Teacher Is Mistaken Ch. 16

"Oh please daddy, come and get me. Take me away from this hell!" she whispered.

***

"There you are, all ready for the auction. Don't worry, no-one will recognise you, Cindy" Roger reassured her. He mistook the reticence for a fear of discovery.

Instead Hollie was worried about another dangerous situation he was pushing her into. Rachael was right, he was too immature to look after her properly. He was just playing with her, like a new toy. They had been exciting new adventures, though now they were getting out of hand. What would happen when he grew tired of her. Would he dispose of her, like a discarded toy, in a real slave auction?

The thought of a life of servitude, being sold from one stranger to the next, was horrendous. What was so bad, was how aroused the idea made her. With Roger's guidance she had become a complete slut.

***

Students were lining up beside the stage and Hollie, a former teacher, joined them. The mask protected her identity, but it didn't stop them commenting on her appearance.

In the tight corset it wasn't possible to bend over much, which was just as well, for under the short dress a thong merely pursed her lips. The corset pushed her breasts into a tight cleavage, making the most of them. Above the low cut dress her breasts were only just hidden with a fine gauze of material. Like a mist, fluttering tantalisingly over them, threatening to reveal them.

The black dress was tight around a pinched waist, and flowed out over multilayered, white taffeta petticoats. With every step they bounced up around her thighs, to reveal the stocking tops, with a flash of bare thigh and suspender straps.

If it wasn't for the prospect of being an item for auctioned, in school, she would have felt glamorous. Instead she was dreading the scene of standing on stage with the students, being ogled by parents and former colleagues.

Being a maid for the evening was hardly a demanding role, after the games played out recently for her master. It was the prospect of being back in school, as his girlfriend that was so dreadful. If someone recognised her, the awful truth would be revealed.

They filed out onto the stage. Hollie had become used to walking in high heels, though the girl in front of her wobbled precariously. She too was dressed as a French maid, though the outfit was a cheap party affair. The girl had thought it would be daring, making her the star of the show. She showed her disappointment by calling Hollie a slut.

The girls dress was short, and so she wore a sensible pair of panties, and probably something under them too. If she and her friends had known how little Hollie wore, the girls would have called her worse names than a slut. Hollie didn't need reminding what she had become.

The guys filed on from the opposite side of the stage. They concentrated on the audience, looking for their friends approval. News travelled along the line by way of nudges. They were all staring at her. The audience of parents, teachers, friends and students had certainly noticed her. The students were whistling and there were some deeper sounding tones of approval from the men.

Hollie could imagine the women whispering to each other, with words full of spite and venom.

"Thank you everyone," the principal loudly spoke, through the squealing microphone, only just heard above the catcalls.

"Welcome to the part of the show you have all been waiting for. The slave auction," he managed to say, before the audience erupted in a cacophony of noise.

He was regretting allowing them to bring wine to this years' show. The idea had been to soften them up, to raise more money for the school fund. He also regretted not vetting the costumes. Some of them were a little too lewd for a school event. So far no one had complained, but they would tomorrow at the committee meeting. Still, there was always someone to blame, which was why he suffered a bickering committee to organise the event.

He hardly dare look at the next girl. It was no wonder she wore a mask. Her identity was the only thing not revealed about her. He loved long legs, but his wife knew him too well, and she was sitting at one of the front tables, watching him closely. The slightest leer would mean trouble.

One thing was for certain, her presence had raised the bids for the others. He had been tempted to push her down the line, leaving her until last.

Hollie scanned the audience, looking for her master. She hoped he would be bidding for her, though if previous games were anything to go by, she was up for grabs by anyone. The agony of being grabbed and mauled, was what she expected. She just hoped it wasn't a bunch of raucous teenagers that bought her.

In her imagination it became one of the real slave auctions, Rachael had warned her about. The woman had attended one with a friend, only as an observer, just for the thrill of it. Rich men bought a plaything, and that is what she had become. Was this just a dry run for the day when Roger would offer her up to strangers? It wasn't dry for her, as her panties became damp.

The figures began to increase rapidly. Was it her imagination, or was this taking far longer than for the others? Being in the spot light felt like an age of humiliation. At least she wasn't asked to twirl around, for her previous boss, the principal, was wise enough not to chance it in such a short dress.

She hadn't been asked to come forward to the edge of the stage either. Could those men looking up at her, see the tiny thong? If they could, would it reveal how damp she was? She wasn't just an inanimate object for sale, she was a living sex doll. A slut, ready to perform at the slightest provocation. The nasty truth was that Roger had teased it out of her, not made her like this.

Hollie stood there mesmerised by the audience reaction. The applause was far higher than for anyone else. The principal took her hand, leading her to the steps. A man took a hold to guide her down, and through the closely packed tables. The detritus of food, and half empty wine bottles, littered every table. Some of the men were inhibited by their wives, but not all.

"I'll take her off your hands, if you can't manage!" a wine loosened tongue suggested.

Hollie dare not look at the people she passed, nor the guy who won her. She had been bought to serve them for the evening, though it felt so much worse than that. The humiliation of being treated like a kid in school, where she had taught, had her fired up. The way she was dressed proclaimed she was a young slut, with the crowds looks and comments confirming it.

Wives were nudging their husbands, telling them not to stare as she passed. The auction had ignited a fire in her belly, pushing her deeply into the slave role. Her new master sat down and looked at her. She glanced at him, immediately recognising the horrid man. It was the athletics coach!

He had tried it on with her from the moment she joined the faculty, without a shred of subtlety. He had laughed at her rebuttal, replying he would have her sooner or later.

He gestured to her with a crook of his finger. She bent to hear what he was saying over the hubbub of noise.

"Well Hollie, your mine now," Bill smirked.

"I, I'm Cindy," Hollie stammered.

"Do you want me to reveal who you really are?" he leered.

"No! Please don't," she whispered back.

Why she was dressed up like a stupid slut, he had no idea, and gave it little thought. He suspected who she was, and this confirmed it. Bill took in the sound of desperation in her voice, knowing he had her at his mercy. The stuck up bitch was his now.

Seeing the evil look in his eyes, was enough to make her shudder in fear. The beer had loosened him up, and his bawdy friends. The dancing had started, with the lights turned low. In this dark corner of the auditorium she was somewhat safe from discovery, but that made it all the more dangerous.

"You don't want to get into trouble, do you? Think of your job," she hastily reminded him.

"This is my last duty. I'm off to a more lucrative position with a college, so don't worry about me, worry about your own career," he laughed.

She felt like telling him that was over. She didn't think it would be possible to teach ever again. She was more than just a fun slave, she was in it for life.

"OK Guys. This is Cindy our slave for the evening. Best take advantage while you can. Isn't that right Cindy?" he sternly said, meanly looking at her, daring her to complain.

"Yes, Master," Hollie meekly acknowledged.

"If she displeases you, spank her ass, like a naughty girl. You'd like that wouldn't you Cindy," he added.

"Yes, Master," she stammered. Surely they wouldn't. They couldn't be so outrageous here!

His rough looking friends were celebrating his last day at the high school, and didn't look as though they cared about the school's reputation, or his.

"Are you sure she's over eighteen, Bill," one of the more sober of them asked.

"She is. She's a young slut, and loves it. Don't you Cindy," he stated, looking her in the eye.

"Yes, master," Hollie murmured, from behind the mask. It covered her face above the mouth, so she could at least complain if they went too far. What was too far though, after all that she had experienced recently.

"Not loud enough, Cindy. They can't hear you over the music. Tell them what you are," he warned her, with a hand up the dress.

"I'm a slut, sirs," Hollie clearly stated. She felt the rough hand rise up a stocking, and pull on a suspender belt.

"Show them the fancy underwear, Cindy," he growled. The feel of his calloused hand cupping her cheeks, poured cold water down her spine. The previous arousal was drowned out by a wretched feeling. This man was a disgusting braggart, and the sooner she escaped him the better.

With shaking hands she lifted the front of the dress, to show them the stocking tops.

"Higher," he told her. He positioned his hand to press a big fat finger between her bare cheeks, pushing upon her virgin hole through the thong. He was pleased to find her rise up on the heels, trying to escape the indignity of such an intimate touch.

Holding the dress around her waist, they could see the suspender straps attached to the bottom of the corset. The little triangle of a thong tightly cupped her pussy lips. They had been swollen and wet, now they clamped shut, in response to the disgraceful attention. She was trying to clamp her cheeks tight, only he was too strong to resist the finger pushing between them.

In their eyes she had lost the lowly status of slut, to become nothing more than a sexual object. One of them called her a sexy Cindy doll, and worse phrases were used to describe her, and what they wanted to do to her. Was this all she deserved? After all she was just a slave, no longer entitled to the respect a free woman was entitled to.

Bill gained her attention by pressing hard upon her asshole, through the string of the thong. He repeated the instruction, emphasising every word with a finger.

"Yes, master, sorry master," she gasped. "Thank you sirs. Cindy doll is all that you said," she croaked. Feeling he wanted more, Hollie tried to remember the obscene descriptions they used.

"I'm a sexy Cindy slut doll, ready for anything. I love to ride a hard cock, and suck cock. Your Cindy doll loves the taste of cum, and can't wait to suck you all dry," Hollie stated, hoping to satisfy the bastards warped mind.

"Good girl, Cindy," Bill laughed. "Now we have it clear you're nothing but a nasty little slut, you can serve us," he leered at her.

Hollie wanted to pull off a heel and drive the spike through an eye into his brain. The big strong hand holding onto her cheeks, was warning enough not to misbehave. He and his friends looked as though they could handle themselves in a bar room. Her small frail frame would stand little chance, against any one of them.

Midnight was two hours away, though it would seem forever, being subjected to this horrible torment.

Each time she stood close to one of them, fumbling to open a bottle, they pushed a hand up the dress to roughly maul her. She was glad the thong was so tight they couldn't break in. They fingered her sex through the thong, and rubbed her bare bottom, bruising the tender flesh. When a bottle spurted over the table, she received a hard slap, stinging her ass.

"Was that you spurting your load, Harry?" Bill suggested, with a leer. They laughed and joshed him, not sparing her either from lewd comments.

"No need to waste it girl, lick it up," Bill told her. Bent over the table he had a good look at her ass. Gazing around the room she could see couples determinedly ignoring them. The principal had studiously ignored the rowdy group. The tables nearby had been vacated, leaving her at their mercy.

He pulled her down onto his lap by the hips. With both hands squeezing her already sore breasts, he whispered into an ear.

"Go to the restroom and take off those damn panties," he demanded.

"We'll take her with us fishing. The weekend cabin doesn't have enough bunks, so she'll have to share. I'm first though," he leered.

The looks of animal lust the others gave her, were enough to confirm they meant it. He pushed her up off his lap, slapped her ass, and told her to hurry. Before she could escape, he grabbed her hand.

"She's in a hurry, guys. Needs a good fucking this one, isn't that right, Cindy?" he said, with a look of defiance.

"Yes, Master," she nodded. He didn't let go of her hand, which felt tiny and vulnerable in his big paw. To get away from him she would say anything, and he wanted more.

"Your Cindy slut doll, can't wait, to get your big fat cocks in her tight pussy," she moaned, trying to sound desperate for it. Still he held on, wanting to humiliate her all the more.

"Unless master would rather use one of Cindy's other holes. My asshole is so very tight, master. You could break it in for your friends, master," Hollie wanly smiled at him, and looked around at the gaping mouths. She pulled her mouth into a grimacing, trying for a smile.

"Cindy doll can't wait to taste your lovely cum, sirs," she added.

As she hurried away from the table, she heard them laughing at her.

"I just knew the stuck up bitch was a low down slut. I bet she sucks like a whore on a bonus," he derided her. Their nasty laughter rang in her head, as she tottered away on high heels to the restroom.

The thought of being their sex doll for the weekend terrified her. Surely Roger would rescue her before they had a chance to spirit her away. They were so big and strong, she wondered if he would be able to save her. How could she run away without his help. She would have to pass their table to leave the hall. It was hopeless in the heels and corset to attempt an escape.

In the corridor a young guy stood in her way. He grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to take notice. As though caught in a nightmare, she looked at him, still not seeing who it was.

"Hollie! I knew it was you. What were you doing with those lowlifes? They're mean beasts, they don't deserve you," Mark intensely growled at her.

"Leave me alone. I have to go," she whimpered.

He took her hand, leading her past the rest rooms, toward a fire exit. Outside she tried to struggle, only he was holding on, his strength intensified with anger.

"You don't want to go back to those beasts do you?" he demanded to know.

"No! I have no choice, don't get involved, you don't know what you're doing!" she cried.

"What did Angela do to you? What does she have on you, to make you behave like this?" he implored her for an answer.

"Not her, its someone else," she sobbed.

"I'll help you. Whatever it is, I'll fix it," he reassured her.

The intensity of his voice swayed her. She believed he meant it, but how could she escape what she had become. He wouldn't understand why she had become so depraved. She didn't understand it herself.

The fire door swung open. "Hey! She's mine, leave her alone," someone shouted.

Hollie felt relieved. At last her master had arrived to rescue her.

***

Nathanial listened to Roger's father. It was reassuring to hear the money would be wired to his account on Monday, as soon as the bank opened. Thankfully the friend knew him well enough, not to attempt an emotional commiseration. He stuck to the facts, not mention Nathanial's wife and daughter.

Nathanial sat at his desk, somewhat relieved. He idly stroked slave Fanny's bottom, while she was sprawled over his desk, ready for his use of her. The two of them had been at the pony farm two days. Another two days over the weekend, followed by a few days to reach his account, meant they would be there a week at most.

Such a large amount would have to go through security checks, to ensure it was clean money, not laundered. If it took a few days more, they would still be home by the end of next week. The friend had informed him the amount was from a dead account, whatever that was, so he wouldn't have to pay it back for some time to come.

When they arrived home, he would have to keep a tight rein on them. A belly spasm revealed a silent chuckle. In the mean time, he would have to console himself with this slave.

Rachael prepared herself by relaxing her sphincter. She was getting used to him, and beginning to enjoy being dispassionately used. He treated her like a blow up doll, not caring about what she wanted. The humiliation of it kept her burning with desire.

She had caught herself thinking of becoming a permanent slave, like that poor girl Cindy. The idea had been quashed, as an impossibility. She had a respectable life to go back to, full of responsibility. Meeting and greeting people could be tedious, but it was important to her husband's political career.

It occurred to her this might be one of the reasons she took such a dangerous risk, playing these sordid games. Was she subconsciously trying to escape the continuous round of boring political parties and events.

Previously she had played the game for a weekend at most, with approved strangers. She knew this man professionally, and was here until he decided otherwise. His treatment of her, wearing down her resistance, readjusting her self-image, was dangerous. Look at what happened to Cindy.

The thought of becoming this man's permanent slave, no longer seemed so terrible. She was already adjusting to the demeaning position of sex object. Damn! She had almost two more weeks to go. Her head would be a mess by then. He had warned her not to leave, without pointing out the consequences. She knew her life would be ruined if the sordid truth became public knowledge. She was trapped here! That too went toward bending her attitude toward a deep submission.

She felt his hand massage her bottom, with a finger probing her asshole. If this had been the usual arrangement, she would have demanded attention to her needs, or walked out. Instead she submitted to him, preparing to be used, deteriorating into becoming nothing more than a sex object.

***

At first Hollie thought it was her master, at last rescuing her. The coarse brutish sound of Bill's voice soon penetrated her clouded thoughts. Where was Roger? Why hadn't he taken care of her.

Mark swung her bodily behind him, ready to face the bully. Mark was of the same height and build as Hollie. He wouldn't be able to stand up to this athletic man. Bill's muscles rippled under the shirt, cut to show off powerful biceps.

Bill stumbled on the way toward them, revealing alcohol had affected his balance. Even so he was more than a match for Mark.

"Leave me, Mark. I'm not worth it. I'm just a slut," she tried to reason with him.

As the ham hock fist swung, she tugged Mark's belt. The fist sailed past his head, with the lack of a connection swinging Bill off balance. The meaty paw would have smashed his face, if it had struck. At the same time Mark kicked out. His shoe spun off into the darkness, and his foot hit Bill's knee.