tagMind ControlLatin Ch. 02

Latin Ch. 02

byColleen Thomas©

Latin II: Miss Congeniality

Mandy sat on a lounge chair at the public pool. Her dark, one piece bathing suit seemed out of place among the risqué bikinis most of the younger women wore. Her pale skin was red and even practically bathing in sun screen had done little to protect her over the last three afternoons. It had been dreadfully boring and unfulfilling, but all that changed when she saw Stewart's pick-up roll into the lot. It was followed by Christy's red mustang and Julia's black beemer.

"Bout fucking time," the thin blonde said under her breath.

The "in" clique had finally arrived. Mandy dove into the pool to rinse some o fthe oily lotion off. She then climbed out and gathered up her bag making her way towards the locker room. She slipped in and took a seat on one of the wooden benches, absently toweling off. There were several women in various states of dress in the room and neither Christy nor any of her friends noticed her. They were laughing, joking and horsing around as they disappeared into the dressing rooms.

Christy was the first one out. Her long blonde hair was tied back in a pony tail and the red string bikini showed off her bronzed skin, long legs, pert breasts and flat tummy. Mandy paid particular attention to the locker the tall girl chose. She then made her way to the ladies room and furtively smoked a Marlboro in one of the stalls. Checking her watch when she finished, she lit another and smoked it down to the filter.

Only after she was reasonably sure they had all gone out did she emerge into the nearly deserted locker room. Mandy headed back to the lockers and glanced in both directions. The only one left in the room was a middle aged woman trying to get herself and her daughter out of their suits. The kid was squalling and raising hell and the woman looked harried and tired. Mandy decided she was too preoccupied to be paying attention to her and reached into her bag.

Mandy pulled out the small set of bolt cutters and easily snapped the cheap lock on Christy's locker. She returned the tool to her bag and glanced back at the woman. She was still fighting to get a shirt on her daughter. Mandy opened the locker, and quickly located what she wanted. She wasn't a bit surprised to find Christy wore a thong. Mandy stuffed the red satin garment into her bag, and made her way out, smiling sympathetically at the woman as she passed.

***


Mandy sat in her protection circle and watched the strange creature she had summoned as it tested the bounds of her circle. It looked like a cross between a blood hound and a bat, with leathery black wings and a shaggy, molted pelt.

"Mistress called?" it finally said.

Well, said wasn't exactly correct, it didn't really make a sound, but Mandy could hear its thin, reedy voice in her mind.

"I did."

"What does nice mistress want?" it said in an ingratiating way.

Rather than reply, Mandy drew Christy's panties from her jean pocket and tossed them outside the circle. The creature moved to them and began to snuffle at them. Mandy waited impassively as the creature got the scent and then let out an eerie baying.

"I want her will," Mandy commanded.

"It will be as you wish, mistress," the hell hound promised before bounding down the rickety stairs in a flash.

***


Christy was having a nightmare. It was even more horrible because she knew it was a nightmare and she couldn't make herself wake up. She was running through the woods, being chased by something she couldn't see. She could hear it though, not just the popping of brush and the rush of feet, but an insane, demented braying, like a bloodhound on someone's trail in the movies.

The trees whipped her face and the branches clutched at her night shirt. She tripped over unseen roots and rocks, often crashing to the ground. Her knees were scraped and bleeding, as were her elbows. Her face was welted and her nightshirt was gone when she emerged from the deep woods into a clearing.

Christy felt horror even deeper than the dread of being chased when she recognized the old Yokam place. The trees twisted obscenely in a dry, foul smelling wind. The door gaped open like a waiting maw, and the glassless windows stared at her with carnal hunger. She could feel it, even if she couldn't explain it.

Behind her, they baying rose to a hellish crescendo, but she couldn't make herself take one more step towards that house. Something crashed through the brush behind her and she whirled, to face a creature from nightmare. Red eyes, a black, molted coat, leathery bat wings. Part of its skull was rotted away, and she could see maggots writhing within the wound. It had a rat tail and the back legs of a swift hound, but dangling between its legs was an all too human penis.

She gagged as the charnel stench of it overwhelmed her and involuntarily took a step backwards.

"Wake up!" she cried, but her voice was lost in the now howling gale.

It advanced on her, and she retreated, step by step. When she passed through the broken gate and into the yard she realized she was moving towards the house, which was still more horrible than this thing.

Christy tried to move left, but it darted into her path and snapped its loathsome jaws. She felt flecks of its putrid saliva spatter on her bare hip and it burned like a branding iron.

She tried turning right, but again it was there, moving so fast it hurt her eyes to try and follow and again the grotesque jaws snapped shut. No matter where she turned it was there, like a sheep dog, herding her towards the door. Eventually, she was backed up to the sagging porch.

Caught between the horror of the house and the terror of the beast, Christy whimpered as she backed into the darkened doorway. It followed her through the door, herding her up the rickety stairs and into the small attic.

Christy found herself in a room with a low ceiling, lit by several candles. Seated in a small circle was the school dyke, Mandy Richardson. For a moment, wonder that Mandy could make it into her nightmares overrode even the fear. For a moment only, though. The creature followed her up the stairs and she saw no exit from the room. It backed her up against the far wall, but stood there, neither moving, nor growling, nor snapping at her.

Christy looked past the creature to see Mandy place a small silver box on the floor, on the outside of the circle she sat cross-legged in. The creature seemed to be growing in size and she started to scream, but no sound came. Horror beyond horror washed over her as she saw the creature wasn't growing, she was shrinking. Getting smaller, and smaller, and smaller, until its claws seemed Cyclopean monuments cast in basalt.

Her screams finally came, as it seized her in its jaws and gently carried her over to the box. It dropped her inside and the light faded as the tiny top was closed.

***


Christy's eyes flared open to see her mother's concerned face. She tried to speak, but her throat was painful and the sound that came out resembled more a croak than her voice.

"It's okay, baby. You just had a bad dream," her mother said in a soothing voice.

Christy nodded, but unlike past nightmares, the images didn't fade. She shivered and was bathed in sweat and eventually her mother called Doctor Sheppard. He arrived, examined the terrified girl and gave her an injection. The world became fuzzy and Christy faded out as the old man gently patted her hand.

By morning, the dream had faded, leaving only the vague impression she had lost something. Something important, but that she couldn't think of. Her voice was still hoarse and she decided to skip school. It was late in the year and nothing important was going on.

A day spent lounging on the sofa, watching TV and being pampered did wonders and by Tuesday morning she was back in school.

Everything seemed fine until she bumped into Mandy in the hallway outside Mrs. Moran's English class. Seeing the thin butch brought the dream back to her with such terrifying vividness Christy found her self shivering.

"You look like you've seen a ghost, are you all right?" Mandy asked.

Christy tried to speak, tried to say she was fine, tried to push the image of the girl sitting in that circle and watching her. She barely managed to stammer out a few incoherent syllables.

"Just uncomfortable? Probably that bra you're wearing. I bet it itches like crazy," Mandy said quietly and slowly, enunciating each word before slipping past Christy and into the classroom.

Christy cocked her head and scowled, what a strange thing to say. She moved into the room when Julia and Stew and the others arrived and took her accustomed seat. They were laughing and joking when the bell rang and Mrs. Moran wobbled into the room. She was wearing five inch stilettos today, with black seamed stockings, knee length black skirt and a long sleeved turquoise silk top, with the top two buttons undone.

She looked good, if perhaps just a bit over dressed for a school teacher, but she seemed to have discovered earlier in the semester she was a woman. All the kids noticed, it would be hard not to. Dour, frumpy Mrs. Moran was now one of those teachers the guys privately talked about banging in the locker room.

She was looser, easier, less prone to bite than to listen and her penchant for hours long homework assignments seemed to have departed with the ugly dresses and support hose. She smiled more and was a regular at the local ladies only health club. She hadn't issued anyone demerits in over a month and there was a running pool on how long it would last.

As she began her lecture Christy felt an itch behind the point where her bra closed. Rubbing her back on the chair seemed to help a little, but soon it was itching where the straps rode on her shoulders. She surreptitiously began to scratch. Before she knew it, the cups were itching, causing acute embarrassment as she was forced to again and again scratch.

"Miss Coburn, is there a problem?" Mrs. Moran asked, suddenly.

Christy was mortified, but quickly thought up a response.

"Yes Ma'am, this shirt is new and I think I am having an allergic reaction to it."

"Do you have another one here?"

"Yes Ma'am, my gym shirt is in my locker."

"Very well, why don't you go and change? Stop in at the nurse and see about getting a benadryl or something," she said as she wrote out a hall pass.

"Thank you," Christy said, clutching the pass and hurrying to her locker.

By the time she managed to retrieve her gym shirt and lock herself in a stall in the ladies room she was going insane. She practically ripped her blouse off and clawed at the clasp on her bra. It felt like hordes of ants were biting her breasts and nipples, shoulders and back, anywhere her bra touched. She tore it off and literally gasped in pleasure as the itching instantly subsided.

She took a few delicious breathes before examining her bra. It was a blue Vic's Secret second skin model, one she had had for quite some time. She couldn't see anything wrong with it, nothing visible that might have caused it to suddenly itch. She gingerly held it to her breasts and felt nothing but the cool satin, but the moment she redid the clasp it began to itch.

Christy stepped out of the stall and examined herself in the mirror, her skin was red and irritated, but only where she had been scratching. Maybe her mother was using a new fabric softener or something, she thought as she stepped back in the stall.

She pulled her gym tee on and put her blouse and bra in her locker. The nurse gave her a benadryl and an excuse to be wearing her gym shirt to classes for the day as well as an excuse to not participate in gym class, since she wouldn't have anything to wear if she did. She barely made it back to Mrs. Moran's class before the bell rang.

***


Mandy smiled to herself when Christy returned to class. The white gym shirt was loose, but she could tell by the way Christy's boobs swayed and bounced she wasn't wearing her bra. She glanced at Mrs. Moran and nodded slightly just as the bell sounded.

"All right class, ten pages tonight in Homer. I expect everyone to be able to discuss what you read tomorrow, so no shirking. Miss. Coburn, you missed a good number of notes. You can come back by during activity period and I will give them to you or, if you prefer, you can get them from a classmate. Dismissed."

Mandy hung around after class, but Christy was apparently not returning. She sauntered up to the front and sat on Mrs. Moran's desk.

"Did you do something to that poor girl?" the older woman asked.

There was some scolding in her voice, but it was muted. She had learned her lessons well and she knew she couldn't directly confront her mistress. Even if she could, she was no longer sure she wanted to. Just being so near the thin butch had her body thrumming with desire.

"No, not yet. But I'm working on it," Mandy said, enjoying the flash of jealousy she saw.

"Aww, don't be that way," she whispered, catching the teacher's chin in her hand, "there will still be plenty of fucking for you, who knows, I might even let you have a taste of her if you're good."

Mandy greatly enjoyed the conflicting emotions she saw in the older woman's eyes. Four months of almost daily serious fucking and a new daily regimen had wrought a lot of changes in her victim. There were still areas she hadn't managed to crack, but she was recasting this woman into something more pleasant. Eventually, she planned to let her go, but not before she had taken her full pound of flesh.

"But…"

"Shhhh. Don't waste time thinking about things beyond you. Now be a good little girl and get mommy's harness out while I lock the door."

The flash of anger at being patronized, juxtaposed with the hunger in her eyes was priceless and Mandy smiled as she locked the door to the room and drew the blinds. When she got back to the desk Cynthia was waiting and her hands seemed to go involuntarily to Mandy's jeans.

"No, over the jeans today."

With shaking hands, the older woman grabbed the harness and held it open as Mandy stepped into it. She drew it up and fastened it tightly around Mandy's slim hips.

"How does Mommy's little girl want it today?" Mandy taunted.

That got what Mandy wanted. The angry eyes, the obvious effort to rebel against her control. It still got her going, although less so than at first. Now she was enjoying the more subtle forms of torture. Not making her do anything, by force of the spell, but forcing her to be a party to her own humiliation. She knew Cynthia wanted it. After experiencing multiple orgasms she was as hooked on sex as any junkie on crack. Mandy had worked hard for that and was just now really beginning to enjoy the rewards.

Cynthia leaned over her desk and spread her legs wide, lowering her ass to just the right level for Mandy. The butch casually flipped up her teacher's skirt and pulled black thong to one side. She noticed how the exercise and diet had firmed up Mrs. Moran's ass and how the sun and running had removed a lot of the fat and cellulite from her thighs. She also liked the way the garters framed her target. All together a more appealing target than the first time, she thought, wrinkling her nose.

Cynthia's pussy was still fat, fleshy and baby ass smooth. She was also wet and ready. Mandy grasped the head of her cock and lined it up, sliding into Cynthia with a fluid motion that elicited a gasp. She then grasped the teacher's hips and began a slow, steady fucking. Within a few strokes, her flesh colored cock was coated in the older woman's juices and Cynthia was moaning and thrusting back. Quite a change, Mandy thought.

Part of her problem was that she was having to learn as she went. She wasn't mean by nature and while she cried out for vengeance, she wasn't really equipped to get it, even with the book. In that, choosing her teacher first had been an unintentional boon. She was easier to embarrass and easier to put into a bad situation than the "in" clique would be, since she wasn't as experienced or jaded as they were.

Mandy had learned a lot about power in the last four months. Raw power, that was easy. The book gave her that in abundance, but it wasn't very useful. It was applied power that held the key and that power was all up to her.

Having prim and proper Cynthia Moran bent over her desk and thrusting back on Mandy's cock was an accomplishment and a big step on her way to refining raw power to get what she wanted.

Her concentration was interrupted as Cynthia came. She was usually quite loud and of course, had to stuff something in her mouth when they did it here at school. Mandy watched her ass flex, the muscles in her thighs twitch and the way her pussy seemed to be holding onto the cock for dear life. It sent a thrill through her and she almost wished she wasn't wearing her jeans.

"None of that," she admonished herself.

"Huh?"

"Nothing baby, you just keep enjoying mommy's cock, I'm thinking out loud," Mandy replied, patting her lover's backside fondly.

So how did she get to this point? That was the first question. It was she decided, not an order, but a string of them. The first had been when she demanded Cynthia no longer sleep with her husband or anyone else. That had been followed by the addition of 30 minutes each morning playing with herself, but not being allowed to cum, added to her jogging and workouts and reading assignments. Then adding ben-wa balls to her morning jog and evening aerobics.

Concentrated effort to bang the living hell out of her every day at school and at trysting places on the weekends hadn't hurt either, she thought with a wry grin.

Christy was a whole different ball of wax and she gave it more thought as she increased the pace. The squishing sounds of her cock sliding into her teacher seemed to aid in her thought process. By the time Cynthia came again, Mandy had a plan.

***


"All right class, as you all know, the semester is winding down. Mrs. Windborn has asked that we allow each of you time to visit her and discuss your future plans. Normally, visits to the guidance counselor have been something students had to schedule on their own time, but with the new education requirements, the dean has decided to give you each some time off during your school day so when you get the chance, make sure you schedule an appointment."

The hubbub of voices filled the room and Mrs. Moran waited impatiently for quiet after clearing her throat.

"Now, the lost class time means we aren't going to get as far into Homer as I had hoped. I feel, therefore, that demanding an individual presentation from each of you would be too time consuming. So instead of individual presentation, I am going to assign you partners and move the presentations to the end of semester. The presentation is still half your grade, so don't shirk and leave it all on your partner. Since we are taking this approach, you may all leave your Iliads at home from now to the end of school. We will be taking up John Donne's Paradise Lost and will work on the symbolism inherent in that work until the end of the semester."

A chorus of groans filled the room along with a few half audible gripes.

"All right, cut it out," the teacher said with a forced smile.

"I'll post your presentation assignments on the door after 5th period, don't forget to check in and get with your partners at least once over the weekend."

She glanced then at Mandy, but the dark haired girl seemed immobile. Mrs. Moran sighed heavily before going on.

"One word of warning and one only. This applies especially to you Stewart Horton!" she exclaimed, cutting the tall jock off as he was whispering something to his girlfriend.

"Sorry teach."

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byColleen Thomas© 16 comments/ 216501 views/ 28 favorites

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