Teaching Teacher

Lilly brings LeighAnne over to me. Lilly drops the handle of the leash at my feet. She looks up at me and kind of smiles. I squat down and tell Lilly she's been good. She's been a very "helpful little Princess." I tell her to "go see skanky in the kitchen. Skanky has a treat for her." Lilly knows that skanky is "skanky whore," the new name I've given Paige, my live-in house-slave. Paige is cleaning up the kitchen after supper. I've told Paige that Lilly deserves a treat, so when Lilly comes trotting in Paige gives her one. Paige knees down and holds out an extra chicken breast from our supper atop her upturned palms. Lilly gently licks the meat up from Paige's hands, then devours it. Now happy, Lilly trots back to my bedroom for her after snack nap. Walking bitches can be so tiring!

LeighAnne, on the other hand, looks miserable. Her face is red. She's still crying. She's been sniffling so much her nose is running. And she's shirking inward hard. I suspect, LeighAnne found that walk more humiliating than she imagined anything could be.

And the best part is that I have pictures. Phillip the doorman took a few for me. I'll tip him for it when I see him. I didn't want LeighAnne to see me. I wanted her to feel as if I'd truly entrusted my dog to walk her. That pretty much announces that I see her as rather lowly. Beneath the dog. She doesn't know that Lilly is the Crown Princess of this Queendom. What she knows is that I have more respect for my dog than for her.

"Did you learn some humility, bitch?" I tauntingly ask LeighAnne.

"Yes, Ma'am!" LeighAnne answers quickly. Her voice is hushed and shamed. But she says it as if she means it. Between her sobs, but those are lightening up now that she's off the street.

"We'll see about that..." I say with a touch of disbelief in my voice. I point to the stool and tells LeighAnne to bend over it again.

She bends over it, this time going all the way over until her shoulders are on the seat of it. She has to with her hands cuffed behind her. She opens her legs when I tell her to and shows me her pussy.

There's plenty to see. Everything is covered with honey. Her lips. Her folds. Her stiff clit poking its head out of her slit. The creases of her thighs. There are even little honey streaks starting to run their way down her inner thighs. Her pussy wasn't 1/10th this wet when I put the dress on her.

I guess I know one thing now. The humiliation is what's arousing her. I probably should tell her that. I doubt she knows it. To me, it seems like she's too busy crying from the shame to have thought about anything else. I don't' tell her. But I will make use of it. I have so many more ways to humiliate her.

Chapter 04: Humiliation By Ex

With LeighAnne nude again, I spend a few minutes, about twenty, teaching her some of the very basics. Like how I want to see her when I tell her to kneel. Or stand. Or sit. All things I tend to teach my subs early on. Very early.

The main reason for this lesson is to see if LeighAnne's bitchiness is going to come back. I admit I'm wondering if it's going to keep rearing its naughty head, or if LeighAnne is going to accept her place. Either is fine with me. I have no qualms about spanking that adorable bottom of hers! I just want to know what to expect from LeighAnne. It matters. At least in what other toys I can have her around. And what I can do with her.

In a way, I'm hoping that bitchiness will persist. I do have an excellent idea of what I can do with her if it does. A role that she'd be perfect for. Of course, she'll also have to accept that I am her Mistress. And learn to obey me without question.

And she needs to learn this lesson. All my toys do. When I tell them to kneel, I don't want to have to be constantly correcting their posture. That just wastes time I could find far more enjoyable uses for.

And I'm filling the time. I've already arranged the next lesson in humility for LeighAnne. I want her to learn, right from the start, that pride and shame will not serve her well in this Queendom. Humility and subservience will. And now, after seeing what a mess her pussy is after that walk, I know that LeighAnne is going to love it. It seems that she, or at least her pussy, loves the humiliation.

And I've seen the effect on her. She's well humbled now. While I'm teaching her these postures, I do see one bit of the bitchiness. Instead, now I see nothing but meek, sheepish, acceptance. As if it's finally sunk in for her that I wholly own her. That I truly can do whatever I want with her body, and she doesn't get a say in it. Like when I first spanked her, and in spite of her head screaming for her to run, her body just stood there while I spanked her.

I have LeighAnne on her knees. And now she knows how to kneel properly. With her knees and feet spread wide apart, her sore bottom sitting back between her heels. With her back straight up and down. Her head up. Her eyes are forward and slightly downcast. Her hands at the small of her back, where they're out of the way. I've taught LeighAnne that she's to stay like that, almost as if she's a statute. She's not to move or fidget around. She's definitely not to speak or make a sound. She's to kneel. And she's to wait. When I have some further use of her, I will tell her what to do. Until then, I've told her to kneel, and that's what I expect her to do. There will be strict consequences for misbehavior.

It leaves her body well displayed. Her breasts, mostly her stiff and prominent nipples, stand out on her chest, nothing hindering a full view of her mounds from any angle. Her pubes, and the neat bush on them, are fully exposed to all. As are the lips of her pussy just under those furry pubes, and even the edges of her inner folds standing down. The tip of the hard nub of her clit is visible too, but you have to look closely to pick it out from the wrinkly folds. From a distance, it's easy to mistake it for just another rolling wrinkle.

LeighAnne has only two things on her body, neither of which covers anything. She's still wearing the handcuffs. I didn't take those off of her with the dress. She doesn't need her hands now, so the cuffs will remind her not to use them. And she's still wearing the heavy iron collar around her neck.

The knock at my door tells me it's time for LeighAnne's next lesson. I know who it is. He did tell me he'd be here in a half-hour, and that was 30 minutes ago. I'd called him while LeighAnne was out on her walk with Princess Lilly. I send Sophie to answer the door. I have been keeping LeighAnne angled so that her back was to the door. She's like that now. She can't see who's at the door as Sophie answers it.

"Good evening, Sir. I am slave," Sophie introduces herself in a honeyed version of her strongly Southern-accented voice. My guest must be cute. "Please come in, Sir, my Mistress is expecting you." She sounds so proper and polite.

Sophie is wearing her usual house wear. I call it them her slave dresses. They're all-lace stretchy tube dresses. This one is pastel pink, fringed with frilly white lace. It hugs her body snugly from her breasts down to an inch below the bottom curve of her firm behind. The lace really doesn't hide anything. It just makes you look closer to see through its little holes. Sophie doesn't get any underwear with it, so looking closely lets the world see everything. She does get matching fingerless gloves. And matching boots with stiff lace sides instead of leather that rise up to just below her knees. And a padded, plush horseshoe clip to hold her long honey-colored hair back. It's definitely a slutty look. Appropriate for a slave of mine.

"Thank you... nice to meet you... uh, Slave?" My guest replies as he steps into the living room. His voice sounds eager, and rather pleased with the sights before his eyes, but also slightly unsure. As if he's unsure how to address Sophie. It tells me that he has no experience with D/s. Probably not even a friend who's into it. And he certainly has never been around a scene of any kind before. But I can hear that tinge of amused excitement that tells me he's anxious to see his first scene, or at least a small part of one. I'd heard the same in his voice when I'd called him.

My eyes are on LeighAnne. The instant she hears the voice, a hard shudder races over her body. She cringes at the same instant, shirking inward for a second. I see the mask of shock, then horror sweep over her face. Finally, she blushes brightly again and her face fades into a mask of reluctant acceptance. The blush doesn't fade. Nor does all of the tension from her body. She's not quite a coiled snake, ready to strike, but she's not relaxed either. And she's definitely not pleased.

I'm sure she recognizes the voice. It belongs to her boyfriend. The one she told me about the horrible break up with. The one who seems to have humiliated her by finding her body less than satisfying. The one, I am certain, that she hoped to never lay eyes on again. I thought he'd make a great tool to humiliate LeighAnne with.

So while Lilly was taking LeighAnne for her walk, I snooped through LeighAnne's phone and found his number. That was easy. It was the one labeled "Asshole" in her contacts. I guess she wanted to make sure she didn't forget the number and accidentally take a call from him. I used my phone to call him, a number he wouldn't recognize.

I introduced myself, telling him only that I was considering "a repulsive whore named LeighAnne for a position as my playtoy and filthy slave-whore." I asked him if he would like to assist me for a few minutes in humiliating LeighAnne. And get a "blow job to remember" out of the deal.

He asked me two questions. "Is that blow job to remember coming from LeighAnne?" I told him no, I doubted she'd be capable of offering anything more than a blow job best soon forgotten. Then he asked me if the woman offering it "is fat or ugly?" I told him that the girl I was thinking of, who is definitely not me, is 19, 5'7" and 119 pounds. She looks like a college girl. I'm talking about Paige, my live-in house-slave and slave-whore. I didn't tell him that part. I had him at "college girl" He told me he'd be over in half an hour.

I'm sure he's thinking I meant Sophie. Paige is out of sight, cleaning up the playroom. LeighAnne hasn't even seen Paige yet. Come to think of it, neither has Kayla. I didn't take Paige with me to mom's that night. I almost never take Paige out. She's not worthy of that. And Sophie looks like a college girl, mostly because she is. But Sophie's only 5'4". She's also rather pretty, and very sultry looking, so I'm sure those three inches haven't entered into his mind. Just as I'm sure it's the smaller head doing the thinking for him now. Men can be so predictable.

It takes him a good minute to take his eyes off Sophie. Eyes that have clearly been straining to see through the lace of her dress. Men. But finally, he turns them to me as Sophie shows him to the sofa. "I'm Miss Rodgers," I introduce myself. On the phone, I'd used my full name, but now I'm hoping that he doesn't. LeighAnne doesn't know my name is Pepper. And I have no plans to tell her. I'd prefer she only knew me as "Miss Rodgers." Although, I'm fairly sure that sooner or later Kayla will let it slip. It will be something like Kayla telling LeighAnne "I'll call my foster sister Pepper again!" Hopefully not, but probably.

"Hey. Nice to meet you, I'm Frank Webber," He greets me. His eyes check me over quickly too. Or maybe not so quickly. I guess he likes petite young blondes. I see why LeighAnne doesn't like him, his eyes have to check out anything female in sight! Pig. He would so not last as my date. Probably note even through the appetizer before I failed to return from powdering my nose and left him to finish the meal alone. I prefer my dates to focus their attention on me, not everything in the room with breasts. Luckily, for this, I don't have to really like him. The only thing that matters is that LeighAnne doesn't like him. And that's clear from her cringing posture.

Finally, his eyes turn to LeighAnne. I see a smirk on his face as he sees the heavy collar on her neck. And the cuffs on her wrists. He focuses his attention on her little breasts. His eyes feast on those pointy mounds. "I always did like those nipples..." He sighs out under his breath. "Too bad they're attached to such a bitch." It tells me that he doesn't care much for LeighAnne now, either. And that he doesn't mind insulting her. Both work well for me.

"They are rather long and wide," I agree, not saying that I also like them. LeighAnne doesn't need the compliment. She doesn't need to know that anyone cares much for her body. I don't want her hearing compliments. I want to drill into her that she's worthless and undesirable. At least for now. Later I'll let her start feeling desired, but only once she learns to selflessly give every last bit of herself. And then I'll make sure she knows that it's the shameless giving of herself that makes her desired. Not just her body. And certainly not her.

I suggest that he join me for a cup of coffee. He accepts, and watches as I send Sophie off to fetch it. "slave is a very good slave-girl," I tell him as Sophie is returning with his cup.

Sophie goes to him and immediately drops to her knees. She holds her hands out like a little tray, palms upturned, six inches out in front of her nipples. She smiles. "Here is your coffee, Sir," She politely offers, holding the cup atop her hands. She stays still as he reaches down and takes it. "Thank you, slave, it's perfect."

"Thank you, Sir," Sophie says while batting her eyes at him. She can be so teasing.

He sips the coffee while we make small talk. But his eyes are always shifting back and forth from Sophie to LeighAnne. He might not like LeighAnne, but it's clear that he doesn't mind seeing her naked, either. And now, as we sit on the sofa, LeighAnne is facing us. It gives him a full view of her. Me too.

More importantly, it forces LeighAnne to stare at him. She has to keep her head facing forward. And that has her look at him. It lets her see him eyeing her nakedness over. It lets her see the amused look on his face as if he's thrilled to see her humiliated. And chained up. And definitely not allowed to speak. Not allowed to say all those bitchy, acerbic comments she always has for him. LeighAnne's only to kneel and wait. To let him see her.

Now that he's finished his coffee, I start moving it along. Mostly because I don't care much for him, so I'm ready to get rid of him. But I do need him to serve his purpose before he goes. It's not like I invited him over to make friends. I invited him over to humiliate LeighAnne. I just hope this loser loses my number after tonight. If I wish to use him for LeighAnne's humiliation again, I'll call him. Please don't call me. At least I have Sophie to screen my calls and brush off the losers.

"I'll just assume you have the experience to know first hand. Is this filthy little whore any good at... whoring that scrawny butt of hers?" I ask him.

"Not really," He tells me. "She's pretty much a dead fuck." He goes on to tell me what I've already noticed for myself. As she's getting aroused, LeighAnne loosens up. She relaxes. She doesn't squirm around. She doesn't join in and thrusts her hips into the act. She doesn't cry out loud, girly moans. She lies there, relaxing more and more, quivering lightly, and breathing out deep, primal moans. Nothing is going to ever change that, either. I could teach her to squirm and screech, but she'd be faking it. It's just not her. I haven't seen her climax yet, so maybe that's suddenly energetic and noisy. Or maybe not. Everybody is different. I have to work with what I have. Besides, I'm having way too much fun humiliating LeighAnne. She seems to react very nicely to that.

I ask him if she's any good at oral sex. He tells me not really again. He's had far better. He describes her efforts as amateurish. Short, fast strokes as if she's trying to rush him along to the finish line. He tells me that she doesn't take care to keep her teeth from bumping against his cock, either. And her worst sin, in my opinion, is that she's always stopping to ask how close he is as if she's overly afraid of him cumming in her mouth. She'll stop long before he's too close, too.

I ask him if he'd mind doing me a small favor. I'd like to see for myself just how lousy she at "being a cheap whore." Would he mind if I borrowed his cock for just a minute?

I didn't tell him that I would ask that. But I think he's smart enough to catch where I'm going. This is the start of the memorable experience that I promised him. That, after LeighAnne gives him a crappy blow job for a minute, I'll give him something to remember. Or rather that Sophie will. I can see him take a quick glance at Sophie's mouth as if sizing up what that mouth could do for him. Pig.

He says that would be fine. He says it with a wide, smirking grin on his face that tells me he doesn't mind LeighAnne having to do this again. I guess he really is down on her. He clearly doesn't care for her blow jobs, but just as clearly welcomes one that he knows she will hate to give him.

I tell Sophie to "get that cock out for the nice gentleman." Sophie just as eagerly says she will. Then she returns to kneel in front of him. She puts her hands to the crotch of his pants. Quickly, her soft hands with their tender touch, have his stiff cock freed and standing up straight from the open zipper of his pants.

His cock isn't that special. I'm sure he thinks it is, though. It seems all men do. I'd guess it's a little over six inches long, and maybe just under 1 ½" thick. At least it's circumcised, letting me see the bulbous, fat, light purple head of it. Cocks just look better circumcised. And I hate the way a foreskin feels inside me, not that it would matter. This cock is already as close to me as it's ever going to get.

Sophie very tenderly wraps her hand around the shaft. She slowly strokes his cock in her light grasp, but just once. "Ooh, Mistress, this penis is very hard and ready for you, Mistress!" Sophie sweetly announces.

I tell Sophie, in a teasing scold, to stop playing with "toys that aren't hers." She comes over to me. I get up. I don't have to move. I'm already close enough to LeighAnne to reach out and grab her. I stand over LeighAnne. "Go on, fuck hole, show me how lousy your blow jobs are. Suck that cock, bitch." I tell her, letting the icy cold and stern firmness reign in my voice.

A tear rolls down LeighAnne's face. "Yes, Ma'am," LeighAnne very reluctantly answers in that cowed, sheepish, reluctantly accepting voice. She cringes rather hard, making it clear to me that she wants to do about anything other than sucking his cock. I'm glad to see she's starting to accept her place in the Queendom - the very bottom, relegated to the lowest and most disgusting tasks.

LeighAnne has to scoot forward on her knees. She goes slowly as if delaying it as long as she can. Normally I'd spank her for wasting my time. But I see that Frank is enjoying watching her reluctance, so I let her get away with it. He definitely doesn't like her.

LeighAnne puts her lips to the tip of the hard, eager cock. She starts working on it. Her efforts are just as he described. Hurried, as if she just wants to get it over with. Not affectionate, as if she wants him to enjoy it. Her strokes are short, barely taking more than the head of his cock into her mouth, as if she doesn't want it there. And it looks as if she's not paying attention to taking care to be tender with it, either.

I'd wonder if she wasn't being so... not-sweet just because she can't stand Frank, except that I already know this is her normal blow job. It's definitely amateurish. She's not showing any skilled technique. It's as if she's just fumbling her way through it.