Please. You have me in a very awkward situation here. I'm begging you. Please return that envelope to me. Please. There are a lot of people at stake here. Yes, it's true, Katherine and I had an affair, but we're not doing it anymore... things kinda... things went south for us, and of course it was a stupid, stupid thing to do in the first place. But ... please ... just ... if this ever came out, first of all it would just devastate my wife. She is such a wonderful, caring person. She doesn't deserve the humiliation this would bring on her if this secret came out. Please, Mandy, there's no reason for you to get involved in all this. I'm begging you. Please just return that envelope to me, so I can destroy it, and we can all just move on with our lives..... "

I continued rambling for another minute or so, until I realized I was beginning to talk in circles. Mandy just sat smirking at me, and sipping her wine, until I was reduced to repeating "please... please, Mandy, please ... just ... please."

When I finally stopped, she said, "It's Miss Murphy to you."

"I'm sorry. OK. Miss Murphy. Please, Miss Murphy, I'm begging you. Please give me back that envelope."

"David, perhaps you didn't hear me this morning. I'm not giving you back the envelope. You need to learn to listen better. I've been listening to you, and you know what I'm hearing?"

"Wh- uhh... what?"

"I'm hearing you say, 'Yes, Miss Murphy, I will be the best little worker for you and do absolutely anything you say.'"

I slumped, and sniveled, and tried again: "Mandy--"

"Miss Murphy!"

"Miss Murphy, I'm sorry. Miss Murphy...."

"David, there's no need for more convincing. You already have the job, haha. I completely understand the fix you're in, and that's why I have every confidence that this little arrangement I've worked out will work out just beautifully for both of us."

"Um... arrangement?"

"Yes. Let me show you something."

At that point, she pulled a piece of paper out of her briefcase, on which she had drawn up a Monday-through-Friday schedule. It appeared to be very detailed, but at first I couldn't quite comprehend it all. 

She explained: "Monday morning, you're going to meet me at work at 8:30. You're going to have those tests graded, and you're going to have a lesson ready for my 9:00 class, which is Math 190. At 9:00, I'm gonna introduce you to that class -- as my teaching assistant, Davey -- and you're gonna teach that class for me. Then you're gonna go to your 10:00 class. Then later you'll have your 1:30 class, and then that evening, you'll meet me again for my 6:30 class, I'll introduce you to those students, and you'll teach that class, too, until 8:35."

"Well, wait a minute," I said. "I don't teach evening classes, and my wife knows that. What am I supposed to tell her?"

"Tell her something happened with an instructor, and they asked you to take over that person's class for the rest of the semester."

"But ... if that really happened, they wouldn't ask me to fill in. They'd ask a part-time instructor."

"Tell her they were really in a pinch, and really needed you to step in. You're gonna have to tell her something, David, because from now on, every Monday and Wednesday night, I'm gonna need you free for this class. So you're gonna get free."

I shifted in my seat and hemmed and hawed a bit, until she said, "Got it?"

I sighed. "OK."

"Uh, the right answer is 'Yes, Miss Murphy, whatever you say.'"

I sighed again, to which she stared at me sternly. "Yes, Miss Murphy," I said. "Whatever you say."

"Good. Now, as for my Tuesday-Thursday class, from 10:45 to 12:25, it overlaps with your 10:00 to 11:40 class, so how we'll work that is, you will make up the lesson plans for that and drop them off in my mailbox before you go to your 10:00 class. Then, as soon as you're done with your class, you'll come to mine by 11:45. I'm going to schedule a break from 11:35 to 11:45, so when you get there, I'll let you know how far I got, and you'll do the last 40 minutes of the class for me.

"Same deal on Thursdays. Um, let's see. The 9:00 class meets Monday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, so you'll be doing that one completely from now on. Um... the 10:40 class I'll have to do on Mondays and Wednesdays, but you'll do it on Fridays...... You'll be doing all my grading from now on, and coming up with all the lesson plans for all my classes."

My mouth dropped open. Was she serious? She was going to make me do pretty much ALL her work? Her entire job? How could I possibly manage all that? 

"Now, sometimes I will teach a class myself, even though you're available to do it. But you'll still make the lesson plan for me to use. And I'll probably still have you stay, so you can pass out things for me, or collect papers, whatever. The story is you're my teaching assistant, so sometimes I'll have you sit in the room like you're observing, like you're learning how to teach. That's why I want the students to call you Davey, so they feel like I'm the one in charge -- which, of course I am. And if there any kinds of complaints from them about you, I won't hesitate to let the students know I'm reprimanding you and setting you straight. So I'll still be in my classes once a week or so, to keep in touch with the students and make sure they love me, and make sure they give me glowing recommendations on the evaluations at the end. Any time there's any kind of problem, I'll blame it on you, but you will of course always have wonderful things to say about me, whether you're talking to students, or our co-workers, or the department chair, the dean, anybody. Understand?"

"Um.... yes.... Miss Murphy."

"OK. Now, sometimes students will be e-mailing me about their grades. Since you'll be doing all the grading, you'll be keeping the records, too. I will send you my excel files with the grade records in them, and every time you change one of those files and enter scores, you'll e-mail me the updated file. That way I'll always have up-to-date information when students ask me about anything."

She handed me another sheet. "Here are the dates I've already scheduled tests, and in what classes. You will of course be making up those tests and have them ready."

"So... this is what I have to do, then. To buy your silence. I basically have to ... just ... do your whole job."

"Like I said, David, you work for me now. You'll do absolutely anything I want. This is just the start. You're gonna grade my papers, you're gonna do my lesson plans, make up my tests, teach most of my classes. And none of our co-workers will know because no one pays any attention to what anyone else's schedule is. When they walk by a classroom and see you in there teaching my class, they'll just think you're teaching YOUR class. And every semester I'll get great evaluations from my students because I'm gonna have them do a separate questionnaire on you, which only I will see, but they won't know that. And when they do the real ones, I'll tell them not to mention anything about the 'teaching assistant.' So I will have a nice, cushy job, all thanks to you slaving away for me, hahaha. And I don't have to tell you what will happen if I should lose my cushy job."

I felt overwhelmed with how much time this would require, but in a way, I was relieved. At least this was do-able. I could do most of this extra work AT HOME, WITH MY WIFE. Becky wouldn't even notice my extra load of clerical work, since she was already used to me doing that sort of thing in the evening. This was actually much less dangerous than the affair with Katherine had been. 

"Oh, and another thing, David. When I see you Monday morning at 8:30, I want you to bring your pay stub. We just got paid today. I want to see your pay stub, so make sure you have it."

As I opened my mouth to ask her why, she cut me off: "Say, 'Yes, Miss Murphy.'"

"Um... yes, Miss Murphy."

"Very good." Then she slid her feet up onto the booth bench beside me. She was wearing a skirt but no nylons or stockings, and her feet were clad in heels. "Now, David... I want you to slip both of my shoes off and set them on the seat beside you. Then I want you to kiss both my feet. No one can see, David. Do it. Kiss my feet and say, 'I'm your little worker slave, Miss Murphy, and I'll do everything you say.' Do it, David. Now." 

I removed her shoes, bent at the waist, and brought my head down to kiss her feet. They didn't stink but were as aromatic as you might expect from being trapped in heels all day. I repeated the degrading words as she instructed, and put my lips to her flesh, took in the aroma of her feet, and looked at her beautifully painted toenails. I began to get an erection. I grew stiffer as she told me again to keep kissing her feet and pledging my obedience. She assured me that no one could see what I was doing, she told me to keep kissing her left foot, as she slipped her right foot off the bench and out of my sight. Soon I discovered where it went, and sucked in a sudden breath as I felt it press against my fly. She traced the outline of my hard dick in my pants with the toes of her right foot, and then retracted it from between my legs to place it back on the bench with the other. 

"Put my shoes back on, David. Well, well.... you just can't control that little thing in your pants, can you? For a man your age, you're quite the little horndog, aren't you? Whether it's being a foot kisser, or a 'little cum cleaner', hahaha ... you'll just take whatever you can get, huh? That's why you're in this predicament, David, because you can't control your dick. Tell me, David: Do you and your wife have sex?"

"Well... that's kind of personal."

Mandy scoffed. "Personal? What? David, please. Did you forget who you're talking to? It doesn't get any more personal than the picture I have of you. Listen, there is no 'personal' with you where I'm concerned. You don't refuse to answer my questions, David. You don't have any 'personal' with me, do you understand? Do you have sex with your wife? Answer me."

"No. We don't have sex. We haven't for years. But I love my wife. I love her very much."

"I know you do, David, that's not the question. The question is if you have sex, and I'm not surprised to hear you don't, because if you love her as much as you say you do, then of course the only thing that could make you have such a reckless affair -- with your boss's wife! -- would be if you have no sex life. OK. So that's good to know."

At the time, I wondered why she cared about that, but it became clear later on.

"OK, David. I'm gonna leave. You're gonna stay here for 5 minutes before you leave. You can look over your new schedule. You have my phone number, but don't use it. I have yours now, so if I need something, I'll call you. And you better answer, or call me right back. From now on, I snap my fingers, and you jump. I'll see you at 8:30 Monday morning, in your office. Bring your pay stub."

As she gathered her things to leave, she added, "Oh, and one more thing. No touching your little weiner over the weekend. No masturbating. When I see you Monday morning, I'll know if you've been playing with yourself. You have work to do, no jerking off." She pointed at me and looked at me sternly. "What do you say?"

"Um. Yes ... Miss Murphy."

She turned and walked out.

At 8:30 Monday morning, as I sat at my desk, Mandy slipped into my office, closed the door behind her, and locked it. Without a word, she strolled up beside my chair, sat her bum down on my desk, and slipped the shoe off of her right foot. Nervously, I said, "Good morning, um, Miss Murphy." She just smirked. She slipped her foot between my legs and pressed it firmly onto my crotch. I sucked in a breath as my cock instantly sprang to life. "You didn't jerk this thing over the weekend, did you?"

"No, Mand-- Miss Murphy, no. No, I didn't."

"Good. 'Cause you're a little worker slave. You don't have time to fool around playing with yourself. No jerking off, David. Ever. At any moment I might check that thing, and it had better go 'boing' instantly." She snapped her fingers. "If it doesn't, I'll know you've disobeyed me and played with it. Now ... let's see that pay stub." She put her shoe back on as I produced Friday's pay stub from my briefcase. She put mine and hers side-by-side in front of me. "Do you see my net pay, David? And do you see yours?"

"Yes."

"We're going to switch them. You're gonna trade me salaries. So that means every two weeks, you're gonna give me the difference. In cash."

"What!?"

Suddenly my head registered a sharp impact, and I realized she had slapped me hard in the face. My mouth dropped open, and before I could respond, she slapped me again. "'What' is not an answer when I tell you to do something. I've already told you several times how you should answer me."

"But Mandy, this--" At that, she grabbed a handful of my hair and jerked me to the floor, right out of my chair. The chair tumbled over, and she stood over me, holding me by the hair while I tried to stabilize myself on my hands and knees.

"I swear to God, David, if you call me Mandy one more time, you're gonna get a swift kick in the nuts."

"OK. OK. Miss Murphy. Miss Murphy. I'm sorry."

"Now, let's try this again. Every two weeks when we get paid, you're gonna give me the difference in our checks, in cash. Now you answer."

"Um... OK, um... yes, Miss Murphy."

"Very good. Such a simple little phrase, 'yes, Miss Murphy', and you're a smart enough man, David, you should be able to remember it. Now, kiss my ass and apologize to me." With that, she pulled my face up to her skirt-covered ass, by my hair.

"I'm sorry, uhh..." *Kiss kiss* "I'm sorry, Miss Murphy, um... I apologize." *Kiss kiss*

"What are you going to do every payday?"

"I'm going to, um..."

"Keep kissing my ass."

*Kiss kiss* "I'm going to, um, give you the difference" *kiss kiss* "in our paychecks, um" *kiss kiss* "in cash, um .... every payday" *kiss kiss* "Um, Miss Murphy."

"Now tell me you're my little slave, and you have no power to argue, and you're gonna do everything I tell you to do from now on without question."

*Kiss kiss* "Um, I'm your ... uh ... little slave--"

"Make sure you call me Miss Murphy."

*Kiss kiss* "Miss Murphy" *kiss kiss* "and, um ... I have" *kiss kiss* "no power to argue" *kiss kiss* "and I will, um" *kiss kiss* "do everything you say without question" *kiss kiss*

At that, she let go of my hair. "OK. Get up, and grab your things. We have a class to go to."

Moments later, we stood in front of her 9:00 Math 190 class, and I cringed once again as she introduced me as "Davey, my teaching assistant." She explained to the students that I had graded their tests over the weekend, and that she had looked them over to make sure I had done a good job. That was a lie, of course; she had not laid eyes on them since she put them on my desk three days before. She told the students if they had any issues with the way their test was graded, they should come and talk to her. This was obviously intended to make me look only semi-competent, and to make her look like the expert. Then she told them that although she would still be around regularly, I would be doing most of the lessons for the rest of the semester, so I could "learn the ropes."

So in that week, I went instantly from having one full-time job, to having two. And of course, instead of earning twice as much money for doing twice as much work, I took a pay cut of nearly 40%. Meanwhile, Mandy's -- oh, pardon me -- Miss Murphy's pay went up by over 50%, and she spent no more than 15 hours a week on campus. Only about 5 hours of that was spent actually working: She had to actually teach when our classes overlapped and I was in my own class, but of course she did no preparation, since I was required to provide her with the lesson plan to cover. 

The remaining hours were spent in her office talking on the phone or playing games on the computer, until a student would come by to complain about the way I had graded something. It was easy for her to handle this; she would simply give back the points I had taken off, edit the excel file containing the grade record, and send me her edited version. I was required to then replace the version I had with hers. When I compared them, I could see that she added points to someone's score. Her strategy was very clear to me: I take off points and look like the bad guy, then she gives points back, and they love her for it.

About once a week, in each of the three courses she had made me take over almost completely, she would come to class to touch base with the students and do a few minutes of the teaching. This was basically just schmoozing time. If she was there at the beginning of class, she would stand in the hallway with me and make me hold all her things, then make a show of giving me instructions of some kind. Then she would grandly stroll into the classroom with me following behind and looking like some kind of lackey -- which of course I was. One time she was doing a little bit of teaching while I sat in a side chair up front, and suddenly she said, "Let me show you another example of this kind of problem. Davey, do you have that other example I gave you?"

I looked at her blankly, and she said, "Remember the example I gave you this morning? You put it in the green folder, didn't you? Look in your briefcase... in the green folder.... is it there?"

Of course I had no idea what she was talking about, but I fumbled around, and opened a green folder in my briefcase. I knew what I used the green folder for, but I knew nothing of some example she had supposedly given me. 

Finally, she said, "You don't have it? Well, keep looking, I know I gave it to you. Oh, well, I'll just do this other example for you, class." At that point, she simply continued with the next example I had put on the lesson plan. After a few moments of rooting around in my briefcase, it suddenly dawned on me that the whole thing was just a ruse. She just wanted to make me look disorganized and stupid in front of the class, and make herself look like a professional. 

TCC expects us to keep regular office hours and to inform our students of the times we are available for consultation outside of class. So Mandy did honor her office hours. (Administrators have been known to spot-check such things to make sure faculty are following the office hours policy.) But she told her students that while she was available for grading issues, or any complaints they had, if they actually needed help with math, they should see me. She did not inform them that I actually had an office (and of course she strictly forbade me to blow my cover as a "teaching assistant"), and she scheduled "office hours" for me to take place in the student center. She wrote an additional 10 hours a week of these "office hours" into my schedule; during those hours I had to sit in the noisy student center at a round table in case her students had homework questions. This time was of course separate from my own legitimate office hours, held for my students in my office.

In any dispute, she took the student's side, no matter how ridiculous the student's complaint was. While my students were very disciplined about turning in assignments on time and showing up for scheduled tests (because my policies required it), her students were always turning in work late, and/or not showing up for tests. Mandy's syllabus did contain policies about such things, so at first I enforced them. Her policies were actually stricter than mine, because she had written the syllabus before she had her "little work slave / teaching assistant", and she didn't want to be inconvenienced by student irresponsibility. But now that she was free from such inconveniences and they all fell on me, she granted students' every wish, allowing them to make up tests for any reason and turn work in late. She accepted any flimsy excuse. I would try to enforce the policies, the student would run to her, she would overturn my decision, and then I would have to accommodate them. The triumphant student would see me as an arrogant prick, and Mandy as a flexible, understanding instructor who was "cool about it" when a student shirked their responsibilities. 




Yes Miss Murphy Ch. 02



One day, I was sitting in the student center holding my "office hours" for her students, and Mandy stormed in, accompanied by a 20-year-old punk student by the name of Tyler. I had refused to schedule a make-up test for Tyler, who had not even been in class for 2 weeks and had said he simply "forgot" about the last test. So, he complained to Mandy. She sat down huffily in one of the chairs at the table and said, "Davey, Tyler here says you're refusing to let him make up the last test?"

"Um. Yes, uh... as I explained to Tyler, he's been absent for 2 weeks with no explanation--"

"I thought I told you that if a student needs to make up a test, you schedule a make-up, and don't ask questions. Then you tell me about it, and if there's any issue, I'll handle it."

Actually she had told me no such thing, but since I knew my job in this situation was to agree with her in front of the student, and make myself look like an incompetent idiot, I said, "Oh. Um... yes. Yes, you did tell me that, um... Miss Murphy. Yes, I remember now. I'm sorry."

"Tyler has been absent recently because he had some personal matters to deal with. Do you ever have personal matters, Davey?"

"Um... uh, yes... Yes, some-sometimes I do. Yes. Miss Murphy."

"So now he's back and wants to make up his missed work. So you will schedule a make-up test for him, and also he has two homework assignments to make up, and you will accept those from him whenever he has them, with no penalty. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Miss Murphy."

"Now apologize to Tyler for being such an asshole to him."

"Um.... uh... I'm sorry... uh... Tyler."

"Sorry for what, Davey?"

"Um... I'm sorry, Tyler, for, uh... being... such an asshole."

"Tyler, put your foot up on that chair beside Davey." She pointed to the chair next to mine, at the round table. Tyler put one foot on it. "Now Davey, kiss Tyler's foot and apologize again."

I looked at Mandy incredulously, and my mouth dropped open. Tyler chuckled.

Mandy glared at me. "Davey.... kiss Tyler's foot and apologize again. The table will shield you, no one will be able to tell what you're doing. Do it."

I bent my head below the level of the tabletop, and kissed Tyler's shoe once. "I'm sorry, Tyler", I said, quickly bringing my head back up and praying nobody happened to look in our direction just then.

"Do it again," Mandy said. "And say, 'I'm sorry, Tyler, for being such an asshole. It won't happen again, sir.'" I sniveled, but followed her order. Tyler laughed and said, "OK. I forgive you, Davey."

"OK, Tyler," she said, "What time is good for you to make up the test? Get out your schedule, Davey."

Tyler suggested a couple of times that couldn't work because I had either my own class, or one of Mandy's classes, or my own legitimate office hours. On Tuesdays and Thursdays I had a class (of my own) meeting from 4:30 to 6:10 PM. I usually went right home after that; after all, I already had to give up my Monday and Wednesday nights for Mandy, for her class, and had to lie to Becky about why. Mandy asked if Tyler was free at 6:30 on Tuesday, and I looked at her with pleading eyes as if to say, "No, please don't keep me here late another night."

Tyler agreed, and I was required to book it. So now I would have to tell Becky I wouldn't be home in time for supper Tuesday night. I decided to use the excuse of a late department meeting.

When Tyler left, Mandy told me to come to her office when my "office hour" in the student center was done. When I got there, she told me to close the door and lock it. She slid her chair out from behind her desk, and as I stood in front of her, she said, "Pull your pants and your underwear down to your ankles."

Though I was quite shocked at such a request, by now I had learned the only response that would satisfy her: "Yes, Miss Murphy." As I stood before her, half-naked, my cock sprang up instantly and bobbled in the air. She chuckled. 

"Such a horny little man, aren't you? You haven't been touching that thing, have you?"

With a pained expression on my face, clearly revealing over three weeks of sexual frustration, I said, "No, Miss Murphy."

"Good boy. Because playing with yourself is simply not allowed. No touchy-touchy for my little slaveboy worker bee. No touchy-touchy. Now lie down flat on the floor right here, on your belly."

"Yes, Miss Murphy."

Once I was prostrate before her, she got out of her chair and stepped to my side, slipping off one shoe. She told me to raise up my mid-section, and with her foot, she re-positioned my dick so that instead of pointing upward and being pressed between my belly and the floor, it would be pointing downward between my legs. As she manipulated my penis with her foot, I held my breath, for fear the direct stimulation would make me cum right there on her office carpet. 

"That thing had better not squirt. I know you must be desperate to cum, but if you make a mess on my floor, you're gonna become a little cum cleaner again. Hahaha. I'll make you lick up your mess right off the floor."

I grimaced from the thought of having to do something so disgusting. Once she had put my dick where she wanted it, she had me lower myself back to the floor. Then she slipped off the other shoe and sat in her chair, in front of me. She placed both feet on the floor right under my face. 

"Now, Davey, kiss both of my feet. Just keep kissing them, while I talk to you. Now of course when I said you're supposed to schedule a make-up test for anyone who asks, that was bullshit. That was just for Tyler's sake. You're probably figuring out that part of your job here is to agree with whatever I say and do, and just make yourself look like a dumbass, and say, 'Oh, yes, of course, Miss Murphy. I screwed up. I'm terribly sorry, my fault, Miss Murphy.' Actually what I want you to do is exactly what you did: If someone asks to turn work in late or make up a test, you follow the syllabus policy. Then if they complain to me, I tell the student you're being a dick about it, and I overrule your decision, and if possible, I give you a tongue-lashing right in front of the student. And every time that happens, you're just gonna kiss ass and say 'Oh, I'm so sorry. Yes, Miss Murphy, I apologize.' Got it?"

"Yes, Miss Murphy."

"But once that's happened with a student, like with Tyler, after that you do whatever the student wants. You accept their work whenever they turn it in, if they miss a test and then say they want to make it up, you let them. You just do whatever they want."

"Yes, Miss Murphy. Um... Miss Murphy, may I please ask a question?"

"What?"

"Why am I forbidden to masturbate? I am sooo horny and frustrated, Miss Murphy. Do you really expect me to not masturbate EVER? Because I just... I don't know if, uh... I just.... I, uh... I ... well, actually, I don't even know why you'd care, um... about that...."

"I want you horny and frustrated, David. You know why? Because it makes you weak. As day after day has gone by, and your little balls have filled up with cum, you've become more and more well-behaved for me. It makes you such a good little slave when you're so desperate for some kind of sexual release, and then you look at me and know that I'm the one who's not letting you have it. And it makes you want to please me. Your little dick thinks, Maybe, if I make her happy, she'll let me have some pleasure. Just maybe." Then she lowered her head close to mine, as I kissed her feet, and also lowered her voice to a near-whisper. I could feel her breath as she said, "So that's why, David. That's why you're not allowed that pleasure.... EVER." 

Her presence, and her voice, and the aroma of her feet as I kissed them, and the feel of her feet against my lips, and my frustration, and helplessness before her power, made my dick twitch against the carpet and leak pre-cum. My balls buzzed and tingled with her words. 

"It was your inability to control that little weiner of yours that got you into all this trouble, David. Now you're being punished. Now I'm in control of it, and you'll stay out of trouble. Keep kissing my feet, David."

As I continued to kiss, I heard a rustling sound above my head. In a few moments, Mandy's breathing changed. I kept kissing, as my dick twitched against the hard, thin layer of carpet lining her office floor. Soon I could surmise from her breathing that she was masturbating. As she fingered and rubbed her pussy above me, I kissed her feet more passionately. It was like a reflex to keep pace with her breaths, to enhance her pleasure with my slavish worship. My dick positively ached for her, or because of her, and dripped pre-cum. 

In about two minutes, she brought herself to orgasm, and quietly squealed and grunted above me. As she did so, she brought her feet out front under my face and placed them on my shoulders, pressing down on me in time with her spasms. When she was finished, she brought her wet fingers to the floor and placed them under my nose. "Smell that, David?"

"Yes, Miss Murphy," I answered breathlessly. She wiped the juices on my nose and around my nostrils, then thrust her fingers into my mouth. "Suck my fingers clean, David. Be my little cum cleaner, haha."

"Yes, Miss Murphy." 

Then she sighed and said, "Ohhhh.... it's just so wonderful to masturbate sometimes, isn't it, David?"

Almost whimpering, I said, "Yes, Miss Murphy. It is."

"As long as I have my panties down, David, bring your face up here. See my pussy? Bring your face close so you can smell my pussy, David. That's right. Just breathe it in." Then she held my head with both her hands, and guided me even closer, but downward, too low for my mouth to align with her pussy lips. I didn't really know what she intended until she scooted forward a bit and rubbed her wet pussy down the length of my nose one time, as though to wipe it off. She smeared my nose with her juices, then gently nudged me away from her, and rose from the chair. "Stay right there, David," she said, as she stood up, pulled her panties up, and put her skirt and shoes back on. 

I remained on my knees, with my pants around my ankles, and my dick twitching away in the empty air. A string of pre-cum fluid hung from the end, and when Mandy saw it, she laughed. "Oh my goodness, David, look at you leaking. You're gonna drip on the floor, take your finger and scoop that up. That's it. Now suck that off your finger. See if there's more. Is there more coming out? Scoop it up. Get it. Good boy. Now suck it off your finger." Then I saw her bend down behind me to examine a spot on the floor. "Oh, God, David, you got some on the floor, too. You see that spot?"

"Yes, Miss Murphy. I'm sorry."

"Suck that up, David. Get that out of the carpet. Suck it. Suck it right out of the carpet, come on. Do it." I sniveled and scoffed a bit, but did it. 

"OK. Pull up your pants, David, and get back to work."



Yes Miss Murphy Ch. 03



At 6:30 on Tuesday evening, I waited in an empty classroom for Tyler to show up to take his make-up test. There was always plenty of grading to do, and preparing lessons, either for my classes or Mandy's, so I sat busying myself with that. But I became increasingly annoyed as minute after minute passed, and Tyler hadn't arrived. When I looked at the clock and saw it was 6:48, I huffed, and went back to work thinking, OK, I'm gonna give him two more minutes; 20 minutes is enough to wait. Just then, the arrogant young punk strode in, and without a word, walked up to me and put his hand out, ready to take the test I had for him. I handed him the paper and said, "You have until 7:30."

"I'm supposed to get an hour," he said.

"Yes, but you were supposed to be here at 6:30."

We glared at each other for a few moments. Then Tyler said, "So you're not gonna give me an hour? Somehow I don't think Miss Murphy will be very happy when I tell her you didn't give me the full amount of time to take my test."

He stared me down as he waited for my response. After a few seconds, I relented. "OK. An hour." He snatched the test paper and sat down at a desk to begin his test. Once he was settled in and started writing, he said, without looking up, "I think you owe me another apology, Davey."

A short, awkward silence followed, as I looked in his direction to see that he still had his eyes on his paper, coolly and arrogantly waiting for my reply. Curtly, I said, "I'm sorry", and went back to my work, thinking, for chrissake, please let that be the end of it.

"Not good enough, Davey. I think I need a real apology. Like a shoe-kissing apology. Get over here and start kissin' shoe, old man."

I scoffed. "Oh God, Tyler... are you serious?"

He kept working on his test, and didn't answer me. So again, I said, "I'm sorry, Tyler. But you WERE late, and I can't be expected to wait all evening for you. You were 20 minutes late. We agreed on 6:30. But I said I would give you an hour, so I think I've already been more than flexible, considering-"

"You're distracting me, Davey. Tryin' to take a test here. You shouldn't be up there rambling on, you should be down here in front of me on the floor, kissing my shoes. You know, if I see Miss Murphy tomorrow, I'd rrreaally like to give her a good report on you. But you're being kind of an asshole again."

A few more seconds of silence followed, as I sniveled and fidgeted in my chair. Tyler just continued working on his test, obviously fully confident he would get his way in this ridiculous situation. With a defeated sigh, I stood up and proceeded toward where he was sitting. Before I got there, he said, "You better close the blind on that door and lock it, Davey." I went to the classroom door and secured it, then went back to a spot in front of Tyler's desk. I got on hands and knees, and then stooped over and began kissing the tops of Tyler's shoes. "I apologize, Tyler. I'm sorry." After kissing each shoe once, I started to get up. Again without looking up from his work, Tyler said, "Stay there and keep kissing, Davey. Don't say anything, but just keep kissing my shoes, one and then the other. You're just gonna keep kissin' shoe until I finish this test. Oh, and I better not see you lookin' at the clock, either. I'll take as much time as I damn well please."

And so I remained on the floor in front of Tyler, on my knees with my butt in the air, and my hands flat on the floor, kissing his shoes, looking like a complete idiot, while the 20-year-old worked on his test until about 8:10. 

As the weeks passed, my horniness was making me increasingly desperate. Sometimes I'd zone out for almost a half-hour, daydreaming some sexual fantasy, and it was like I was in a trance, as my erect dick would throb in my pants. I'd be sitting at a table in the student center, for my phony "office hours", making myself available for Mandy's students, and some attractive 19-year-old female student would saunter past. Just a glance at her might induce a fit of daydreaming and make me completely unproductive for 20 minutes. Even the 20-something men were starting to have a strange effect on me, for though I never before would have made any connection between them, and sex, now a curious chain of associations was acting on my psyche and my libido. It went something like this: Arrogant, cocky, prick = Mandy's approval = my humiliation = me trapped in Mandy's web = Mandy's order not to masturbate = my sexual frustration = massive hard-on and leaking pre-cum in my underwear.

Mandy herself had become like the most gorgeous young goddess in the world to me. I was obsessed with everything about her now, and desired her even more than I had ever desired Katherine. I had actually seen and smelled Mandy's pussy now, and the full glory of her bare thighs. And with all the work she had piled on me, which consumed most of my time, she was in my thoughts virtually every moment. And since I spent so many of those moments with a hard dick, I could never escape having Mandy on my mind, since she was the one putting me through this torture of frustration.

After about 7 weeks without cumming, even Becky began to look quite sumptuous to me. For years, I hadn't had a single sexual thought about Becky. She had almost become like a sister to me. She was, in fact, a mildly chubby, plain-looking 48-year-old woman. But I found myself staring at her sweatpants-covered ass and thinking how much I wanted to sidle up behind her, put my arms around her, kiss her neck and ears, and have her melt with my touch. I dreamed of taking her to bed and fucking her like an animal. 

One night, as we got in bed, and she turned away from me to sleep on her side, I scooted up behind her, laid my arm over her, and kissed her cheek. Not just the usual peck, but a gentler, softer kiss, like a lover. She smiled. I kissed her again. Then again. I spooned with her, and my dick throbbed in my underwear, against her ample, delicious ass. As soon as she felt it, she jerked reflexively, as if she'd been goosed. "David! Oh my god, what is that?"

"Heh, you know what that is," I said, in a seductive manner, chuckling.

"Well. Yes. I know what it is, I mean, what are you doing? What's gotten into you?"

"Well, I just thought... maybe you'd like a visitor... someone you haven't seen in a while."

She scoffed, and chuckled. "Pfft. Haha. Get offa me." Her tone was playful, but she was, in fact, pushing me away. "Control yourself, will ya? Why don't you go in your office and take care of that thing."

Well. At least I learned that Becky did indeed know what I did in my home office some nights when she was in bed. Or at least, what I USED TO do. What I USED TO BE ALLOWED to do.

After two months of being denied any kind of sexual release, I really felt I would go insane. I just HAD to talk to Mandy about this. Surely a man just can't go forever like this, constantly horny and never able to cum. Sometimes daydreaming alone would get me so stimulated that, even without any contact to my genitals, and no moving or shifting around in my chair, it seemed like I might accidentally cum in my pants, just sitting in a chair fully clothed! 

When an opportunity came, I pleaded with Mandy to be allowed to masturbate. I told her how even my wife had become an object of my desire, and Mandy seemed quite amused that Becky had rebuffed me and added to my torturous frustration. She said, "Sorry, David, you know the rules. No touchy-touchy for a little slaveboy. No cumming for you. That's something only Miss Murphy gets to do, and... you know... people who AREN'T little blackmailed slaves. Like... well, for example, Dean Mullens. He gets to cum, and have sexual pleasure." She smirked as she reminded me of my trapped helplessness, and rubbed it in. "Mrs. Mullens. She gets to cum. Oh yes, Katherine... Katherine! Katherine has orgasms quite regularly, I bet. She probably cuuuuums... and cuuuums... and cuuuuuuums! From Randall's big hard dick inside her soft, velvety pussy. Mmmmm."

I whimpered as Mandy tormented me with the image of my former lover giving a man such ecstatic pleasure. 

"And of course, most of our students. They get to cum, too. Several times a week, I'm sure. All of them. Although I'm sure there are a few little helpless slaves in that mix, too. Poor souls just like you."

"Miss Murphy, please, pllllleeease. I really don't know how much longer I can avoid some accident. I mean... it's biological. The... um, the... fluid... has to come out some time. I mean... the pressure... Plus, I get so distracted by daydreaming and fantasizing that it keeps me up most of the night sometimes. Then I come in exhausted. And also it constantly distracts me from my work. It's really making me a lot less productive."

Looking back, I realize I got very lucky in the specific wording I chose for my entreaty. Mandy was clearly a very lazy young woman. She had not the slightest inclination toward hard work. But she certainly like to *oversee* hard work, to *delegate* hard work, and she most certainly liked getting credit for someone else's hard work. She had made me into her little grunt, her little minion, the one she could count on to do all the tedious, boring, thankless tasks that would enable her to rise in her career on my back. My plea seemed to switch on a light in her brain. I could read it on her face. Less productive? she was thinking. Oh my. We can't have that, now, can we?

I remained silent, with bated breath, as I watched her contemplate. Would she finally relent? The suspense killed me.

This conversation took place at mid-day on a Monday, in her office. I waited silently for her reply, and she spun her chair around slowly, and twirled her hair as she considered what to do. A full minute passed. Then she spoke. "OK. David. We have class tonight." She meant that her 6:30-8:35 class would meet; naturally, I was expected to be there and teach it. "I'm gonna come for the last part of that class, and then you need to be available for a few minutes afterward, before you go home. You're gonna bring 500 dollars in cash." At that point, I reflexively sniveled, but quickly she assured me, "You'll get it back, IF you do exactly what I'm gonna require you to do tonight, after class. If you do precisely what I say, I promise I will give you the money back. I'm gonna hold it like a deposit. If you're a good little slaveboy and do good tonight and don't fuck up what I want you to do, you'll get your money back. That's all, David. Don't say a word, just get out of here and get back to work. Bring 500 dollars tonight. Go on. Go."

I was incredibly relieved to hear that I only had to come up with 500 dollars as a kind of a deposit. If I had actually had to pay Mandy this amount on top of what she was already taking from my paychecks, it would have caused a serious financial issue. As it was, I already worried that I couldn't hide our losses from Becky indefinitely. I was still able to cover the monthly bills, but only by dipping into our savings. I could probably continue this strategy for about a year, but during that time, Becky would be expecting our savings to grow, and it wouldn't. Sooner or later she would notice. So far, I had just tried not to think about that. 

After our class that evening, Mandy had me follow her to her office. Since it was evening, there were very few people around. As far as we could tell, there was no one at all on our floor. But one can never be sure of that; one of our colleagues could have been in their office with the door closed, working. Mandy closed the door behind us and locked it. Then she put out her upturned palm. "You got the money?"

"Yes, Miss Murphy."

"Give it to me." I handed her the 500 dollars in cash. She stood there imperiously, rifling through the bills, counting it. "Take off all your clothes, David. Get completely naked." I removed everything I was wearing, including my shoes and socks, and placed my clothing in a pile. She pointed to a drawer of her desk. "Open that drawer." When I did, I saw a folded-up piece of clear plastic. "Spread that out on the floor."

The plastic unfolded to make a sheet about 7 feet square. Mandy directed me to stand in a spot about a foot in from the edge, facing toward the center. "Now remember, David, if you don't do EXACTLY what I say, I'm keeping this money, and we're done here tonight. Don't say a word, and don't make a sound. If you do, this 500 bucks is mine. I'm gonna let you empty your balls, but you have to do EXACTLY what I say." She then went behind her desk to open another drawer, and pulled out a disposable plastic glove, like one might use for cleaning. She pulled the glove onto one of her hands, and then with the other produced a small tube from the desk drawer. From it, she squirted a small amount of clear lube onto her gloved fingers and smeared it around.

"Put your hands behind your back, David," she said, as she walked to a spot beside me. With her ungloved hand, she grasped the hair of my head from behind. With the lubed, gloved hand, she took hold of my dick, which was already hard and twitching. "Don't make a sound, David, and don't say a word. Do exactly what I tell you. Stay perfectly still until I tell you otherwise." She then started to move my dick around. Not exactly stroking it, just kind of pulling on it and waving it around. "Go ahead and cum, David. Come on. Cum. I don't have all night." 

Before she even got the word 'night' out, I started to squirt. Jizz spurted out like a fountain. It felt UNBELIEVABLE. At least, for an instant. Then Mandy let go of my dick completely, and held my head by the hair, telling me to be perfectly still and not make a sound. It was all I could do to keep from whimpering as I watched my dick twitch in the empty air, depositing great, dripping globs of cum which splattered on the clear tarp below. I squinted my eyes tightly as a (very) poor substitute for furiously pumping my cock. Then I winced as Mandy pulled on my hair, downward, startling me as she hissed in my ear: "Now get your ass down there and clean that shit up." I went to my hands and knees, and she kept ahold of my hair as she went down with me. "Lick up that mess, David. Every bit of it. Do it. Lick up your cum. You better not gag. You better not say anything. You better not make a sound. Lick. Lick it up. Every fuckin' drop. You're gonna eat up every bit of that mess. That's it. Lick it, you little helpless slave. This is the price you pay for Miss Murphy letting you squirt that goo. You have to clean up your mess. Swallow it. Swallow that shit. That's it. Look at this mess you made on my plastic. Clean that up. Here's a spot over here, get it."

I was horrified to have to eat up my own semen right after cumming. Oh god. It was so disgusting. It was all globby and sticky, and tasted incredibly salty. It felt so gross in my mouth, and going down my throat. She had warned me not to gag, but I did cough a couple times. Once I had licked it all up, I could still taste it, of course, and it made me grimace. 

When the clean-up was done, Mandy let go of my hair and said, "Stay right there." She took off the plastic glove and tossed it onto the tarp. She rolled her desk chair to the edge of the tarp, sat down in it in front of me, and said, "Take off my shoes, David, and kiss my feet. Now, we've emptied your balls for the time being. So now you should be able to concentrate better and be more productive for me. We'll do this every now and then... every... I don't know, month... or two. I'll decide when it's time. So... you will never again ASK me to be allowed to cum. I don't want you pestering me about it. I'll decide when it's time, and you'll just always be hoping for it but never know when it's coming. Understand? You can speak now."

I briefly stopped kissing her feet to say, "Yes, Miss Murphy."

"Now I want you to say, 'Thank you, Miss Murphy, for emptying my balls for me, and I would like you to have 200 dollars for your time and trouble.' Say it."

Under the circumstances, I was happy to submit to the shakedown, so I said, "Thank you, Miss Murphy, for emptying my balls for me, and I would like you to have 200 dollars for your time and trouble."

"Why, thank you, David!" she replied brightly, feigning surprise. "That is so sweet of you. Such a considerate little slaveboy." She got up, counted out 200 from the stack of bills, then laid the rest on the plastic beside me. "Now get dressed quickly, and get outta here. Go home to wifey, and get back to doing my work. Remember, next time, you don't ask. I decide when it's time to empty your balls."

As mentioned, Mandy spent around 15 hours a week on campus. Having a "little worker slave" meant that absolutely none of her time off-campus was spent working. So she had heaps and heaps of free time. I always wondered what she did with all of it, but I assumed that since she was in fact earning MY salary as a single woman in an apartment, with low expenses, she probably spent a lot of time shopping. I did see her with nice new stylish outfits and shoes all the time. I got snippets of information from time to time about how she spent her time: Out dancing at clubs, going out to eat on dates, going to movies, going to bars with friends, and apparently trying out every little cafe, restaurant, and bar in town. 

Later I was to discover another way in which she spent fairly large chunks of her time, but I wouldn't find out about that until the financial hardship Mandy was imposing on me came to a head. 

After we wrapped up the first semester of my work slavery, Mandy sat me down so we could look at our class schedule for the next semester. I had been assigned what should have been an absolute dream schedule; the longer you've been at TCC, the more they try and accommodate your preferences. For example, I had not taught any evening classes for years. 

This time they assigned me 4 courses which all met on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, with my earliest class at 10:40 AM. Except for Mondays, when I had one late afternoon class that ran until 5:40 PM, I would have been done teaching at 2:10. Plus I should have been able to spend any given Tuesday or Thursday at home. But of course Mandy would fix that. I didn't have any say over my work schedule, or hours anymore. I had to keep the schedule she decided for me.

When Mandy compared my teaching schedule with hers, she was overjoyed. There was a grand total of 50 minutes a week of overlap. Both conflicts were on Mondays: She had a class running from 10:00 to 10:50, and I had one from 10:40 to 11:50. As far as she was concerned, that wasn't an issue at all; I would simply teach her class until 10:40, then say to her students, "Well, let's stop a little early today" and dismiss them. Then I'd rush to my 10:40 class and be a minute or two late, and apologize to my students, and then teach that class. 

The other conflict involved a class she had that only met on Mondays, from 1:20 to 3:00. I had a class from 1:00 to 2:10. So Mandy would do the first part of that one, and of course I was expected to be there by 2:15 to do the last 45 minutes. (Naturally, she would also schedule a break at 2:05 so that she only had to do 45 minutes instead of 55.)

So, in exchange for a salary at my level, Mandy would spend 45 minutes a week in the classroom by herself, hold 10 hours a week of office hours which would involve her talking and texting on the phone mostly, until a student came to complain to her about "the teaching assistant, Davey". Then she'd put in another 2 or 3 hours a week to maintain friendly relations with her students, and a show of authority, by coming to her classes occasionally, to lord it over me and make me look like a buffoon.

Meanwhile I would earn a starting salary for juggling two full-time teaching jobs, not to mention the 10 additional hours each week in the student center, doing the phony "teaching assistant" help times. 




Yes Miss Murphy Ch. 03



One of Mandy's classes met only once weekly, on Tuesday nights, from 6:00 to 9:35. I had to tell Becky that I had been assigned this course, and of course Becky said, "Why did they give you a night course!? They know better than that. Besides, you just covered that other night course last semester for them, because they needed someone. This is how they repay you? By turning around and REQUIRING you to do one?" I made up some bullshit about being the department being short-handed, and TCC budget cuts, and besides, I told her, I didn't really mind. One night a week might be a nice little change of pace. "Are they giving you some extra pay for this?" she asked. 

"Welllll, no. I'm afraid not. But it's OK. It's no big deal, really." But the money issue WAS becoming kind of a big deal. Becky still hadn't noticed our savings dwindling, but it was only a matter of time. 

A month-and-a-half after Mandy had "emptied my balls" for me, she perceived that I was getting desperately horny again. She scheduled another session, again requiring me to produce a 500 dollar deposit for obedience. I gladly complied, because I assumed that I would simply have to lick up my mess again, and, truth to tell, as disgusting as that was, it was better than not cumming at all. And I was again prepared to have to sacrifice part of that 500. But this time, when we finished, and she required me to kiss her feet in gratitude, she said, "Now, David, I want you to say, 'Thank you, Miss Murphy, for emptying my balls, and this time please keep my 500 dollar deposit for your wonderful kindness to me.'"

I whimpered but repeated what she said. There goes another 500 from our savings account just to pay bills, I thought to myself.

This couldn't continue forever. With each passing day, I felt like the Sword of Damocles was descending lower and lower toward me. I couldn't hide the financial losses from Becky forever; any day now, she would notice something amiss. And once she started investigating, and doing some calculating, she would know that somehow we were short by several thousand dollars. Actually twice that amount. Just under 4 months of forking over money to Mandy came to somewhere between 5 and 10 thousand dollars, which would mean instead of saving that much, we had lost that much. So the shortage would be between 10 and 20 thousand. 

I had no idea what I would tell Becky when she discovered what was going on. There really wasn't any way to hide it, so this meant I would have to make Mandy understand the dilemma. If Becky demanded an explanation, how could I then avoid telling her I was being blackmailed? The natural next question would be, By whom, and for what? 

I tried to impress upon Mandy that if she really wanted to continue this arrangment, it was in her interest not to take my money anymore, because there was no way to keep the whole thing from crashing down once Becky discovered money was missing. Mandy wasn't convinced. She told me it was my problem and to figure it out. She suggested when summer came, I could get a summer job. I told her that wouldn't work, because #1, I already teach in the summers, #2, getting an additional non-teaching job would be completely out of character for me, and my wife would of course know that, and #3, a summer job to make up for our losses would not avert Becky's suspicion at all, because the supposed additional income should put us even farther ahead, not just even.

I pleaded to no avail. Mandy just didn't seem to get it. In my view, we both stood to lose everything if the blackmail was revealed. Once the blackmail is out, the purpose of the blackmail evaporates, and then there can be no more blackmail. Her greed was going to make her lose all the money, AND the little slaveboy ringer doing all her work.

I agonized over her intransigence for days. Then, one night, as I lay awake in bed, fretting over what to do, I had a flash of inspiration. The idea would have sent me bolting out of bed if Becky hadn't been lying asleep beside me. I quietly slipped out from under the covers, and went into my home office. I turned on a lamp and stood in my pajamas, staring at my filing cabinets. In one of those drawers, I had filed away something which just might be my salvation. Where had I put that?

When I found it, I sat down at my desk and switched my computer on. I typed out an email, asking the recipient, "Do you have a few minutes to talk tomorrow, say around 9:00? I have an issue that has come up in my Math 320 class and could use some advice."

The next morning, before leaving for campus, I checked my email to find a short reply: "Sure." I grabbed a bagel to eat on the way to work, kissed Becky, and headed to campus. I stopped by the lounge and poured myself a cup of coffee, then proceeded down the hallway. Promptly at 9:00, I arrived at the open door to the office of my colleague Katherine Mullens. 

I stood in the doorway and observed that she was already in conversation with one of our other colleagues. We all exchanged good-mornings, and Katherine said, "Come on in, David. What's up?"

"Well... ummmm... I have a... a little situation... uh... there's a student in my Math 320 class, and I believe you had this student before. So... ummm... I was hoping you could give me a little insight... uh... into... this matter... um... I think it might be best if we discussed this person privately, though?"

At that point our colleague said, "Ah. I'll leave you two alone, then. Have a good day." And he left. 

I walked to Katherine's door and closed it. Immediately I said, "OK, um... there is no student situation. That was bullshit. I have to talk to you about something else. I'm in a... uh... a terrible, terrible fix, Katherine... and... I... uhhh... really, REALLY need your help." 

"Ohhh kayyy," she said, leaning back in her chair.

I took a deep breath, and reached into my briefcase, pulling out a plain file folder. "Um... OK... what I'm about to show you, Katherine, is... deeply... DEEPLY embarrassing. Um... as you know, you and I haven't... um... done anything... together... in about, um, I guess 6 months, something like that. Uh... but... *sighhhhh*... well, um, around 4 months ago, I wrote you a letter... which you never received. And... ahem... I also... made sort of a... phony photograph, um... well... you'll see. But... um... I was really missing you at the time, and I... I wanted us to, uh... you know, continue, um, seeing each other. So... I put these items I'm about to show you in an envelope, and put them in your department mailbox. Or... at least I thought I did. But it, uh... ahem... turned out that I accidentally placed them in Mandy Murphy's box."

Katherine stared at me, expressionless, while I continued holding the closed file folder close to my chest. After a few moments of silence, I said, "So, um... are you ready to see this?"

"I suppose so. Obviously you think I should."

"OK," I said, and I placed the folder on her desk in front of her. She opened the folder, scanned the three photocopied sheets, and I saw her eyebrows raise when she looked at the phony picture of her "little cum cleaner" in an apparent act of cunnilingus. She read the letter I had written months earlier, where I apologized for getting upset in our last encounter, where I told her how much I missed her and couldn't get her out of my mind, where I told her I needed her and would do anything she wanted me to do from then on, including cleaning her husband's cum out of her pussy if that's what would make her happy.

Katherine snickered as she read the letter, and then looked at the fake photo again, smirking. Then she examined the copy of the envelope that had contained the incriminating materials. "So," she said, "you put the envelope in Mandy Murphy's box, accidentally. Oh my lord, haha. How embarrassing. And I assume Mandy Murphy FOUND the envelope. And let's see... this shows you put 'From DT to KM' on it. Not to mention 'CONFIDENTIAL' written rather large right here," and she pointed. "Did she think it said 'to MM'? I assume so, or in any case, she opened it?"

"Yes. She did. She said she didn't see that it said 'to KM'."

"I see. So... she opened it, and saw this letter and this picture. Now, either before or after that, someone made copies?"

"She made copies. And... *sigh*... she brought the copies to show to me. Those copies, which I've had since."

"So she still has the original letter, and envelope, and everything?"

"Yes."

"I see." Then Katherine chuckled. "Well... let me guess: Mandy Murphy then hit you with some kind of blackmail."

"Yes, she did, Katherine. And it's... uh... it's becoming a real problem. And I don't know what to do. I really need your help." 

I then spilled the beans on everything. I told Katherine how Mandy was extorting money from my paycheck, every two weeks like clockwork, how Mandy had me doing every bit of her classwork, lesson plans, grading, test-making, everything. How she had me teaching virtually all her classes, made me pose as "Davey, the teaching assistant", was humiliating me in front of students. How she forbade me to masturbate and had extorted even more money for me to gain the privilege of "emptying my balls". I told Katherine the whole sordid, degrading truth. EVERYTHING.

When I finished, and sat at the edge of my chair, wringing my hands, and shaking my head, Katherine just smirked, and chuckled. She fingered the documents in the file folder for a moment, then closed the folder, slid open one of her desk drawers, and slipped the folder into it. As she closed the drawer, my posture stiffened, and I almost said, "Um... what are you doing?"

But she spoke first. "Well... Davey." Then she chuckled, and shrugged. "What do want ME to do about it?"

I thought the answer was quite obvious. "Well... I mean... I, I, uhh... I need your help here, Katherine. I mean... we... you know, uh... well, what I want is... um, you can't let Miss Mur- um, Mandy... you know... can't let Mandy get away with this. You know? She's not doing her job. I mean... you know... you could, uh, you could, you know, tell Randall? You know? Tell Randall that Mandy Murphy doesn't show up for her classes. You know, I could not show up, and Mandy would be counting on me to be there but I wouldn't show up, and then, you know, you could have Randall come and ask the students, 'Where is your instructor?' You know?"

I was rambling and nearly hyperventilating by this point. I took a deep breath or two to calm myself, and Katherine interjected: "David, why would I want to do all that? Why would I want to cause trouble for Mandy Murphy? I don't have anything against Mandy Murphy. Are you suggesting I should try to get her fired?"

"Well... yes! Of course! I mean, look, I'm, I'm, I'm completely doomed if my wife finds out that I've been forking over our savings to some... you know, to some 24-year-old, or whatever she is, um, blackmailer! You know? Not to mention if Becky finds out you and I had an affair, and... um, you know..."

"But how does this affect me, David? What do I care what you're doing with you and your wife's money?"

I scoffed. "Katherine... Obviously you're exposed, too. Hello??? Am I on another planet here?"

"You've made a critical miscalculation here, David. You see, you're assuming that I care whether or not Randall finds out you and I fooled around. I don't. First of all, there's no evidence that I was obsessed with you, or indeed had any feelings at all for you. The evidence is that YOU were obsessed with ME. If what we did becomes known to Randall, the result would be about a 10 minute conversation where I tell Randall, Yes, I had a few little encounters with David but it was just sex, just a little excitement, no big deal. You think Randall would get angry with ME? Hell, no, David. I am very good to Randall. I'm always there when he needs me. I'm always by his side at professional functions. I make him feel like the most important man in the world. And I regularly provide him with mind-blowing sex. But he knows he can't quite keep up with me sexually, and now and again I get a little extra on the side. He knows that. But," she shrugged, "I guess it is possible that just because of his pride, he might want to get rid of you. So you might get fired. But I'd be just fine. 

"So... as I see it, David... you're pretty much stuck being Mandy Murphy's little work-and-money slave." She chuckled, apparently drinking in my agony as she looked at the shocked expression on my face. "Ohhhh, my. Haha. Mandy Murphy. Wow. I'm impressed. I mean, of course I noticed she's a pretty young thing, but... wow. I didn't know she had THIS in her. Haha. My kinda girl. I have to say, David, hearing you talk about what she has done to you... [at this point she lowered her voice to almost a whisper] is making me wet. Mmmmm, hahaha... I can feel the heat between my thighs. Mmmmm." Then she sighed. "You know, to tell you the truth, David, I'm kinda pissed at you for your fuck-up. By that I mean, putting that envelope in Mandy's box. If you'd put it in my box, I might have done this to you myself. Hahahaha."

I almost cried as I stood up, defeated, and took my briefcase, preparing to leave. I needed to get ready for Mandy's 10:00 class, and I should probably get out of Katherine's office before Mandy caught me in there, anyway. "Um... Katherine... you, uh... you put that folder in your desk. Um... could I, uh... could I please have that folder back?"

Katherine just shook her head, smirking. I nodded, not surprised, and turned to open the door and leave. "Have a good day, Davey," she said.



Yes Miss Murphy Ch. 04



And so my appeal to Katherine got me absolutely nowhere. Just as Katherine said, I was stuck in slavery to Mandy Murphy. Now my helplessness was even more acute, since now every time I passed Katherine in the hallway, she greeted me as "Davey" (if no one else was around) to rub in my suffering. 

The next week, on a Wednesday afternoon, I was in the student center helping one of Mandy's students with homework when I glanced up to see two familiar figures at a table about 30 feet away. I did a brief double-take. There, across the student center, drinking cappuccinos and chatting, were Mandy and Katherine. I lost concentration momentarily, but then went back to helping the student. 

When the student left, I sat at the table alone and nervously regarded Mandy and Katherine, wondering what they were up to. I didn't have to wait long to find out. Seeing I was free, they picked up their cappuccinos and came over to my table. I just eyed them suspiciously as they sat down. Mandy spoke: "Well, how are office hours going for my little teaching assistant?" 

Oh, Christ. My mouth went dry. From embarrassment, you ask? No. From fear. Mandy's choice of words, in front of Katherine, meant that Katherine had already revealed to Mandy her knowledge of the blackmail. There had to be some terrible price to pay for going behind Mandy's back to try and escape her. She would exact that price, and she would have an influential adviser to help her.

I cleared my throat. "Fine," I said.

Katherine said, "It must be so convenient to have a teaching assistant. That must be just wonderul."

"Oh, it is," said Mandy. "This way I can concentrate on the important tasks of handling student complaints, and, you know, just overseeing everything. I mean, grading and all that is so hum-drum."

"Mmm, yes," said Katherine. "It does become quite a chore. Well, that's what they pay these low-level people to do. They make a pittance to do all of that tedious gruntwork so we can concentrate on more important matters. And you know, since they want to get ahead, and stay in the good graces of their superiors, you can just pile more and more on them, and they'll do it, you know, to kiss ass."

"Yes. Yes, that's so true," Mandy agreed.

"Wow. That's just great. Just great, I'm so happy for you. You know, I sure wish I had someone to relieve some of my grading burden. You know? It would be really nice to have someone to lighten my load."

"Oh. Well, you know you're welcome to have Davey do some of your grading."

"Really?"

"Oh, yeah, that's no trouble at all. You wouldn't mind taking on some of Katherine's grading for her classes, would you, Davey?"

"Um." Mandy raised her eyebrows at me, daring me to refuse. "Um, no ... uh ... Miss Murphy. I wouldn't mind."

"See? He doesn't mind. I'm pretty sure he doesn't work EEEEvery waking moment of EEEEvery day. So he has time to do some grading for you. You just feel free to let him know, any time, that you have some papers for him to do, and he'll be happy to do them."

"Oh, thank you, Mandy," said Katherine. "That will be a big help. Yes, Davey, if you could just follow me up to my office, I have a couple of stacks of homework. I'll need you to get those done by tomorrow morning."

For the next two weeks, Mandy and Katherine dominated my mind ... EEEEvery waking moment of EEEEvery day. Their haughty faces seemed like ghosts encircling my head and taunting me continually, whether I was at home or on campus. At home, I would sit, grading paper after paper, stewing in my powerlessness... with a hard-on. On campus, they smirked at me knowingly every time our paths crossed. In bed, I would lie on my back, watching the blanket poke up and down from my twitching boner, while a woman who COULD actually provide me with a little bit of relief from my suffering, lay fast asleep beside me. It was excruciating to realize that even Becky served Mandy and Katherine's interests, though unwittingly, in that her disinterest in sex with me only amplified my helplessness.

The hours I spent in the classroom, teaching my own classes, should have allowed my mind brief opportunities to escape the influence of my tormentors. After all, during those hours, students called me Mr. Thompson... not "Davey". These students had respect for me, whereas Mandy's students regarded me as a semi-competent boob. But the hours and hours of mind-numbing clerical tasks heaped upon me, coupled with the incessant distraction of horniness, was having a crippling effect on my proficiency even there. I began to make careless mistakes, either in the organization of my lessons, or on scoring my students' papers, or even in the actual math I was teaching. My students had enough confidence in my professionalism to overlook a little of this, but if it continued at a regular rate, all semester long, they would stop being so forgiving. As for my professional performance in Mandy's classes, it was even worse, because I knew the students had little confidence in me to begin with.

About two weeks after Katherine established herself as a co-conspirator in my terrible predicament, Mandy called me on my cell phone and told me to come to her office at a certain time. When I got there, she and Katherine were chatting away inside. They told me to come in and close the door. Mandy said since it had been several weeks now since the last time she "emptied my balls", it was about time to do that again. I shouldn't have been mortified by her saying this in front of Katherine, since I had already told Katherine about this practice. But I was. Then Mandy explained that Katherine would LOVE to see me pitifully squirting over a month's worth of cum, only to have me get down on the floor and slurp up the mess. And Mandy, for her part, would LOVE to show Katherine this humiliating ritual. (As for me, I felt that I would have LOVED to be struck down by lightning at that moment.)

"In fact, David, I think from now on the decision as to whether you're allowed to have your balls emptied is something Katherine and I will make together. I think maybe when I decide it's about time, I'll tell you, but then send you to Katherine to ask what she thinks. I mean, for all I know, Katherine might not be pleased with the grading you're doing for her, or something like that. She may not think you deserve to have your balls emptied. And I think maybe the three of us will have to coordinate our schedules for this from now on."

I could only answer, "Yes, Miss Murphy."

"So, why don't you tell him what we were talking about earlier, Katherine."

"Yes," said Katherine. "Mandy and I have been talking, and we think this Saturday night would be an excellent time for your ... ball-emptying ... or whatever. Randall is out of town this weekend for a conference, so Mandy and I thought we'd spend the day together. We're gonna go shopping ... you know, as it turns out, Mandy makes pretty good money for being a first-year teacher. I was surprised when she told me how much she makes. Anyway, we're gonna go shopping, go out to lunch, whatever. Then she'll come over to my house, we'll have a nice dinner, have some wine. So we were thinking around 8:00, you could come to my house. And ... well, we had some other things in mind, too. So I think you should plan to spend the whole evening there. Basically from 8:00 untilllll ... what time do you think, Mandy?"

"Uhhhh... I don't really know. I guess just 'til whenever. I couldn't really say."

At this point, it seemed they were expecting a response from me, but I was trying to work out how I could manage to get away from Becky for several hours on a Saturday night. That just didn't seem possible.

Katherine spoke: "Isn't this where he's supposed to say, 'Yes, Miss Murphy'?"

"It certainly is," said Mandy. "David."

"Um. Yes, Miss Murphy." She could see the worried expression on my face, though.

"What's wrong, David?"

"Well, um, Miss Murphy, it's just that... um... I don't see what I can possibly tell my wife, uh, to explain being gone an entire Saturday evening."

But Katherine was prepared for this. "I do, David. Or Davey, rather, haha." She pulled out a brochure from her briefcase, and handed it to me. "This is the conference Randall is going to this weekend. It's in Nanceburg. As you can see right here [and she pointed to a spot], you are one of the panelists for a panel discussion Saturday night, and another one on Sunday." 

Indeed, my name did appear twice on the schedule. "How am I on the schedule of this conference?"

"Well, you're not, really. But the conference organizers sent this to Randall in electronic form, so I just edited the document and removed 'So-and-so, English, Wherever' and replaced it with 'David Thompson, mathematics, Trentstown Community College'. So you just tell your wife that Dean Mullens asked you to go this conference, that they needed another panelist, and sorry it's short notice, but the dean would really like you to go. Oh, and tell her the department will reimburse your expenses, and that will explain the thousand dollars that goes out of your account."

"Thousand dollars!?"

"Well, yes, David, as you can see the conference is at the swankiest hotel in Nanceburg, so that's gonna be pricey. Plus the registration fee is 300. Then you have meals, gas, etc."

"But ... I mean ... I'm not actually going."

"Duh!" said Mandy. "But you still need a thousand dollars, David. Obviously. 500 for me, and 500 for Katherine, to get your balls emptied."

Of course.

"Make sure you bring a change of clothes, David. We're gonna keep you overnight."

The Saturday panel discussion of which I was supposedly a part was to begin at 4:00 that day. Since it's a four-hour drive to Nanceburg, and since I would need time to supposedly check in to the hotel and get settled, I left the house at 10:30. I kissed Becky, she told me to have a safe trip, I loaded a small suitcase and garment bag in the car, and off I went ... for the 10-minute drive to my office. I wouldn't be needed until 8:00, so I buckled down to work on stacks and stacks of grading. I prepared lesson plans for my classes and Mandy's, made tests, and basically tried, if possible, to get ahead on the voluminous workload my two tormentresses had heaped on me. 

I felt pretty pleased with the day's progress when I left, around 7:30, to swing through a drive-thru, get something to eat, and head on to the Mullens residence. When Mandy let me in, I looked around in awe at the furnishings. I had never been there before; it was a beautiful place. There was a large, rustic living room, with very high ceilings. There were wooden beams everywhere, including several vertical support beams. There was a fireplace, which was lit, and several oversized sofas and chairs.  

I didn't have too much time to take it all in, though, before Mandy said, "Put all your things right here, David, and then take all your clothes off. Get completely naked. Oh, and do you have our cash?"

"Yes, Miss Murphy." I handed her the thousand dollars, and she sauntered into the kitchen, barefoot, while counting it. She sat across from Katherine in a stool at a high kitchen table, where the two had been dining and drinking wine. Katherine was also barefoot, and two pairs of shoes lay on the floor near their stools. "There you are, Katherine," she said, as she parceled out 500 of the cash to her new buddy. 

"Thank you, Mandy. That will almost cover all the sexy outfits I bought today, and the little toys, and all that, haha." 

I didn't know what they were talking about until I stole another glance into the living room, while removing the last of my clothing. There I saw the big plastic sheet spread out in the center, and on it appeared to be a variety of sex toys: Dildos and vibrators in various bright colors, along with other implements I'd never seen before and couldn't identify. I also noticed there seemed to be laptops and cameras set up in the room, as well as two very large lights on tripods. The lights weren't on, but they were there. I would have stood there by the door examining all this equipment, but Mandy said, "Get on your hands and knees, David, and crawl in here to me. I want you to rub my feet, and kiss them. Katherine and I have been out and about all day, in heels, and we could both use footrubs."

"Yes, Miss Murphy." After I had rubbed and kissed Mandy's feet for a few minutes, Mandy directed me to crawl over to Katherine and do the same for her. Katherine, of course, took great delight in telling me to rub them harder, or softer, or to kiss her feet in a certain way or in certain places. I didn't respond verbally to her orders, so Katherine said, "I believe you're supposed to say, 'Yes, Katherine' if I tell you to do something."

"Oh. I'm sorry. Yes, Katherine." 

"Would you rather he call you something else?" asked Mandy. "As you know, I don't allow him to use my first name. Would you rather he call you Mrs. Mullens or something?"

"No, actually, I like Katherine. I think 'Yes, Katherine' is good. Because that way, every time he says it, he can remember how there was a time when my lips were actually wrapped around his little weiner, and he would whisper 'Oh, yes, Katherine!' Hahaha. But now... those days are gone, and will never come again. And now he has to say 'Yes, Katherine' as a wimpy little slaveboy."

Both ladies laughed uproariously at that, and clinked their wine glasses, saluting each other's cruelty. Meanwhile, I kissed Katherine's feet and wallowed in my humiliation. She was right. Oh, how low I had sunk in her eyes. 

"You know, David. Davey, I mean. When I first told Mandy that I knew about her little slaveboy, and told her how very impressed I was with what she'd done, I did caution her that in my opinion, she had made one little mistake. That was, of course, letting you keep copies of the blackmail material. She was, of course, very relieved that I just happened to be the kind of woman I am. And, as you can imagine, she was also very grateful that I tied up that little loose end for her. Now there are only two people in the world who have evidence of David Thompson having an affair. And only one person who cares whether or not that evidence gets out. What is ... what is that, David? Is that... oh my god, is your dick dripping on my kitchen floor?"

Mandy made a mock show of disgust, as she got up from her stool and walked behind me. She proceeded to the counter to grab a wooden spoon from somewhere, and brought it down on my upturned ass. It startled me, and she whacked me again and said, "David! How dare you drip all over Katherine's kitchen floor! Lick that up!"

"Yes, Miss Murphy." She continued paddling my ass (hard! it hurt!), while Katherine laughed. Then Katherine asked to try it, and she paddled me a few times, saying, "Bad little slaveboy. Did you lick it up? Did you get it all?" Then she poured a little of her wine on my back, and it dripped off of me onto the floor. "Ugh! See what you did? You made me spill my wine, you got me so upset. Lick that up, too."

Mandy laughed, and said, "I'm very upset, too. Oh, look, I dropped some of my leftover lasagne on the floor. Clean that up, David!"

"Augh! You made Miss Murphy drop her lasagne? Bad slaveboy! Lick that up, eat that off the floor!" Katherine laughed, getting out of her chair to follow me and paddle my ass some more. "Ohhhh, hahaha. Oh, this is so much fun!" 

The ladies continued drinking wine, laughing and savoring the humiliating fun they were having together, abusing me. When they settled down a bit, and as I continued going from one to the other, kissing their feet, Mandy said, "So David, did you notice the set-up in the living room?"

"Yes, Miss Murphy."

"Can you tell what we plan to do there?"

"Um. No. Not exactly, Miss Murphy."

"Well... there's a lot you don't know about me, David. Remember when Katherine said she was surprised how much money I make? Well, you probably thought she was just talking about the money I take from you. But actually, I make almost twice as much as you think I do, David. At the rate I'm going, I should easily be retired by the time I'm your age.

"And you probably think I don't work very hard. Or hardly at all, since you do almost all my work at TCC. But in fact, I do work hard and put in a lot of hours. A lot more hours since you gave me that wonderful gift of the envelope in my box, in fact. My other source of income, David, is I'm a cam girl. Do you know what that is?"

"No, Miss Murphy."

"Really? You don't? When you're surfing porn on the internet, you never went to a cam site?"

"Um, no, Miss Murphy, I never did."

"Huh. Well, I'm surprised. OK, well, the way a cam site works is guys buy tokens on the site, with their credit card or whatever, and then they can use those tokens to tip models on the site. Webcam girls. The site hires the girls - anyone can do it - and you verify your age with them, and fill out a W-2 and all that, then they hire you, tell you what their site rules are, all that stuff, and then you go on the site whenever you feel like it and try to earn tips. Every two weeks, the site sends you a paycheck, which is half of the cash value of all the tips you earned. So the site keeps half the money they take in, and the cam girls get the other half.

"So, you know me as Miss Murphy, but on the site I'm SexyCallie. And guess what? Just yesterday the site hired someone ELSE you know. Let me introduce you to PussyKat." With that, she rotated an arm to gesture toward Katherine.

"So tonight Katherine and I are going to do some camming together."

"Yes, and I am VERY excited. This is gonna be fun!" said Katherine.

"So anyway, David, I have my stuff all set up in there, and when I go on cam, PussyKat will be with me. Guys LOVE it when there are two women on together. So I should make good money tonight. And of course I'll split it with Katherine. Now, don't worry, I know what you're thinking, I'm gonna make you go on cam with us, too. No. Actually the site doesn't allow men on cam."

Oh God, what a relief it was to hear that.

"So no one will know you're here. And I don't want them to hear you, either. So ..." At that, she got up from her stool and strode into the living room. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do, so I stayed put. In a moment, she returned, holding something in both hands. "This, David, is a ball gag. You're going to be gagged most of the night, and while we're camming, Katherine has some chores for you to do. Now, you see this skimpy thong I'm wearing?" She hiked her skirt up to her waist. "I want you to pull those off me. Don't get too touchy-feely. That's it. Slide 'em off. Now give them to me."

I handed her the thong, and she immediately wrapped them around my head, with the crotch part right under my nose. "Now, open your mouth, nice and wide." When I did so, she put the ball gag in my mouth, then brought the two straps around my head and buckled it in back.

"There. Now you get several hours where you won't have to say 'Yes, Miss Murphy' or anything else. Just do what you're told. First thing, you need to clear this table, and take those dishes to the sink. As you can see, there are some other dishes over here. Wash them. Don't use the dishwashwer, because we're going to be camming in there and the dishwashwer will be too noisy. Then, when you're done with that, Katherine has some other chores for you. Did you wanna show him what else needs done, Katherine?"

"Yes. Come with me, Davey." She led me back in through the house to a full bathroom, and showed me cleaning supplies under the sink. I was to sweep and mop the floor, and clean the sink, toilet, and tub. Then, she said, I could take those supplies upstairs to do the same in the bathroom there. She led me up the stairs to show me where that bathroom was. Then she took me to the basement, and asked me if I knew how to do laundry. I shook my head yes, and she gave me some special instructions, but basically I wash to sort, wash, and dry the dirty clothes that were there, and then either fold or hang items as appropriate, and leave them to be put away later.




Yes Miss Murphy Ch. 04



We went back upstairs, where Mandy showed me a spot in the living room. When I was finished with all the chores, I was to come and stand in that spot, which would be behind the cameras so I wouldn't be caught on cam. I was to just stand there and wait.

They could see my dick was dripping pre-cum once again, so Katherine found an apron to tie around my waist, and I was told to make sure that the apron absorbed all my pre-cum, or, if any should happen to drip on the floor, since I couldn't lick it up, to take the apron off and wipe it up, then put the apron back on.

So for the next couple of hours, I did Katherine's household chores, stark naked, gagged, and breathing Mandy's scent, with constantly twitching erect dick, while the ladies were in the living room camming. Most of the time I was out of range to hear what was going on, but occasionally I heard some of it, or as I walked from one area of the house to another, I might get a glimpse of them in the living room. They both faced a camera, at various times in various stages of undress, or wearing various outfits. Sometimes things buzzed and I heard moaning, or slapping noises. 

At one point, while I was in the basement folding laundry, I heard footfall on the steps and looked up to see Mandy coming down, wearing nothing but high heels and lacey panties, with a bowl in her hand. I had never seen her breasts before, and I was transfixed. My god, they were magnificent. She walked to within a few feet from me, set the bowl on the floor, and I saw it contained water. She said, "Are you thirsty?" I nodded that I indeed was. "I thought you might be." She removed the ball gag, then yanked the thong off of my face. "Get down there on the floor and have a drink."

"Yes, Miss Murphy. Thank you." I crawled up to the bowl of water and lapped from it. When I was finished, Mandy stepped up to me, grasped me by the hair of my head, and pulled my face to her panty-clad crotch. "You smell my pussy?"

"Yes, Miss Murphy."

"PussyKat got it very wet, haha. We've been having FUN. You know what you smell, David? You smell the pussy that controls you. Owns you. Owns your life. Owns your soul, David. Nothing is more important than pleasing that pussy. I own you, David, and I always will, as long as I have a use for you. You will never get away from me. You can't escape. The only way you'll ever get away from me is if I put you away, if I throw you away like so much trash. And if that happens, you'll be aching to get back to me. You'll WANT to come back to me. You'll be desperate to please this pussy, no matter what the cost, just like you were so desperate to get Katherine back. You NEED women like us to control you, David.

"That was very ... very ... bad of you ... running to Katherine, thinking she could save you. Nothing can save you, David, you're trapped. You can't outsmart me. So you better just accept it. This pussy rules your life. Smell it, David. Breathe in my pussy, you helpless little man. Breathe it. Good boy. Now slip these panties off me." Once I did, she turned around, and took me by the hair again. "Kiss my ass, David. Kiss it passionately, over and over. That's right. Kiss your goddess's ass. Worship your goddess with your ass kisses. That's right, David. I'm your goddess. Nothing is more important than pleasing me. I want you to kiss my ass, and say, 'Oh Goddess Miss Murphy, please forgive my sin of trying to get away from you. I'll worship and obey you forever, no matter the cost.' Say it."

"Oh" *kiss* "Goddess Miss Murphy" *kiss* "please forgive my" *kiss* "sin of" *kiss* "trying to get away from you" *kiss* "I will" *kiss* "worship" *kiss* "and obey you" *kiss* "forever" *kiss* "no matter the cost" *kiss, kiss, kiss*

"Say it again." I repeated the mantra as I kissed Mandy Murphy's beautiful ass. 

"Again!" she commanded, and I said it a third time. 

"Again!" A fourth, fifth, and sixth time. Though she had been turned away from me, she was not surprised at all when she wheeled around and pulled my apron up, to see a long string of pre-cum hanging almost to the floor, plus a few drops on the floor itself.

She pushed my head down and ordered me to lick up the drops from the dusty cement floor. "You see that stuff you're dripping, David? You know what that is? That's helpless slave juice. That proves just how much you need me. That proves you're addicted to me. You HAVE to please me, David. You HAVE to please your goddess and make her happy. Your life is nothing without me now. You may not believe this, David, but I guarantee you, even if I exposed you tomorrow, and your wife divorced you, and you lost your job, you would come to me the very next day begging me to keep you as my little slave. You would say, 'Oh, Miss Murphy, please. Please. I know you destroyed my life, but I love you. I need you. I need to be with you. I want to make you happy. Please, please, Miss Murphy.'"

At that, she turned back around. "Kiss my ass some more, David, and tell me you love me."

*Kiss* "I love you, Miss Murphy" *kiss, kiss, kiss*

She made me repeat my declaration of love several times, until we heard Katherine's voice, from the top of the stairs. "Hey, are we gonna get back to camming?"

"Yep," said Mandy. "I was just giving slaveboy down here a little drink of water. Be right up."

Mandy re-fastened the ball gag, and then turned away from me. "Hold those panties open right behind my feet so I can step into them. That's good. Now pull them up, and then kiss my ass one more time. When you're finished down here, bring that bowl of water to the kitchen and wash it."

From my knees, I watched Goddess Miss Murphy walk up the basement steps. As I drooled into the ball gag, I looked down to see my only piece of clothing, my apron, poking out, and twitching, in cartoonish fashion. A big wet circle marked its farthest point from my body. A big wet circle of "helpless slave juice". The little fella underneath it had a very unsettling message for me, and I trembled when I realized I could not deny it: "You are in very serious trouble, buddy. For you are in love with Mandy Murphy."



Yes Miss Murphy Ch. 05



When I finished my chores, I quietly slipped into the living room to stand in the spot Mandy and Katherine had shown me earlier. I was still wearing the apron, and had the ball gag in place. The women were both stark naked, in the middle of their 2-girl webcam show. When Mandy saw me, she told the guys she'd be right back. She slipped around behind the cameras, took my apron off of me, and gently backed me up against a wooden vertical beam. She picked up some handcuffs from a little table nearby, and cuffed my wrists behind the beam. My dick continued to twitch, and poke the empty air as I savored her glorious nakedness, and felt her hair brush my shoulder.

Then she returned to the little table, and bent over at the waist to pick up something else. I stared down at her magnificent ass as she did so. She returned with a collar, and a very long length of nylon cord. She put the collar around my neck and fastened it so that the little ring on it was in back. Then she threaded the cord through the ring, around the post, and also tossed the rope into the air above me, so that it went over a horizontal beam. She tied the rope to itself in such a way that it kept the back of my head against the post, and also prevented me from sliding down. 

Thusly she immobilized me so that the most I could do would be to jump up and down in place. Or I could have kicked my feet about, but not without choking myself in the process. But the only sensible thing to do was to just stand in that spot. 

She returned to the little table again, and picked up a piece of metal of some kind. I had no idea what it was. When she returned, I tried to get a closer look. It seemed like a tiny single handcuff. She placed it up to my crotch, and I began to get nervous, suspecting she was rigging up some additional bondage involving my genitals. She placed the cuff-like contraption behind my balls, and around them, hooking it to itself on top. I looked down and saw a metal piece protruding from the front. 

Next she went to the little table and got a curved metal tube. When she returned with that, she held it in one hand while she flicked at my balls with the finger of the other hand. I grunted and winced; she glared at me to remind me to make no sound. I tried dancing about to escape the blows from her flicking finger, to no avail. It hurt!

I was teary-eyed and gasping for breath when she finally stopped, and soon I realized the purpose of her ball-flicking torture. I felt her slip the curved metal tube over my now-soft dick. At the top of the tube was a piece that hooked on to the other little piece protruding from the "ball cuff". Aha, I realized. These two pieces constitute one fiendish contraption, intended to keep my dick from becoming erect without considerable discomfort. I sniveled when I realized that when Mandy (or "SexyCallie") returned to do the webcam show with "PussyKat", all of the action would be live right in front of me, and I'd have to stand against this post, watching it and groaning in painful frustration, not even permitted to enjoy a full boner. 

As if that realization wasn't bad enough, imagine my horror when Mandy made one last trip to the little table, and came back with a padlock! The lock went through a hole where the "ball cuff" and tube attached, keeping them linked together. Furthermore, the padlock had a key (of course), which Mandy turned and removed. She held the key up to my face and smiled, savoring my wide, and frightened, eyes.

For the next hour, I stood against a post in Katherine Mullens' living room, gagged, and outfitted with this infernal "dick tube", as I watched the sexiest girl-on-girl porn (live, even!) I had ever seen. SexyCallie and PussyKat responded to all kinds of requests from viewers who tipped them site tokens. Whatever viewers wanted to see them do, they did. In addition, they told the guys that when the total number of tips reached a certain amount, SexyCallie was going to introduce PussyKat to a "toy" PussyKat hadn't seen before, something called a "hitachi", and SexyCallie was going to make PussyKat cum.

My dick continued twitching for all it was worth, but the tube kept it pointing down painfully, torturing me with every twitch. The tube was hollow, so eventually the head of my dick poked out the other end. This made the pain worse, because at that point, every twitch would cause the edge of my head (just where it meets the shaft) to rise up and rub against the end of the tube. I leaked precum all over the floor in front of me, forming a little puddle of "helpless slave juice" over time.

The "hitachi" was a toy I'd never seen before, either. It was an electric device consisting of a plastic rod about a foot long, at the end of which was a marshmallow-looking thing that appeared to be made of rubber. A switch on the side of the rod made the end vibrate. When Mandy applied the device to Katherine's pussy, the effect seemed to be intensely pleasurable for her. My eyes were like saucers when she made Katherine cum, as Katherine squirted all over the plastic sheet in the middle of the living room. I had seen women do this in porn but had never witnessed something like this in person, and, despite having licked Katherine's pussy many times, had never known her to squirt.

When the show was over, the girls spent a few more minutes chatting with the guys, and then SexyCallie announced she was signing off. Once they shut down, Mandy asked Katherine, "So did you like what the hitachi does?"

"Oh my god, I LLLLOOOVED it!" Katherine replied.

"Well... you haven't actually seen everything it can do. You're about to find out what else it's good for."

"Oh my god, I don't know if I can handle more, haha."

"Well, shall we take care of Davey over there?"

"Take care of him? What do you mean? Looks like you already took care of him just fine. Wanna go to bed? Hahahaha!"

"Haha. Well, I doubt his sleeping arrangements will be that much more comfortable, but let's take care of emptying his balls. He did pay for it."

"Ecch. Do we have to? Hahaha."

I was relieved that Mandy was indeed intent on "emptying my balls" that night instead of waiting until morning. I wasn't looking forward to the inevitable "cum cleaning" that would follow, but at least I would get release, and get this awful metal tube off of my dick.

Mandy asked Katherine, "Did you want to inspect slaveboy's work and make sure he did all his chores to your satisfaction?" Katherine answered that she did, and headed toward the rear of the house to have a look in the basement, and in the bathrooms. While she was gone, Mandy unplugged the hitachi, and then carried it in her hand as she walked toward the post where I was restrained. She found an outlet behind me, and plugged it back in, though I did not know then what she needed it for.

She then went back to the middle of the living room and fiddled with one of her tripod-and-webcam assemblies, and her laptop. She seemed to be checking something on the computer; I assumed it had to do with the tips they made that night camming together. When she was satisfied, she returned to where I stood bound to the post. Katherine came in from the kitchen with a small cup, and also holding the thousand dollars in cash I had brought hours earlier.

Mandy said, "Well... Our little slaveboy here has not been permitted to cum in about seven weeks. So tonight we're going to empty his balls for him. But why should we care whether or not his balls get emptied, PussyKat?"

Katherine replied, "Well, SexyCallie, he did pay us a thousand dollars to be allowed some relief for his pent-up balls."

"Did he??"

"Yes, he did. Here is your 500, SexyCallie." With that, she handed half of the stack to Mandy.

I wondered the meaning of this little show they were putting on in front of me. Obviously I knew I had paid them, and so did they. What was the point of pretending to see the money for the first time, and splitting it again? And why were they still using their cam names? If what Mandy had said was true, that the site did not allow men to appear on cam, then they couldn't still be broadcasting to the site. And also, what was the purpose of the small cup Katherine stood holding?

"Yep," said Mandy, as she stood counting the bills. "500 dollars. It's all here. I suppose we can empty his balls then. Did you notice this lovely device on his dick?"

"Yes, I did, SexyCallie, what is that?"

"That is a chastity tube. Notice how it keeps his dick pointed down, so when he tries to get an erection... say, when I do something like this..." At that point she stood in front of me, with her back to me, and began sliding herself up and down against me. Then she bent forward at the waist and backed her gorgeous, sumptuous ass into my crotch. "... it is quite painful for him, hahaha. But notice how, because of his horniness, he has drooled his little slave juice onto the floor below."

"Ugh. That is disgusting. Drooling onto our floor like that. I really don't know if he should be allowed to empty his balls even if he did pay us 500 dollars each."

Mandy shrugged. "Well... it doesn't really matter to me. What do I care if this little slaveboy gets any pleasure? His purpose is to serve me and follow all of my orders, isn't that right, slaveboy?"

I nodded, albeit it with very worried face, wondering if they would indeed deny my balls relief. 

"His life is not about pleasure," Mandy continued. "It's about loving me, his goddess, worshipping me, and obeying my every command, no matter the price. Isn't that right, slaveboy?"

Again, I nodded. But I didn't like where this was going.

"However... He *has* been a very obedient little bitch tonight, spending several hours tonight doing chores here at your house, has he not, PussyKat?"

"Yes, he has."

"And were the chores completed to your satisfaction?"

"He seems to have done a good job, yes."

Mandy addressed me: "So you paid us each 500 dollars, and you spent the evening doing chores for my friend, because you want to empty your poooor widdle aching balls from the cum that's been building up in them for seven weeks... Isn't that right, slaveboy?" I nodded. "But your pleasure is much less important than my happiness, isn't *that* right, slaveboy?" 

I whimpered... but I nodded in the affirmative.

"Because you love me and worship me, isn't that correct?" I nodded again. "So do you agree that next time I allow you to empty your balls, you will pay a thousand dollars to me, and also a thousand dollars to PussyKat?" I sniveled, but nodded that I would.

"Well, then... PussyKat and I are going to empty your balls, but starting now, until I tell you to stop, I want you to repeat, 'You are my goddess. I love you and worship you, and will serve you forever, no matter the cost.'"

I started chanting the required mantra, though it was muffled and unintelligible due to the ball gag still in my mouth. "Now," said Mandy, addressing Katherine, "I want to show you what else the hitachi can do besides give a woman pleasure. If you will, PussyKat, just hold that cup right here, below the end of his dick, which we can see peeking out from the end of this chastity tube, haha."

With that, Mandy walked around behind me to retrieve the hitachi. She switched it on, and came back to stand in front of me, but to the side opposite Katherine. She brought the hitachi up along the vertical post, between my thighs, up below my balls, and finally touched the vibrating end to my balls. I was still chanting, "You are my goddess. I love you and worship you, and will serve you forever, no matter the cost." My voice rose a little as the vibrating wand worked its magic on my balls. My dick was fully hard but painfully restricted by the unyielding metal tube. Every twitch was torture, but the vibrating device seemed to keep me at full arousal. 

Katherine realized what would happen before I did. She asked Mandy, "You mean to say that even with that contraption on his dick, that hitachi will make him cum, into this cup?"

"Yes!" was Mandy's cheerful reply. "After all, slaveboys like this don't deserve pleasurable orgasms. It doesn't give *us* any pleasure to empty his balls, so why should it give *him* any??" At that, they both laughed.

I winced and grunted as I felt an orgasm building, but tried to concentrate on continuing to mumble Goddess Miss Murphy's mantra into the ball gag. "Now keep repeating what I told you, slave," warned Mandy. "Even once you start to squirt your little goo into this cup, I want you to keep saying, 'You are my goddess. I love you and worship you, and will serve you forever, no matter the cost.' Remember, no matter what happens, don't stop saying that until I tell you to stop."

I could feel that I was almost to the point of no return. The first spasm of my ejaculation was seconds away. Then when it hit, I could not moan or grunt as I normally would, but had to keep mumbling the mantra. That fact, combined with the chastity tube keeping my dick painfully pointed downward, made the "orgasm" painful and frustrating, not pleasurable. This was even worse than Mandy's previous torture of letting go of my (unrestrained) dick the moment it started squirting. 

When I was done, Mandy said, "There, you see, PussyKat? His balls are empty now, and we didn't even have to unlock his chastity tube to take care of this little chore. Of course, this little padlock here has a key, but as you can see, there isn't really any need for me to keep track of that key, is there?"

"Hahaha, no, I guess there isn't."

"It's not like this little slaveboy deserves to do any more with his dick than pee, does he?"

"Nope! Hahaha."

"So," Mandy shrugged. "I suppose if I should happen to lose that key, poor little slaveboy here would just be stuck in this thing forever, and this is the only way he'd ever be able to empty his poor, aching, frustrated balls." They both laughed at the prospect, while I just continued chanting, declaring my love, and intention to serve Goddess Miss Murphy forever, no matter the cost. I stood mumbling into the ball gag, hands cuffed behind me and around the post, neck collared, with collar secured to the post by rope which also kept me in a standing position. I stood... awash in helpless awareness that I *meant* what I continued to chant... that despite having had not one satisfying orgasm in the last five months, despite having had my dick imprisoned in a steel tube which Mandy was now threatening to keep on it forever, I was addicted to the cruel treatment Mandy and Katherine so enjoyed administering. My love for Goddess Miss Murphy, aka SexyCallie, was real. And she WAS my goddess. And I WOULD serve her forever... no matter the cost. 

"Now, slave," said Mandy. "I'm going to take this gag off of you. Don't stop repeating what I told you to say. Now we'll be able to hear it clearly. Not that that really matters, but we do need to get to your mouth, because you made a mess in PussyKat's cup, with your disgusting goo. She doesn't want that stuff in her cup, do you, PussyKat?"

"Ew, no," Katherine grimaced.

"So we're going to take your gag off, and you just keep saying what you're saying, but also, since you know you're not allowed to have your balls emptied without cleaning up your mess, drink down every drop of your cum."

Mandy removed the gag, to hear "Goo are eye goss. Ah ngung goo ang gership you, and will serve you forever. You are my goddess. I love you and worship you, and will serve you forever..." 

"OK, PussyKat," she said, "Pour that filth down this little slaveboy's throat." Katherine did, and in between swallows, I continued chanting, but I also grimaced, and coughed a bit, trying not to gag. As bad as licking up my own cum from a plastic tarp had been, this was worse, because all of the cum went into my mouth at once, overwhelming me with its salty sliminess.

Both women laughed, and then Mandy said, "Keep chanting." I did, and they walked off together, into the kitchen. I stood repeating the mantra a few more times, and then Mandy walked back into the living room with a bowl of water. She set it down near her laptop, squatted on the floor to work at the keyboard momentarily, and then stood, with the bowl, and brought it to a spot on the floor near me. "OK," she said. "You can stop. Thirsty?"

"Yes, Miss Murphy." 

She undid the rope which held my collar against the post, and then uncuffed my wrists. "You can have a drink of water," she said.

"Thank you, Miss Murphy." I dropped to my hands and knees and crawled to the bowl, and lapped from it.

"Hungry?" I nodded. "Katherine, do we have another bowl we could put some food in for our little slaveboy here? Perhaps you could just dump our leftovers from dinner into one?"

"Sure," replied Katherine.

"OK, would you mind doing that while I take him to go potty? I'll have to teach him his new way of peeing, you know, haha. No more standing at urinals for him, and I can guarantee he won't miss your toilet bowl and splatter his piss on your bathroom floor, hahaha."

I was so exhausted from what they had put me through that night (after spending a full day on tedious clerical work, no less) that it didn't fully hit me what Mandy meant. But once she fastened a leash to my collar, and led me crawling into the bathroom, I realized that with the chastity tube on my dick, I would have to sit down to pee. I also realized that Mandy was apparently serious when she had spoken of leaving the cursed contraption on me! 

After allowing me to relieve myself, Mandy led me back to the living room, where a bowl of food had been placed beside the water. It contained salad, scraps of garlic bread, and cold lasagne, dumped together. I was indeed hungry, so I was grateful, but was only allowed to use my mouth, to eat it from the bowl like a dog. Mandy said I had ten minutes, and then we were all going to "bed". 

The ladies did sleep in actual beds (or a bed) that night, but my sleeping arrangements were different. Mandy threw the plastic tarp over Katherine's living room sofa. She directed me to sit, naked on the plastic, and she affixed a spreader bar which held my ankles apart. She threaded nylon cord through the ring on the back of my collar, and tossed it over one of the horizontal beams above. The state of the bondage at this point would mean that if I tried to raise myself off the sofa, and stand, the cord would yank me back down to a sitting position. 

Next she cuffed my wrists in front of me, and with another piece of cord, she tied the handcuffs to the bottom of a vertical post, about 15 feet in front of me. The result was to bring my hands into my lap, resting on my imprisoned dick. She left enough slackness in my arms that I could move my hands an inch or so in any direction, but there would be no way to raise my arms, even if I yanked upward repeatedly, trying to maneuver the other end of the rope up along the post. I assume she did this so that I could not bring my hands behind my neck in an attempt to untie the rope keeping me seated on the sofa.

Since Mandy said we were all going to "bed", I knew that she must have intended for me to sleep in a sitting position, with virtually no range of movement, naked on the plastic atop Katherine's sofa. The bondage would certainly ensure that. Preventing my escape may have been a secondary consideration, but that was entirely unnecessary, as I believed what Mandy had said earlier that night: I could not escape her... and by this point no longer wanted to.

Mandy then told me she was going to allow me to sit on the sofa and watch television until I fell asleep. She then hooked her computer up to the large flatscreen TV in Katherine's living room. She told me she had captured SexyCallie and PussyKat's entire webcam show, and would now play the video file, on repeat, so it would play on the big screen all night long. "Now," she said, "say, 'I love you and worship you, Goddess Miss Murphy.'"




Yes Miss Murphy Ch. 05



"I love you and worship you, Goddess Miss Murphy."

Then she turned around and bent at the waist to display her beautiful ass. "Blow kisses to my ass to say good night, and wish you could kiss it." I kissed the empty air, and then blew, again and again. Finally Mandy reached down to her pussy and fingered it a little, then came around behind the sofa and wiped her finger below my nose. Then she removed her lacey panties and brought them over my head. She made sure the crotch part was just under my nose, and said, "Now smell the pussy that owns you, as you sit here all night, watching her on the screen. You might manage to get a little sleep, who knows." Then I heard her behind me, switching off lights, and leaving the living room, presumably to join Katherine in the master bedroom upstairs.

For a moment, I thought of Randall... at this point likely asleep in a hotel in Nanceburg. What would he think if he found out what had gone on in his living room that night? Eight months ago, if I'd been told by some sort of fortune-teller, that one night I would sleep over at Randall Mullens' house while he was out of town, I would have wondered only one thing: Where will Becky be that night, to make such a thing possible? Other than that, I would have been excited, imagining a night of hot sex in Katherine's bed. I could never have imagined this.

But then I forgot all about Dean Randall Mullens, as I watched his wife and my goddess engage in three hours of sexy play, for the enjoyment of probably hundreds of men, who kept them continually horny and naughty with their token tips. A sound would ring out every time one of them tipped, and that sound peppered the entire show, as SexyCallie and PussyKat kissed, rubbed, fingered, and licked each other. Sometimes one spanked the other, sometimes they scissored, sometimes they 69ed, sometimes they changed outfits so that the men could tip to have them strip yet again. The climax of the show was SexyCallie using the hitachi wand on PussyKat to make her cum, and squirt all over. I was nowhere near sleepy even at the end of this incredible show, but the whole time I was tortured by the weight of my cuffed and tied hands,lying on top of my genitals, combined with the unyielding steel tube keeping my dick from pointing upward, as it twitched, and drooled onto the plastic. 

Some time during the second run of the show, I nodded off, but all through the night, I would wake up periodically, my neck sore from not being able to lay my head down. My head bobbed up and down all night, as I slept in little snatches of time, of unknown length, and every time I would open my eyes I would be tormented by the sexy scene on the screen in front of me.

For the next two months, Mandy intensified her domination of, and control over, me. Of course I continued doing virtually her entire job at TCC. But in addition, she made me call her cell phone several times every weekend, at prescribed times of the day. Sometimes she answered and sometimes she didn't. If she didn't, I was to leave a message telling her I loved her and worshipped her. If she did, she would give me some little task to do, like go in the bathroom, get on my hands and knees and kiss the floor 100 times, or go to our laundry room, find a pair of Becky's dirty panties, put them over my head and breathe them for a full minute. 

In addition, her financial domination was becoming ever more reckless. She and Katherine told me to tell Becky that the math department at TCC had gotten approval to hire several more instructors, and I'd been asked to serve on a hiring committee, which would meet late Friday afternoon for the next several weeks. I was tell her that the meetings could run quite late. What actually happened on these afternoons is that I would report to Mandy and Katherine at 4:00, and they would take me to the mall for shopping sprees using my credit cards... or I should say my and Becky's credit cards, and bank accounts. They would have me carrying all their shopping bags and trudging behind them from store to store, looking like an idiot. They would go out for dinner on my dime, while they made me sit with all the bags on my lap and just drink water. To top it off, when they dropped me off, back at the campus parking lot, they would demand a thousand dollars in cash (which I had secured ahead of time), EACH. Then they would pretend to deliberate over whether they thought my balls needed emptying, ultimately deciding that another week wouldn't hurt me, so they'd reconsider next Friday, provided, of course, that I once again brought them a grand apiece.

Then came the Wednesday afternoon, very late in the semester, when the TCC mathematics department assembled for a very important meeting. We were told that every full-time instructor, who did not have a class at the meeting time, was expected to attend. Katherine was not present, as she did have a class, but Mandy and I were both there. And, to everyone's surprise, Dean Randall Mullens was also in attendance. At first, I thought the subject, or subjects, of the meeting, must be very important indeed. But then I considered the possibility that he might just be there to pass along the proceedings to his wife, since she could not attend. None of us knew the purpose of the meeting.

Our department chair, Richard Elbens, called the meeting to order. "Three weeks ago," he began, "a group of students came to my office to complain about their math course. They said the instructor was ..." Here he paused, and then turned his eyes to the instructor in question, as he said, "Mandy Murphy."

"But," he continued, "they told me that Mandy was hardly ever actually present, and instead they got instruction from a teaching assistant, whom they felt was quite incompetent. When they told me this, I said, 'Teaching assistant? TCC does not have teaching assistants.' Be that as it may, they said, nevertheless the actual teaching was coming from a man called 'Davey', whom they understood to be the teaching assistant." 

My heart stopped, and all the color drained from my face. This was it. This was the moment I knew would eventually come, when everything I had built up, in my entire adult life, would begin to crash down. I cast a furtive glance at Mandy, who sat on the other side of the conference table, several seats down. She was stone-faced. If she was concerned, she didn't show it.

"They told me," continued Richard, "that this Davey was a bit disorganized in his teaching, but that the worst of it was the wildly inconsistent and, they felt, unfair manner in which he scored students' papers, and applied course policies. They said that some students got points back on assignments and tests even when their work was clearly wrong, and were also allowed to turn in assignments or take tests late, with no penalty, while they received no such grace for the very same errors or offenses. Moreover, they said, blatant cheating had occurred during tests, and this 'teaching assistant' [Richard used air quotes at this point] had turned a blind eye, as they felt he *must* have seen what was going on.

"I told the students that I would investigate this situation. And during the last three weeks, I, Dean Mullens here, and two faculty from another department, have monitored Mandy Murphy's classrooms and office hours, with one of us passing by her classroom, or her office, at least once per hour that she is expected to be in either place. What we found is that over the course of these entire three weeks, Mandy Murphy has indeed honored her required ten weekly office hours, and has been available for her students. However... over three weeks, of all the hours she is supposed to be in a classroom teaching her classes, we found her there only five times. All the other times... we found David Thompson there instead.

"Last week I asked three of David Thompson's students if they would come to my office and bring at least one of their graded homework papers. Each of them did, and I compared their papers to those of Mandy Murphy's students and determined that the same person had graded both sets. It was clear from the handwriting and symbolism used on both sets of papers that the same grader had scored them. So... this grader... would have to be you..." At that point, he looked at me, and fixed his gaze. "Correct, David?" I just nodded.

At that point, Dean Mullens took over the questioning, and asked, "Would you care to explain this situation, Miss Murphy?"

Mandy replied in a manner that stunned all of us. She asked, "What is there to explain?"

"Well," said Randall, "I think it's quite obvious what there is to explain. We would like you to explain why it is that David Thompson is in your classrooms for over 90 percent of the time you are expected to be there, while you are absent. We would like you to explain why he is apparently doing all the grading for your courses, and administering all the policies, while you are apparently doing nothing more than a bit of tutoring during your office hours, and one or two hours a week of in-class instruction?"

"Well, we don't always get what we'd like, do we? I have no explanation to give."

Again we all sat stunned, amazed by Mandy's defiance. Then she had a question for Dean Mullens: "Do you have any evidence that I have violated any of TCC's policies? Can you quote any college policy that I have violated?"

"Well," said Randall, "what you've violated is the expectation, when we hired you, that YOU would actually administer instruction in your own courses."

"But my question," countered Mandy, "is do you have any legal grounds, on the basis of any state or federal law, or on the basis of college policy, to discipline me, or even question me in this matter?"

Dean Mullens, and Richard Elbens, looked at Mandy, and at each other, stupidly, and the rest of us shifted uncomfortably in our chairs. 

"If not," said Mandy, "then this meeting is a waste of everyone's time. If so, then you can let me know, and hereafter talk to my lawyer."

Since the point in the meeting where I had understood its purpose, sweat had rolled from my armpits in rivulets, soaking my shirt on the sides, and my hands became ever clammier. Along with everyone else, I now sat in awe of Mandy's response, realizing that indeed, there was no college policy that addressed a situation such as ours, in which one instructor was effectively carrying out all the duties of another. Nothing in our policies strictly prohibited such a thing... because such a thing had never happened, nor had anyone ever anticipated that it would! We all realized that Mandy's strategy here was brilliant. But... I also realized that at any moment, Richard and Randall would turn the focus of the interrogation to me. 

Indeed, Richard spoke next. "Well, then... David... Would you care to explain why you have-"

"Don't answer that, David," Mandy broke in. "For the same reasons that you have no grounds for questioning me in this matter, you have no grounds for questioning David, either. Come on, David, we're leaving." With that, Mandy shoved her chair back and stood up.

Randall tried to prevent Mandy from derailing the meeting by interjecting, "Ah, but wait! We DO have grounds to question David because not only..."

"Nooo, you DON'T," argued Mandy, with raised voice. "David, get up. This meeting is over." I did get up. 

"Hold it right there, David," said Randall, beginning to raise his voice as well. "We DO have grounds because David is the one who... it's, it's not because David has been teaching your classes but ... but, but HE is the one ..." 

"Come on, David," said Mandy, already walking briskly toward the door. I picked up my pace to follow her. Obviously I did not want to be subjected to the uncomfortable questioning that my department chair, and dean, had in store for me. But more than that, I realized Mandy was my only salvation here. My goddess was my salvation. The only chance we had, to keep our jobs, was to obstruct, and refuse to explain ourselves, letting them hang us with whatever words we might utter. It is a strategy I never would have thought of, and even if I HAD thought of it, I wouldn't have had the balls to carry it out. But Mandy did. And that was just one of the reasons I was so in love with her.

With my head slightly bowed as I walked, I followed Mandy's confident ass right out the door, as Dean Mullens shouted behind us. When the door shut, his insistent voice was gone, replaced by the clicking of Mandy Murphy's heels echoing through the hallway.



Yes Miss Murphy Ch. 06



Over the next few weeks, TCC made its play: They decided to fire Mandy for incompetence, and they prepared to defend their position in the event Mandy sued. It was a strange defense, though, because they intended to argue a sort of "incompetence by proxy": It was actually "Davey, the teaching assistant" whose actions in some respects, or lack of appropriate action in others, was to blame. But since "Davey" was acting as Mandy's proxy, in the courses SHE had been hired to teach, she was ultimately responsible, not he. 

Adding to the strangeness of the whole matter was the reality that this "Davey" was one and the same person as TCC's full-time faculty member David Thompson, whom they decided NOT to fire. My 19-year record with the college was unblemished except for my inexplicable presence in all of Mandy Murphy's classrooms over this last semester (which was all they knew about), and my mishandling of duties which were not my charge to begin with. In MY actual courses, though, my competence was found to be fully intact. So since I had satisfactorily discharged my OWN duties, they could not fire me on the basis of performing someone else's duties (competently or incompetently). All I got was a strongly-worded letter that went into my personnel file, warning that any future similar incidents would warrant "serious re-evaluation". 

In other words, they had no grounds on which to fire me, so all they did was huff and puff. But they fired Mandy... basically because of my conduct and not hers. It was as bizarre as anything else I'd been through since Mandy Murphy blackmailed me. 

To everyone's surprise, though, Mandy did not sue to get her job back. She had a much better plan in mind.

Predictably, I shielded Becky from any knowledge that my job might be in jeopardy. I had also done what I could to keep her from the awareness that Mandy was ruining our finances. But one morning, during the last week of classes for the semester, Becky called me from her office at work. She said, "David. I tried to get gas on the way to work this morning, and the credit card I used wouldn't work. I used another one, but when I got here to work, I called the number on the card that wouldn't work, and supposedly it has a 20 thousand dollar balance! It's maxed out! I think someone has stolen my identity. Or yours. What do we do??" 

I told her I would check into it, and not to worry. I then called Mandy, who didn't answer, but I left her a voicemail to inform her of the conversation with Becky. I concluded by telling Goddess Miss Murphy that I loved her and worshipped her.

I also trusted her. It was true that Mandy Murphy had blackmailed me, and enslaved me without my consent. It was true that Mandy Murphy *almost* cost me my job. But it was also true that she *saved* my job, and could very likely save her own, if she were determined, and if she hired a lawyer to help her fight to get it back. And it was also true that she made me fall in love with her, and that she was a woman of her word: As long as she had a use for me, she would keep me; I could not escape. I never anticipated the brilliant way she would snatch us (or me, anyway) from the jaws of termination. But she did. Now, here was another crisis. And I trusted that she could handle it.

When Mandy returned my call, she told me that when I was done for the day, instead of heading home, I should wait in a certain spot on campus, and she would pick me up. She told me not to answer or return any of Becky's calls, if she should call again. I did not hesitate to respond: "Yes, Miss Murphy."

When the time came, I stood in the spot where Mandy had directed, and after about 15 minutes, I saw her car pull up in front of me. She rolled down the passenger side window. As she sat, looking forward, wearing stylish sunglasses and a stunningly sexy short skirt, she said, simply, "Get in." I got in. "Don't speak until I tell you to." So I remained silent.

We drove, and the first part of our route was familiar. It was the route I usually took home. I didn't know what else in this part of town might be of interest to her, or where we were heading. I didn't ask. I wasn't allowed.

But, as Mandy drove us down Pantana Boulevard, and neared the intersection with my street, she slowed down. I stiffened a bit... and then a bit more... as I realized she intended to turn ... onto my street! 

Then I stiffened even more... and began to sweat... as Mandy navigated the three or four curves along my street... then stopped at the intersection with Whitestone Way... then proceeded through the intersection... then continued half a block... then slowed down... then turned right into my driveway, right alongside Becky's car!

She cut the engine, turned to me, and put a finger to her lips. "Remember," she said, "Do not speak until I tell you to. Now, reach back there and grab my briefcase, and bring it along with yours." I nodded, and reached into the back seat to get Mandy's briefcase, which felt quite heavy. As we both got out of the car, I carried her briefcase in one hand, and mine in the other, and then followed Mandy Murphy up the sidewalk to my own front door.

I anticipated that Mandy would open the outer door and then wait for me to produce my house key to open the inner door. But instead, she went to the top of the stoop, stood still, and rang the doorbell. I waited, two steps below, until Becky opened the inner door to our house. Seeing that I was outside, she opened the outer door, and started to speak, but Mandy said, "Hiiii. You must be Becky. I'm Callie. Nice to meet you." And they shook hands politely.

Ah, I thought. We're using aliases. Though I had no idea what to expect, from this unusual turn of events wherein my blackmailer-turned-beloved-goddess was showing up at my house, WITH me, I knew she must have a plan. And I could only trust that it was as brilliant as her move in that TCC conference room just a few weeks before.

"Well, come in," said Becky. "Where is your car, David? Did something happen?"

"I gave him a lift home," said Mandy.

"Why, what happened?"

"Oh, it's nothing, don't worry about that."

"Do you work with David at the college?"

"No, no... David told me about a possible financial problem? And this is something I specialize in, so... I'm here to help."

"Oh. Ummm..."

"Why don't we all have a seat somewhere, Becky. The living room OK? You have a lovely house."

"Well, thank you. So... who do you work for?"

"I'm self-employed. David contacted me today after you called him this morning, and so I'm going to help you sort through this."

Though Becky kept looking at me, and was confused as to why I didn't help supply some of the answers to her questions, Mandy, or "Callie", kept reeling Becky back into conversation with her. "Soooo," Becky asked, "What is... what is your... I guess, title? What is it that you *do*, exactly?"

"I'll explain all that. Why don't we set up right here in the living room, would that be OK? David, hand me my briefcase there, thank you. OK, let me just set up here at the coffee table, and why don't-"

"Would you like something to drink, Callie? Some iced tea?"

"Iced tea would be great, thank you."

"Some tea for you also, David?" I just nodded. Once Becky went into the kitchen, Mandy quickly whipped around to me and said, "After she comes back in, once she is through the doorway, you go back and get whatever recent credit card statements you can find, that show purchases from all those Friday nights when Katherine and I have rinsed you. Continue to remain silent." I nodded.

Mandy put her laptop on the coffee table, and opened it to face our sofa. When Becky returned with three glasses of iced tea, Mandy immediately thanked her and engaged her in conversation. Before Becky even realized it, I was out of the room, through the doorway she had just come, and headed back to my office, where I had hidden the requested credit card statements in my file cabinets. I retrieved them, as Mandy had commanded, and brought them back to the living room.

As I came in, Mandy said, "Ah, OK, there are those documents I asked for, thank you, David. I'll take those. Now David, why don't you just have a seat here on the sofa next to your wife. And Becky, I just want to show you a little video here that kind of explains the nature of the work I do. So let's just have you watch that, and then we'll talk about your situation."

As Becky and I sat side-by-side on our sofa, Mandy started up a video on her laptop screen. Once the video file opened, Mandy seated herself in a straight-backed chair across the coffee table from us. 

When the video rolled, it showed a beautiful rustic living room, with a fire burning in a fireplace. In front of a vertical support beam stood a naked man, his hands cuffed behind the beam, a collar on his neck, a ball gag in his mouth, and a steel chastity tube on his penis. A long nylon cord ran from his collar to some unseen attachment above his head. He was flanked by two beautiful women, who stood unrestrained, wearing only panties. One said, "Well... Our little slaveboy here has not been permitted to cum in about seven weeks. So tonight we're going to empty his balls for him. But why should we care whether or not his balls get emptied, PussyKat?"

Her companion replied, "Well, SexyCallie, he did pay us a thousand dollars to be allowed some relief for his pent-up balls."

Long before the second woman said "pent-up balls", I heard a gasp beside me. In my peripheral vision, I could see that my wife had her hand clapped over her open mouth. I hazarded a glance above and past the laptop screen, to see "SexyCallie" sitting with her legs crossed, smirking at both of us.

Becky watched as the two women on screen counted stacks of cash, then discussed how the crazy contraption on the man's penis worked. She watched the strange woman, who had just given her husband a ride home, back against her bound husband, and slide her body up and down against him, and tease his chastised genitals with her panty-clad ass. 

Becky then listened to the women talk of chores her husband had done, at the house of this "PussyKat", and watched her husband nod in the affirmative when he was asked if he loved and worshipped "SexyCallie." She watched her husband nod in agreement to paying these two women double the amount for their services next time, though she didn't completely understand what these services were. 

Becky then heard SexyCallie tell her husband that she wanted him to say, "You are my goddess. I love you and worship you, and will serve you forever, no matter the cost." And keep saying it until she told him to stop. When her husband, though gagged and unintelligible, clearly obeyed SexyCallie's command, and began to repeat the mantra, my wife could take no more.

"You... BASTARD!!" With that, she assaulted me with a series of sloppy blows to my shoulder, and the side of my head. Squealing and wailing, she hit me with punch after awkward punch, battering me from the side, and pushing and shoving at me. She sobbed and shouted, saying "OHH MY GAAAHHHHHD!! DAVID, HOW COULD YOU?? HOW COOOUULLD YOUUUUUU!!?!??"

"That's all right," said Mandy, calmly. "Take it, David."

Becky continued slapping and battering me, while Mandy said, "It's all right, Becky, we understand." Becky had nothing to say in reply to Mandy; Mandy may as well not have been in the room, as all of Becky's painful emotion was being directed at me.

"David," Mandy said. "Slip down off that sofa, onto your hands and knees, and crawl over here and kiss my feet." I obeyed, and as I crawled toward Mandy, Becky stood up and pounded my back with her fists, shouting, "No! No! NOOOOO, OHHH MY GAHHHHD! DAVIIIIIID!!" Then she ran out of the room, through the kitchen doorway, shouting, "GET OUT!! GET OUT, BOTH OF YOU!!"

As I kissed Mandy's feet, I could hear Becky sob, and wail, all the way from our bedroom, where she had gone and slammed the door.

For a full minute, I kissed the tops of Mandy's shoes, while she sat calmly and said nothing. I also said nothing... as I had not yet been directed to speak. 

Finally, Mandy sighed and said, "She'll be back. In the meantime, David, I'm hungry. Strip off all your clothes, get naked, and fix something to eat for all three of us." While I was undressing, Mandy went into our kitchen and looked in the refrigerator, freezer, and cabinets. When I came into the kitchen, wearing nothing but a chastity tube, Mandy was holding a package of pork chops which had thawed in the refrigerator. "Do you know how to cook these, David?"

"Yes, M-" was all I managed to say before Mandy slapped me hard. 

"Can you not nod in answer to a question? Did I give you permission to speak yet?"

I nodded in the negative. 

"No, I did not. Not only that, you almost called me Miss Murphy, I think. God forbid you were going to say Mandy. Your wife will only know me as Callie, and you will address me as Goddess Callie, understand?"

I nodded. 

"Good. Now fix these pork chops and a couple of side dishes. And do you have any white wine?"

I nodded.

"Where?"

I pointed.

"OK. Fix us a nice dinner. By the time it's ready, maybe Becky will have calmed down, and we can get her to come out here so we can discuss what comes next."

After a few minutes, as I stood at the stove trying to avoid having oil pop onto my naked body, I heard our bedroom door open. For a moment I heard nothing else, then I heard Becky, who was clearly standing in our bedroom doorway, call out, "David?"

Mandy, or "Callie", called back: "We're out here, Becky. David is fixing dinner for the three of us. I hope you will come out and join us? We have a lot to talk about."

"I want to talk to my husband! David?"

"He's not going to answer, Becky, I've commanded him not to speak."

"That's ridiculous, I want to talk to my husband! David, come back here!"

"I'm sorry, Becky, he's not going to come back there. He does not disobey commands from Goddess Callie."

With that, Becky scoffed, and huffed, retreated back into the bedroom and slammed the door.

When dinner was ready, I set three plates on the table. Mandy poured herself a second glass of wine, and also poured one for Becky. She told me to bring in a glass of iced tea for myself (the one in the living room which was now diluted due to the melted ice cubes). When the table was ready, she told me to stand beside it, and stay put, and silent, until directed to do otherwise.

Then she went down the hallway to our bedroom door, and stood outside it. "Becky? David has fixed us dinner. He will not be eating at the table with us. Won't you come and join me? I've poured us each a glass of wine. Let's eat together and talk about what comes next."

"I have nothing to say to YOU, miss! I want to talk to David!"

"I think you'll find it much more useful talking to me. I can explain this situation much better than he can."

"This is between David and me, not you and me. I WANT... to talk... to DAVID!"

"Well... again, Becky, I'm sorry... but David is not allowed to-"

"Not allowed!?! Who do you think you are!!??? I want you out of my house!"

"Well, I'm not leaving. The three of us will be here until you and David have to work in the morning, if it takes that long. And if we don't settle this by then, we'll try again tomorrow night."

"What!?? Are you holding me hostage in my own house!? I'm calling the police if you don't leave!"

"That won't do any good, Becky. I'm a guest of your husband's, so the police have no authority to make any of us leave. If I hear you call the police, I will call my lawyer, who will be here before the police are. Let's not go that route, Becky. I know you're upset, and you want answers from David. But I have all the answers you need, so ... please why don't you come out, and let's have dinner."

There was a long moment of silence. Finally, I heard the door open. In a moment, I heard Mandy say, "After you." I heard footsteps coming down the hallway. Becky appeared first. When she saw me standing naked in the dining room, she recoiled, and scoffed. "Oh my ... god! Ugh." Mandy walked around and past Becky, and said, "Please. Have a seat here," pointing to the chair nearest Becky, on the side of the table opposite where I stood.

"Oh. Thank you for offering me a seat at my own dining room table," Becky huffed in sarcasm. "For God's sake, David, put some clothes on!" Becky stood a moment, coming no farther into the dining room, as Mandy sat down at the table, just to my right, and I stood, staying put, a little behind her. 

Becky scoffed and rolled her eyes. "So you two are going to humiliate me further by making me sit here and look at your naked body while I eat, David?" She glared at me, and I stood expressionless. "My god, David, look at you! You're brainwashed by this girl! Who IS she, anyway??"

"Please," said Mandy. "Have a seat, Becky. As I told you before, you'll get no answers from him. He obeys Goddess Callie, so he's going to stand there and be silent. Please. Eat." She raised her wine glass, and waited for Becky to sit across from her. 

Becky moved slowly to the chair intended for her. She sat. She stared at Mandy, as Mandy waited with raised glass. She moved her plate to the side. Then she spoke. "I have no appetite. I will listen. You go ahead. Enjoy my food. Since you've obviously been enjoying my husband."

At that, Mandy saluted her, and took a sip of wine. She calmly cut her meat, and sampled a bite. Becky cast a hateful stare, first at her, then at me... then back at her. 

"The other woman you saw in the video," began Mandy, coolly, "is my friend, Katherine. I call her PussyKat. She is married, but... as you could see in the video, she is... kind of a naughty girl." At this point Mandy turned her head just a bit sideways, and said, "David. Go down to your hands and knees, crawl into the living room, and get my briefcase. Put in on your back, and then crawl back in here."

As I obeyed, Becky scoffed. Then as she watched my naked ass disappear through the doorway, I heard her break down and sob. When I crawled back in with Mandy's briefcase on my back, she was still sobbing. "Crawl right up here, David. I need that briefcase. That's good. Now just stay right there until I say otherwise. Good boy."

Above me, I heard Mandy produce something from the briefcase. I heard her say to Becky, "I have a letter here, which I want you to read. This letter is from your husband, to Katherine. You see, David had an affair with my friend. So I am not his first infidelity. Before me, your naughty husband did kinky things with Katherine. One of those things ... was ... to EAT ... Katherine's... PUSSY... while her PUSSY... was still filled... with her husband's... CUM."

"Ohhhh, God," Becky wailed. "This is a nightmare!"

"Funny you should say that," replied Mandy. "Because that's exactly what Katherine said to me when David became obsessed with her. You see, to Katherine, this was a casual affair. But your husband fell in love with her. When she tried to break it off, he wrote her this letter. Go ahead, have a look."

A few moments of silence followed. Then Mandy said, "Do you recognize that as David's handwriting?" I heard no reply, and since I could not see either woman's face from my position below the table, I assumed that Becky nodded. "Now I want you to look at a phony photograph David made, to send to Katherine along with this letter."

"Oh... God!" said Becky, in disgust.

"Now... Becky... I'm a smart woman. And I know something about obsessed men. They can be quite dangerous. You cannot wish a man's obsession away. It won't go away, and it needs some kind of outlet. Otherwise, it will build and build, and eventually end up as stalking, at the very least. But possibly as rape, or murder.





Yes Miss Murphy Ch. 06



"I knew the only thing I could do to help my friend in her situation, was to get David to transfer his obsession with her... onto me. So... as you saw in the video, we worked together. And that's what we did. Now David is obsessed with his Goddess Callie, and that is the beginning of the explanation as to why you could not get gas with your credit card this morning."

Becky replied, "You're saying that that credit card really does have a 20 thousand dollar balance... it really is maxed out... because of YOU?"

"Yes."

"And you have the nerve to sit here at my dining room table, across from me, and eat my food, and tell me this?"

"Oh. Speaking of food. You'll notice there is a plate for David as well, but he does not have a seat at the table. Becky... be a good girl for me, and go get a large bowl from the kitchen, and bring it in here."

Becky scoffed. I heard nothing for a long moment, then I heard Becky, in a steely voice, say, "Get it yourself."

I could hear Mandy take another bite of her food. I heard her chew and swallow. I heard her take a sip of wine, and swallow. Then I heard her say, "Becky. Go to the kitchen. Get a large bowl. Bring it in here. Put the bowl on the table. Then sit back down."

From my hands and knees, on the floor, I could see under the table, and watched Becky's foot thump up and down, silently, in nervous anger. It seemed like a full minute passed, and then Becky's foot stopped. I saw her push back her chair, and rise, to walk around behind me, into the kitchen.

When she came back in, she plopped the bowl onto the table, where it clattered a little before coming to rest. She angrily re-seated herself. "There! There's your bowl!"

"Good girl," came Mandy's calm reply.

"Ugh. You may not know this ... *miss* ... but David and I have three children. The *youngest* is our daughter. And she is probably older than you! So I am NOT taking orders from a girl younger than my daughter!"

In actuality, our daughter was 23, and Mandy was probably 25 at the time. But Mandy was not baited into discussing such details with my wife. Rather, she simply replied, "Becky. Here is David's plate. Be a good girl, and cut up his meat, and then dump the whole plate into the bowl. He is going to eat from the bowl like a dog."

"Since you're determined to steal my husband, YOU cut up his food, you little ... "

"Ahhhhhh... Be careful. I suppose it'd be all right if you said 'little goddess', but I doubt that's what you were thinking. Now. Let's lose the attitude, my dear. Cut up his food, so he can eat it like a dog. Wouldn't you like to see that, anyway? Your husband eating like the dog he is?"

"I am not playing your little ga-"

"Becky," Mandy snapped, firmly but calmly. "Hush. Stop talking back to me. Cut up... his food."

Above me I could hear that Becky was sliding my plate across the table, to start cutting up my portion of pork chop. Then Mandy said, "Now David. I'm about to give you a command, and you may speak in reply to it. After that, I want you to be silent again. Crawl into the living room and get those credit card statements that are in there. Bring them back here on your back."

"Yes, Goddess Callie."

As I crawled away, I heard Becky scoff, and begin scraping the fork and knife on the plate, in angry cutting motion. "You disgust me, David, you DISGUST ME! I DO wanna see you eat like a dog, YOU LYING BASTARD!!"

"That's the spirit," said Mandy. 

When I returned, Mandy had Becky place the bowl on the floor in front of me, and I began eating the mixed-up mess. Meanwhile, Mandy showed Becky the credit card statements and discussed the various charges, and how they corresponded to clothes and cosmetics purchases, dinners, manicures, and various equipment she needed for her career, which, she said, was "webcam girl" and "fetish video merchant". 

She explained to Becky that our other credit cards were probably close to being maxed out as well, and that she had made me apply for an additional credit card Becky didn't know about, and it was probably nearly maxed as well. She assured Becky that our savings account was likely completely wiped out, and that it was likely I had begun to try and liquidate some of our retirement accounts as well.

Upon hearing all this, Becky flung herself out of her chair and onto the floor beside me. "Oh my god, David!" she screamed, as she began pounding her fists on my back, "You've ruined us!! Oh my gahhhhhhhd, oh my gahhhhhd, how could you do this!?!?!!"  

As she beat on my back, Mandy calmly said, "Keep eating, David, and just take it. You deserve it."

When Becky was done, she prostrated herself on the floor beside me, on her stomach, laying her head on one forearm. I watched her prone, sobbing form, as I calmly munched from my bowl. In a moment I saw Mandy's hand come down, holding the glass of diluted tea, and she poured it into the bowl, atop the remaining food. "You must be thirsty, David. There you go."

My poor wife sobbed and wailed. The future she had envisioned for us had evaporated in a mere two hours. She was right. We were ruined. She was right. I was a lying bastard. She was right. I was a horrible, disgusting person for doing this to her.

When I finished lapping up the tea in the bowl, and then eating the soggy mess below, I just raised my head up, and waited on hands and knees for "Goddess Callie"'s next order. Mandy had long ago finished her dinner. She sat patiently while Becky continued to sob on the floor in despair. Once the sobbing evolved into more of a gentle whimper, Mandy said, with a touch of sympathy in her voice, "Becky... I know it seems like your future is just ruined... but it's not. Goddess Callie has a way out of all this. Let's get up from the floor, OK? Goddess Callie taketh away. But she also giveth. Why don't you be a good girl, and crawl over here to Goddess Callie, and let me wipe away your tears."

Something incredible happened to me as I listened to Mandy talk to my wife this way. My dick started to stiffen inside the chastity tube. I heard renewed vigorous sobbing from Becky, as she listened to Mandy speak to her like a little child in need of a mother's comfort. I thought, My god, the audacity of this incredible young woman!

"You've done this to us, too!" Becky wailed, shouting into her arm.

"Yes, I have," Mandy replied. "But I can make it all better. So come on. Crawl to Goddess Callie, on your hands and knees, and let me tell you how to save your future."

Becky sobbed pitifully, as I watched, transfixed, from my hands-and-knees position. 

Becky and I met each other in our first year at Bellewood College. We were each 18 years old. I majored in education; she had intended to be a nursing major. I proposed to her during our sophomore year, and we married at age 20. We lived in student housing, and when Becky became pregnant with our first child, she dropped out of college. When our oldest son was a few months old, she began working part-time in the office of an insurance company. 

After I graduated, we moved to Trentstown so I could enroll in a masters program at Trentstown University, and I also began teaching at Pantana High School. Our second and third children came. We decided three was enough, so when our daughter was about a year old, Becky returned to work full-time, in the office of a medical supply company. She has worked there for 22 years, and for the last 19, I've worked at TCC. 

We bought our house when we were 25, with a 20-year mortgage which is now paid off. We raised our children in this house we have lived in for 24 years. Fortunately for us, my financial irresponsiblity over the last 8 or 9 months has, at least, not driven me to take out another mortgage on the home.

All three of our children graduated from Pantana High and then went on to college. Our daughter went to TU, and graduated last year, after which she got married. She lives on the other side of Trentstown. She and her husband have no children yet. Our two sons live in other states. Each is married, and each has two children. So Becky and I have four grandchildren.

As I watched my wife cry, I wondered if she was also thinking of our children. What would they think if they came into our dining room right now, and saw their father naked on hands and knees, their mother lying face-down sobbing nearby, and an imperious young woman sitting at our dining room table drinking wine?

After tonight, I held out no hope for being able to keep my children's respect. Mandy had exposed me to Katherine. Then she exposed me to all my colleagues at work. Then she exposed me to my wife. I was certain my children were next, and, apart from possibly future students, there would be no one left to respect me. 

But there was hope for Becky. She could file for divorce, hire a good attorney who could gather clear evidence of my infidelity, sue for alimony, keep our house... She could have our children's and grandchildren's love, respect, and sympathy. All she had to do tonight, was get up off the floor, leave our house, and drive to our daughter's house. 

Of course Mandy knew, too, that Becky had that option. But... Mandy must have something else in mind, I realized. The divorce option would not require Becky to crawl across the floor to Goddess Callie. So what WAS Mandy's alternative?

Evidently, Becky wondered the same thing. Weakly, she pushed her upper body up off the floor. She bent herself back to sit on her heels. She sighed. She glanced at me, red-faced and sad, and whimpered once more when she saw me, emotionless and completely under Mandy's spell.

Then she pivoted forward, placed her hands flat on the floor, and with one last sob, began to crawl in Mandy's direction. 

When Becky reached her, Mandy said, "Theeeere you go. That's a good girl. Come here. Let me wipe your tears. Everything's going to be OK. You'll see." I watched my wife's ass, and heard her continue to sniffle, as Mandy wiped her tears, and stroked her hair. She had Becky lay her head in her lap, saying, "Shhh. Shhhhh. It's OK. That's a good girl." My dick twitched against the steel chastity tube.

Once Becky seemed calm, Mandy said, "David. I want you to lie on your back, and I want you to slide yourself up between Becky's knees." I obeyed, almost saying, "Yes, Goddess Callie," but then remembering that I was still supposed to be silent.

When my head was between Becky's knees, Mandy said, "Now, David. I want you to reach up and unfasten Becky's jeans, and then slide them off of her. Becky, honey... I want you to lift up your knees so David can get those jeans off of you."

When Becky's jeans were off, Mandy said, "Now, David. Slide Becky's panties off of her. Good boy. Now, David, you just lie there, and keep your mouth shut. Becky, I want you to lower yourself down and sit on your lying bastard husband's face. Just use his head as a seat. That's all you need to do. Just sit on his face while Goddess Callie tells you how we're gonna work this all out. There you go. Good girl. If you get upset, you can just *grind* yourself on his face if you want. Don't worry about whether he can breathe. He doesn't deserve to breathe anyway, does he? The lying, cheating dog. Try not to break his nose or anything, we don't wanna have to deal with the emergency room tonight on top of everything else. But otherwise, you just bounce, and pound his face, or grind on it, or whatever you wanna do. If he moves his head out from under, trying to get a breath, you just feel free to slap him hard! And tell him to get his head back under there!"

Hearing this talk, and smelling Becky's pussy, and feeling her weight on my face, was making my dick twitch, and drool all over the dining room rug. At first Becky rested her full weight, and simply shifted forward and back. It was indeed very difficult to breathe. After a while, she did start to bounce a little, occasionally with some force, and grind around, rotating herself on my face.

Unlike the rest of the evening's proceedings, I was not able to hear what followed completely. I was too busy fighting for air most of the time. As Mandy explained her plan to Becky, I thrashed about, occasionally freeing my head and gasping. And Becky had no misgivings about slapping me when I did, and commanding, "Get back under there, you cheating bastard!"

But from what I *could* make out of the conversation, Mandy, hereafter always known to both of us as Goddess Callie, proposed that, as she had quite a bit of money (thanks to me), and had been saving it, she could certainly afford a down payment on a house, and she was in the market for one. Her apartment was not big enough to enable her to devote a nice, large space to her webcamming. She offered to buy our house at fair market value. If Becky desired, she could use the proceeds of the sale of the house to leave me and get a new start. But she knew that neither I nor Becky wanted to subject our children to a future without both of their parents, or a future in which their parents were divorced. Furthermore, despite Becky *herself* having now discovered what a worthless, lying, disgusting, selfish bastard I was, Callie knew that Becky would not want her children and grandchildren to have to bear that same knowledge. 

So, Callie continued, Becky could exercise the option of taking the proceeds of the house sale, and going her own way. But, she warned, if Becky divorced me, and attempted to get alimony from me, Callie would make me quit my job, and I would have no income to come after, and of course would have no retirement or other assets once Callie liquidated them. "He will just live with me, here in this house, as my slave, and my maid, getting fed from bowls on the floor, until he dies, penniless."

But, if she instead chose to stay married to me, then both of us would live in the house as her slaves. But Becky would be a much more privileged slave, allowed to sleep in a comfortable bed, allowed to eat from plates and use silverware, allowed to drink from glasses, allowed to make plans and go out socially, allowed to go on dates, even! (This part Callie attempted to sell with much enthusiasm.) And Becky would have free reign to boss her husband around, giving him any orders that did not contradict or nullify whatever orders Goddess Callie gave. "In my absence, or even in my presence, you have full authority to punish him for any disobedience or infractions, in any way you choose."

Though Callie would control all the money coming into the house, she would provide Becky with a generous allowance. She would allow both of us to travel to see our children and grandchildren at holiday times. "You will be in complete charge of David, but in front of your family, you can pretend that everything is just peachy. When you retire to the guest rooms in their houses, you can sleep in the bed, and make your slave hubby sleep on the floor, hahaha!" Our children could also visit the house (Callie's house) for a few days in total, each year, and some of the time Callie might be present, so she would simply be explained as a boarder, to which we rented a room. 

And best of all, Becky would be allowed to cum any time she wanted, with anyone she wanted, in any way she wanted, and ... best-best-BEST! of all... Becky would be the sole owner of her miserable husband's chastity tube key!

My eyes, already wide from near-suffocation, widenened even more when I heard Callie say that! But when Becky heard it, there was a different response. I could smell her pussy more strongly, and she began to sort of squish it onto, and against, my nose. Soon I could feel wetness on my nose, and before long, my wife was smearing her pussy juices all over my face, panting and grinding until she came, sort of doubling over forward, throwing her arms across Callie's lap and moaning in pleasure.

By the end of that summer, Becky and I had closed on the sale of our house. The buyer's signature line read "Amanda Caledonia Murphy". Mail that came to our house, or rather, Mandy/Callie's house, after that, was addressed to "AC MURPHY". Callie took over our master bedroom, redecorating it and making it hers. She took my office and made it into her camming room. I was no longer allowed a home office, as Becky decided that I would no longer be allowed to do any TCC work from home. Becky came up with the idea of selling my car, and converting the proceeds into part of Callie's wardrobe. I was expected to ride the bus to and from work, and do all my work on campus and bring none home. This way, once I walked from the bus stop and came in the house, I would be available for both women to boss me around.

As a result I did all of the household chores, inside and out, while my wife, and my goddess, enjoyed themselves. Becky took our daughter's old bedroom for hers. I had no bedroom, and Callie let Becky decide where I would sleep, as long as it was not in a bed. Becky agreed wholeheartedly that I did not deserve a bed anyway, and most nights I slept on the floor beside Becky's bed, so that any time of the night, if Becky woke up and found herself horny, she could snap her fingers to have me wake up, slither up between her legs, and lick her pussy to orgasm. Or, if she preferred, she could slide off the bed and onto my face, and grind away until satisfied.

The only time I ever got to "empty my balls" was when Callie wanted to make a fetish video, for sale from her internet video site, showing a helpless slave in chastity, brought to a painful squirt thanks to a hitachi wand applied to his balls. Needless to say, I was forced to drink my issue afterward. Becky had never seen that part, when Callie first shocked her with a video in our living room. But when she saw Callie do it to me live, she loved it!

Other than the occasional hitachi treatment, I was allowed NO pleasure. Callie turned the key to my chastity tube over to Becky, and I never saw it again. In addition to Becky demanding oral service on a regular basis, now and then Callie would bring a date back, and fuck him in our old bedroom. Sometimes Becky would be in the bedroom with them, as a kind of handmaiden for both of them. It's likely she joined in the sex during some of these trysts, if the man wanted it. But what Becky absolutely adored was to come out of the bedroom with Callie, while Callie's date lay exhausted in our old bed, and make me lie down so Callie could squat over my face and let the man's cum run into my open mouth. Callie would return to the bedroom, but Becky would remain, to slap me, and kick me, and tell me what a disgusting perverted pig I was, as I swallowed the man's jizz.

But while I was constantly horny, and forever denied relief, Callie unlocked all kinds of dormant passion in my wife. True to her word, she allowed Becky to cum any way she wanted, any time she wanted. She was not heavy-handed, nor even very demanding, with Becky, who quickly became a very willing slave, very eager to please her goddess. So there was never really anything to punish Becky for. But Callie introduced her to paddles and whips and bondage, mainly for play. Becky liked it so much that she, too, applied to the camming website, calling herself SubSlutShannon, and she started camming with SexyCallie in the evenings, posing as Callie's "mommy slut slave". While all sorts of sexy sounds emanated from my old office, I, the real slave, would spend the evening toiling away, scrubbing floors, and doing laundry and dishes and such.

Callie lived in luxury off of three incomes, and made it clear to us that there would be no retirement for us. No leisurely years, no condo in Florida, no traveling the country in a motor home. If we got too old and sickly to be useful to her, she told us she would persuade our children to put us in nursing homes, one, and then the other. Once we were both in, she would tell our children that we were their problem, and guess what? Their parents' house doesn't actually belong to them; it belongs to me, and has for years. Your parents' stuff is in such-and-such storage garage; you have a month until my payment on it lapses, and you can take it over. And then, so long, suckers.




Yes Miss Murphy Ch. 06



By the time Callie revealed to us this heartless plan, my wife was so in love with her that she just kissed her feet, and said, "As you wish, Goddess Callie. I hope I can serve you for many, many more years to come, and be useful to you, and worship you. I hope David goes first. I don't care if he rots away in a home. I'm gonna tell our children he's too demented to even know who we are. I'll tell them not to bother even visiting. He'll die there all alone, with his stupid dick locked up, and I hope he has cruel nurses who sit on his useless face at night, and slap his old wrinkly balls, and forget to feed him, and make him piss himself in his bed. But I want to be here with you for many, many more happy years."

Becky asked Callie where I'd met Katherine, since my affair with her had started me down the path to ruining our former dreams. Since Becky had never met Katherine Mullens, she did not recognize her as "PussyKat" in the video. Callie never showed her the TCC envelope in which I had placed the incriminating letter, and fake photo. So Becky did not know Katherine was a co-worker. Callie just said, "Ohhh, that's not important, dear. To protect the innocent, I'm not going to say. And I don't think you really wanna know. Where do you think a man would go to meet a seedy woman like her?" In Becky's naivete, I'm sure she imagined all kinds of shady places, where her husband must have been slinking around, looking to get into trouble. Becky still doesn't realize that a man can meet a seedy woman anywhere. 

So Becky never knew Katherine was a co-worker. Even more incredible is that she never knew Callie/Mandy was, either. As far as she knew, Callie just happened to be a friend of Katherine's, and that is how Callie and I had met. Even if, by some miracle, or some odd circumstance, Becky ever had occasion to investigate whether a Callie, or Caledonia, or A.C., Murphy had ever been employed by TCC, she would be told, No. No such woman has ever been in our employ. I knew this because I got curious about exactly what name she had used at TCC. It was easy to find out, because before her e-mail account was disabled, the online TCC directory gave everyone's full names, as they appeared in all personnel records. Her listing read, simply, "Mandy Murphy". 

And that is the story of how I nearly wrecked my marriage and someone else's, and nearly blew my 26-year teaching career all to hell, and nearly lost a roof over my and my wife's heads, and nearly lost the respect and love of my children and grandchildren, and how Mandy Murphy, aka Miss Murphy, aka Goddess Miss Murphy, aka SexyCallie, aka Goddess Callie, aka A.C. Murphy, aka Amanda Caledonia Murphy, saved it all.