Teacher Is Mistaken Ch. 08

byStoryTeller07©

Surely this young girl didn't know about such things! Her master did, and like her he was only eighteen. Perhaps it was just that she had been naive, with her parents sheltering her too much.

"Please, let me go," Hollie pleaded. This time she meant it.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see students using the drinks machine. They hardly glanced at the two of them, being in too much of a hurry to care what was going on. Nevertheless it was terrifying to realise any minute a crowd might gather around them, to witness her public humiliation.

"It's a slave collar isn't it, teacher," Angela announced.

It was amusing watching the agony on the woman's face, as the collar was jigged up and down. She had wondered what the chain was attached to, until moving the collar. The chain was visibly moving through nipple rings. She knew exactly what she was doing, and enjoyed tormenting the teacher, right there in front of everyone.

"Yes," Hollie hesitantly replied. Her secret was out! Though it would be assumed the boyfriend was someone her own age or older.

It was fun sawing the chain over a teacher's nipples, but she wondered if it went further down. The poor teacher looked pathetic and helpless, as though she were a little rabbit startled in the lights of a car.

"Did he buy you the chain for your nipples?" Angela asked, sounding innocent as though asking about a handbag.

"Yes," Hollie answered, on an exhalation of breath. She had been holding it in, now breathed heavily. The damn girl knew what she was doing to her!

"Does it go down between your legs?" she quietly spoke.

"Yes," Hollie whispered, between deep breaths.

"Who would suspect a teacher was a slave, dressed in slave chains and in school too! You're a slut teacher aren't you?" Angela persisted.

"Yes," Hollie had to agree. She felt dreadful, for she really did feel like a nasty little slut of a girl. This young girl had her cupped in her hand like a delicate butterfly. If the girl closed her fist she would be crushed. Revealing this dire secret would crush her reputation.

"I can see the chains running over your nipples, but not down there. Tell me what I'm doing to you, slutty teacher," Angela demanded.

"I can't," Hollie demurred, looking down at her blouse.

"I'll look for myself," Angela crossly said, and pulled at the hem of the skirt.

It was up her thighs before Hollie could react. They were standing close, so no one could see, but eventually a student would notice something was up, and that would attract a crowd. She would be caught with her skirt up, showing off the vulgar piercings in her sex, to a group of students!

"Please, let me tell you, please miss," Hollie beseeched her tormentor. She sighed and furtively glanced around, checking no one had noticed the skirt being pulled up.

"You are running the chain through a piercing ring in my bud," Hollie gave a start, and began panting, as the girl tugged vacuously on the collar.

"Through a loop attached to your bud, and where else," Angela demanded to know.

"My lips miss. The chains are locked to my lips," Hollie finally admitted, to avoid another hurtful tug.

"Is that nice, teacher?" Angela asked, while moving the collar up and down in a long slow motion.

Without thinking she answered. "Yes, miss, thank you miss," Hollie breathed, meaning it was better than having her lips viciously pulled upward.

"You really are a bad little slut, aren't you?" Angela asked.

"Yes, miss, I'm a bad little slut, miss," Hollie couldn't help agreeing. It was so true, it hurt. She was in a school corridor, unable to resist this girl stimulating her naughty bits. She was so aroused she might orgasm before students.

"So tell me," Angela teased.

"You're rubbing my nipples and my bud," she sighed. "You're pulling on my lips. My pussy is so wet, I'm open and ready," Hollie painfully replied.

"Ready for what, slutty slave," Angela persisted.

It was delightful seeing the hurt look on this teachers face. It would be perfect having a teacher helplessly obedient at her feet. Te teacher was a real slut, being so easily sexed up. She would find all kinds of torments to inflict upon the slutty slave, if she could find a way of getting her home.

"I'm ready for a good hard fucking," Hollie murmured. The words were painful to say, let alone having to say them to this girl.

"I hope your master looks after you then," Angela commented, with contempt steeling her voice. She let get go of the collar and winked at the red faced teacher. "Our little secret," she said.

There was a lull in the flow of students, so Angela took the opportunity to humiliate the teacher that bit more. She patted her bottom, and told her, "Off you go slave, run along little slave girl, for a good fucking," Angela giggled.

The uncouth words were like a slap to the face. Hollie obeyed her though, by running off. She felt so small and low it was necessary to quickly escape the torment. The girl was a student, so should be treating her with respect. She had wanted to put the girl down for flirting with her master, yet the girl had taken control of her!

She scurried off along the corridor to the first aid room, and the safety of her master's arms.

"Where have you been? Never mind, we don't have much time," Roger scolded her. He removed the butt plug so she could use the restroom.

Hollie knew what he had been doing to her, but it was a shock to discover how effective the butt plug had been. Touching herself she found her asshole was open. Damn! This young guy has changed her body, made her tight virgin asshole into a gaping hole.

That damn girl had unsettled her. Roger's protection was needed even more after what had just happened. She had to get a grip of herself. Roger was her master, and as his slave girl, she had to obey him.

When he smiled reassuringly at her, she felt warm and comforted. He fitted the butt plug in, and this time she paid attention, realising it was the same one, as it easily slipped in.

"There's no time for anything else, we need to get back to our classes," he told her.

Hollie looked at him with imploring eyes, letting him know she needed him.

"What is it slave girl," Roger asked.

"Your slave girl is now master's three holed fuck doll. Will master use a hole, please master," she whined.

"Not now. Later we will have more time to play. Stop that right now, you're being a naughty slut teacher," Roger had to warn her. She was wiggling her bottom at him, trying to seduce him.

"Sorry master," Hollie said, not looking sorry at all. She was so fired up she desperately needed satisfying.

***

In class she pressed her thighs together, rubbing them, trying to trap the rings in her swollen lips. Occasionally when they were aligned right, she pressed down hard on the seat, massaging the ring in her bud. The pain was delightful. It held her back and at the same time was stimulating.

A tingle of bad pleasure went through her body. It was different from when her master spanked her. That was a different pain. It brought her under his control, wanting to please him with her obedience. The pain in her bud flattened out her arousal, and was exciting too.

Eventually she calmed down, to a throbbing ache of arousal. Something she had become used to.

The whispers and giggles indicated they knew something was wrong with her. Perhaps they thought she had a yeast infection. The girls might have guessed and gossiped to the guys. Though she was beginning to believe these youngsters knew more than she did about sex.

She no longer cared what they thought. There were just two days to go before the end of term, when she would be free of school. They were more concerned with organising a party than their teacher having a strange moment.

***

Every time someone walked past the door she looked over, expecting to see the principal marching in, with an angry expression. She rehearsed an excuse why she wore chains in school. It happened at a hen party. Friends had fitted them while she had too much to drink. She would offer to show him the locks, to explain why they couldn't be removed.

The thought of being innocent and reticent, about showing the principle her locked pussy, was starting her off again. She imagined telling him she was sorry' but had to prove to him the chains were locked on her body. Could he try and remove these tiny locks? She would be so grateful.

She imagined the principal's hands between her legs, pulling on her lips, while fiddling with the lock. He would pretend to be disinterested, while she became unavoidably hot. She would apologise to him, for becoming so aroused, but explained she couldn't help it.

"Please, sir, let me cum, please," Hollie whispered.

A couple of students looked at her with an enquiring expression. She shook her head, mouthing the word, 'nothing'. It wasn't 'nothing' though. She was a teacher and a slut, or a slut that happened to be a teacher. She was out of control. She needed her master to control her. He looked after her, leaving her feeling wonderful, satisfied and compliant.

***

Roger called in at his teacher's apartment, as usual. Since a neighbour asked where she was, meaning to ask who he was, he hadn't been challenged again. He told them he was watering the plants and collecting the mail for Hollie, while she was home visiting family. He indicated she was his girlfriend, though they assumed that from the way he spoke about her.

"Yes! Well done Hollie!" he whooped. The principle had apologised for not speaking to her directly and sending an email. He was offering her a permanent post, with advancement, to assistant head of department.

"Well, Hollie! You will be an important woman, head of the history department in school, and slave girl in my home. You're my lovely little slave girl," he laughed, while looking around the apartment.

It was a pity it would have to end after the summer break. It dawned on him he was thinking of keeping her that long. Was there any reason why not? Having a slave girl at his feet all summer, would be a dream come true.

They had gotten away with it so far, so how much easier would it be once they were out of school. Would she go for it? He would have to work her up into such a state she couldn't refuse. Keeping her that way, submissive and obedient would take some effort, though how much fun would that be?

"Awesome!" Roger punched the air, expressing his enthusiasm for an unexpected summer project. Not a school project, rather it's a teacher project. He would have to keep her hopping from one humiliation to the next, keeping her hot. That way she would be willing to obey him as his slave.

He rushed home, knowing she would be a hot slut from not getting what she needed this afternoon. At lunchtime she had been more aroused than expected, just from wearing those chains in class.

He walked in knowing she had arrived already and could smell food cooking. She was trying to please him with a meal.

Hollie hadn't told her master, about the girl playing with her nipples and pussy. There hadn't been time. She was going to have to tell him and dreaded it. She was a bad girl, letting someone do such a rude thing to her. Those thoughts about the principal were terrible too. She was out of control and needed him, needed to be controlled by him.

As soon as he walked in, her state of arousal climbed unbearably. She needed him so much. She needed her master to fuck her. It occurred to her he could punish her, by fucking her asshole. She cringed from thinking like that. She had never been so out of control, so heated up that she couldn't hide it.

Hollie sank to her knees before him. "Please master, you're miserable little slave girl, has been naughty," she whined.

"Have you been playing with yourself in the restroom again?" he asked, with a chuckle toning down his voice. He couldn't be angry with his teacher, when she was so frustrated from thinking about him.

"A girl was playing with the chains, master. She was stimulating my nipples and pussy. I couldn't stop her, master, sorry master," Hollie blurted out. She wanted to say more. The pose she struck, at his feet, and the overwhelming feeling of being pathetic, dried the words in her mouth.

Roger was stunned. He wanted to ask who it was and what happened, for it sounded dangerous to their game. Instead he needed to calm her, by taking control. He sidestepped the obvious question, playing for time, to get his own thoughts in order.

"Your nipples, your pussy, you are forgetting yourself, slave girl," Roger haughtily stated.

"Oh! Sorry master, your nipples, your, err, cunt master was, err, that girl," she tried again, stammering from anxiety.

"Who was it?" he asked. He sat down in an armchair forcing her to crawl along the floor, to squat at his feet.

"The girl who flirted with master," she said, tightening her mouth, showing disgust that it was her.

It was Angela. He knew she could keep a secret, though she might use it against him. "Did anyone notice this spectacle?" he asked, with heavy tones, indicated displeasure.

"No master your obedient slave doesn't think so," she responded, at last feeling there was a small consolation.

"Well, it could have been worse. Explain to me what she did to my slave girl," he demanded.

Hollie felt so small and insignificant. The way she was posed before him and the way he spoke, she was like a broken winged little bird at his feet. She needed him to put her back together again, to make her feel worthy.

"You've been a bad slut, teacher. You need to be kept under control," he said, and stroked her hair. He cupped her chin in his hand, lifting it to look her into the watery eyes.

"Well?" he asked.

"Yes, master, your humble slave girl needs her master's control. She needs to obey her master," she replied, with all the heartfelt sincerity that could be brought to the words.

He had her at a vulnerable moment, so decided to strike. Once she capitulated, it would be difficult for her to back out of the agreement. He would keep her panting for sex, by stimulating her in humiliating situations. In between times he would work upon her submissive personality. There would be no chance of escaping, while he kept her as a summertime sex slave.

"Have you thought about your slave collar, and being named?" he asked.

Hollie nodded, unable to answer. Was it such a big step? After all, she was already deeply trapped in the role, so what difference would it make? There were two days of school to get through, so she needed him to protect her reputation. He could talk to that girl, getting her to promise to keep quiet.

It would only be for a couple of weeks, until his parents returned from their vacation in Europe. What worried her was how it would affect her afterwards. She was too dependent upon him now, so how would she be after a solid two weeks in his apartment? Thinking of recovering, in the peace and quiet of her apartment, she nodded her head again.

"What do you say, tell me," he insisted.

"I want to be you're, err, slave girl. This slave girl wants YOU to be her master," she hesitantly volunteered.

"You agree to become my slave girl? Not just a game to play here and now. You will be my full time slave girl, to do with as I want. Everything you do will be with my permission," he told her, intoning a graveness of voice, that she might consider the words carefully before answering.

This time she faltered. She heard what he was saying and the way he was saying it, as though she were expected to make a solemn pledge. Under his stare, and with the influence of a throbbing pussy, she capitulated.

"Yes, master," she whispered.

"Let me hear you say it," he demanded.

Having obeyed his every command for the past few weeks, what difference could there be? She wanted him, needed him, in so many ways.

"I want to be your full time slave girl, and will obey you as my master, in all things. Everything your slave does will be with her master's permission," she formally answered.

"I will give you a new name, a slave name. I will own you from then on," he said.

"My master will name me as his slave. I will be owned by you, my master," she replied. Hollie looked up at him with tears sparkling in her eyes. She couldn't explain the happiness that washed over her inner-self. Feeling so much under his control left her feeling warm and content.

"Like any other possession I can use you as I wish. Dispose of you as I wish," he said. She looked curious, with her head to one side, as though this idea hadn't been anticipated. The eyes were still glistening with desire, clearly clouding her judgement.

"Slave will be an object, owned by her master. Like any of his possessions, Master can dispose of his slave," she said, and looked down at the carpet. What more could she say? It was a hard point to accept, yet she felt it, felt as lowly as a pet bitch, owned by a master.

The thought of being disposed of, wound around her mind, wrapping her in dread.

Seeing the troubled expression, he decided to distract her from dwelling upon this one unimportant point. It was only meant to rub in her lowly position, and to add to her humiliation. On the spur of the moment he decided to counter the idea that had upset her.

"Slave will be permanently owned by her master, forever she will be his dutiful slave, looked after and cared for," he clearly stated. This cheered her up, as she smiled warmly at him, managing a soppy grin.

Hollie heard him say he wanted her forever. A different form of ceremony flashed through her mind, where she wore a white flowing dress. Her heart fluttered alarmingly. Her master would look after her forever. She needed to hear that, needed him to keep her under control, and most of all she needed his loving care.

Abandoning her right now would leave her frustrated and lonely. After so much stimulation, after he had opened her eyes to so many exciting thrills, it would be difficult losing him. She needed her master so readily agreed for him to look after her forever.

"This is your name tag, for your slave collar," he announced, with a big smile.

She looked up at it. This was no simple, cheap dog tag it was a silver pendent, matching the slave collar. Her master's smile was so warm and inviting, the watery eyes threatened to spill over into tears of happiness. Her sight was blurry, so she couldn't read the name. Brushing at her eyes to clear them, she read her new slave name.

"Cindy," her master said, as she too read it out loud.

She took in her name and with it, all that it meant. There was a ditsy Cindy girl in her class. In college she had known a Cindy, and she too was a cute little girly, dressing in young, over feminine dresses. Playing up to the boys in a shamefully flirtatious way, seemed to be a past-time and a habit.

Was she too expected to act like a dizzy blonde?

"I'm so proud of my slave girl," Roger smiled. The smile was real. He was happy to have conquered his teacher, having her at his feet, prepared to be his absolute slave. She had agreed to be a mere object owned by him, and to abide by his commands. His teacher was willing to obey whatever he wanted!

She had already proved how low she would sink, abandoning her morals to obey him. Now he would see how far she was willing to go, with the more humble role of owned object.

Her master's genuine warm smile lifted her spirits. He was happy with her and she determined to keep him that way. The idea of being disposed of mustn't even be considered. She would work hard to please him, and obey everything he desired of her.

"When I attach your new name, you will repeat it. You will repeat the solemn promise that you have committed to. Understood, my beautiful slave?" he asked.

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byStoryTeller07© 5 comments/ 60504 views/ 9 favorites

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