Life of Angela Ch. 07byAlfamann©
The day following my punishment and full confession to Mrs Hipkins she informed me that Bridget had been forbidden to have further contact with me, and I was being relocated so that I shared a two bedroom dorm accommodation with my friend Emma. I couldn't help feeling pangs of regret and guilt regarding my relationship with Bridget, but deep down I knew it was for the best.
I hoped Emma and I would get on okay. She had certainly been a loyal friend to me, undemanding and non-critical of my conduct, even though she had witnessed me submitting my body to Bridget.
Emma was certainly a different person to me with a totally different outlook on life. She had dyed black hair that was streaked in red, had piercings in her ears and a stud in her nose. She told me she use to have a lip piercing but had to take it out as it was against college regulations. Her clothing wardrobe consisted of almost entirely black clothing from head to toe. Emma's overall appearance was very gothic like. She only did the minimum amount of work to gain a pass mark in her classes.
In contrast, I was very much the motivated student and budding athlete with a totally clean cut appearance who worked hard and dressed conservatively. At least if you ignore the fact that I attended class without a bra or knickers.
However Emma and I had developed a close bond, united by the fact we were, in our own way, both outcasts from the in-group of girls at the college. I had decided to be open and honest with Emma, as she deserved the truth. Sitting together on my bed, I told her everything about my willingness to submit to both Darren and Bridget. The least I was hoping for was that she would not condemn me for my shameful behaviour. I dared not tell her about what had really happened when I went to Mrs Hipkin's flat. I also didn't mention anything about my adventures with my brothers back on the farm.
Emma listened attentively and did not interrupt, although she often shook her head in amazement. After I had finished she simply patted me on my knee and thanked me for being honest and open. Frankly I was shocked she seemed so unfazed. I was expecting her to be at least critical of my lurid and unseemly conduct. Instead she left me sitting on my bed and went to her own bedroom. I decided to shower and it was great being able to close the door, and not ask permission to have to pee.
After finishing the shower I had to walk past Emma's door, which was slightly ajar. I was surprised to hear her groaning and panting, and one needed little imagination to know she was masturbating. I was embarrassed I had overheard her doing something so intimate, and hurried past her door into my bedroom. As I quickly hopped into bed I found myself fantasizing about Emma, and wondering just what she looked like under all that gothic clothing she always wore. I masturbated myself to sleep with those thoughts drifting through my mind.
The next month passed with very little incident. I was initially incredibly embarrassed when I had to go into Mrs Hipkins' class, but she acted as if nothing had happened. My classmates made jibes about my titties and asking whether I was wearing a bra, but these soon died down. I often bumped into Bridget who would give me a sad sort of smile and politely say hello but nothing else. I would always look away in embarrassment. A part of me wanted to reach out to her but I knew for my sake there was no going back. Emma and I hit it off so well, despite our differences. We gave each other space to do our own thing.
But a part of me was unfulfilled. Although I tried to block them out, I often had fantasies at night of me submitting to people, reliving the humiliation I had endured with Darren, Angela and the Hipkins family. I found myself acting out elaborate scenarios so that I could bring myself to orgasm. I tried desperately to be the wholesome good girl I knew I should be. However I would find myself restless, twisting and turning when trying to get to sleep. I would invariably reach under my blanket and strip off the panties and tee shirt I generally wore to bed. When I was naked I would then slowly kick off the covers, all the while imagining that another person was removing it, intent on exposing my naked body.
I would then imagine that the person orders me into the diaper position, and I silently protest, but the imaginary person is very insistent. I feel humiliated, but slowly pull my knees up until they are almost touching my breasts. The person then orders me to open my knees wide. I obey. Then I am ordered to pull my cheeks apart so that they can see my bum hole. I feel demeaned, but I do it without question. I am then ordered to rub my fingers over my pussy until they are well lubricated. I must then pick up the carrot that I have placed on my bedside cabinet and rub it with my own juices. I then suck my own juices off the carrot. I have to repeat the process several times until my watcher is satisfied that I am well lubricated. By this stage I am panting and fighting off the desire to come.
'Stick the carrot in your bum, you naughty little slut,' the voice in my head orders.
Silently I protest, begging not to be defiled in this way.
'Just do it. You know you want to perform for me. Show me how a little slut likes to cum hard while I am watching.'
I can resist no longer. I want to do it. Awkwardly I reach down between my legs and try to insert the carrot into my anus. I am so aroused that I try to rush it, but I can't find the opening with the tip of carrot.
The voice in the head taunts me for not being able to follow a simple order, then adds, 'your little virgin hole is obviously too tight. Loosen it with your finger first.'
I don't want to do this, but I know it would be pointless to resist. Fighting off my desire to cum, I insert my middle finger deep into my vagina and ensure it gets well lubricated. Slowly I then work it into my anus. I try to relax so I don't pucker up, and my finger slides in to my second knuckle.
'All the way in,' my imaginery watcher ordered. 'Do the job properly.'
Grunting, I force my finger all the way in, then slowly withdraw it. Grabbing hold of the carrot I ensure I guide it into position properly this time otherwise I know I will have to insert another finger into my little pink tunnel again. This time the carrot slides in easily. I force it in about four inches, leaving enough so I can hold on to it firmly. I feel so full.
My orgasm rushes up at me and I know there is no holding back. I ball my free hand into a fist and insert it in my mouth to stifle my moans as the orgasm rushes over me. The orgasm is not as powerful as when I am being humiliated by a real person, but at least it gives me temporary release.
Once a week I had to report to Mrs Hipkins to give her feedback on how I was progressing and she checked that my school work was back to my former high standards. These meetings were conducted in her school office and were formal, with Mrs Hipkins seemingly genuinely concerned for my welfare. The only time anything out of the ordinary happened was in the second week when we had finished our discussion and I stood up to leave her office.
"Lift up your skirt," she requested.
For a moment I was stunned. Then to my utter embarrassment I realised she was checking to ensure I was wearing knickers. It was obvious I was wearing a bra, as the outline of it could be seen through my school blouse. I reached down to the hem of my skirt and lifted it up above my waist, fully revealing my white cotton panties.
"Okay, go," she waved her hand to dismiss me.
I was glad to be out of her office, but that night I masturbated to the fantasy that Mrs Hipkins made me strip totally naked in her office with the door open, and several people walked past.
Today I was meant to meet Mrs Hipkins before the lunch break but I had to go to athletics training which did not finish until late. When I got to her office she was not there. I was uncertain as to what I should do. I toyed with the idea of going to her flat straight after meal time, but was wary of what had happened last time. Or was I really secretly hoping that something would happen, but was too afraid to admit it to myself.
I made up my mind to go to Mrs Hipkins' flat on the college campus straight after dinner, even though the decision made me anxious. As Emma and I ate our meals, alone as usual, I casually informed her I would be late after dinner as I was going around to Mrs Hipkins as I had missed our midday appointment.
"I will go with you," Emma responded.
"No, that would not be a good idea. But I appreciate the offer," I added quickly.
"Angela, I am the only one with an umbrella. And case you had not realised it is bucketing with rain outside, so unless you want to get drenched you had better take my offer."
"Can't you lend me your umbrella?" I added hopefully.
"And how am I going to get back to our dorm from here?" Emma persisted. "Come on, Mrs Hipkins' flat is almost on our way. We will stop off there on our walk back. I will stay outside on the veranda and wait for you if you are embarrassed about having me inside."
"No, I am not embarrassed." I felt awful about the way I was treating my best friend. How could I explain that for the benefit of both of us it would be best if she was not there?
"Then come on."
My gothic friend grabbed hold of me and before I could protest any more she dragged me out of the college cafeteria and out into the rain. She was right; it was absolutely bucketing down with rain. We both cowered under the umbrella but the wind was blowing so strong it afforded us very little protection. Half way to Mrs Hipkin's flat we were already soaking wet so we made the instant decision to sprint the remainder of the distance. In retrospect it was a plain dumb decision. We arrived on Mrs Hipkin's veranda totally drenched. We were only wearing our school uniforms, and our white blouses clung to our bodies, making our bras almost transparent through the fabric.
Like a couple of drowned rats we stood at the doorway, unsure what to do. It now seemed like an idiotic decision to visit Mrs Hipkins in this weather, but now that we were at her flat it seemed to make sense that I at least knocked on her door, quickly apologise for missing our appointment, and then Emma and I could be on our way.
When I initially knocked there was no response. I should have taken it as an omen and left, but instead I knocked again louder. To my dismay it was Mr Hipkins who finally answered the door. He looked at both of us, amazed. I was so cold and wet my teeth were beginning to chatter.
"Is Mrs Hipkins here? I need to apologise to her for missing my appointment today," I was stepping from foot to foot I was so wet.
"Sorry, she isn't. She has a meeting but should be home shortly. For heavens sake come inside out of that rain and wait for her, otherwise you will catch a death of a cold." He seemed genuinely concerned for our wellbeing.
"No, we must be going. Please just pass on my apologies."
"Don't be daft. Come in until at least the rain dies down. You can't continue in this weather."
Both Emma and I glanced over our shoulders out into the rain. As we did a fork of lightning lit up the sky. We realised he was right, so reticently I nodded and we followed him into the warmth of their flat where a fire was blazing. We both headed to stand by it, but realised we were dripping water on the carpet. Mr Hipkins briefly disappeared before reappearing with a pair of towels.
"Here, whip into the bathroom, change out of your clothes and wrap yourselves in these towels. I will throw your clothes in front of the fire and they will dry in no time.
Emma looked at me like she was not at all sure this would be a wise move, and given my past history her reluctance was understandable. However it seemed to me we had little choice as we needed to get dry and we couldn't stand there on the carpet leaving puddles of water. With a shrug I headed off to the bathroom, and after a moments hesitation Emma followed.
In the bathroom we stripped off our shoes, socks, skirt, blouse and bra, but left our knickers on. We wrapped the towels around our bodies, but they were barely big enough to cover from our chests to our hips. No matter how we fiddled with them the crotch of our knickers was visible beneath the towels.
"I can't go out like this," Emma protested.
"Come on, you look fine. No one will notice anything," I lied, but I was desperate to get back to the warmth of the fire.
Again Emma followed reluctantly behind me. I groaned when I noticed that Mrs Hipkins' obnoxious son, Tony, had come down the stairs and was now standing at the entrance to the lounge watching us scamper to the fire dressed only in our underwear and a towel. Emma squeezed my arm in panic, and I felt bad that I had got my friend into this situation. I just prayed it was not going to get any worse. How stupid of me to think that it wasn't.
Emma and I crouched over the fire, desperately trying to get the warmth back into our bodies. Both males watched us silently and I was aware the rear of our knickers would be visibly poking out from the bottom of our towels. But it was unavoidable, and I hoped that the titillating view of our knickers would be enough to satisfy the voyeuristic Mr Hipkins and his perverted son, Tony. I am sure Emma was totally unaware of the view she was presenting.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as I sensed Tony moving to stand behind me. I tensed as I felt his fingers reach down and take hold of the elastic on the bottom of my panties. I desperately wanted to brush his hands away but my arms felt like they were made of marble and would not move. Slowly he began pulling up the elastic and I could feel my knickers tighten against my pussy. Emma did not seem to notice what was happening, or if she did she certainly did not react.
Tony kept pulling up the elastic until my buttocks were exposed and the fabric of my panties disappeared into the crack of my arse. Despite my best efforts to remain silent a gasp escaped my lips. As Emma turned to stare at me quizzically Tony stepped back. "You okay," Emma enquired.
"Fine, just cold," I lied.
"Perhaps your knickers are wet, Angela," Tony smirked.
I ignored him, but I knew it would be fruitless. A part of me wanted to grab Emma by the hand and rush out the door, regardless of the weather outside. But another part of me, the part I couldn't understand, wanted to stay to face the thrilling uncertainty of what may lay ahead. As much as I hated to admit it I wanted to experience the rush of suffering embarrassment and the sexual degradation I had missed since being separated from my roommate, Bridget. It will come as no surprise that I remained rooted to the spot in front of the Hipkins' fireplace.
"Either wet from the rain or wet from your cunt juices," Tony twisted the knife.
I blushed bright red. Emma reacted with shock.
"Don't let him talk to you like that, Angela." Emma offered me support.
"Oh, is your little gothic dyke friend shocked," Tony sneered.
"Don't talk to Emma like that," I spoke as forcefully as I could, but to me my voice sounded timid and girlish. I turned to Mr Hipkins who was now seated on the sofa, and appealed to him for support.
He responded with a condescending shrug as if to say boys will be boys. "He is only playing with you, Angela. Don't take him too seriously."
Both Emma and I looked at him agog. Mr Hipkins certainly had a warped sense of what was appropriate when it came to boys playing with girls.
"Why don't you take your knickers off so that we can check they are not wet? We would hate that pretty little pussy of yours to catch a cold, wouldn't we?" Tony continued to up the ante.
I closed my eyes in despair. The cold I had been feeling from the weather had disappeared in an instant and had been replaced with a warm fuzzy feeling that was beginning to radiate through my body. When I opened my eyes a short time later I could feel the intense stare of Emma. I turned to meet her gaze, and I knew in that instance she could see the look of resignation in my eyes.
"Good god, Angela," please don't tell me you are going to do it?" Emma despaired of me.
"Take you knickers off and hand them to me," Tony continued, unable to control the excitement in his voice. Never in his wildest wet dreams had he imagined he would have this power over a female.
My shoulders slumped in defeat. I wanted to do it, despite the total degradation I would feel, especially with my best friend standing right beside me to witness my absolute submission.
I decided not to prolong the agony any longer. With a heavy sigh I reached down, extracted my panties from between my cheeks, and then lowered them all the way to the carpeted floor before stepping out of them and awkwardly bending to pick them up. The act of then handing something as personal as my underwear to Tony was absolutely ego crushing.
He held them up in front of him, and stretched them out.
"They are wet," he exclaimed in mock surprise.
There was a big wet spot in the crotch clearly visible to everyone in the room. I was mortified with shame.
"The big question is whether it is the rain or perhaps, shock, horror, it is your cunty juices. What do you think, Angela? Rain or your sweet juices?
"I don't know," I mumbled
Tony cupped his hands around my panties and then brought them up to his nose to sniff them like a rose. "Definitely the odour of pussy juices. You are such a naughty little girl, you realise that, Angela?"
I blushed even more. Not only had he revealed to everyone my arousal, but he was talking to me like a young girl, even though I was the same age as him.
"Yes." I could not believe I agreed with him.
"Yes, what?" Tony persisted.
"Yes, I am a naughty girl," I admitted shamefully.
I turned my head to the silent Emma standing beside me in a vain attempt to apologise for the way I was behaving. I had expected to see a look of disgust, but instead she had this flushed, glazed-over look on her face. It surprised me as it was not what I had expected. I quietly muttered I was sorry, but her only response was a slight shrug of her shoulders.
"I think our naughty girl should now remove her towel and use it to dry the puddle in the carpet you have left from the rain dripping off you."
"No, please!" I pleaded. "It will leave me naked."
I turned again to plead with my eyes to Mr Hipkins. Surely as a father he felt his son was now going too far. This was going way beyond just playing with me.
"I guess Tony does have a point, Angela. Vera is not going to be very happy if she comes home and finds wet spots on the carpet. It was only recently replaced." Mr Hipkins jumped in to support his son, so clearly I was not going to get any assistance from him.
I could feel three sets of eyes focused firmly on me, waiting for what seemed inevitable. I did not disappoint them. I reached up and unclasped the towel wrapped around my body. I could have held on to it to afford me at least some privacy from prying eyes, but instead I let it fall to floor. I wanted my exposure and humiliation to be total.
Emma gasped at my nakedness. Tony smirked at my capitulation to his brazen demands. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the look of amazement on Mr Hipkins' face. I don't think he actually believed I would willingly degrade myself in such a manner. My heart was pounding so hard in my chest that I began to feel lightheaded. As such it was almost a relief to knee down on the carpet and try to soak up the rain water with my towel.
Kneeling on the floor, naked, while three fully clothed people gazed at me felt like such a submissive act, and only increased my arousal. I knew my buttocks were fully exposed, and my breasts were protruding underneath me as I moved. I was careful to keep my knees together, but even so I knew my swollen labia must be at least partially exposed.