Teacher Is Mistaken Ch. 06

He led her around the pool and down a path, to a secluded area of the impressive grounds, all the time she wondered if it was the intention to impress, or something more serious was planned. She hoped to be allowed home once they had seen everything.

Among the trees was a quaint looking cottage, perhaps something for servants or visitors.

"In you go. Do you like it? What do you think?" He asked, with obvious pride. "It's mine," he said. "I hang out here most of the time, away from the main house," he told her.

It didn't take long showing her around the small kitchen, bedroom and lounge. The interior had been completely renovated with modern facilities. It was less tidy than the bedroom he had taken her to before, which confirmed this was where he lived.

"It used to be a guest lodge, and on my seventeenth birthday I was given this to live in, to practise being independent. That was over a year ago," he said. "You can make some coffee while I make the bed. I didn't tidy up or anything last time I was here," he said.

That reminded her he had been staying over at her apartment. If she could escape him tonight, maybe the habit could be broken. She needed time to return to normality. She was trying to think of excuses to return home without him.

"So this is how you could stay over at my place, without your parents missing you," Hollie reasoned. She wondered how much of an allowance he had to be able to afford the clothes bought for her.

Hollie had tried to tell him not to visit her every evening in case someone noticed. He hadn't taken any notice, so this might be a solution. The place was discreet enough to visit him unnoticed. She would also be in control of how often they met. The drawback would be that he was more in control of her in his den.

More than usual Hollie felt subdued because they were in his home. It may have been the added respect for him, gained from the tour of his parent's wealthy home. It was more than that it was the way he had taken control of her life. Every time she gave in to him it had pushed her deeper into a passive role. Each time she called him sir, or playfully called him master, it emphasised their relationship.

Typical of an adolescent, the place was in a mess. She bent to the task of tidying up, mindful of what she was displaying in the little skirt.

Knowing he was watching her bend over, she gave him a coquettish look over her shoulder, and reddened with embarrassment. While handing him a drink, he stroked her bare bottom and thighs. She continued to tidy up between serving snacks and drinks, as though she were his maid.

A couple of times she refrained from calling him her master. That reminded her of earlier in class, when she had submitted to him so deeply. It was humiliating to think how submissive she had been with a student in her classroom.

"I should go home. I need rest from all that you put me through this afternoon," she said, trying to sound firm. Dressed up as his sexy slut it was difficult to sound like a responsible adult, let alone like his teacher.

She was looking down at him looking serious. He tweaked a nipple, which stood proud of the blouse. As usual she was feeling hot from his attention.

"Stop that! You can call me taxi. It would be a good idea to take a break, maybe cool down a little. Everything is getting way out of hand," she complained.

"Just bring me a coke and I'll decide if you can leave," he strongly told her.

In the kitchen she sighed heavily. It shouldn't be him deciding if she could go home; the idea was ridiculous. It was a waiting game he was playing and she knew it. He was toying with her, like a cat with a mouse. The occasional pawing of her naughty bits kept her stoked up.

"Here's you drink. Did you make that call?" she asked, sounding cross.

An unexpected pinch between her thighs brought a squeal of pain from her lips, and she spilt the glass of cola into his lap.

"Oh! Sorry. I'll mop it up," she said, while running to the kitchen. Returning quickly with a cloth Hollie rubbed his crotch, giggling at the hard lump she was teasing.

"You're a naughty slave girl," he told her.

"Yes sir, sorry sir," she mischievously said.

Hollie was on the edge between insisting he call a cab, and giving in to him. Summoning the last of her willpower she decided to leave, even if it meant walking out dressed like a slut, in search of a cab.

As she straightened up he pulled her over his lap. Playfully slapping her cheeks he elicited giggles rather than protests. He stopped as her bottom became red.

He was looking down at his teacher's bare arse, reddened by his hand. It was incredible how this had happened. In just a few weeks he had her here in his own home, bare arsed over his knee. He could never have planned this, and anyway, it would never have happened if he had tried.

He felt elated and supremely powerful, able to accomplish anything he wanted with her. Sliding off his knees she looked up at him with a playful look, daring him to do something.

"You are enjoying this too much, slut," Roger grinned. "Remember you promised to be my obedient slave?" he asked. When she nodded dumbly, looking thoughtful, he knew he would have to do something or lose the initiative. Something audacious was needed to keep her in place.

"Behave yourself or you'll go over my knee again for a spanking, I'm your master so do as you are told," he fiercely told her.

"Sorry, master," she humbly spoke. She wasn't sorry, as her face revealed a need for him. She rubbed her sore bottom, feeling aroused from the demonstration of his power over her.

He had intended to work her up for the usual heady sex session, though now he had a better idea.

"Stand up," he commanded.

Expecting to crawl to him and undo his zip, she was surprised, and wondered what was on his mind. She rubbed her bottom with both hands, exaggerating the warm glow, for sympathy.

"I'm sorry, master. It won't happen again. Honest, master," she said, trying to hold back a giggle. Calling him master was putting in the mood, wanting him to assert his dominance and take her.

She was his teacher, yet felt so excited from sinking into this role, freely calling him her master. It was partly from being so aroused all day and the way she was dressed. He had a way of getting to her, finding her weakness, controlling her.

"Stand in the corner. You will learn to do as you are told like a good slave girl," he commanded.

With a petulant look overtaking the warm glow of expectation, she walked into a corner of the room.

"Put your hands on your head. I'll be back in a minute. Don't you dare move or you'll be punished again!" he warned.

Before leaving the lounge he took a good look at her. What had been found on the internet had been right, she had a submissive personality. His cock ached from the sight of his teacher standing there, with bare cheeks peeking from under the short skirt. It was the control he had over her that thrilled him so much.

Rummaging around in draws he eventually came across the things he wanted. When Hollie rubbed her sore bottom his memory had been jogged. They belonged to a diplomat's wife, and were left in the back of a wardrobe when the couple stayed the night.

The internet was useful for looking up what they were used for. He had lain awake in bed, imagining the tall attractive blonde in his room. Unsure as to why, he nevertheless flogged himself off in a daydream, as he watched her use them.

Hollie was feeling so stupid she wanted to run home like a young girl, after not getting her own way. Trying to remind herself she was a teacher, not a silly schoolgirl, she nevertheless stayed where she had been put. The humiliation of being treated like his slave girl left her even more excited.

Looking over her shoulder she knew this was going to be the only opportunity to escape him. Once he returned she would fall under his control. Looking down at the short skirt and brief top she hesitated, feeling too embarrassed to leave. She rubbed her thighs together, managing to press her engorged lips. It didn't help.

"Come here and bend over my knee," he ordered.

Hollie jumped in surprise, and quickly walked to him. There was a tube of ointment in his hand, so it was obvious her sore cheeks were to be soothed. Although they no longer stung, she anticipated his delightful touch with pleasure.

The touch of his fingers was wonderful, though not so nice when a finger slipped into her bottom. She forgave that, when he paid special attention to her lips. The hands massaged and fingers explored, eliciting a soft murmur of comfort and desire.

At last he was paying her the attention craved for after so much teasing. All that week she had pandered to his whims, after he worked her up into a state of arousal.

It had to be admitted she had been trying to provoke him all evening, only to find it was she who was being brought to a heightened sense of expectation. She had behaved like a naughty slut in the brief outfit. She now wanted to be his slave girl, if it meant receiving what she had become used to and craved.

"You are a naughty little slut, slave girl," he told her. "What are you?" he asked.

"I'm a naughty slutty slave girl," she sighed back.

"You need to be kept under control for your own good. What am I to do with you?" he asked. The seriousness of his voice was driven by desire, rather than meaning to be strict with her.

"Anything master wants, anything master," she replied, on a breathy whisper.

"Ouch!" she yelped.

Hollie was brought back to reality from a pleasant reverie, by a sharp pain in her bottom. It was a mild shock unable to be ignored, even though his hands continued to massage between her thighs. The pain subsided leaving a full feeling in her bottom, unsettling the pleasantness of the massage.

"Stand up, I'm finished with you, slave girl," he ordered.

She stood almost to attention before him, wondering what had happened. Wanting to reach her bottom to find out what he had done, she instead just stood there. She looked bemused, wondering why he wasn't playing with her.

"You will wear that butt plug all the time. If you need to remove it, you will have to ask my permission," he said.

In a state of confusion the significance of what was said passed her by. Feeling behind her she found a small rubbery object stuck to her bottom. Pulling at it, as though it were a plaster, she felt it move inside her bottom. Unable to speak she pulled at it in panic, unable to pull it free.

"What have you done? Its stuck," she blurted out

"Don't pull it you'll hurt yourself," he said. "Turn around and bend over," he added.

She complied with his instruction, wanting it removed. It didn't hurt, it just felt uncomfortable. He touched it, and with every movement sensations travelled up inside her bottom, until it became difficult to keep still.

"Walk across the room and back. Take small steps," Roger warned.

"Can't you get it out?" she cried in anguish.

"Not yet. Do as you're told you," he commanded.

Trying to walk with small steps, so as not to move it around too much, it still created little waves of sensations within. They were becoming less painful, until with some dismay, she found they were stimulating, or was it the sheer wickedness of it? Back and forth she walked, until it was possible to move without too much difficulty.

"Can you remove it now? Please master!" she asked, with a look of pain on her face.

"I told you. You must wear it all the time, until I am ready to remove it," he reminded her.

"Is this part of my punishment?" she asked, expecting the answer to be more ominous. Was this just another humiliation, one of many to be expected? After all she was his pet project to be experimented on.

Preparing lunch she stopped suddenly while bending down, becoming very aware of the object in her bottom. Its significance was realised when she considered she would have to ask his permission to go to the bathroom. Far more than she had imagined, the teacher had become an obedient slave girl, before a demanding master.

A sob escaped her mouth with the understanding of how completely he had conquered her body, feelings, and mind. Every time she thought of escape, he managed to gain an even greater control over her.

Standing by him as he ate, she felt the usual gentle strokes of thighs and bottom. He occasionally pushed at the butt plug enhancing the erotic feelings. The awful butt plug was fitted tightly into her body and the gentlest push and pull was doing something to her. The humiliation of wearing the awful device from his whims was arousing more and more.

That night he returned to the habit she desired so much when he massaged her entire body, paying the most studious attention to her bottom by scratching and nudging the butt plug. The more excited she became the more relaxed with the plug she was, until it too was a source of pleasure. A great orgasm overcame her. It was prolonged by his sensitive touches, and she vocally let him know he was in control of her body.

"Oh! Yes! I'm there. I'm cumin, master! Thank you master, thank you for making me cum," she gratefully sighed.

Early next morning she wondered when he would let her return home. The urgency was no longer from a desire to remove the rude thing up her bottom but from the simple need to escape from his overwhelming stimulation of her senses. Before his parents arrived she would need some clothes, and then escape.

The thought of walking up the path to her apartment wearing this short skirt and the butt plug was both stimulating and terrifying. Unable to resist any longer she gave in to ask. "When are you taking me home?"

He looked at her and smiled. "My parents are away so you can stay here. It will be easier away from the apartment. I want you to be my slave girl," he laughed.

Looking at him in dismay she wondered what he might try out on her over a whole week, playing his dreadful games.

"I can't stay here all week. I must go home. I need clothes and my things," she said, while meaning freedom from him, with time alone to think.

What would become of her if left alone with this sex fiend? Already alarmingly dependent on him, she would end up a grovelling slave girl, begging him to take her in any way he wished.

Left alone to clean the house she kept busy, trying not to think about anything except the task in hand. Once dressed for school she would feel more confident and more able to resist him. She must reassert her authority as a responsible adult.

"Honey I'm home," he shouted. He laughed as he brought in boxes of her things, from the apartment, and ferried them upstairs to the bedroom.

"This looks nice. You can wear it to school," he said.

Looking at the short summer dress she shook her head. "Not that. It's too short and you've not brought a slip to wear under it. I'm your teacher not a hooker," she protested.

"It's up to you. Wear it or what you have on now," he said.

Seeing the determination on his face she realised she would have to win him round.

"Please, master. Master doesn't want the guys in class to ogle his slave girl. Please let your slave girl wear something sensible. Please, master," Hollie said, with a girly voice and a look designed to gain sympathy.

"You get to choose what to wear, with the underwear from yesterday, on condition you wear the butt plug," he smiled. He watched the smile turn to a look of consternation. He enjoyed watching his teacher squirm before him, from the obviously awful decision.

Hollie hated both choices, though at least no one would be aware of that dreadful thing in her bottom, so the usual business suit was the best option. At the door he made her lift the skirt around her waist. By now it was a usual routine, so no longer daunting, just embarrassing.

"Please master, can you take out that thing from my bottom, its uncomfortable. Please master, I'll be a good slave girl and obey my master," she implored him. She felt weak and pathetic waiting to be inspected by him before school. It was even more demeaning to be pleading with him to remove that awful butt plug.

"Stand still slave girl, stop fidgeting. You will obey your master without question," he told her.

"Yes, master," she demurely replied.

He pulled the panties to one side to inspect her shaven pussy, checking it was smooth enough. He pressed on the butt plug, as a reminder of her submission to his whims. He was satisfied on hearing the tiny whimper of resignation.

"I'll visit my slave at lunchtime to remove it. Very good slave girl, you are ready for school," he indulgently smiled.

"Thank you master, whatever you say master," she whispered.

At that moment Hollie felt so passive she was ready to obey his every command. His touch of her once private places, and the thought of being in class wearing the butt plug as a symbol of her lowly position, fired her up.

He had the keys to her apartment so there wasn't the slightest chance to escape him. He watched her transfer to her car from his van, and followed her to school.

In class she sat pensively, trying not to move or press down upon the bad thing in her bottom. Even so, it was a constant reminder of her lowly position. No longer was she a figure of authority, or even a free willed responsible adult. She was now a young student's sex object, something to be played with. From now on she would be submitting to his every whim, obeying his every command.

As a sex slave all her inhibitions had been lifted, as responsibility for her actions shifted to him, her master. Every time she fidgeted upon the seat it was a stark reminder that she was his submissive sex slave. The thrill of it kept her so hot she shivered in anticipation of what she might submit to tonight.