Black Screen Pt. 05

3 fingers found the right spot while the 4th hung to the side uselessly, then they began to circle slowly; very slowly.

Oh god, I'm actually doing it.

"2nd is Liza."

"Of course."

I'm actually masturbating in my fucking classroom!

It was almost as surreal as stripping off under her desk and just as terrifying, however, if Olivia stopped to reflect for just a moment it would be twice as shameful as anything she did last night.

"Hello everyone, you may call me Miss Cum Bucket."

Or maybe not.

"So, who is number 1?"

"Miss Owens, definitely."

What?

"What? Really?"

"Yeah, man! You know I have a thing for teachers."

Olivia tried to hold everything back. She didn't want to hear this right now, especially while she had no choice but to masturbate.

Number 1?

"Yeah but, what about Miss Ramsey? Surely you can't pick Miss Owens over her?"

The other kid snorted. "She's a PE teacher, it doesn't count."

"Why doesn't that count?"

"They're just personal trainers for teenagers. Teachers are hot because they're authority figures."

Hah! Would be hard to call myself an authority figure in this position.

"Huh... I never figured you as... well... The type who like that sort of thing?"

"I'm not into dominant girls if that's what you're wondering." There was a pause and Olivia could almost imagine him leaning in close for effect. "It's about the juxtaposition of taking a woman in a role of power and using them like they're worthless."

She cringed, still rubbing.

"Okay, I don't really want to hear this."

"You ASKED!"

"I didn't ask anything!"

"Well it doesn't matter; the point is that Miss Owens is without doubt a freak in the sheets when you get under the act."

It was an odd thing to hear and an uncomfortable thing to dispute. If she disagreed was she admitting to being a prude? Or even bad in bed? Olivia wasn't sure.

But if she were happy to be considered a "freak in the sheets" then what would that say about her? Surely that would be a disgraceful thing to want people to think of you, especially students.

Fidgeting and groaning muscles quivered in response to a fresh flood of sensitivity. Her body was reacting to the stimulation.

I'm not a slut...

"I'm telling you she's a slut."

"I'm not sure." The other guy responded. "Just because you want someone to be doesn't make it likely."

"Trust me, I know. I can see it in her eyes. It is why she's always angry, she needs dick."

I need no such thing!

What a barefaced, deluded lie! For a start she wasn't always angry and if she was it certainly wasn't because she needed a man, it was because she had to teach little shits like this! She was more than capable of satisfying herself.

Like she was doing now.

Oh what the fuck is wrong with me?

"She works out a lot too and she wants you to know it. You don't think she wears tighter skirts on purpose to show that off?"

"Maybe."

Maybe!? How can they see me like this? I don't wear tight skirts I just wear things that fucking fit me!

This was all ridiculous, she was a respectable and hardworking professional, not an angry, cock craving slut who wears tight clothes to tease people. That's not who she was.

Right?

Her lip hurt before she realised she was biting it.

Why was she reacting this way?

"Give me a night with her and you'd see a different side of her, trust me. I'd have her eating out my hand and purring for more."

"I'd rather not picture that, thanks. I still think you have the wrong impression of her."

The teacher suddenly found herself on the edge of cumming; a sudden build-up bulging against the floodgates and threatening to break them and yet her hand continued its depravity.

Was she meant to cum? Should she stop? Should she ask permission?

Olivia whined, frustrated. How did a grown woman need permission to orgasm?

She should stop. Cumming might make too much noise; she was already beginning to lose control of her moans.

Her leg spasmed.

And my limbs for that matter.

Luckily her foot narrowly avoided hitting the chair, but it was a close call.

"Plus she's older, which means more experience. I guarantee she's sucked loads of dicks..."

No!

"... she probably loves it..."

No!

"... and she's got a body built to be a stripper!"

No! No! No!

She needed to stop right now, her body was on the edge.

Stop.

She needed to...

Needed to...

She needed...

Oh god...

She needed to cum!

No! I need to stop! Not here! They're too close!

But her hand wasn't listening, it had a mind of its own.

It was too late... This was it.

"You may call me Miss Cum Bucket."

The end.

BRRRIIIIIINNNGGGG!!!!

Her head nearly hit the desk, body jolting to the abrupt noise.

SHITSHITSHIT! I thought I turned my sound off!

Olivia lunged for the phone, freaking out and barely stopping to consider if it was too late to save herself, but as soon as it was in her hands she paused.

It wasn't ringing?

Wha-? But I swear I...

She breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't her phone.

The ringing continued.

BRRRIIIIIINNNGGGG!!!!

"Hello?" A voice answered on the other side of the desk.

From her shoulders to her toes her body was shaking. Olivia couldn't tell if it was the fear, the adrenaline, or the cold. The dull aching coming from her vagina suggested something else; frustration.

She clenched her teeth and hissed. Now she was aware of it the feeling really began to sink in. The phone had rung moments before she climaxed and she wasn't reacting well to the sudden stop.

Still, it was probably for the best.

As the new conversation bubbled in the background, this time with only one side to overhear, Olivia unlocked her phone and pulled up her messages.

Cumming wasn't an option. She had obeyed so now she was going to ask if she could stop, even if her pussy screamed in protest.

She clicked on the chat that said 'Master' and frowned.

Play it cool.

That was strange, when had he sent that message?

5 minutes ago, it read. Around the same time he sent his last message.

But wherewas his last message.

Olivia scrolled up but all she could find was his instructions on how to suck the dildo, there was no message between telling her to touch herself.

That's weird. Where did it-

She froze.

Oh no...

It couldn't be. Olivia started desperately swiping through different chats, trying to see if he had messaged her and appeared as a new contact.

Nothing.

No no no!

Play with yourself... Play it cool.

Had she... misread his message?

Did she just do all of that of her own volition?

All over, her skin started to crawl.

"Alright, alright, we're coming, jeez." The boy on the phone said. "You finished eating?"

"Yep." The other replied.

"Good. Okay we're coming now so just chill. Seeya in a bit."

A soft beep followed, ending the call.

They were going, that was good.

Olivia hugged her knees tight, feeling no joy.

What was she becoming?

Even the soft shuffling noises of her two unexpected guests vacating the room didn't ease the suffering. The door clicked shut and she was alone, listening to their footsteps.

Completely alone.

She knew she should get dressed, who was to say how much time she had left? The door was no longer locked after all, anyone could walk in.

I just... masturbated in my class... no one made me do it, it was me. All me.

Play it cool.

The words were taunting her now, she wanted to scream. She wanted to scream and shout and throw her desk chair through the window.

Everything that had happened wasn't her fault; that was what she thought. Whatever degrading thing she did simply didn't mean anything, she was just going through the motions to get him to release his hold over her. They weren't her actions they were his.

But whatever transpired from here on, Olivia would always know that this one was on her. There was no one to blame but the slut who looked back at her in the mirror.

She bit her cheek and tensed her nose, trying to hold the tears.

Play it cool... ha!

It took another couple of minutes before the teacher managed to emerge naked from the desk and shamble over to lock the door.

For good this time.

Her body slumped to the floor, exhausted, and ended up squatting just below the window of the door in a heap.

She needed to get dressed, lunchtime would be over soon.

Play it cool...

BZZZ!

Huh... I thought I muted you?

A tired arm raised the device, hoping for some good news for once.

Her heart fell in response.

Time is running out, Miss Cum Bucket. You better get started on the next dick.

No tears came, but she sobbed and whined nonetheless.

Why her? What did she do to deserve this?

There was only 10 minutes left, there was no way Olivia finished in time.

But what choice did she have?

She didn't even bother to stand, it was pointless. Instead the teacher crawled on her knees towards the next chair, one hand holding the dildo, the other the phone.

Why did Ellie have to have a dildo in her drawer? If she didn't own this thing then maybe this task would have been abandoned for something better.

She stuck the abomination to the chair and held up the phone, facing the camera towards herself.

"Brad was sitting here." She spoke the familiar ritual. "I bet his dick is thick and hard."

And with that, the teacher gobbled up his dick.

_________

The scratch of pencil eased the nagging itch of the paper with a wonderful chalky sound. The dull grey came to life on the snowy canvas with each masterful stroke; a bit of shading here, some harsh lines there, then some detail to finish and...

Perfect.

Another maths question, another artistic answer.

Kathy smiled, pleased with the end product of the lesson's work. That is, until she stared for a moment too long.

Is that enough shading?

She muttered under her breath and attempted to quickly fix it. The same scratching sound reverberated around the room, coming from every desk and filling the silence. But those scratches were a grating sound; too methodical. There was no elegance there, no beauty, just cold, calculated work.

Such a depressing room, it sucked the life out of everything. Maybe that was why she always felt compelled to add more and more shading, to match her surroundings.

Truly miserable, Kathy couldn't wait to be out of here. But fortunately for that matter, it was only a few more seconds and then...

BRRINNNGGGGG!!!!

Freedom!

Kathy had her coat on before anyone else had even stood up. It was 3:15 and she was out of here, this was enough boredom for one day.

"Leave your papers on my desk before you go." Mr Daniels boomed. "And remember to look through pages 103 to 105 before next lesson. Now you may leave."

She licked her lips, already imagining jumping into bed and getting all warm. Assuming the house still had heating that is.

Kathy had barely managed to toss her paper onto her desk before that dream was shattered.

"Miss Cox, a moment."

Ah, shit.

"Yes Mr Daniels?"

The teacher began to rummage through his desk, taking his time in looking for something while she stood there fidgeting. People were shuffling out behind her leaving before her, pretty soon she'd be the last one left instead to the first out.

"I wanted to talk to you about some of the work you've been doing during my class."

The balding teacher finished his search through his bag and held up a paper; her exam paper from yesterday.

Shit.

__________

The smell was never as pungent as it sounded; the stink of a toilet. Imagination jumped to a room wafting of shit, piss, and more but that wasn't the best representation of how a school bathroom truly smelled. It was sweaty and dirty yes, but also thick with bleach, and while there was certainly a scent of piss it was a subtle contribution to final flavour. Despite it not being pleasant it was still never as bad as the implication or the expectation of the expression: smelling like a toilet... at least not to Anne.

A sewer would certainly be a worse place to strip in, or a men's locker room for that matter.

It was the physical toilets that people fixated on; the disgusting, dirty toilet bowls. It wasn't until you were naked that you really thought about it. Those toilets get cleaned regularly, but how often was the floor scrubbed down? How much time had passed since this floor was last mopped?

Every day her bare ass would come into contact with a toilet seat and she preferred that a thousand fold to standing shoeless on a bathroom floor.

Dirty, disgusting bathroom floors.

Anne wasn't naked yet though; instead she sat on the lowered toilet seat, very much clothed and very much waiting for that to change.

Why else would he make her come here? Of course she was getting naked, she always did.

Tuesday...

It had really only been a day since she was last in here; taking naked pictures and masturbating over video chat. The humiliation was already fading, perhaps because it was usual to have something like that define months of your life rather than being a footnote in a single day's events.

Would she one day forget the details that she assumed were burned into her mind, like the cold feel of the sinks under her toes or the strain in her back as she struggled to balance?

Would she forget the terror and the heightened awareness of every sound, would she forget the overwhelming embarrassment she felt every time she pressed the button on the camera, would she forget how heavy her breaths felt and how light her head was?

Would she forget how wet it made her?

The stall door jerked suddenly, but remained shut.

"Occupied!" Anne called out.

"Sorry!"

Deterred, the girl went instead into the stall beside her and Anne went back to stewing in her anxiety. School was over so this was the last flood of people in the toilets before the building emptied.

What was he planning? What was he waiting for?

Her toes curled in her shoes in anticipation, her stomach shivered and threatened to throw up all its contents. Every task was always worse than the thing before, so right now naked selfies by the sinks would be hopeful thinking.

Maybe that was it, the pictures would become a video and she would sit on the sinks and masturbate.

No, no she wouldn't do that. It would be too much.

She would refuse.

Anne laughed suddenly, not caring if the girl next door could hear. Fuck her, Anne didn't care. Of course she wouldn't refuse, was she even capable?

The thought was absurd; she was too pathetic for that.

A flush of the toilet roared followed by a sliding lock and an opening door.

Finished already; Anne could hear everything she was doing through the cubicle, she felt like a voyeur.

The taps hissed then died.

The air drier screamed to life for a few seconds then faded.

The exit creaked open and slammed shut.

Another one gone.

How much longer was she going to have to wait? It was the wait that was killing her, if Anne was going to have to ruin her life then he might as well have the decency to do it fast.

Once again, the entrance to the bathroom swung open and someone clopped in.

Clopped? Were they wearing heels?

Anne concentrated, doubting her ears. No one wore heels to school and it was a bit weird to get changed into them as soon as the bell went. Could they just be hard soled shoes?

Clop Clop Clop.

Nope, those were definitely heels. And the footsteps sounded... cautious? Or was that her imagination?

BZZZ

Anne instinctively went for her phone, but it wasn't hers that vibrated. The footsteps halted; the echoing sound stopping for just a moment.

Silence. It was as if the room went on pause.

And then they started again, Clop Clop Clop, straight into the stall next to her, direct and with intent, as if it was her target all along. The door slammed, the lock rocked to the side, the toilet seat smashed down, and another vibration followed.

BZZZ

Okay, this time it was definitely her phone. She pulled it out expectantly.

Master:Hello little Annie, how was your day?

His change in tone was not welcome; it was chilling, and Anne was far too tired for games.

What am I doing here, sir?

Patience Slut. He replied.I want to introduce you to someone.

Introduce her to someone...?

Anne's head snapped to the side, towards her neighbour in the cubicle to the right, towards the girl with clopping heels.

Was she...?

Her phone buzzing again cut her off.

That's right, the two of you in here are both in... shall we say similar positions. Don't speak; you may not talk to her without permission. After all, you don't want to expose your identity to anyone do you?

She shivered, that was undeniable.

But...this was too weird. Another person like her? That meant that she wasn't the only one...

Anne wasn't alone.

She couldn't believe it; this changed everything. There was another girl in the school this man had under his thumb, another person living in torture every single day to the delight of this madman. It didn't seem real, did she cheat on a test too? Make an embarrassing video? Something worse?

Or perhaps this was just another trick, another mind game.

Anne almost put her palm against their shared wall, as if it were a glass cage in a zoo connecting both sides.

Which side of that cage was she on? Who was she? Perhaps she was more scared than Anne, breaking down from the inside to far more daunting risks each time got out of bed. The mental strain was like hanging from a skyscraper by a single strain of hair; all someone needed was a hand to help them up before the hair snapped. Anne needed it too and badly, but maybe this girl needed it more.

Anne swallowed.

Maybe...

He was right though; Anne couldn't trust her even if they were the only person in the world who knew what she was going through. No one could be trusted.

Her hand wavered.

The urge to speak up and say something was cut off; the unspoken words were gulped back.

What was the point? There was nothing to gain anyway. Anne was alone, no matter what she was told.

No words came from the other side either but Anne could hear her; hear her breathing, hear her fidgeting, hear her general presence shifting around. Most important though is what she didn't hear. She couldn't hear her peeing or anything of the like and that added credence to the claim that she was here for other reasons; for his reasons.

There really WAS another like her.

BZZZZ!

Pull down your jeans.

And there it was, right on schedule. Time to strip.

Anne unbuttoned and unzipped with uncomfortable familiarity, but this time it was different. Someone could hear her, and they knew what she was doing.

Lifting her ass off the seat, she heaved the waistband past the meat of her behind and down her thighs. It was her bare cheeks that made contact with the cold seat after she was done, her panties caught up in the denim.

Done.

Good. He replied.Now for the introductions, I figured shaking hands wouldn't be fitting for this so be a good girl and shove 2 fingers up your cunt.

Two thoughts came to her mind at the same time; the first was the fear over how this would turn into an "introduction" and the second was the concern over putting anything inside herself without properly warming up her sex.

The latter was a silly worry. As always she found herself wet.

Ignore that, don't think about it now.