Extracurricular Activities Ch. 04

"I hate that I have to cover up my tats at school," she pouted, "Stupid dress code!"

Chris, being sly, remarked "I hate that you have to cover up your tits at school!" Leslie flushed red and punched him in the arm. She threw some books and folders into her bag and gave it to Chris to carry. They headed out towards the parking lot and could see that it was pouring rain outside. "Stay here, I'll pull the car up," Chris told Leslie.

She laughed, "It's just a little rain!" and as he jogged out into the torrent she followed closely behind him. The cold drops hit her bare skin causing a chill to course through her body. They got to the car and he went to the passenger side first. He fumbled with his keys, finally getting his nervous fingers to cooperate he opened the door for her. She climbed in out of the rain and sat like a wet dog in the passenger seat. He made his way to the other side and unlocked his own door, sitting on the fabric seats wetly. They both caught their breath as Chris turned on the car, cranking up the heat. The windows were fogged up from the moisture. Chris glanced over at Leslie. Her chest was heaving, her skin glittering with wet rain drops, her cold, hard nipples poking through the thin material of her shirt. She noticed him staring at her chest, looked down and them covered her bosom with her arm.

"I told you to wait," he said, chiding her, "Now you're cold and wet and mad at me for admiring the consequences!" he chuckled.

She glared at him, more upset because she knew he was right. They waited for the car to warm up so the foggy windows would clear. Chris, feeling uncharacteristically bold leaned over and ran his hand across her wet cheek and leaned in for a kiss. Their lips met and he could feel how cold she really was. He deepened the kiss and held her close, pressing as much of her cold skin to his as he could. She wrapped her arms around his neck and continued to make out. His hand found its way to her breast and cupped it, her hard nipple poking into his rough palm. Their cloak of mist covering the car windows was rapidly dissolving and Chris broke the kiss before things got too out of control.

"Let's get you home," he said as he fastened his seatbelt and backed out of the parking lot. She only lived a mile or so away from his house and he had been there plenty of times so he found his way there without any incident. Parking in her driveway, the car idled for a minute.

"Wanna come inside and warm up?" she asked, "I could make you a cup of tea." Chris nodded and turned off the ignition. They ran into her house and she locked the door behind them. Her parents both worked and wouldn't be home for a while. Chris kicked off his muddy shoes, not wanting to track dirt through the house and pulled his wet hoodie off, hanging it with the rest of the coats. They headed to the kitchen and Leslie got the kettle going, preparing the tea she had promised.

Steaming cups of tea in hand they went to her bedroom to watch TV. In typical teenage fashion her bedroom walls were covered in posters... with a twist. Normal girls would have pictures from glossy magazines of sexy teen heartthrobs and idols; Leslie's ideas of heartthrobs were heavily tattooed and pierced, idols included Marilyn Monroe, Kat Von D and Bettie Page. Interspersed were posters from concerts she had gone to; Death Cab for Cutie, Rise Against and a couple local artists he wasn't familiar with, and pictures of her and her friends in various outfits over the years. There were even a few rare shots of her before her body modifications and dreads.

Chris flopped onto her bed and made himself comfortable while Leslie searched for the remote control. She came into the bed as well and the two sat side-by-side on the edge of the bed sipping tea and flipping through the channels. Chris wanted so badly to hold her in his arms again, to feel her warmth, to be inside her, but he dared not make the first move. Sometimes he hated being so painfully shy. He drank his sweet tea, really only wanting to drink her sweet honey. She leaned in close and sighed softly, feeling safe and secure.

Finishing his cup, he leaned over and set it on her bedside table. There was a bit of awkward silence as they watched TV together. Leslie was craving him deep inside her but didn't want to seem easy and Chris didn't want to appear to be anything other than a gentleman. The two sat at a stalemate, neither wanting to make the first move.

"I'm still chilly from the rain," Chris remarked, laying down behind her and pulling a blanket over himself. Leslie said 'me too' and rested alongside him, pulling a corner of the blanket over herself. Chris drew his lover close and covered her completely, protectively, guarding her against the chill of the wet spring afternoon. She felt safe in his arms and all the tension left her body. He continued to watch over her as she drifted off to sleep, warm and safe. Chris held her for a bit longer and then crept out of her room, letting her slumber in peace. Slipping on his muddy shoes and damp sweatshirt he left and headed home. He rode in silence, thinking about the enchantress that had him in her spell.

Wednesday morning came and went. The routines of school drudged on. His only relief was lunch with Leslie and his English Comp. class where he could fantasize about Ms. Callahan. As he entered his classroom, Ms. Callahan gave him the cold shoulder. She was distant, denying him and his advances. She was even dressed more conservatively than usual with a bulky sweater and long slacks on. Ms. Callahan went through the rest of class avoiding eye-contact with her young pupil and Chris got the hint. He left class and headed to the cafeteria without incident. Leslie wasn't at lunch today, her friend Scarlett told Chris that she was in her photography class doing some work in the darkroom. Chris' imagination immediately flashed to the two of them going at it in the red-lit room. He was happy when the rest of his day went by quickly.

At the end of the school day he headed to Leslie's locker. She came bounding through the halls, hands full of glossy black and white photos she was eager to show him. There were very artistic shots of flowers and streams and the like.

"Oh you're not going to develop the pictures we took on Sunday?" he asked. Her cheeks turned bright pink and she shook her head no.

"And I hope those will be between you and I," she said, a bit of shyness creeping into her normally extroverted personality. Chris laughed, loving not being the timid one for once. Wednesdays were Leslie's days to work as a shop girl at a local tattoo and piercing parlor. One of the perks of her job was getting some low-cost work done. Chris offered to drive her to work and she accepted and they sped off together down the road. She chatted about her day and Chris just listened intently. He loved the melodious sound of her voice, the way her chest rose and fell when she got excited, how she used her hands to talk. He pulled up to a teal building with a sign that read "Royal Tattoo" on the facade. She invited him inside but he didn't want to get her in trouble by loitering around with no intent of getting any ink. He had thought about it but wasn't ready to make the plunge. She waved goodbye and headed inside as Chris drove off.

He was bored and decided to head home. The internet was always a wealth of boredom-busting information. He parked his car in the driveway and noticed that no one else was home. He went inside and up to his bedroom where he kicked off his shoes and hopped into his bed, relaxing as he pulled his computer onto his lap. He checked his email and Facebook and comments on a couple status updates. Nothing much was going on online and his boredom grew. With boredom came the inevitable decision to look at some porn; it was good to kill some time before dinner. He pulled up his favorite bondage site and checked out a new photo shoot and video that had been posted.

Two ladies dressed in black and red latex had a man blindfolded on his knees. They took turns riding his face having several fake orgasms. He knew it was all staged but he still wished that it was him licking those pussies. He wished he could find a woman willing to work with him, help him explore himself and break out of his shell. He thought about Ms. Callahan again and his cock grew hard in his pants. Even though she had rejected him, he couldn't help but want to prove himself to her. To demonstrate what an obedient slave he could be.

He came out of his bedroom and went to the kitchen. No one was home yet. He searched through the cabinets for something to eat. He opened the one above the fridge, sometimes his mom kept sugary treats in there, and his eyes landed on a bottle of cheap whiskey. He smiled as he took the bottle to his lips and swallowed three large gulps. The whiskey would numb the pain of being spurned by his teacher he told himself. He grabbed a bag of chips and walked back to his room, flicking on the TV when he got there. He changed the channels trying to find something to end his boredom but it was just court shows and reruns of primetime dramas on. It was almost seven o-clock and his parents still weren't home. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, planning on texting Leslie to see what she was up to and he noticed he had a text.

From Mom Dad and I are going out tonight. You're on your own for dinner Sent at 11:04am

He wished he had read this text earlier, he wouldn't have waited around for dinner. He grabbed his keys and headed out for some fast food. His head was swimming a bit, the whiskey taking effect but not so much as to impair his driving. He had been sneaking swigs from that bottle for quite some time. Soon he was going to have to get Sarah to buy him a bottle to replace it. He drove into town and looked around for something good and cheap to eat. Settling on tacos he purchased a six-pack and parked his car in the lot, scarfing them down alone, not caring how he looked doing it. The whiskey seemed to be quite a liberator for him. Normally he just took a drink when he couldn't sleep and it cured that very well. This was a first, drinking it so early in the evening. The world seemed ripe with possibilities. He debated what to do with his newly freed inhibitions; go see Leslie, go to a strip club?

An idea crept into his head from somewhere back in his subconscious and he finished his last taco and sped off. He pulled up his GPS and clicked on the history, bringing up Ms. Callahan's address. He followed the feminine voice towards the mansion outside of town. He pulled up to the wrought-iron gate and pressed the buzzer. No answer. He pressed and held the button for a few more seconds. Nothing. Inspired by the liquid courage he had coursing through his veins he shut off his car and walked towards the gate. He wasn't quite skinny enough to squeeze through the bars but he shimmied up and over with little difficulty. He made the long trip up the winding driveway.

He wondered what kind of security system she had and if there would be hounds released on him. He chuckled to himself and climbed the few porch stairs leading to her front door. He rang the bell and listened for movement inside. It was almost completely dark outside and she had no front porch light for him to see by. Satisfied that he heard no movement he rang the bell again, in case she hadn't heard him. Finally he could discern the sound of footsteps hitting the hardwood floors growing louder as they came nearer. The door swung open and he was greeted by his teacher, Ms. Callahan. Her red hair was down in soft ringlets, her make-up bold and alluring. She wore a black silk kimono-style robe and black leather riding boots. Her outfit and the scowl on his face indicated that he had interrupted something. He remembered her day planner and the names and times in red ink that littered Wednesday's entry.

He turned to leave and she grabbed him firmly by the upper arm, her well-manicured nails digging into his skin. "Chris, what the fuck are you doing here?!" she fumed. She pulled him into the entryway and slammed the door, dragging him through her house. He couldn't speak which only served to make her angrier. It was almost as though she had two different personalities; one calm and demure school teacher and the other a stormy and demanding dominatrix. As she walked quickly, the robe would billow to the side, offering Chris glimpses of a leather corset and lace panties underneath. A thrill coursed through his body. She took him down the hall, past the dungeon room and opened a new door. Inside was her bedroom. She threw him roughly onto the bed. "Your little fucking crush is interrupting my business," she sneered. "Stay here and don't fucking touch anything while I finish with my client, then I'm going to set you straight about a few things!" She left the room, slamming yet another door behind her. Chris looked around nervously. He decided to head out before she got back. As he tried the knob on her door he realized that it was locked. He was trapped until she came back.

It was then that she noticed the flat-screen TV mounted on the wall. It displayed black and white footage of the whole house. One pane had a video feed from the front porch, another from her bedroom to which he waved to himself in real time. The third was the back yard and the fourth was of the dungeon. This must have been what the cable guy was installing the other day. He came closer and inspected the recording. His teacher was standing tall as an older gentleman with a pot-belly and bald spot was crawling on his hands and knees wearing a shiny latex sissy maid's outfit. There was no sound but he could imagine what the sounds and dialogue might be. She struck the sissy maid with a wooden paddle and he moved a bit faster. The paddle made contact with his bare ass and thighs and he struggled to move even faster, his gait faltering. Dressing up in women's clothes and being paddled wasn't how he had imagined things would go when he was fantasizing about all of this.

She threw the paddle on the floor and the man picked it up, put it in his mouth and crawled towards the wall. Once there he put it on the peg using his hands and went back down on all fours. Ms. Callahan walked over and put her stiletto-heeled boot on his back right where his kidney was, visibly digging the point of it into him. The man's face was twisted in agony as he mouthed what Chris could only conclude were apologies. She went to a spot out of camera range and tossed the man's clothes at him, a look of disgust on her face as she walked out, leaving the man to get dressed. Chris could see that the older man was turned on but Ms. Callahan just left him. Suddenly she burst through the bedroom door and stalked towards her like a lioness taking down a gazelle. Her face was a mask of anger, her chest heaved, her bosom looking as if it was going to spill out of the top of the leather corset.

She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled his face close to hers. "What. The. Fuck. Are. You. Doing. Here," she said, annunciating every word.

"I...I wanted to be... to be your slave," Chris replied. This side of his teacher was very scary.

"I told you that I wouldn't yet you have the audacity to come to my house and beg me to dominate you?" she spat.

"Yes," he replied, the whiskey giving him courage he normally would not have possessed.

"Yes, what?" she said, repeating his words back to him.

He had seen enough porn to know what to do next, "Yes Mistress."

She softened slightly, still angry at the boy for interrupting her session with her client. "What do you think I do here?" she asked, wondering.

"You bring clients into your home and you dominate them," he generalized. She threw him back and he stumbled and landed on her soft bed.

"I went to California to study teaching. I found a passion for 'The Lifestyle,'" she said using her fingers to make quotes in the air. "I got my doctorate in psychology, now I offer sex therapy and counseling. My clients are men with a lot of issues and they come to me and we work through them. They pay me a lot of money to fix their problems. Some want an outlet for sexual fantasies that the cannot otherwise engage in. They get my complete discretion under doctor-patient confidentiality," she explained, still very irritated with the young man. "I do not have sex with my clients, do you understand?"

He nodded, "I have fantasies too Ms. Callahan," he said, the whiskey helping.

"I think we've gone way past last name formality, call me Cat. Every boy has fantasies. Why don't you just get a girlfriend who like to tie you up and spank you and have a normal sex life like every other teenager?" she suggested.

"I want more!" he said, pleading, "I'm so shy. The only reason I'm here is because of the whiskey I drank earlier!"

"Chris, you are my student. It isn't right."

"You said you wanted to help people, help me!" Cat looked around and caught a glimpse of his raging hard-on, his pants jutting out by quite a good margin.

She rolled her eyes, "Pineapple," she said simply.

"Pineapple?"

"It's the safe word, say it and we stop."

Ms. Callahan grabbed him by the arm again, her nails digging into his skin again, leaving crescent moon shapes. She pulled him down the hall and threw him into the dungeon. His feet caught up on themselves and he tumbled to the floor. She stood over him and presented her leather boot. "Kiss it," she commanded. Chris obeyed, planting a single kiss on the tip of her boot. "More, worship these boots." He continued to kiss the soft leather. He felt one-inch tall as he groveled at her feet. "I don't appreciate you coming into my house uninvited," she said, malice in her voice. He didn't know if it was an act of if she was really angry with him but he feared the latter. He chose to keep kissing her boots to keep her pacified. "Take off your shirt!" she said and he obeyed, exposing his bare chest and back. "Crawl over to the cross again. I liked you spread-eagle and helpless before." He felt helpless right now and wondered what he had gotten himself into. On his hands and knees he moved quickly to the cross and stood, placing himself into the proper position. He knew what happened to men who didn't move fast enough. Cat tied him to the wood and crossed the room picking up her two favorite implements of punishment, the leather flogger and the riding crop. The flogger had several strands of leather hanging from a leather-wrapped handle. The riding crop was a thin piece of plastic wrapped in woven nylon with a ergonomic leather grip.

She didn't need any time warming up, her previous clients had done that. Using a flick of the wrist, the riding crop came sailing through the air and landed on his bare flesh with a sharp snap. His body tensed and he groaned as his back ignited in fire. She used the whole shaft of the crop and the coarse nylon was an intense kind of pain. He breathed deeply, taking the pain for his Mistress. She flogged him in figure-eights, harder than she had last time, the leather tassels hitting the spot carved out by the riding crop.

The next sharp blow from the crop landed on his bony shoulder blades and the pain knocked the air from his lungs. He gasped and writhed against his restraints which caused Cat to laugh menacingly. The woman was enjoying punishing her captive. She cared not for his thoughts and feelings. She was just going to beat him until he shouted the safe word like a little bitch and then send him on his way. She lied to him about being a psychologist, she was just a sadist who liked to get paid to beat and degrade men, but Chris took his lashing, wanting to make her happy. She struck him again on his lower back and again on his other shoulder and again on his trunk, criss-crossing the first mark.