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Teacher Finds a Master Ch. 01

By: StoryTeller07



Emails

Danny was surfing the net at a neighbour's house, trying to find something to relieve the boredom. Danny's parents had "volunteered him", to look after a neighbour's house while the guy was away. Even though he wasn't being paid, an eighteen year old appreciates every minute away from parents.

'What the hell!' he whooped.

Mr Johnson was a bachelor, and Danny found one of the reasons why. The man had an email account with women writing to him. Looking through the most recent emails, he figured that's where the guy was, visiting one of them. Danny started reading through the emails to discover how their interest was kept. The man seemed to talk down to them, and surprisingly they loved it. They called him sir, or even master. 

'Damn! She is so sexy,' he murmured. 

Some of the women sent photos, though only one included her face, whereas the others sensibly avoided identification. Of course they wanted to remain anonymous, after the filthy things they mentioned in emails.

Danny grabbed a bunch of tissues and fisted himself. It couldn't be avoided. A hard-on was throbbing from the things they mentioned, almost as much as the photos. He soon cum, and wiped up the mess. He made a point of disposing of the evidence in the kitchen wastebasket, with a mental note to empty it before leaving.

The last thing he wanted was Mr Johnson finding out he'd been exploring this secret world. The women seemed to be falling over themselves to have him talk dirty to them. Some of them were as crude as he was. It was a surprise to find that women could be so dirty minded. Now he was calmer, he noticed a pattern.

It wasn't just filth, but something else. He was telling them what to do. They wanted him to tell them what to do. One of them was asking advice, and not just in the bedroom. She wanted him to dominate her, and kept calling him master. That was the word for it. She wanted him to dominate her, and for him to be her master. 

He followed her trail of emails, reading them more carefully. He was learning something new, something completely unexpected. Some of the terminology had to be looked up on the internet, especially the abbreviations. He concluded they were submissive, and Mr Johnson was a dominant male. 

It seemed so obvious now. In the animal kingdom, males fought for dominance in the herd. What was that boring animal program he watched with his parents? A young male challenged the dominant male, and ended up carving out some young females to start a new herd.

Danny sat thinking about winning one of Mr Johnson's females. It would be fun getting them to do things. Of course, they wouldn't actually do anything. They would only pretend to obey, yet that was exciting enough. He had evidence of that.

He imagined having an older woman talking dirty to him. Just the idea of receiving filthy emails with pictures, was enough to give him a boner. 

He patted his cock, and told it, 'Relax buddy, you've had your fun for today.'

He picked an email from the latest fan, and carefully read it.

***

'I've read your resume on the notice board, and was hoping you would consider me,' Miss Spanked.

'I'm sorry to be impatient, sir, but I am keen to find the right master. This is my first time contacting a potential master, though I have been a member of the club for some time. To start the with I include my details. If accepted, what would you demand of me?' Miss Spanked.

***

Danny read through the personal details, wondering if they were accurate. On the internet she could be anyone, even a man. He looked up on the internet what the figures she supplied meant. They were pretty obvious once explained. She had a nice figure, which meant large breasts. She was thirty-eight, but that didn't matter. In fact, the possibility of teasing an adult twenty years older, was more of a thrill.

He sent the two emails from Miss Spanked, to his lap top. He deleted the originals from Mr Johnson's computer, and from the delete folder. They had arrived while the man was away, so they wouldn't be missed.

He set up a new email address, and composed a reply. 

'I accept you on a trial basis only. You will join my harem, if you pass. In the meantime you will respond to this more personal email address. I warn you, you may regret having a strict and demanding master. Do you wish to continue?'

The email wasn't exactly to the same quality as Mr Johnson's, but then the man had plenty of practice. He copied the rest of the emails to his lap top, to research some ideas.

'Wow!' he laughed, when the laptop pinged.

He clicked and chuckled at what he saw. 'They're damn quick, how in hell did they get this new address?' 

The advert for penis enlargement was deleted. 

'Well, I guess it'll come to nothing anyway,' he murmured.

He started reading through some of the old emails, finding them tedious. Some of the more recent ones had been hot, especially the ones with photos attached. It dawned on him that Mr Johnson had improved his technique over the months, and the women were responding to him more blatantly.

It was difficult to pin down what was different. A phrase or word used here and there seemed to make all the difference. He sighed heavily. It was all a waste of time. No one was going to respond to him. Especially not a mature woman. She would judge he was just a kid, and flip him off.

Another ping, and he clicked the email account. An email from Miss Spanked! He sat there for a moment wondering if he should continue. 

'What does it matter if she finds me out. I don't know her, and she doesn't know me,' he laughed.

***

'Yes, master, thank you master for excepting me. I sincerely hope I can pass your test. After reading others comments in the forum, I believe you will be the master for me, and hope I can be all you want in a slave. Please test me, master. In anticipation, your dutiful slave.'

***

He hesitated replying. He imagined her impatiently waiting for a reply. Would she be calm or nervous? He glanced through Mr Johnson's emails, and found what he was looking for.

'Tell me what you are wearing, how you feel, and why. You are not my slave yet, therefore you are not entitled to call me master, so call me sir.'

She was a fast typist. The answer came back while he was looking through more progressive emails. 

***

'Sorry, sir. Your potential slave will try not to impose herself upon you, and try her hardest not to disappoint you. I am dressed in jeans and t-shirt. I guess it's not what you would wish, but I didn't expect to be corresponding with you so quickly. Please order me to dress according to your wishes. I felt pleased to receive your email, yet now feel nervous. I've never tried this before, and I'm afraid of failure. I feel in need of a master, so hope you will accept me. Please test me, so I may call you master.'

***

Danny read through the email. There wasn't a clue as to her identity, and he feared she might be a man. The idea was weird. Still, he had nothing else better to do. 

'Did you discover how demanding I can be from the notice board? Are you up to being my obedient slave? What clothes do you have that are suitable for a slave? If you really have studied the notice board, you will know what I demand of my slaves. Can you fulfil my stringent requirements?'

Danny sat back with arms folded. He was challenging her. Would she take the bait?

***

'Sir, your potential slave has read, and re-read, the comments of slaves on the club notice board. I imagined being your slave, and practised in my bedroom a slave pose, described by one of your slaves. I hadn't anticipated contacting you then, sir, so it was just a foolish fantasy. I bought an outfit described by one of your slaves. A short black dress, low cut, with red high heels, black stockings and suspenders. Your potential slave hopes you approve, sir. I promise to obey your commands, and report to you every day, sir. I sincerely hope I can fulfil your requirements as a slave. Please say you will take me as your slave, sir.'

***

Danny wondered if this would go anywhere. The emails with pictures were interesting but this didn't do anything for him.

'You say you have studied my requirements from what slaves have written on the notice board. Yet, you have written to me and continue to do so, while dressed in unacceptable clothing. You do not deserve to be my slave. You lack discipline, and thought for a master. Convince me I should start your training. Send me a picture with you bent over, jeans down, with a rule in your hand, spanking yourself. Be quick, or I will move on to a more suitable candidate.'

Danny figured he was pushing too quickly. Mr Johnson took his time before making big demands on a woman. If she was pissed off, so what? He was getting bored anyway. No answer pinged, so he figured the emails were enough for her. She didn't really want to get too involved. He started looking through the photos, and was again impressed with what Mr Johnson had got them to do. 

'Bet it's another sales email. Wow! Naughty, Miss Spank,' he chortled. 

An unsteady photo of a female bottom, clad in sensible cotton panties, was attached to the email. A ruler was pressing a cheek. Another photo, the same, except the ruler was lifted. 

'Damn! Miss Spank!' he laughed. 

She'd sent him a personal picture. It was real, he was sure of it. Probably.

The second picture was clearer. Not having seen a woman from this angle before it was difficult to tell how old she was. Her bottom looked huge as it was too close to the lens. He zoomed into the image. Wisps of pubic hair peeked out from the panty crotch. 

He could make out she had a thin waist, and her bottom was a cute heart shape. She wasn't bad for thirty-eight. Why had she sent a photo so readily? Miss Spank! Was that it? Had he demanded what she wanted, a spanking? There were a couple of women Mr Johnson regularly told to spank themselves as a punishment. Of course, they might have told him they performed his demands, but had they?

Still. It was the thought that counted. He examined the photos more closely. They certainly weren't professional. There was a bedside clock in the background. No, a reflection in a mirror. Zooming in, he interpreted the position of the hands. Checking them with the email send time, he found they were more or less the same. Five minutes in it.

'Oh, Miss Spank! You're in the same time zone,' he chuckled.

There was nothing else to identify who it might be. He also realised he was getting hooked.

'Miss Spank, I am impressed by the speed of your response. I shall give you a second chance, no more. Usually I would demand that you spank yourself, with panties around your ankles. The clothing you are wearing, as you well know, is unsuitable. Disrobe, now. As long as you write emails to me this evening, you will remain naked. Send a photo, to show you have complied. I shall be attending to another potential slave for the next twenty minutes. In the meantime you will write about yourself, telling me your intimate thoughts, feelings, and desires. If I feel you have been forthright, and honest, you will have passed the test.'

He re-read his email and sent it. It was easy to go over it a hundred times and continuously improve it, so why bother. He got up to make a sandwich. Mr Johnson had left some food in the fridge, and he brought some from home. During the twenty minutes in the kitchen, he heard the laptop ping several times.

One of the pings was junk mail. The other three were from his new friend, Miss Spank.

He skimmed through the text, putting off looking at the attachments. Unable to resist, he opened the first one. It was of the same woman, in the same bedroom. He considered them for a moment, and decided they were real, not something found on the internet.

'Damn! Miss Spank, you are a beauty,' he laughed.

She was naked, as demanded. With each email a different angle, and pose was sent. All from the neck down. As much as he could tell, she fitted the description from the statistics already sent. Her large breasts weren't pert, but her figure was pretty good for a thirty-eight year old. It was certainly thrilling to receive photos of a mature woman, and his hard-on was proof of that.

The first email was long, summarising her fantasies. Nothing outrageous, though he was learning something new about women. He wasn't sure if she really meant she wanted to be restrained, and taken by a stranger. That sounded a bit dangerous, and was certainly unexpected. The other fantasies seemed tame in comparison. He would have to go back to that later.

The second one, summarised why she wanted a strong man as her master. Basically she wanted to hand over control of her life, rather than share it with someone. He didn't quite understand what she was getting at, and would have to re-read it slowly.

The third was basically pleading with him to take her on as a slave. Who was he to disappoint her. He could string it along for a while longer, to see what happened. She was bound to find out he had no experience of being a master. He had to admit, he didn't have much experience of women either. He shrugged his shoulders, and began to type.

'Miss Spank, your master is impressed by your honesty and openness. You may call me master. It is my opinion that you will make a fine slave, given time and training. Pay attention to your master's commands, and you will become a treasured, and cared for slave. Your master will spend precious time on your training, and for the moment only you, as I find you intriguing. First, slave will need a slave name. Then a collar. I am sure slave understands these requirements. Tomorrow is Saturday, so you will purchase a temporary dog collar from a pet shop. Specifications for your permanent collar will be given in the near future. You will put the collar on in the pet shop, discreetly if you wish, and take a photo of the collar around your neck. Make sure the store background is also in the photo. You will then wear it home, and take another photo to send to your master. So, to your name. You are now Slave Tittyanna. Your master names you this from an appreciation of slave's impressive breasts. No more for now, Tittyanna. Your master, John.'

It was getting late and there was a lot of research to do. He needed to read more of Mr Johnson's emails, and figure out how those women were kept on the hook. There was a nagging doubt that a grown woman would comply with a young guy's demands. He decided to prepare for tomorrow in case she carried out the collar order.

Another ping surprised him. Of course it was her. 

***

'Master John, your slave, Tittyanna, thanks master from the depths of slave's heart and soul, for accepting this humble slave for training. Master's slave promises to pay attention, and obediently carry out all orders. Thank you master! Slave loves saying these words. They have been slave's fantasy for so long, and now my master has made slave's dreams come true. Till tomorrow, your slave will be dreaming of her master, and loves anticipating master's orders. With much love, Tittyanna.'

***

Danny didn't laugh this time. He had to take her seriously. What if she was a mad woman, and a stalker. Could she find him? He opened the attachment. It was a close up of her breasts. With a free hand, she held up a breast, as though offering it to him to kiss, or fondle. This must be in response to his compliment about her breasts, and consequently her name. They were impressive.

He had a lot to think about. From the speed which she responded, and the content, he was getting to know her. Her earnestness was sucking him into something. Being her master obviously, though something more than that. Was that possible? Could anyone be more than a master, where the slave gave herself completely to him. That seemed an ultimate sacrifice, unless he was ignorant of relationships, which he was ready to admit.

Tomorrow would bring more photos and more challenges. He looked at the photos again. They were all of the same person, in the same bedroom. He would zoom in on them tomorrow, and see what he could learn about her. 

Next morning Danny woke up late. Fortunately the laptop hadn't fallen off the bed and smashed. He had breakfast, digesting cereal as well as the emails read last night.

He fired up the laptop, hoping there would be an email from Miss Spank, though not holding out much hope. A bit of fun was had, and this morning she would sober up, dismissing last nights' madness.

'Wow! Naughty Miss Spank,' he laughed.

***

'Master John, thank you for collaring and naming your slave. Your slave now feels she has a master, and is ready to be mastered. As ordered, your slave has obeyed, by sending attached photos. Your slave looks forward so much to her training. Love, from your slave, Tittyanna.'

***

He opened the image, and sat back to admire it. An ordinary dog collar was buckled around her neck, with a bone shaped metal tag dangling from it. Her slave name was embossed upon the tag. This couldn't be something she found on the internet. In the background was a fuzzy image of a pet shop. He could see she was wearing the low cut black dress mentioned in an earlier email.

Damn! She had actually carried out his order. His interest soared. The next email from her was quickly read.

***

'Master John, your slave hopes she has satisfied her master. Another picture is attached. Your devoted slave awaits master's next order, Tittyanna.'

***

Danny opened the second attachment, to find her wearing the same collar, this time in her bedroom. Her shoulders were visible, and it looked as though she were naked. He looked at the times of the emails, to realise she must have been waiting for the store to open, bought the collar, then rushed home to send the second email. Sitting back, he again wondered if she was a mad woman, and if she was dangerous.

With a shrug of his shoulders, meaning who cares, he sent an email.

'Slave Tittyanna, you have made a good start toward slave training. Obedience is a crucial attribute in a slave. As soon as the preliminary training is over, your master will continue with slave's more personal and intimate training. Your master requires a photo of his slave in the pose mentioned in a previous email. If it is not acceptable, due to physical lack of ability, another pose will be chosen for slave. Remember, slave must be obedient to master at all times, or suffer a spanking. Your master, John.'

While preparing coffee he heard the familiar ping, announcing the arrival of yet another email. 

The lap top was on the kitchen table, so he sat with a coffee in one hand, and the keyboard under the other. The attachment was opened to find his slave sitting on the bedroom floor. Long hair hung down obscuring her face, because her head was bowed. Her chest was pushed out, looking as though she were trying to hold her breasts up. They weren't a young woman's pert breasts, though impressive nevertheless. She was squatting on her feet, with thighs spread. Hands were palm upward, resting on her knees. This wasn't the most flattering pose for her, as her belly wasn't so flat anymore. Still, she was an attractive and shapely woman.

The camera must have been low down, as her crotch was just visible. Her body was naked, but her crotch was hairy. He would have to do something about that.

'Slave Tittyanna, your master is displeased with his slave. Surely slave should be aware, a slave does not have pubic hair. If slave does not have a razor, go out to purchase one, immediately. Training will not resume until a photo of slaves denuded sex has been received. Slave has been warned. A punishment will be administered to the bad slave, when and if training resumes.'

***

'Master John, please forgive your slave! Attached are photos of your repentant slave, trying hard to please her master. Please continue slave's training, please master. Slave will obediently adhere to master's wishes, and follow instructions for whatever punishment master sees fitting for a foolish slave. Dutifully awaiting masters email in desperate hope, Tittyanna.'


Teacher Finds a Master Ch. 01



***

Danny couldn't laugh at such an abject email. The poor woman was hooked, and if he'd thought about it, so was he. The mature woman was twenty years older than him, yet she was grovelling for his attention. It was both sad, and gratifying. The photo was less important than the message. Close ups of a bare pussy were freely available on the web, so not shocking in the least. Even such an intimacy with someone he was getting to know wasn't so enthralling as he thought it should be.

The punishment promised was a bit of a problem. What to do now? There were no clues in Mr Johnson's emails. He would have to think this over.

'Slave Tittyanna, your master approves of the speedy adherence to his demands. Slave's punishment will be announced when he is ready. Be assured a punishment will be meted out. Slave's master wishes to know more about his slave. What work does slave do. What kind of accommodation does slave have. Tell master the things that slave enjoys, and what annoys slave. Tell your master all about slave's life and daily routine. Do not leave out any detail, as your master needs to know, so as to command his slave wisely and with care. First of all, when last did slave have an orgasm, and how did it come about? With someone, or by masturbation. Did slave use a toy? Your master awaits his slave's reply. Be thorough rather than quick. Your master, with love and care to your welfare.'

Re-reading the email, he wondered if the last sentence should be removed. He didn't mean he loved her, but did mean he cared for her. With a shrug of his shoulders, he just clicked send.

He made lunch while thinking over what was happening between them. She wasn't doubting he was Mr Johnson, or Master John, who had a good reputation on that web site. It was a good reputation, for making submissive women happy, through fulfilling their fantasies. He had to change his mind about the man. It wasn't just a kinky way of getting women. He was providing a service, maybe even a valuable service.

The kitchen was tidy, so he turned the lap top sound back on. With time to think about what he was doing he decided to continue. He would find out what Miss Spank wanted, and give it to her.

He opened the email. There was a lot about her mundane life. She'd written it was boring and routine, and some excitement was desperately needed for a change. He thought to get to the naughty bit fist, but was becoming interested in the details. She was becoming a real person, and that made it all the more fascinating.

***

'Your humble slave hopes slave has not broken master's rules, but slave has masturbated often since writing to her master.'

***

He wrote back telling her not to have an orgasm without permission. She acknowledged with the usual blurb. It took about ten minutes before receiving another email, begging for permission to cum.

Danny enjoyed playing her like a slave, especially denying her permission to orgasm. With every email came at least one photo, showing adherence to his orders. His slave had shaved her pussy, and purchased a dog collar with a metal tag engraved with the slave name, Tittyanna. So maybe she was obeying all of his instructions after all. 

He advised her to save money, as instructions were being formed, to purchase some toys. Master John intended to use his slave to the full. Changes in her life would not be dramatic, but carefully arranged to make full use of slave, Tittyanna. The return email gushed with thanks and agreement. Changing her lifestyle to suite her master was looked forward to with happy anticipation. It was surprising anyone was willing to go so far, and so now he had to think of something.

On the third day, she sent him a video of her masturbating. The sound of her moaning was enough to give him an orgasm, let alone the explicit imagery. He ran it again, carefully examining the bedroom. That was one room in the world he would like to enter, then enter her.

He guessed she really was just under forty, though she had a fit body. She had large natural breasts, which looked enticing over a slim waist. Her ass was hard and cute. He hoped her face was nice too. She didn't have to be a beauty, just not too ugly. With a body like that he could put up with almost anything.

After a week of getting her to dance to his tune, she was still enthusiastic, and her emails became desperate. She had been sending three to his one email. Then the email he had been waiting for arrived. She wanted desperately to meet him. He'd told her a little about himself, only using Mr Johnson as a reference. They weren't much different in build, but Mr Johnson was thirty years older. By the look of his emails, about thirty years more experienced as well.

Over the week he'd learned a lot about her, though he still worried she might be a weirdo, maybe even dangerous. He examined the photos again, trying to get a clue as to who she might be, and to reassure himself she wasn't a lunatic. 

She arranged herself over the edge of the bed, with legs spread, showing off a cute bottom, and everything else. Knowing the bedroom well by now, he guessed she'd set the camera up on a chair. He even knew the chair was a twentieth century modern design, from other pictures.

The next picture was the same, only she'd moved her ahead slightly. He zoomed in on a mirror. He'd caught glimpses of her face before, at some odd angle, leaving her unrecognisable. This time the mirror was showing most of her face. He zoomed in too far and it broke up. Patiently he zoomed out a percentage point at a time.

'Fuck! No!' he shouted.

'Mrs Watson! It can't be!' he whispered.

Another email announced its arrival. He ignored it. 'Oh! Shit! I'm in big trouble,' he said, to the empty room.

Sending obscene emails to a teacher must surely be illegal. He calmed down a little. The lap top sounded off again. His hands moved to delete the emails, but didn't reach the keyboard. He almost ran out of the room, as though escaping the situation. 

He opened a can of beer, hoping to cool down enough to think straight. 

'OK. She doesn't know who I am. She's not my teacher. She just works at the same school. The email account was just made up a short while ago,' he said, to the empty kitchen.

While looking through cupboards for food, it occurred to him the email address could be traced back to his standard account. He found some stale bread, just good enough to hold a burger. He chucked slices of tomato in, and squirted ketchup over the lot. Sitting down to wash the mess down with another beer helped. 

'So what! She sent me the photos, so she's the one in trouble. She'd want to keep that a secret, so why worry?' he mumbled, around the burger.

He slowly cleared up the mess, and even put the kitchen waste out. With a deep sigh he figured the laptop should be faced. He left the second can on the table, with the idea of keeping a clear head. Still not sure what to do, he sat down in front of the laptop.

There were four emails. She wanted to meet him, to play! 

'That would be interesting, Mrs Watson,' he said, to himself. 

Even if she didn't recognise him, his age would shock her. She taught geography to eighteen year olds, in the class next to his English class. He examined the photo more carefully. It could be a sister, or just someone who looks like her. She could be anywhere in the world, and not in this town at all. The time zone dictated she wasn't too far away.

Another email turned up, asking if she had done anything wrong. The tone sounded worried and desperate. He emailed back asking how long it would take her to drive to a motel he knew of. 

The answer bounced back, gushing with thanks, and that she could be there in two hours. 

'Damn! So can I,' he told the screen.

It might mean they lived close, possibly in the same city. That again confirmed it was Mrs Watson. He looked at the time, and figured that could be worked. He gave her instructions, and shut everything down, locked up, and left on a wasted journey. She wouldn't turn up, it was all just a game.

On the edge of town he pulled in to a strip mall to see a friend. 

'As cheap as possible, they don't have to be high tech,' he complained.

'Alright, no problem, and I'll give you a staff discount, while the boss is out. Take this one, it's got good sound quality,' Chewy said.

'Throw in a car charger too,' he said.

'Are you going to tell me, why all this stuff?' Chewy asked.

'No. Not ever,' he smiled, and walked out.

Danny arrived early. Mrs Watson may be sitting in the parking lot, but she had strict instructions to walk in on the hour. Ten minutes to go. He checked the cameras were charged, especially the one with a good sound pickup. On the hour, in she walked. It was Mrs Watson alright, unless she had a twin. She looked perfectly normal, as though booking in to a teachers convention.

He unplugged a camera, and stuffed it into the empty lap top bag, added the others, and just sat there. Five minutes to book in, five minutes up to the room, fifteen minutes to prepare. He checked his watch, yet again. Seconds were ticking by, yet not seeming to add up to minutes. Unable to wait any longer, he walked from the parking lot to the reception desk, trying not to hurry. 

A receptionist was discussing a booking, so he strolled over to examine local tourist brochures. Nothing exciting to see. His heart rate was up, and not from the idea of visiting a local veterans monument. He slotted it back in place, and looked at his watch.

'Has Mrs Tittyanna booked in yet?' he asked. 

He'd inflicted upon her the indignity of using her slave name. It would remind her of what she was. He just hoped she hadn't been stupid enough to try using a credit card.

'Yes, sir, she's in room two-o-seven. You're to go right up. The lift is over there and the stairs are to the right,' the young woman said, and gave him a big smile.

Maybe Mr Johnson's suit and aftershave worked better than he thought. He smiled right back at her, and held her eyes until her cheeks turned pink. He was feeling very confident from having Mrs Watson carry out his instructions. At least so far she had.

The elevator clanked its way up one floor, huffing and puffing, as though an old man was pulling it up with a rope and pulley. He breathed deeply and rolled his shoulders, needing to remain calm. On the drive he practiced speaking more slowly, and in a lower tone. Sometimes the sound was too far back in the throat, or too nasal.

It was important not to think about what might, or might not happen in the room. All sorts of possibilities worried him. Maybe her sister had been chiselled out of a fortune by Mr Johnson, and she was setting him up to get even. Maybe she had a pistol, ready to shoot him on entering the room. No! He wasn't going down that road again. Dismissing the negative, he tried to concentrate on the positive ideas.

The elevator doors scraped opened, and he took a deep breath. He would run down the stairs if something went wrong. He turned around on finding the door numbers were going up instead of down. He stopped at the right door, and looked at a card peeking from under it. It was in the hotels colour scheme.

Looking left and right confirmed no-one was around to witness his failure. Stop it! He told himself. Slowly and carefully he pulled the door entry card from under the door. He held it for a moment, hoping she had fully carried out the instructions. When he walked in she might scream her head off. What was he to do then, except run for it.

He pushed the card into the lock, and it flickered green. He pushed the door open, which sounded like an old creepy black and white movie sound track. Maybe it was a mistake choosing a cheap motel off the highway. Opening the door enough for his head, he peered in. 

A naked woman lay on the bed as proscribed. He breathed a sigh of relief. Walking silently on the worn carpet he circled the naked body, strategically placing cameras on furniture. One was positioned each side of the bed, on the cheap shelves where little cupboards should have been. Another was placed on a dressing table, angled at the naked woman.

He sat on the edge of the bed, still fully dressed, just in case a quick get-away was called for. No one was in the tiny bathroom, and she was tied to the bed, yet he still felt nervous.

'Hello Tittyanna, is my slave comfortable?' he asked. 

The woman sighed, and tried to speak through the gag. Her head was turned toward him, though she couldn't see who had her helpless, for she wore a blindfold. 

'Don't worry, a slave doesn't need to speak, just comply. You will nod your head in acquiescence to your master's demands,' he said, feeling pleased with the choice of words. 

He was pleased that she had carried out his instructions, and almost as pleased when she nodded her head. She was ready for his orders and although tied down, would try to follow his instructions. 

'Do you remember your disobedience, and your master's promise of a punishment?' he asked.

A particularly heavy tone of voice was used, and he was pleased to see her respond. She nodded, and shivered in anticipation.

'You're being naughty again my slave, Tittyanna,' he accused her, and pinched a nipple.

When she shook her head, she meant that she wasn't being naughty. The shake, meaning no, wasn't for him to stop playing with her breasts. In any case he carried on, as they were so irresistible.

'Yes, my slave is anticipating a spanking as a punishment. My slave will enjoy a spanking, so something else is planned,' he teased. 

For safety's sake he told her to leave a hand free. So she could at least free herself if he didn't turn up, or they mistakenly went to different motels. In case she tried to pull the blindfold off before he was ready, he took hold of her hand. He kissed the palm and licked it. She let out a little moan of approval.

The limp arm was pulled above her head, and secured by handcuffs dangling from the metal bed-head. She was secured, with no chance of escape without help. He took his clothes off and climbed onto the bed. She again let out a breathy gasp. He leant over her, and kissed her forehead, followed by more kisses to her face and neck.

Kisses rained down her shoulders, over her chest, to her breasts. He gently puckered his lips over a nipple and sucked. 

'Remember slave! No orgasm without your master's permission. Understood?' he demanded.

She slowly nodded her head. He spent some time on her breasts, for there was a lot of flesh to explore. They weren't so sensitive as he thought they might be. He pushed them up into shape, and marvelled at their size, especially as they were natural. 

Moving on, he licked his way over her belly, which was plump but not unpleasantly so. When he breathed heavily on her forcibly spread thighs, she began to whimper. The woman had tied her own ankles to the bed legs, so there was no sympathy to be given. He kissed her thighs, just missing her shaven pussy. Her heels drummed the bed sheet.

'Don't forget, slave. Slave must not cum without permission!' he reminded her.

The woman whimpered pathetically, and thrust her pelvis up at him. He was kissing and licking the sensitive flesh all around her sex. The crease between leg and body seemed particularly susceptible to a light lick, and flick of his tongue. She was mewling loudly, so to keep her quiet, he went for it.

All of a sudden she felt her pussy lips sucked into his mouth. The frustration had mounted until she just had to pull at the bonds holding her to the bed. Not to get away, which was impossible, but to pull him to her, which was also impossible. A desire to shove his head into her pussy was too strong to resist the attempt. Just in time he sucked on her lips. He was certainly an experienced man to have her so worked up. 

Then she figured it wasn't just the foreplay, it was the bondage, and playing the slave role. For her that too was foreplay. She needed to orgasm. Holding on to that was difficult. She knew how to fake it, after being married to a thoughtless man for so many years. Though how to fake NOT having an orgasm was beyond her. The last orgasm had been after reading his instructions for this afternoon. This was all very new to her, and very exciting.

When he sucked her bits into his mouth all such thoughts evaporated. She barely held onto the idea of waiting for permission to cum. Like a candle in the wind the idea flickered, and went out.

She cum noisily. All at once it struck her, and there wasn't a thing she could do about it. The preparation, anticipation, teasing, his masterful touch while bound and helpless, all compounded to wipe away years of civilised behaviour. All that was left was an animal receiving a mind blowing orgasm. 

The yell was loud and worrying.

'I should go up there to see what's happening,' he said, though making no move.

'Why?' the receptionist asked her boyfriend. 

'Someone's in pain. Might be murder, do you think? There's been some strange people in here since the owner put down the prices,' he said.

'That wasn't pain. That was a deep orgasm,' she told him, and sighed.

'No it wasn't. I know what an orgasm sounds like,' he said.

He looked at his girlfriend, and scowled. She meant what she said, and there was a wistful look on her face. 

'I'll leave you here then. You can find out why she yells like that, when they check out,' he crossly spoke.

'That would be too late. I might join them before they do. See what he's got that does that to a girl,' she seriously spoke.

She looked at her boyfriend and laughed. He didn't make a move upstairs, or out the door. She smiled at him, winked, and opened her arms to him. 

'I bet if you tried real hard, you could make me yell like that,' she dared him.

The office was small, but for two young athletic people, there was room enough.



Teacher Finds a Master Ch. 02



Oh! No! He's a student!

Mrs Watson didn't have the burdensome responsibilities of a teacher at the moment. She was tied to a bed, blindfolded, huffing a puffing around a red ball gag. Secured helpless meant she was relieved of responsibility. Someone else was going to make the decision over what happened next. She couldn't escape, so she would have to accept whatever was done to her. Being gagged meant there wasn't a chance of objecting, or even influencing the decision.

Despite feeling stiff from the bondage, she was a happy bunny. Happier than she'd been in years. Years of studying, getting married too young, becoming a widow too young, and settling into a routine, underlined a boring humdrum life. This afternoon was the result of three months research, which culminated in a moment of total irresponsibility. 

Four months ago she came across a bondage scene in a detective novel. It struck a chord, as well as a cord, igniting her sexual imagination. Being dominated, and told what to do had never figured in her life, though over the last weeks she sought it out. Finding the right man to satisfy this uncharacteristic obsession was a problem. 

Having at last found what was needed, or rather who, she revelled in the strange joy of being dominated. A complete stranger had taken her while she was tied-up helpless. An experienced man had used her body, while she was powerless to even object, let alone fight him off. He made her his plaything, and from now on she would be controlled by him. A new and exciting life had begun!

What he looked like didn't matter. That he was older didn't matter either. With all the experience he'd used upon her so far, he must be older. What was important was that she found an experienced master, and he was going to take over her life. He'd already started changing the way she looked and behaved. It gave her a thrill to obey his orders, and to learn to do things differently. 

He'd mastered her by taking her and sexually satisfying her. Now she wanted it all. She badly wanted to be his slave, which meant subsuming herself to his wishes, and gratifying his slightest whim. She needed him to dominate her, and to spank her when deviating from his directives.

From now on she would be living dangerously, by subjecting herself to someone else's commands. For once in her life she was going to obey. He would tell her what to do, when, and how. She was going to do whatever he demanded, and he was going to train her to be an obedient slave. 

After such a powerful orgasm, all doubts were washed away. She was now this stranger's obedient and unquestioning slave!

Danny worried that someone had heard her scream, and was on their way to find out what the fuss was about. He listened for awhile, but there was no sound except for the struggle of a clanking air-conditioning fan. 

He looked at the woman from where he was lying between her legs. Over her shaved pussy, between her big tits, to her face. She was happy. There was a big smile plastered across her face. Her breasts were big, soft, and tempting. Not that the rest of her was skinny. She was voluptuous, and sexy in a mature womanly way. He wondered if she snored, and looked forward to finding out.

At that moment, she was the most beautiful woman in the world. She was his and he would shape her to how he wanted. At least, that's what was said in the emails. Could he do it?

Should he take off the blindfold yet? Had he made his point? If he had more experience, he might have realised she was hooked after such dramatic orgasms. Unless of course this had been the norm for her, in which case he would have to work harder to please. In what direction would that take?

'Again you disobey your master,' he quietly said.

His voice was deep and hoarse from being close to an orgasm. The woman was trying to tell him something, so he removed the ball gag.

'Please, master! Your slave is so sorry to have disappointed her master. Please don't give up on your pathetic slave. Your slave promises to try hard to please, master. Such a wonderful orgasm, it was, it was, so deep it shook my soul, master,' she cooed. 

Danny examined her face to find she was sincere. To her this wasn't just a game, it was something she badly needed. From her emails, he knew the slave role was to become a part of her life. If he was wrong it didn't matter, for the cameras were recording everything. If proof was needed they would show she wanted this, and he hadn't forced her.

'You'll have to be punished somehow,' he said, while holding her chin in a strong hand.

'Yes, master. Whatever you say, master. Would master like to take his pleasure with his slave, master,' she shyly asked. 

Bloody hell! He'd fucked her so hard she'd screamed, and she wanted more. Was it fear, or the strangeness of this situation that prevented him from cumming? She could feel his erection against her naked thigh, and wanted it.

'Tell me what you want, slave. Use the plain words of a slave,' he demanded.

'Please, master, please use your slave. Fuck your slaves cunt, or however master wishes to use his slave,' she humbly spoke.

Getting her to talk dirty was turning her on again, so he persisted.

'Offer your body properly, slave,' he demanded.

'Slave's body is yours to use, master. Use your slave's, cunt, mouth, or asshole, master. Slave's whole body is a sexual object for her master's use,' the woman strenuously offered.

He wondered if the video and sound would show how heartfelt the words were meant. He untied her ankles, then her wrists. 

'No! Keep the blindfold on. You wanted to be taken by a stranger, and this is happening. I am your master, yet still a stranger,' he told her.

'Thank you, master!' she grinned. 

He guided her on top, and pushed her into position. She didn't need much prompting to find his cock. Still wearing the blindfold she rode him hard. Another orgasm began to tingle through her body. With a firm grip of her hips, he rocked her back and forth on his cock, while it was deeply embedded in her vagina.

She had a tingly orgasm, but he still hadn't cum. He pulled her down onto his chest, with her face pressing against his. He kissed her lips and face, while receiving little murmurs of gratitude.

'I'm going to take the blindfold off now,' he quietly told her.

'Thank you, master,' she said, sounding worried.

His body was strong and athletic, and he was certainly all man. She wasn't so sure that he was older than her, as he had managed to keep going for so long. There again, he might have had some help from pills. She was nervous over seeing him for the first time, wondering who this stranger was. It was stressful having to face the fact that she'd let a stranger fuck her. 

Their faces were so close it was difficult to focus. He had his arms around her, preventing her from pulling away. She told herself to be patient, and to obey her master.

'It's my turn now, Tittyanna,' he calmly stated.

She felt his cock push deeper inside. Her master was going to fuck her, and fully make her his slave! 

His hips easily lifted her weight, until it felt as though her whole body was supported by just his penis. He kissed her tenderly and she contentedly sighed. She so wanted to see his face, yet was afraid. He wasn't ugly. His skin was smooth and clear. He began to push up regularly with strong leg muscles. A deeper penetration pushed her away. 

Her master was young and handsome!

He let her push up with both hands on his chest. She could see him clearly now, and so she studied his features. He was very young, much younger than she thought possible. The dimness of the room allowed an outside light to cast deep shadows. Surely he couldn't be as young as he seemed!

A vague unease resolved itself into recognition, then quickly turned to a deep anguish. He was a student from school! At that moment she felt him close to an orgasm. His whole body stiffened, and his legs flexed. His cock tensed and swelled a fraction. She could feel him ready to spurt strings of sperm deep into her vagina. 

Hell! Fuck! No! She was a teacher, and a student was about to shoot his sperm into her! She frantically struggled to push herself from his penis. He thrust up his hips with greater strength, penetrating her body, impaling her, leaving her feeling as though she was full of cock. She gave up the unequal struggle. She felt his penis shudder, and knew he was spurting his cum into her vagina. He was filling her up with young fertile sperm. She felt so weak, and susceptible. She clasped her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. She desperately wanted him despite who he was.

He'd given her wonderful orgasms, and she had admitted it to him. Now he was filling her with his sperm. She wanted to shout at him to stop, which was impossible of course. Oh! Shit! She had ridden a student in bed, and he had thoroughly fucked her! How many orgasms had he given her? There was no way out of this. What could she say in defence?

Damn and Fuck! 

'That was good slave. Your master is happy with his obedient slave. Though I remember that the bad slave must be punished, so turn over,' he ordered.

Unsure of what to do, she simply went along with the command. He obviously hadn't seen her properly, otherwise he wouldn't have got on the bed with an old woman. Especially not with a teacher. If she could prevent him switching the light on, she might get away before the game was up. Turning over onto her stomach at least hid her face from him.

'You agree to this punishment, slave?' he asked.

A look of fear and anguish showed clearly upon her face as she turned over. She had recognising him, and was in shock. Pushing her to see how far she would go with this, was impossible to resist.

'Yes, master,' she hesitantly agreed.

'A spanking for not obeying your master,' he said. 'You know what to do. You count, and thank your master,' he reminded her.

'Owww! One. Thank you, master,' the teacher said.

She knew he was a student, yet she was letting him spank her. He wondered why, and concluded she hadn't a clue what to do about this perverse situation.

It was appalling letting a young student spank her. He was only eighteen, just a boy, yet he was spanking her, a teacher, for disobedience. It was wrong and she felt bad over being so weak willed that she gave in.

'Owww! Ten. Thank you, master,' Mrs Watson humbly spoke.

'I thought so, the spanking has made you wet. It wasn't a punishment after all. Your master is going to have to find a penalty that doesn't sex you up,' he said, and laughed.

She kept quiet, wondering how on earth she was going to get out of this without being discovered. She lay on her belly hiding her face to avoid recognition. The humiliation would be disastrous. His hand was between her legs, confirming how open she had become from the spanking. Another damnable aspect of this stupid mistake.

He lay back on the bed hoping the cameras were good enough to capture everything in the darkening room. 

'I'll have to go in a minute. First, you can clean me up, slave,' he demanded. 

Keeping her face away from him, she slid between his legs and sucked his cock into her mouth. She figured this would keep him quiet for awhile. He switched on the bedside light, and positioned a camera toward the action. The naughty teacher was making a good job of sucking his cock clean. 

'That's enough. I'm going to get dressed and go. For next time, your master wants his slave to prepare her asshole. Slave is to lube her asshole and loosen it up for her master. What are you going to do?' he demanded.

A student was making an outrageous demand of her, yet she couldn't help getting wet over it. Damn! She would have to talk dirty to the boy as she had before, or he might become suspicious. 

'Your slave is going to loosen up her asshole for her master's use, and have it greased for next time, master,' she quietly spoke.

A long sigh of relief escaped her mouth when he slid off the bed. She kept it quiet so he didn't notice of her. He had used her so was leaving, like any man might. No! She wasn't a bad woman. Not any man could do those things to her. 

'You had so many orgasms, it's no wonder you're sleepy,' he laughed.

He knew the real reason she was avoiding him. She was afraid. She had fucked a student and that was dangerous. Fatal for her career, and possibly illegal too.

He gathered up the cameras, while she pretended to be dozing. He slapped her bare ass, and left. 

Mrs Watson curled up in a ball. She sobbed for a little while, then shook her head. Damn! She'd had a close encounter, and felt exhilarated. A student from her school had fucked her! He'd given her numerous hearty orgasms, and given her a dirty thrill. He'd filled her up with his sperm, which was starting to leak. There was gallons of the stuff, so he really did fill her up.

Damn! Why did such a perfect master have to be a student, damn it! He had her going wonderfully. He was masterful and knew how to control her. He knew how to fuck her so well, she was on cloud nine. Fuck! She was still tingling from his touch!

She drove home slowly with a mind in turmoil. She would have to make excuses, so he didn't suspect anything, and didn't try to contact her again. The identity she set up was safe, but she had heard things about hackers stealing identities. They were young like him, weren't they.

'Oh! Shit!' she exclaimed, when remembering the photos sent.

None of her face, thank god.

On arriving home she switched on the computer, ready for damage control. It was old and slow, just as she felt right then. A message was waiting, as expected. 

***

'Examine the attached, then get back to me, your master.'

***

Not what she expected. Downloading the attachment took awhile, so she made a coffee. Her throat was dry, and she was gasping for a drink. A coffee would do, until she settled this problem, then a bottle of wine would be called for.

Clicking on the attachment got it running. 

'Oh! Fuck! Oh! Fuck!' she repeated through hands clamped over her face.

In the video it was clearly her on the bed. Tied up then set free, to be screwed by him. All through the dirty action she called him master. The look on her face, near the end of it all, was a picture of anguish. His eventual orgasm occurred at the moment she recognised him. Seeing her sex face turn to a look of fear, shook her physically. 

Oh! Fuck! He knew who she was before he walked into that motel room! He didn't show surprise when he saw who she was. Damn! He'd tricked her into tying herself up so she was helpless, then fucked her. Maybe it was worse when he set her free, and she told him she wanted her master to fuck her. It was certainly condemning, and something she had no defence against.

The one word was sent back to him - 'Master?'

The ball was in his court, and she was in his hands. 

She read the short email. 'Mrs Watson, you've been very naughty. Your master will arrive shortly to punish you.' 

She looked over her shoulder at the front door, and wondered if he was bluffing, or was he really on his way. Where could she escape to? Thinking about it, maybe having a quick confrontation would be best. Explain to him how dangerous all this was for her. Silly! Adolescence weren't known for their maturity and understanding. What could she hold over him to make sure he kept the secret. Could she pretend it was kidnapping, forced sex, even rape?

Eventually there was a knock at the door. Although expecting it, she still jumped. Thinking that she had become calm and ready for the confrontation, the jumpiness belied such a foolish idea. She got to the middle of the room, when the door opened.

He walked in, and she silently cursed for not locking the door. She recognised him from school, but couldn't remember his name. Maybe that's why she nearly called him master when he walked in. It was foolish to start off like that, nevertheless it was how she was feeling, and that would have to be dealt with.

'What's your name?' she asked, trying to take control of the situation.

'It's not John. Danny,' he smiled.

'What happened must be kept a secret,' she said, and regretted putting it so bluntly.

'I agree. I don't want anyone to know either. We have different reasons, of course,' he pointed out.

'Good. I'm glad you understand. I was afraid, err, anxious, you might want to, err. I mean, I didn't want you to get the wrong idea. This can't continue, of course,' she spluttered.

'It's you who doesn't understand. As I said, we have different reasons to keep it quiet. You have a reputation and career to protect. I have a slave to keep and protect,' he smiled.

She looked him up and down, realising she wasn't dealing with a mere boy after all. He was a confident young man. He'd conquered her mentally and physically earlier, and it looked as if he was going to try it again. This time he had something to blackmail her with. She began to panic.

'No! It's wrong! We can't go there! You can't make me a slave, don't even think it. You're just a school boy, a student at my school. It's probably illegal to do what you did to me. In any case, what we were doing is immoral,' she said, in a pleading tone of voice.

While she ranted at him he walked around the room, discreetly propping cameras on furniture. Ending up close in front of her, he spoke quietly, yet strongly.

'Yes, and you've seen the evidence. I'm sure neither of us want anyone else to see it. That is why you will be doing exactly as I tell you from now on. You've been a naughty teacher, and need to be punished. Despite being a bad girl, I'm going to remain your master, and will train you to be an obedient slave,' he heavily stated.

'On your knees, slave,' he commanded.

'No! I told you, you can't, you can't train me. I'm a teacher, damn it! You're just a student at my school. I'm a mature woman, over twice your age. You can't train me like a pet. I can't obey you, it would be humiliating,' she squirmed before him.

The word, humiliating, caught in her throat. Research had revealed a dark secret, that this was the root cause of wanting to be a slave. Humiliation was sexually exciting, and he was proposing to humiliate her. 

'You will do as you are told or be punished, slave,' he heavily stated.

'Please! A teacher can't let a boy spank her for being naughty. It's all wrong! You could just let me go, and forget about it, please!' she whined.

'You need a master, and you chose me. Now I'm your master, so you will do as you are told,' he said.

'Please, no. You're just a boy, you can't keep me as your slave. Please, just let me go free, and I'll not say anything. We'll forget about it, it never happened,' she suggested.

'It happened, and there's no going back. You belong to me now. You wear a slave collar, and name tag from your master's bidding. You agreed to be my slave, so you are my slave,' he told her.

'Please, set me free. I can't be a young boys slave, I'm a mature woman. It will be so humiliating to be a boy's slave. Please, master, please understand, please, master,' she whimpered. 

Calling him master was a change of tack, in a desperate attempt at escaping. The hope was that he saw the foolishness of the whole idea. She needed him to agree not to use the video, before leaving the apartment. So he needed to think it through and realise it wasn't feasible. Of course he couldn't keep a teacher as his sex slave, there was no way it would work.

Unfortunately it had the opposite effect upon her. Calling him master pushed her back into that earlier abject state of slavery, in the motel room. A tidal wave of warped feelings washed through her. 

By force of character, and from the strength of will in his voice, she wilted. Both his hands rested on her shoulders, and though not much pressure was exerted, her knees gave way. 




Teacher Finds a Master Ch. 02



It all seemed so wrong, yet here she was on all fours at his feet. A stupid thought crossed her mind; this wasn't going well. It was not a good start, but surely he would see this couldn't go on.

'You are my slave, and will do as you are told, correct?' he demanded.

She tried hard to resist, but this is what she craved for. She had built herself up into a dire obsession. Over the past weeks she had fixated passionately over being dominated. Though not with him, a young student. It was meant to be with an older man, who exuded authority, and was an experienced master. This boy had a way of getting to her, of making her feel weak and defenceless, but it just wasn't right. 

'I can't do this. I mustn't,' she whispered.

'You're a beautiful woman. You have a good figure, and great tits,' he told her.

A sigh of pleasure escaped her lips. Her master may be young but he appreciated her body. She had worried it might be too old and worn for an adolescent to want. Of course it was wrong to be wanted by an eighteen year old, but he had taken her, and made her his. He gave her all that she needed, and more.

'I can't. This is wrong. Please, let me go,' she whispered. 

Telling a teacher she had great tits, while squeezing them, almost had him cum. He tried to cool down, so as to remain in control. He had to keep her from thinking, and regaining her sound judgement. Of course this was wrong, but it was a fantasy she harboured for some time, and it was overriding her common sense. He slapped her ass. 

It was a surprise to feel his hand on a bare cheek, as she hadn't felt him lift the skirt, or pull her panties down. A quiet whimper escaped her lips. She desperately needed to shout at him, yet something deep inside impelled her to submit.

'Count!' Danny demanded.

'Oww! Two. Thank you, master,' she automatically responded.

'Oww! Three. Thank you, master,' she reluctantly said.

'Oww! Four. Thank you, master,' she choked.

'Oww! Five. Thank you, master,' she relented.

The counting continued while he listened for a change of attitude. At twelve she sighed heavily, and whimpered an answer. He cupped her sex, and rubbed a finger between wet lips.

'As usual you're sexed up from a spanking, naughty teacher. Teacher needs a stern master to keep her under control. Slave needs to learn control as well as patience, and to cum when her master permits. This pitiful slave badly needs training, to learn discipline, self-control, and patience. Tell me!' he demanded.

With fingers exploring her sex she was helpless to resist. She needed more, and giving in seemed the short cut to getting what was hungered after.

'I'm a pitiful slave, master. I am your slave ready to be trained, master,' she finally agreed. 

He gently stroked her face, and ran his fingers through her hair. Slowly he removed her clothes, with strong hands exploring her body as it was revealed.

By her inaction she was showing a complete capitulation to his will. Wallowing indulgently in a state of servitude to a young irresponsible boy, was stupid and dangerous. Enjoy it, she did. This is what she had craved for over the last weeks, and here she was, enslaved to a strong master.

'Your body is mine to do with as I wish. Tell me,' he ordered.

'Slave's body belongs to master, to do with as master wishes,' she whispered.

'I shall train slave to obey, and slave will learn to enjoy her master's every wish,' he told her.

'Oh! Yes! Master! Slave needs to be trained by her master. Slave needs to be obedient, and for master to control this humble slave. Make use of your humble slave master, please,' she whined.

They had been precarious moments until her spirit broke. As soon as she gave in, she became worked up, leaving her an easy victim to manipulate. A hand squeezed her breasts, with the other rubbing her clit. It was partly physical, though mostly it was from being made to feel she was a humble slave, that overcame her sensibilities. This naughty teacher was deeply into the slave role, and getting off on it. 

She was rolling her hips in time with his fingers playing with her pussy, and moaning along with the squeezing of her breasts. It was fascinating watching her reaction to his manipulation of her body. What he needed most was control of her mind.

He wondered if he should play with her until she peeked, or just take her. Having sex with a teacher in her apartment would have been awesome, only he'd gone past that stage. He'd thoroughly fucked her in a motel, and got that out of his system. Now the plan was to take her over completely. What then?

***

When he walked into the apartment last week, he'd expected to be shouted at by the attractive teacher for tricking her. Instead, she capitulated and he fucked her. She'd been weakened, ready for it, by having sex in a motel room, and re-living the sordid moments in a video. He was still surprised how easily and quickly she gave in. 

After a week of playing the game, she was well into being his slave. He smiled every time she walked naked into the room. Knowing he could have sex with her anytime, and in any way he wanted, was still an awesome thought. 

What would happen when they went back to school next week? Would he be able to keep control of her, or would she slip away from playing this sordid game. Using the video wasn't really an option. Like the threat of an atomic weapon, it was fatal to both sides.

A possible solution to that problem had been arranged.

'Slave!' he shouted. 

Whatever she had been doing, probably some housework, she stopped and came running.

'Yes, master, how may slave serve her master?' she automatically asked.

'Nothing going to burn on the stove?' he asked.

'No, master. Slave was changing sheets on the bed. Master was particularly vigorous last night,' she coyly spoke. 

Glancing up at him she shyly smiled with pleasure. Her head quickly returned to the usual pose, looking down between her large breasts at the floor. Her hands were behind her back, with feet well apart. From the first day of training she no longer wore panties, though a bra had to be worn to support her large tits.

The other day he'd bent her over while she was busy cleaning, and unexpectedly rammed his cock into her. She'd been wet and ready for him, and enjoyed the quickie. After that he couldn't help checking her out, to find she was always ready for him. She'd explained a dutiful slave should always be ready for her master, and so she was.

Today his slave was wearing a brief schoolgirl outfit, purchased on the internet. He couldn't help smiling at the incongruity of a conscientious teacher dressed as a dirty schoolgirl. That's how the outfit had been described, and he read it out to her when he made the order. When she put it on he couldn't help rubbing it in, that she was a dirty schoolgirl. The rest of the toys he kept quiet about, though he still used her credit card to purchase them.

'Slave!' he said, to get her attention.

He pointed to a spot on the carpet between his knees. She crawled to him on hands and knees, expecting to suck his cock. She looked eager to practice a new skill, where she sucked him down her throat. She'd been enthusiastically using a banana for the past few days, and was now adept. 

Once she'd accepted him as her master, she quickly sank into the slave role with ever greater enthusiasm. At first it had been humiliating, and it showed on her face. Now though, she would give him a blow job with passion spurring her on. That was how it was with all the depraved tasks he set her. She became inured to them, then carried them out with pride, as it showed she was an obedient slave.

'Pull your hair up off your neck, Tittyanna,' he told her.

He undid the leather dog collar, and showed her a new silver slave collar. It was a perfect loop of metal, with a small ring in front. 

'It looks like expensive Scandinavian jewellery. Simple in design, so you can wear it anywhere, even to school,' he explained.

'As you say, master,' she responded.

'Have you learned the slave ceremony?' he asked. 

'Yes, master!' she eagerly responded.

'Good. Now is the time to show your commitment to being my slave. You may begin, Tittyanna.'

This was completely unexpected! The fancy collar was being used to enslave her permanently. Not that it made any real difference, as slavery wasn't legal. She could walk away from this game anytime she wished. Or so she hoped. The psychological impact was already running deep. Committing herself to a permanent relationship would make it all the more difficult to break free. 

It was all becoming so serious. The training was getting to her, so that she responded to him automatically, without thinking of resisting. Even the most shameful acts were being committed, simply because it was her master's order. She was putting too much effort into the training, and complying with his rules. This is what she wanted, only not with an irresponsible adolescent. This was far too dangerous. 

'Come on slave, get on with it,' he cajoled her.

'Yes, master, sorry, master,' she nervously said.

'You wanted to be trained as a master's slave, and you have responded well. Now it is time to complete the training, and show your commitment. You know the words, now say them with feeling,' he demanded. 

'Slave promises to dedicate her life to her master. Slave promises to learn her master's likes and dislikes, so as to serve her master completely. Slave will learn to anticipate her master's orders. Slave will devote herself to master's pleasure. Slave is no longer a free woman. Slave is now an object of pleasure for master to use,' she sincerely spoke.

The words had been learned by rote, and her recent behaviour mirrored the sentiments. Over the last week she had devoted her time to concentrate upon slave training, and her behaviour had been successfully modified. The teacher was no longer free and independent, she was now a slave, reliant upon a master. After only a week the training was still shallow, but with time the state of slavery promised to reach deep into her soul. Not because he had a special skill, it was because she needed it that way.

When she stood up there were tears in her eyes. The words had been learned as just something that had to be done. Now they meant something highly emotional. The meaning was absolute, partly because her thinking had changed, and partly from achieving what she badly needed. 

He fastened cuffs around her wrists and ankles. He clipped a chain to the collar, draped two strands over her breasts, and attached them to her wrists. The remaining links hanging from her wrists, were attached to her ankles.

'What do you say, slave?' he asked.

'Thank you, master. Your slave is in heaven from being trained to be your compliant slave. Your slave loves the Sirik,' she purred.

An ecstatic look upon her face, and that she knew what the chains were called, told him he had done the right thing at the right time. They would be a reminder of her place twenty-four seven. He only had another week before they were in school, so needed to up the training program.

Her slave name, Tittyanna, was designed to belittle her. She knew this, yet responded to it more readily than to her real name, Andrea. Mostly, master simply called her slave. For the past week she hadn't watched her favourite soap, or any television at all. She wasn't allowed. In fact there wasn't anything she could do without asking permission first. Going to the bathroom was included in that restriction. 

She had to ask for permission to do anything, and everything. He on the other hand, could simply take her whenever he wanted. Every time she walked into a room he would feel her crotch to check her state of readiness. She regretted telling him that a slave should be ready for her master, at all times. Or did she regret it? It was exciting not knowing if the touching of her sex might lead to him roughly fucking her. That is what happened now. She was fucked, not made love to. Her master just fucked her, however and whenever he felt like taking his slave. 

Despite him being a young guy, he was a good master. He would spontaneously pull her onto his lap and cuddle her. Stroking her hair, and massaging her naked body brought pleasure to them both. He would whisper pleasant compliments about her body, and her training, and tell her that she was a good slave. She would be a a soft toy in his hands, cooing and sighing with warm emotions.

Without warning he would grab hold of the chains, and tighten them about her body. On the floor she would roll, giggling helplessly. He would kiss her naked body, here, there, and everywhere, leaving her helplessly fired up, pleading for him to take her.

'Please, master. Please fuck your slave,' she whimpered, yet again.

'You've learnt self control at last, slave. I can't bring you to an orgasm however hard I try,' he laughed.

'Slave wants to master, please, give your slave permission, slave desperately needs to cum, master,' she said, on one long exhalation.

'Cum for your master, Tittyanna,' he smiled.

He resumed sucking her lips and nibbling on her clit. He felt her cum, and smiled. He watched her progress through the stages. A fierce grimace of concentration. An arched back, with little shudders. Heels drumming the lounge carpet. Her face relaxed with her entire body seeming to sink into the carpet. Her eyes flickered open, and she looked at him with love in her eyes. 

He waited for the afterglow to subside, by kissing her lips, eyes, and ears. Her murmurs of appreciation made him so very happy. He wanted to keep her happy for ever. The only way to do that was to keep her close, as a slave, his slave. The internet had plenty of ideas on keeping a slave happy. Not many of them suitable for Tittyanna.

He knew what she wanted, and was prepared to give it to her. Each day was a training session, and a sex filled, to keep her trapped. She was hooked on being his slave, and the next stage was needed to jeep her that way.

'You're going to have some piercings, and tattoos,' Danny informed her.

Mrs Watson cringed at the idea of having her body permanently marked by this young boy. What did he mean by a tattoo? Both might be discreet, but something on her face couldn't be hidden at school. 

'Go get dressed, and hurry up, or you'll receive a punishment while out. Don't forget the shopping list,' he shouted, as she scooted off.

Wondering if he would dare spank her while in a store, she quickly pulled on a dress. It was simple, short, and low cut. It had been approved by her master. The other clothes were in bags, ready to be delivered to a charity shop. That couldn't be done, or she wouldn't have anything to wear for school next week. New clothes would have to be bought for other occasions too, if they were disposed of. What would she do if he went through with the threat of disposing of all her sensible clothes?

Stopping him would be a test of her resolve. So deeply into the slave role was she, it didn't seem possible to defy her master. What if the point came where she had to challenge his authority, and she capitulated. Would that seal her fate forever?

Mrs Watson drove under direction from her master. This was the first time out of the apartment, while being trained as a slave. Everything looked ordinary yet somehow strange. They would be shopping for ordinary groceries, and a tattoo. Despite the audacity of it, she felt excited. She wanted to live a more adventuresome life, and this was it. Escaping a humdrum life could have taken many directions, but for her it meant being a young guy's sex slave. 

While driving she glanced at him, as though waiting for an instruction to turn left or right. Instead, she couldn't help looking at him with admiration, and with love in her eyes. An older woman falling in love with a young guy was silly, but she couldn't help it. Maybe it was the caring way he dominated her, or maybe it was the orgasms, or it could be from receiving so much attention.

'Pull up over there,' he ordered.

Mrs Watson got out the car, looking for reassurance from her master. She was worried over what he was getting her into. The strip mall looked wild and feral, from the graffiti adorning every surface of the building. It looked like a scene from a gangster movie. Adventure had been looked for, only now she was hoping the place was hygienic. It wasn't fear, just a healthy unrest over needles.

The two guys made illiterate grunts of welcome to each other. It couldn't be said they shared a verbal communication. At least to her there were no actual words spoken. At last the male bonding routine was over, and they turned to her. They made her sit in a big old leather chair. Many years ago it had been a sterile dentist chair. Now it had modifications as though this were a torture chamber. As she sat they grabbed a wrist each, then an ankle, to strap her in. 

It was a torture chamber, and more so than a dentist room. She was a good slave so didn't struggle or make a fuss. Accepting her master's wishes was paramount. Being restrained was something she enjoyed, but it probably indicated the procedure was going to hurt.

'What's the slut want,' Ben asked.

'Nipple and lip piercings, and a number,' Danny seriously spoke. 

For a moment she nearly forgot herself, to complain about a lip piercing. How could she turn up in school sporting a lip piercing? Then it occurred to her that it wasn't what was on offer. Down there was to be pierced!

The short dress was pulled up to expose a denuded crotch. The bra was pulled down below her nipples, pushing the beasts into an awkward cleavage. Her face reddened, glowing hot from humiliation. A mature woman exposing her naughty bits before these young lads, was dreadful. Knowing the fat boy was going to handle them was appalling. 

She looked at the door, remembering it hadn't been locked. Anyone could walk in and see her nakedness. 

'Nice tits!' Ben whistled. 

'All natural, no silicon,' Danny grinned.

'What about the slut's clit? You want that pierced?' Ben suggested.

'No, just both lips. Here's the number,' he said, handing over a slip of paper.

Tittyanna was looking scared. This young guy was deciding if her clitoris was to be pierced, or not. So far it wasn't going to be, but what if he changed his mind? While strapped helpless in the chair, they could ruin her body. They could do anything they chose to do, without consulting her. 

Of course they wouldn't, she was just a slave, and not worthy of an opinion. 

'The slut likes bondage then. It's getting stoked up,' Ben pointed out.

With her thighs spread they could see it all. What was happening down there was private and it was highly embarrassing letting them watch her sex flower. Trying to pull her legs together did no good, as they were buckled tight at ankles and knees, with thick leather straps.

A slave learns patience and humility, so she did all she could, and that was to merely lower her head in shame, and bear all they threw at her.

'Are you being naughty, slave girl?' Danny asked.

'Sorry, Master,' she humbly spoke.

Being called a slave, and treated like a slave in front of a stranger, was demeaning. Her face was already red, and now the glow spread down her neck to her chest. There was only one way to react in this situation, where she was helpless to walk away, and that was to obey her master.

The fat one pulled up a chair, and took a closer look at her sex. He pulled at her lips which were now sticky and wet with sex juices. She turned her head away, indicating she wanted no part of what was going on. 

'Oww! she yelped.

The guy held a small machine close to her sex. It was like a staple gun, and when she craned forward, a glint of metal shone between her legs. Maybe it was better to watch, so as to be prepared for the pain. 




Teacher Finds a Master Ch. 02



'Oww!'

A sharp pain was felt, as though her lip had been caught in a clamp. Then it stung, they both stung. The only reason she didn't scream out for them to stop was that she was a slave, and had to accept pain. She had to accept the humiliation of it too. The pain could be born, and it was subsiding. Her lips had swollen, far more than usual. He wiped away a spot of blood. She was relieved to see he used a sterile swab.

Another machine was brought over, and she figured no more could be withstood. This one was different. 

'Ouch!' she loudly yelped.

'That's your personal registered slave number. So now you're permanently marked with a slave number. If someone finds you, they can look up on the internet who owns you, and return you to your master,' fat boy grinned.

That was the theory anyway. How was someone to know she was a runaway slave? When would someone get to see her shaved pussy that close to read the number. She shook her head of logic to sink once more into the fantasy.

She absorbed this piece of information, thinking of anything to minimise the stinging. It did little good. The pain kept rushing in to interrupt her thoughts. 

'Owwww!' she wailed.

This time she merely looked down. A nipple had been pierced. Another wail announced the other nipple had been cruelly damaged. She watched her nipples swelling. The little rings through her nipples were fine titanium. The same as the ones through her lips.

'Titanium. Expensive, but impossible to cut. They can be burned through, but not while so close to the skin!' he laughed.

'The same as the collar, polished titanium. Can't be removed except with a torch, or a special key,' her master added.

Tittyanna felt trapped. She was trapped in the chair, between these too adolescents, but it was more than that. The slave role was closing in, permanently trapping her. She felt small, vulnerable, and too easily manipulated. More than at any other moment, she felt strongly that she was a mere object, a slave.

A feeling of euphoria washed through her mind, expunging the growing panic. She had achieved what she set out to accomplish. She was a slave. It wasn't legal but it was how she felt that was important. Although striving to reach this state, she hadn't thought it possible. Now there were no doubts, she had a master, and she was his slave.



Teacher Finds a Master Ch. 03



Mrs Watson's eyes were frantically swivelling from side to side, trying to look everywhere, and at everyone at once. The prospect of meeting someone she knew while wearing such slutty clothes was humiliating, and although unlikely in this rundown mall, it was still embarrassing. 

Although she was unlikely to meet a fellow teacher here, she might meet a student's parents, and that would be dreadful. What would they think of her, a respectable teacher, looking like a hot slut. Her face was flushed from being stoked up, and in a store window she saw how sexed-up she looked, leaving her feeling ashamed. 

The dress was too short not to be wearing panties, and of course it had been purchased by her master to put her through this disgrace, as a punishment. 

The dress flared out from under her breasts in an A-line, and it was so light, it was difficult to hold down. The light cotton material swirled around her thighs as she walked, hardly needing a breeze to lift the hem. Again she caught a glimpse of her bare bottom in a store window. She concentrated on keeping the front down, not having a spare hand for the back of the dress while clutching a bag.

Her master had spun her mind in sexual turmoil once again. Only this time she was outside on public view, in danger of showing off her sex. It was already embarrassing, with the real prospect of the visit becoming a great humiliation. 

The dress was low cut, showing off far too much cleavage. She was looking for somewhere unobtrusive to adjust the top, as her breasts were bouncing around so much as she walked, they were easing out of the top. She needed somewhere quiet to push the nipples in before they popped out altogether. 

Damn! Her master knew too well how to set her up for a mortifying, and highly stimulating situation. Although he was young, he knew very well that being humiliated excited her. Her mind was buzzing with possibilities, where naughty scenes would end badly. She was wet and ready for him, and they had hardly begun to play the game. 

'Sorry!' Mrs Watson said, when almost running into someone. 

'Master!' she grinned.

He'd appeared in front of her from nowhere. Concentrating on the dress, and looking out for anyone she might know, had dominated her attention. 

'You look worried, Tittyanna,' he smiled.

'Yes, master. I was worried something might go wrong with the game. Now you're here, master, your slave knows all will be well,' she smiled weakly.

As a teacher and an older woman, she shouldn't be deferring to a young student. Especially not to a student from her school. Yet not only was she doing as he told her, but she was also wearing what he stipulated. That was why she was in this awkward position, looking like a lowlife tramp in an unfamiliar mall. 

At least the tattoo and piercings had healed, and she wasn't wearing the usual chains. Instead, the large hoop earrings, back combed blond hair, floozy style dress, and soft flats, had her marked as an interesting sex object. The young make-up on a thirty-eight year old woman made her look as though she were desperately looking for some fun. With her breasts breaking free, and the short dress showing off her thighs and bottom, she looked like a whore, or at least a slut looking for some cock action.

Men confirmed that dire opinion she had of herself, by blatantly staring at her with that certain look on their faces. Their tongues weren't hanging out, though eyes were fixed on her body, taking in every voluptuous curve, and the bounce of her tits. With a change of clothes and the heavy application of make-up, a respectable teacher had become a hot slut. Her morals couldn't be changed so quickly, except her master had worked upon her over the last three weeks, to thoroughly train her into being a pliable slave. 

If her master ordered it, she would dutifully behave like a tramp. If that meant making up to a stranger, then it would have to be carried out with the best of her ability.

The thought of being given away to a stranger came into her mind and stayed. This afternoon she might have a complete stranger chosen for her, who she would have to fuck. She would be a whore, and this young guy would be her pimp. That disreputable man over by the bar could buy her time, and do what he liked with her. As a whore, bought and paid for, she wouldn't have a choice, she would have to do whatever he wanted, however deviant and despicable the act.

'You alright, Tittyanna?' Danny asked, sounding worried.

She opened her mouth to speak, but couldn't shake off the image of being a whore. It appalled her, yet fascinated and excited her. This new life was certainly thrilling, and full of intrigue. It wasn't what she had envisaged, but it was better than the humdrum boring life of before.

'Calm down, I'm here to look after you. I'll make sure nothing bad happens,' he reassured her.

She grabbed his hand for reassurance, needing to feel safe and cared for. 

As promised, he'd trained her to be his sex slave, and it had been accomplished more completely than expected. It was impossible to defy him in her apartment, and now here in a public place, she found he had to be obeyed. It had been her need for domination that caught her in this web, so she could only blame herself for this dire condition she found herself in. His dominance and the wonderful sex, had her surrendering to him more than she thought possible. If she had known how low she would fall, would she have dared to start on this deviant adventure? 

'Thank you, master,' she said, and sincerely meant it.

'Come with me, slave. We have some things to buy,' he said.

Trotting alongside this handsome young man, left her feeling happy and safe. There was no doubt he wanted her, and though it was for perverse reasons, she was happy to receive his attention. He wanted to control a teacher, of course he did, what young eighteen year old wouldn't. She put that out of her mind, to concentrate on the great sex and excitement of this new life. She had a master controlling every aspect of her life, and he was attending to her every indecent need. This is what she wanted, wasn't it?

'Oh! Master!' she uttered a complaint without saying much.

'You haven't been in a sex shop before, have you? Well, my friend works here, and he told me the boss is away so we can play,' he laughed at her.

Full of reticence, he almost had to drag her in. 

'Hi Danny, how you doing?' the young guy behind the counter greeted them.

'This is Tittyanna, my sex slave,' Danny introduced the teacher.

At first she felt belittled to be introduced in such a demeaning way to a stranger. She forgot all that when it dawned on her who the boy was. She took on a slave pose, looking down to hide her face. It was a relief not to be recognised by the young eighteen year old behind the counter. He looked her up and down, seeing an older woman playing a nasty game with his friend. 

Being thought of as a dirty slut was better than being recognised, as one of his past teachers. He would start a rumour about her among his friends, which would be dangerous. It wouldn't take long for word to reach the school, through friends of his still in high school. He'd been trouble at school before dropping out, giving everyone a hard time, and he was probably still a troublemaker.

'Hi Tittyanna, do I know you from somewhere?' he asked.

'No, I don't think so,' she smiled.

She waved her breasts at him as a distraction, and it worked. The wickedness of such an action didn't register, as she reacted from a need of self-preservation. Colleagues from school would be shocked at the way she was dressed, and disgusted with her for jiggling her breasts at a pupil, even an ex-pupil. 

She relaxed a little as the important first few minutes passed. He wouldn't really look at her properly from now on, so she was relatively safe. 

'I need some panties for my slave, and maybe a stretchy dress,' Danny said.

'No problem. We don't have much clothing, as its mostly toys, and bondage gear. At the back of the store there's enough gear to build a complete dungeon,' Jimmy smirked.

'We've got enough toys for now. Once I've found the right dress, the underwear can be selected,' Danny stated.

'Sounds about right,' Jimmy agreed.

'Take the dress off, slave,' Danny said.

Mrs Watson gawped at her master, for just a moment, then quickly obeyed by pulling it over her head. She stood naked, holding the dress in one hand, while the two boys took a good look at her body. Glancing at the door, she noticed it was unlocked, and therefore anyone could walk in on them. The scene would look terrible.

'She's got a nice pair of tits,' Jimmy commented.

'Natural, no silicon. Show him, Tittyanna. Jump up and down,' Danny ordered.

Reluctantly she did as she was told. Knowing what he wanted meant gyrating her breasts around in front of the young guy. She bounced them for him, putting on a show like a pole dancer. Showing her breasts off to a high school dropout, as though she were a complete slut, was terribly humiliating. 

More damning still was that it was working her up into a sexually charged state. That was dangerous when not wearing panties, as anyone could see her sex flowering, opening up, ready for a man. The peril was that she'd been so well trained to obey, she wouldn't be able to refuse someone taking her. To be so vulnerable and easy, was degrading. She was panting from exertion, or from being worked up, or both, when her master told her to stop. 

'Nice! She'd make a great pole dancer, or lap dancer. Take her to Joe's behind the mall, and she'll earn you some good money,' Jimmy advised his friend.

'Maybe, I'll think about it,' Danny mused.

'Here, let me take a closer look at them tits,' Jimmy said.

As soon as she moved close to the horrible boy, she became painfully aware of what she was doing. She'd just handed over her breasts for him to cop a feel of them. Obeying a stranger's command without thinking about it, confirmed what she suspected. She was way too well trained to obey, and dangerously so. 

Being trained to become an obedient slave was her choice. Only, she'd let it go too far by putting so much effort into it. She hadn't foreseen the consequences of his training regime, until now, and it was too late. It frightened her to realise she was trapped in the role of slave, and would obey anyone as a good submissive slave should. More than ever she needed her young master's protection.

They stood by a rack of dresses, with her master looking through them, until he pulled out a red stretchy sheath dress. She was glad to cover up before someone walked into the store. It wasn't much, but it was something. She pulled at the hem, then had to pull at the top to cover her breasts. She soon realised it was a useless task trying to keep both her breasts and thighs covered.

In a mirror she could see how outrageous the dress was. The light colour showed off all her curves and indentations. It lewdly clung between her breasts, and between her cheeks. The hem pulled up under her bottom, cupping it. With every step it rode up at the front, promising to reveal her sex.

It was more blatantly rude than the light summer dress she wore through the mall. It was like wearing a rubber band, threatening to twang back into place around her waist. At least that's how it felt, as she kept nervously pulling at it to keep something of her body covered.

Danny smiled at the teacher, who was reduced to a nervous wreck, desperately trying to keep close to him. He was satisfied with the result, knowing she was even more dependent upon him, and was now willing to obey him outside of the apartment. He'd trapped her into continuing their game away from her comfortable nest, which was an important step in her training regime. 

'Try this one on, slave,' Danny said.

Despite the red dress being so terrible, she was reluctant to remove it. The thing he held up in front of her didn't look much better, and again she wasn't offered the luxury of a changing room. Standing before the guys naked, she waited for the next outfit. One after another was tried on, and only the most revealing were considered for purchasing.

She pulled on a pink bunny suit. It was furry and cut high over her hips. It was low cut and had a bustier fitted. The bustier supported her breasts, and squeezed them into a deep cleavage. In the fur of the crotch it was split, which only showed when she bent over. A pair of furry cuffs, big floppy ears, and a tail were added. The tail was on a butt plug, which was pushed into her anus.

'Bend over and show, Jimmy,' Danny told her.

This was a daunting task, from knowing her pussy would be shown off, in all its glory. It was glistening wet, and wide open. An invitation to any man, and even Jimmy was man enough to fuck a hot bunny.

'What do you say, slave?' Danny asked.

'Thank you, master, for the lovely clothes, master,' she said, almost crying.

Knowing she was going to have to walk back through the mall in the red dress was unpleasant. At least it wasn't the pink bunny outfit. 

'OK, Danny, a staff discount on all this stuff, and your happy, yes?' Jimmy said.

'Yep, I'm happy enough,' he grinned.

How could he be unhappy while he had a teacher clinging to him, ready to obey his every whim. During these last few days before they went back to school, he would have to tighten his grip upon her. Making her his slave in public was a big step and it had been achieved.

'Come on, slave,' he cajoled her.

They walked to a shoe store, with her too pre-occupied with adjusting the dress, to know where they were going. They were in the store before she knew it. 

'Sit there,' he told her.

She felt awful sitting on a low bench facing the store window. She felt the soft material of the seat on her bottom when she sat down, and clamped her thighs tightly together. The material had shrunk up her thighs, pulling halfway up her bottom. She imagined the whole dress shrinking to nothing around her waist like a belt, leaving her naked in the window. The stretchy material was trying to do just that all the time, hence her concentration on pulling at it, to keep her body covered.

Another of his high school friends was brought over to torment her. A glimmer of light flickered in the guy's eyes, and again she brazenly flaunted her tits at him, intending to distract the young guy. Her tits finished bouncing around, and she brazenly pulled the top up to cover her nipples. The slut act designed to avoid recognition was becoming a habit. 

It was then she realised this wasn't another high school dropout. His father owned this and several other stores, and he was working here during the break. 

Damn! She was stunned, unable to move, even to hide her face. He was another eighteen year old, though this boy was in her class! He didn't seem to recognise her, though she figured it would show as an obvious shock if he did. He was staring at her tits, and moving his eyes over her body, which was hardly covered. She just couldn't bring herself to pull at the stretchy material while in front of him.

If he recognised her she would die of shame. Just from being dressed that way was enough, let alone that she had been introduced as Danny's slut. 

'Come on, wake up! Try on the shoes, slut,' Danny told her.

'Sorry, sir, yes, sir,' she stammered. 

There was little she could do except retreat into the role her master directed her into. She just couldn't bear to be a teacher in front of the boy, so being a slut was the only escape from a horrible situation.

She kicked off the flats, and stared at the shiny black high heels. They would go with the underwear set he'd bought, but not so well with this little red dress. The thought was so stupid, that she giggled out loud. What did it matter what colour the damn heels were, while wearing such an outrageous outfit. A mature woman, and especially a dowdy teacher, shouldn't go around dressed like a stupid slut.

She sighed heavily, and accepted what she was. The evidence was all there, from what she had committed to over the last three weeks. It had been suppressed over the years, but now it was all too evident. She was a hot slut needing sex all the time, and must embrace the reality of that fact. Her master had recognised the slut in her, and was teaching her to explore it.

A grin appeared on the young guy's face when he helpfully fitted a shoe onto her foot. Her master had suggested it, and he readily agreed. Sitting on a stool to one side meant pulling the leg over, thereby separating her legs. As a slut she didn't need telling to spread her thighs. She didn't need to imagine what he might be able to see, as it was only too obvious from his expression. 

Her shaved pussy was his focus of attention! He stared at it while buckling the shoe. He pulled her leg over a little too sharply, and she guessed what he was doing. He was staring at her pussy lips being manoeuvred while pulling her foot one way then the other. At least it was keeping him from looking at her face and recognising her. 

It began to sink in that a student from her class was studying her pussy. When back in school he could report to the class on the shape and condition of their teacher's sexual organs. He could make a sketch of her lips, clit, and vagina opening. She would of course have to confirm the accuracy of his report, by stripping off and giving each of her students a close up view of her sex. 

It was even more humiliating than she thought possible! If he kept this up she would start to drip.

'The slut loves showing herself off, don't you, slut,' Danny said.

His friend, Larry, looked embarrassed for her, though not enough to tear his eyes away from her crotch. The little red dress had pulled away from her bottom, to wrinkle around her middle. She looked between the two guys, out of the window, to see an old man staring at her nakedness. 

'That's right, isn't it, slut,' Danny demanded. 'Slut! I'm talking to you!' he added.

'Yes, sir,' she said, not knowing what was being agreed to.

'You like to show off your body, but which bits do you like to show off the most?' he asked.

'Your slut likes to show off her cunt best of all, master,' she slowly stated. 

The words came reluctantly, though there was no choice, as she understood what he was doing. The humiliation had her stirred up, until she was breathing heavily. Her pussy was wet and open. Anyone could take her right then and they would be welcome, proving she was a dreadful slut. 

She looked out the window to see the old guy still staring at her. He was watching the whole scene, where to young guys were spreading her legs. She was a lot older than the two boys, and the man was a lot older than her. Nevertheless, anyone of them could have her right now, and they could all see it from the way her sex was open and dripping wet. 

The rest of the shoe store adventure went by like a dream, or a nightmare. 

Walking back to the car, click-clacking through the mall, she didn't bother to pull at the little red dress. If all her bits hung out what did it matter. She was a disgusting slut, and it was obvious to everyone. All she could think of was that she must obey her master, and he would protect her. She didn't needed protection from others, it was from her own wanton desires she need protecting. 

At last they were home. No sooner were they in the door, than she fell to her knees to beg to her master.

'Please master, fuck your slave, please, master,' she begged, on hands and knees.

She looked up at him, with imploring eyes for what she badly needed. 

'We need to talk,' he told her.

'Owww! Nooo!' she moaned, in frustration.

'You're supposed to be a responsible teacher, and will be going back to school on Monday,' he admonished her.




Teacher Finds a Master Ch. 03



'Yes, master. No, master, sorry, master. Your slave can't be a teacher now,' she moaned.

'Why not?' he asked, trying to keep the surprise from his voice.

A few days ago she was expecting to escape him by starting back at school. She thought a dose of reality would strike them both, breaking up their game. When had she changed her mind, and why? It didn't suit his plans for her not to go back to school.

'Your slave discovered she is a bad slut, master. Slave has always been a dirty slut, and unfit to teach,' she sobbed.

He wrapped his arms around her, and murmured sweetness into an ear.

'What am I to do, master? I'll have to look for another job, even start a new career,' she sniffed.

'Don't worry, slave, I'll look after you. You can live with me in my apartment. Your master needs a well trained slave to look after his needs,' he reassured her.

'Yes, master, whatever you say master,' she agreed.

She didn't think over what was being agreed to. Giving up a career and an apartment to be this young guys permanent slave, was too big a step to agree to so easily. Her whole life would depend upon his decisions, and she would have to obey his every whim. She calmed down, and took a deep breath. It was true, she was a pathetic tramp, a slut, and he'd known it all along. 

He could see on her face the thoughts racing around in her mind. She'd stop and ask him something, yet not wait for an answer. She'd convinced herself she needed controlling, and had to be kept safe. She needed a strong man to master her, and that man was him.

She was sitting on his knee, while he stroked her body, trying to calm her down. She went quiet for awhile, sighed heavily, and buried her head in his chest. His arms were wrapped around her tight, and she didn't move for an age. She looked up at him, then kissed him gently on the lips. 

'Thank you, master,' she sighed.

'My slave needs cheering up,' he said. 'Come on, were going out. Get on those new clothes,' he ordered.

She emerged from the bedroom sporting more appropriate make-up for her age. The little black dress was stylish rather than slutty. The black corset pinched her waist tight, and the corset straps held up black stockings. 

'Are the seams straight, master?' she asked.

'Come here, slave,' he demanded, and kneeled on the floor to get the stockings right.

She enjoyed her master breathing heavily on her bare thighs and bottom. He adjusted the tiny g-string, giving her a thrill. More than ever she wanted him, yet had to wait yet again.

They arrived at a club, and from seeing the members walking in, she guessed it wasn't a normal club. 

'Membership?' a big black man in a tight suit asked.

'OK, you can bring a guest,' he said, and waved them in.

In the entrance lobby her master guided her to a door with a sign marked, 'Slaves'.

'In there, and remove the dress,' Danny said, then added, 'Don't keep me waiting, slave.'

She emerged from the changing room looking sexy and buzzing with life. Having recovered from the earlier pessimism, she was now bouncing with energy. 

'This is a BDSM club, master,' she purred.

'Yes, it is. If you don't behave, and do as you are told as an obedient slave should, I'll give you away to a master who can control you,' he warned her.

He'd been here just once before bringing the teacher here, to get a look at what went on. He was nervous and trying not to show it, with the result he looked irritated.

'Sorry, master, I'll be a good slave girl, master,' she declared with enthusiasm.

Mrs Watson looked at him, wondering if he was joking, or just teasing her. Surely he wouldn't give her away, though he did look serious. Maybe he was fed up with her, or disgusted after her abysmal behaviour this afternoon. Had he brought her here in preparation to selling her to another master? Surely not!

Something she read some time ago on a slaves forum came to mind. A submissive wife was warning others about a club, where her husband sold her. After an argument he'd had too much to drink, and in a temper he sold her to another club member. 

The buyer didn't consider it a mistake, and kept her. She was caged in the stranger's basement for six weeks, until her husband tracked her down and bought her back. Writing about it on the notice board three months later, she still found the experience affected her. She didn't describe how she was treated by the stranger, so it must have been traumatic.

The experience left her acting very submissive, and ready to obey anyone who was strong and dominating. It could be embarrassing, when someone accidently took control of her by just being firm with her. A stranger might think she was finding them attractive, or coming on to them, when she was treating them like a master. A couple of close encounters in a store meant she could no longer go shopping by herself. 

A lot of members sympathised with the woman, though she had thought it a made up story. Now she was less certain. There were some scary men in this club, with some of them gripping leashes attached to very submissive looking slaves.

'Read this, slave,' he told her.

She looked up at a club notice, and a sharp intake of breath was released. The rules for selling a slave to a club member were listed. Would she dare object if he sold her as a slave? Recently her will to object to anything had wilted and died, leaving her vulnerable to mistreatment. 

After this afternoon it was obvious she would obey her master however demeaning the order. This evening she could find herself obeying a stranger as her new master. As a thoroughly trained slave there wouldn't be anything that could be denied a master. The thought of joining this new world as a permanent slave, being passed around from master to master, stoked her up to boiling point.

'Master?' she pleaded.

'What is it slave?' he asked.

'Please don't sell your slave. Your slave promises to do whatever her master wishes, without question. Just tell your slave what she must do to please, and it will be done. Anything, master, honest! Please keep your humble slave forever! Please, master,' she sincerely spoke.

'Very well slave, we shall see,' he enigmatically replied. 

He wondered where this uncalled for plea came from. It made him smile. A teacher was promising to obey him in all things, and do whatever he wanted. Well, she'd certainly been a good slave girl so far. His expression softened from feeling powerful. He had a teacher in his hand, and in her bed.

He took her to a private room and opened a bag. 

'Hold still, slave,' he told her.

She relaxed on finding him calm, and evidently pleased with her.

He clipped two chains to a loop linked to her slave collar. The chains were run through nipple rings, to wrist cuffs. Once secured to her wrists, he threaded the remaining lengths of chain through the piercing rings in her pussy lips. Then onward to her ankle cuffs.

Once more dressed in a Sirik, he led her from the room. She was completely naked, except for a slave collar, cuffs, and chains. Nothing much to cover her nakedness, but what she wore made a definite statement. She was a slave, a well trained slave, deeply committed to her role. A red ball gag hung around her neck, ready to stifle any complaints. 

Tittyanna had to move slowly, so as not to pull too sharply on the nipple or clit rings. She learnt that the hard way, and wanted to rub the soreness from a nipple. There would be no running away for this slave.

'What is it slave?' he asked.

'Master, can we go home soon, and fuck slave's cunt, please master,' she begged.

All day she'd been aroused, and not receiving satisfaction was physically hurting. As though she were a drug addict, she needed a fix, which was her masters cock filling her cunt. Even using the gross word, cunt, was heightening her arousal.

'Keep calm, slave. Your master will have one drink then we shall leave,' he firmly told her.

She dropped her head in submission, bowing to his wishes. 

Danny looked around at the posers wondering how many of them had a real slave like his. He couldn't help smiling and wondering what they would think if they knew what he was up to. He'd dressed older, and looked the part, but was still much younger looking than his slave. 

They didn't know what he knew, and it was difficult not to shout it out. He was a young student, parading a respectable teacher on a leash in a BDSM club, and she was his obedient slave. He felt like broadcasting the news of his success as a slave owner to all and sundry. 

It didn't feel as though he were playing a game, it felt real. He had a drink and sat in a booth looking with curiosity at the other members. He looked down at his slave, squatting at his feet and smiled at her. If he'd taken geography, she would have been his teacher and his slave. That would have been wild! 

She leant her chin on his knee to look up at him with imploring eyes. He knew what she wanted. It had been an important part of her training, to get her used to lots of highly exciting sex. That had worked, as she was so used to getting it she was becoming demanding. He stroked her hair and cupped her chin.

'Be a good little slave girl, and your master will take you home to fuck,' he smiled.

Damn! Would he ever get used to this wonderful way of living? Why couldn't all things in life be this simple? She wanted to be a slave, and enjoyed him fucking her. He wanted a slave, and enjoyed fucking her. So what was the problem? The school, his parents, and a lot of other people wouldn't understand them, that's for sure.

He watched a new lot walk in, and instinctively ducked his head out of the way. Mister Johnson just walked in with two women on leashes! Well, good for you Mister Johnson, though it caused him a bit of a problem. They were walking away towards the bar, so hadn't spotted him. 

The women weren't anywhere near as sexy looking as his slave. If his neighbour saw him here he would guess what had happened, and would probably realise Mrs Watson was originally his. If he saw her, he would surely press the point, especially if he found out how pliable she was. 

Damn! He'd trained her and didn't want the man to take her away from him. It would be easy enough, by threatening to tell his parents, or the school board. She wouldn't object as she'd been ground down to complete submission. Damn! All that work wasted, and all those fucks to come, gone! 

He would miss her. He was really fond of her. He couldn't be in love with a thirty-eight year old woman, could he? It felt like it, at least more than he had ever felt it before. There had only been Marigold, the girl who lived next door, and they had only kissed. A bit more, but not much more. He'd felt bad for ages when the family moved away. Christie was special, because they'd both lost their virginity together. They'd made sure of it a few times afterwards, before drifting apart. 

He looked down at Mrs Watson, and her expression of affection. A deep need got to him. She was even more special than Christie, and perhaps he did feel more than just affection for her. 

'Come on, we're going, quickly!' he said.

He shortened the leash, and pulled her up. They exited the main club room before Mister Johnson received his drink, so he had his back to them. No fuss or noise meant they should be safe, and not seen. He admired her figure before patting her ass, and sending her to get changed. It was a pity not to show her off to more club members. 

She was voluptuous yet not overweight. She looked superb in a corset with stockings. Her long legs looked dazzling in the right stockings, especially with high heels. Her pert, peachy bottom looked perfect for spanking. Even her pussy was special, as her lips swelled, even dangling when excited, and she was excited all the time recently.

Her large breasts were an extraordinary sight when unleashed. Large nipples developed when cold or aroused. They were luxury pillows to rest his head, or suckle on her nipples at night. They weren't perfectly tight, but stood the test of gravity well. 

She almost ran from the slave's changing room, and linked her arm in his. She looked up at him with a big grin on her face.

'Yes, slave, your master is taking you home to fuck,' he laughed.

Walking back to the car she kept glancing at him. It was against the rules at home, but on the street was it acceptable? Other women were looking at her with venom or jealousy in their eyes, and she loved it. Some looked at her master, then at her, and a look of wonder crossed their faces. Was she his slut, or was he her toy-boy? The question was plastered across their faces and she loved it.

What would they think if they found out she was a young boy's slave. He was only eighteen and she was twenty years older. She hadn't felt so old since he'd been injecting her with potent young sperm. He kept her feeling young and vital again, whereas before meeting him, she'd been feeling old before her time.

They were both laughing as they walked into the apartment. He'd caught on to her thoughts, and stopped under a street light to kiss her. They'd spent some long moments deeply kissing and fondling, while strangers passed them on the way to a theatre.

He pulled up the dress by the hem, almost tearing it. She whipped the belt off his trousers, and almost ripped them down to his ankles. He stepped out of them on the way to the bedroom. She was naked first, and he was soon to follow.

They wanted the bedroom as it was going to be a long and passionate night.