Teacher Is Mistaken Ch. 17

Another time she had worn a hookers outfit, to walk among them in the late evening. She of course declined the offers. Someone she vaguely recognised had her pulse racing. The punter didn't recognise her, as he was too busy looking down the deep cleavage. Of course, he didn't expect a respectable teacher to be out on the prowl.

A few sessions at home under his instructions, had her panting for a climax. While tied to the bed blindfolded, a session nearly ended in disaster. She panicked when a key to the cuffs fell on the floor. She writhed and struggled, until she began to moan and groan. The camera was rolling, capturing her writhing naked body.

The feelings of vulnerability from having her limbs tightly bound, brought back old experiences. She was spread out on the bed showing off nipple and pussy lip piercings. The tattoo above her pussy showed her registered slave number.

She eventually managed to slip a sweaty wrist from a handcuff to reach the key. It was a disappointment not to be found naked and helpless by a stranger. The thought of her nasty secret being discovered had been the inspiration for a fulfilling orgasm.

Her master was very complimentary over capturing the mood of that episode. Though most times it wasn't enough to push her over the edge, when just pretending to have a master. She needed a master to be there, to overwhelm her resistance and take control.

Besides, she had been forced to play far more dangerous games, so these weren't enough. Eventually she had to admit an essential ingredient was missing. She needed to be humiliated.

After signing onto the computer she was pleased to find a new message waiting. Each of her masters instructions had been more daring and imaginative. Would this be the one to set her alight? Would this prove he was a worthy master?

It was a shopping trip for a new outfit. Disappointed that it was so mundane, she nevertheless felt a compunction to obey the instructions. The slave role where she submitted a master was more than a habit. She deeply needed to obey a master. At least having a cyber master was safer than committing for real.

***

In the store a young guy was heavy going, as he was treating her like a stupid housewife. Before her submissive side had surfaced, she would have put him down with a flippant and cutting remark.

Instead she was immersing herself in the role of a submissive slave. Hollie was absorbing the humiliation to use later in a bath-time fantasy. As a submissive she had to accept his snide remarks, which grew more obvious with his confidence. He thought she was quiet from being nervous in a sex store, and was taking advantage.

The more he treated her in a demeaning manner, the more she sank into the familiar way of thinking. She was pushing herself into the slave role, to get the most out of the little adventure.

The cheerleaders outfit could be innocently explained away as being for a costume party. The nipple clamps were another thing entirely. Having to ask him for them was embarrassing. When he told her to try them on, it was humiliating. It was a reminder of the time she had been a real slave, which started to stoke her up.

"I don't want you bringing that cheerleader outfit back saying it doesn't fit, when you find it doesn't work on your husband. You bored housewives are all the same. You waste my time, and I lose my commission when you bring stuff back," he dismissively stated.

Hollie trotted off on high heels to the changing room, as though his suggestion were an order. The short, flared cheerleader skirt, and tiny top, did fit as expected. She looked in the dirty mirror, wishing there was a more up-market store within driving distance, instead of this shabby place.

The curtain was pulled back startling her.

"Are you going to take all day?" he meanly asked.

"You could at least clean this small mirror," she blurted out.

The banal remark was met by a disdainful look, leaving her feeling awkward.

"Take a look out here, is this big enough and clean enough for the Lady?" he asked, in a patronising tone.

Being dragged out into the store was unexpected. Letting a young guy manhandle her was wrong, yet she could say nothing. For the past few weeks she had taken to wearing stockings and suspenders, for her cyber master's pleasure. Or should she say her pleasure.

Under a dress the skimpy underwear was decently concealed. In the tiny outfit it was revealed, and on public view! Below the tiny skirt her bare thighs, and stocking tops with suspender straps, were on show for everyone to see.

It was embarrassing looking into the full length mirror, seeing her breasts balancing on top of a push up bra. It looked as though her breasts were about to explode. The thin top hardly hid the nipple piercings, or her engorged nipples.

If this had been an adventure with a master to protect her, it would have been exciting. With this young callous youth checking her out, it was humiliating and dangerous. The role of slave kicked in, allowing her to suffer the indignity of it. She was just a slave-girl, so it was alright to be ordered around by a dominant male.

When she began to think of him as her master she cut short the idea. It shocked her to realize how out of control she had become. The distasteful image amplified the role, pushing her further into being nothing more than a common slut. She was heating up, becoming even more aroused.

Hollie twirled the skirt, showing off her panties. Breathing deeply, watching her breasts heave into a deep bursting cleavage, every breath was turning into gasps. The state of arousal was happening far too quickly to hold back. She just couldn't turn away from the slutty image, or curtail the slutty reaction.

"It looks as though you need calming down," the guy leered.

Hollie was appalled. She just stood there letting him pull the top away from her breasts, exposing them to everyone in the store. She felt him squeeze the clamps, tightening them upon a nipple, then the other. He pulled the top back in place, which hung just below her breasts.

The image was all the more lascivious and indecent. The chain connecting the clamps showed clearly through the top. Her nipples were responding by growing long and hard. Her pussy was growing too. It was opening up to be slick and puffy.

"Come along, you're going to need something," the young man told her.

He grabbed a hand, giving her little choice except to follow him. He took a large dildo off a rack and pushed it into a hand.

"You'll need this when your husband can't match your expectations," he said, with an exaggerated smirk.

"Thank you, sir," she responded. The words slipped from full pouting lips in a breathy whisper. It was better than calling him master, though still embarrassing to be so deferential to a young stranger.

If he had told her to use it right there and then, she might have. She was so worked up there was little resistance to anything he cared to demand. It was a dreadful thought, being so hot that a stranger could brush aside her sense of decency.

She was a mature woman trying hard to be a respectable teacher, yet this young guy had her sexed up. She was prepared to drop her knickers for this obnoxious eighteen year old. It was of her own making, and her fault for diving into the slave role so deeply.

Something had to be done about this weakness before something nasty happened. The games played with her cyber master, to brighten up a mundane life had been relatively safe, up until now. She hadn't realized the slave training received from Roger still left her so vulnerable.

It was frightening to find how quickly she lost control. This kid was leading her around the store, as though she were on a leash. If he did fasten a leash to the slave collar, she would be trapped into submitting to him as an obedient slave-girl.

From that moment she repeated to herself that she was a slave-girl, so only her master had a right to make demands upon her. It was a mistake. She felt her subservience transferring from her cyber master, over to him. It was becoming worse the more he ordered her around.

She compliantly sat down on a chair while he pushed a pair of glossy red, high heels on her feet. He pulled her legs apart, brazenly staring between her open legs while tightening the straps around her ankles.

She felt the panties wetly creasing between her open lips, knowing he could see the awful reaction to his teasing.

"You'll need some panties to go with that outfit, unless you want to show off all you've got," he disdainfully commented.

Hollie remembered the little panties were transparent. Perfectly alright under the dress, but this young guy was taking a close look at what was in them. The short skirt would bounce up back and front with every step she took, for a bawdy display of her private places.

The high heels were tightly gripping her ankles, enough to feel as though they were manacles. They might as well be, as there was no way she could kick the shoes off. She now had to concentrate on staying upright on the high heel spikes as he pulled her along.

A French maids outfit was an obvious next article to be purchased, along with more obscene garments. He made a show of selecting a stretchy nylon cat suit, with open crotch and cut out breasts. He was enjoying the awkward embarrassment she was suffering. They paused by a stand, to throw garish make-up into a bag, while he bombarded her with sales patter.

"This lipstick will go well with the outfit and shoes," he explained.

She let him apply a bright, glossy red lipstick. It was so horrendous, it would have to be cleaned off before leaving the store.

"Thank you sir," she demurely replied.

The kid had the audacity to pat her bottom under the little skirt, yet still she couldn't complain Instead she blushed furiously, for her cheeks to match the garish lipstick. She looked down at the worn old carpet, feeling and looking all the more submissive.

He picked out some frilly underwear to go with the outfit, and all she could do was nod assent. With a large pile of expensive items on the counter, the ordeal seemed over. Hollie handed over a credit card, wincing at the amount. It would wipe out her meager savings and she didn't have a credit rating yet.

Thankfully he was merely interested in his commission, rather than her body. She was probably too old for the kid. The thought left her feeling lowly and insignificant.

She had been forced to spend a fortune, but was escaping unscathed. Almost without hurt. Shamefully, there was a certain disappointment that he hadn't tried it on with her. Considering the state she was in, it wouldn't have taken much to have her on her knees before him.

"No need to change, just go home and surprise your husband," the young guy mocked her, with a nasty leer.

She tried to protest, but he was guiding her to the door with a strong grip upon her arm. He drowned out her protests with glib chatter. She was loaded down with bags, without a free hand, so he naturally opened the door. Even as he ushered her out the store, she tried to tell him she needed to change from the cheerleader outfit.

"Have a nice day, and hopefully a good night with your husband. It is your husband I hope, and not someone on the side," he said, with a wink.

Desperate not to leave the store dressed so shabbily, she turned to him.

"Can't let you leave the store looking dishevelled, as though you've had a good time, can I," he derisorily commented.

He took a hold of her breasts, trying to shove them further into the top, only making a hash of it, and gave up. He gripped her shoulders and turned her around. He patted her bottom again, this time gripping her crotch.

"You're so wet! You must have enjoyed yourself more than I thought. You're more than ready for a good fucking. Run along before I change my mind and help myself to your wet cunt," he leered in her ear.

As quickly as she could while loaded down with shopping bags, she trotted away from the store. The demeaning words rang in her ear. He was right. If he decided to, the callous adolescent could have just helped himself to her body.

In the outrageous outfit she stumbled along through the mall, feeling hurt and belittled. She dare not look around at the other shoppers, feeling they were staring at her. The sound of high heels clacked loudly in her ears, and must be attracting attention.

She could feel the feathery hem bouncing around her thighs, showing off a pair of sheer panties. Slowing down wasn't an option, as she simply had to keep going, needing to reach the safety of her car. Hunching her shoulders, she tried to hide her breasts, which threatened to bounce out of the skimpy top.

Stumbling on the unaccustomed heels, she came close to bumping into someone. The automatic apology froze on her lips. It was a mirror. It was her! The image was unrecognisable, and so very indecent. She was no longer an upright teacher, she looked like a dreadful fantasy whore.

With greater incentive she increased the clip clop, even risking a fall. At the large double doors of the exit, she tried to manipulate the bags to free up a hand. If she had been thinking straight she would have dumped the lot. Though how could she, as the purchases were more than she could afford. They would have to be returned once she regained her composure.

A group of young guys barged in, with a following breeze catching the skirt. The stares turned to nudges and laughter. They rudely gawped at her. They pressed in close, though not offering to help. The laughter turned to ribald comments. She tried to block them out.

"Great tits, like the chain!" a boy jeered.

"Can I pull your chain?" another offered.

"Nice ass, girl," one of them said, over her shoulder.

"Nice shaved pussy, girl" a large guy standing in front of her stated.

"It looks so smooth, and wet too," another added.

The one barring her way made a gesture with his hands, as though cradling her breasts. They all laughed, surrounding her with shame. If it had been an adventure with a master it would have been safe and exciting, instead it was deplorable.

Her breasts were heaving with every gasp, pushing them into a bulging cleavage. The nipples were slipping closer to popping out with every desperate breath. They were protruding through the thin material, with the clamps deplorably on show. The cool breeze from outside plastered the skirt against her bare belly.

She felt close to collapsing at their feet. She said nothing to defend herself, so they became bolder, with innuendo turning to outright suggestions. Next, it would be actions rather than just dirty talk.

An older man walked in and shouted something at them. She just heard the word security, and was relieved to hear them jog away. The comments they threw back were even worse, calling her too old to be a cheerleader, and that she must be a whore.

The man held the door open, but she couldn't thank him, she was so embarrassed. She scurried out with head bowed, quickly stumbling toward the parking lot. There was a steady breeze around the building, but she didn't have a spare hand to hold the skirt down.

"Damn! Shit!" she exclaimed. This was the wrong exit. She would have to walk right around the building to another parking lot. There was no way she could risk walking back in there. Whichever way she turned the skirt blew up, showing off her cute ass or denuded pussy.

Even on the sheltered side of the building it was a walk of shame. Her bare thighs and stocking tops were clearly on show. It looked as though she were going on duty in a sports bar, or worse, as a hooker. If the police stopped would they assume she was a prostitute. Going through the bags would confirm it. Would they have enough evidence to prosecute her? The shame of that would be deadly.

Trotting along she told herself to only obey her master. She was a masters property, and couldn't submit to anyone else. She made it a mantra, that her master had to be obeyed, and only her master.

"This is my masters cunt, and must not be used by a humble slave-girl, or anyone else," she repeated.

The nipple clamps were tight, and rubbed against the top with every step. They kept pulling on her nipples, keeping them pumped up. It wouldn't have been so bad if she had arranged this herself, as an exciting adventure. It would have been at night when no one could see her.

The young guy in the sex store had forced her into this terrible fix. He had shoved her out the door, laughing at her predicament. Her cyber master had ordered that she buy nipple clamps, assuming she would be fired up when her nipples were tweaked. This terrible situation hadn't been envisioned.

Plenty of people had seen her. She looked so despicably torrid, anyone would look at her and sneer.

Men had openly stared. The suspender straps were on view, and more when a light breeze lifted the hem. Women and young girls had scowled at her. Young guys had made awful rude remarks about her body, and especially about her prominent nipples.

At last a large sign indicated she had made it to the right section. Her car was at the far end. She nervously looked around, worried that horrid group of young guys might find her.

From being so heated up she was terribly vulnerable to anyone who made demands upon her. She would take their rude comments as a master's order. Their callous remarks couldn't be resisted. They would soon find out how susceptible she was.

It would be terrible being led away by them, being pulled by the chain connecting the nipple clamps. The pain and humiliation would work her up into a frenzy. Spending the school break being used as a gang slut would be devastating. Serving them all in the crudest way possible would be impossible to resist. Would they ever let a compliant sex slave go?

Hollie shook her head, trying desperately to get rid of the awful images. She had to try and calm down.

Within sight of safety, a patrol car pulled up in her path. The window slid down and the officer told her to get in. He didn't say much. He told her she was under arrest for lewd behavior. Confronted by such a powerful figure of authority had her agreeing with his assessment of her. The shame of it was enough to silence her.

Everything happened so quickly. Suffering from shock she merely answered questions as best she could. After being processed, and shut into a smelly cell, she cried her eyes out. It reminded her of being caged by Angela. She was appalled to find the humiliation of this dire situation aroused her.

A bang on the door brought her around. Led out to stand before a custody officer, she had a decision to make. Contact someone she knew for bail, or stay there overnight. There was no-one she could call upon for help, and her credit card had been maxed out in that dreadful store.

A young woman nudged her. "My man can bail you," she offered.

Before Hollie could think it through, she accepted. What choice was there? Facing the shame of having a colleague from school pay the bail to release her was an horrendous idea.

She walked out in silence with the young woman. They climbed into a bright shiny car. She was desperate enough to leave the bags and jump out at the next light on red. The girls chatter went unheard, as the city blocks sped by. She would have to find the money somehow, to pay back this man. At least she could keep the shameful event secret.

She could explain it all to her cyber master. He might pay the bail and fine, she hoped. He always said he would look after her, if she needed him. Could she ever face him, after all that she had confided to him? She had lied about some important things too. She wasn't the person he thought she was. He had told her it didn't matter, as he cared for the inner person she presented.