les histoires de chrislebo

Still in a daze she let the old man lead her back to the room. He handed her an envelope. She sat on a comfortable chair looking the tray of food. She didn't feel hungry but knew it would help. Propping up the envelope she stared at it while chewing on a fresh date and poured a cup of thick dark coffee. A glass of ice water scented with lemon juice was welcome too.

Tearing a strip from the top of the envelope she looked at the signature to see it was from Jonathan.

'By now you have been introduced to your new master. You can understand I had to do something before our game was spoilt by your determination to break free. An offer was made that I couldn't refuse and as you have found out, neither can you.

A replacement for you has already been found, referred by a ************** friend of mine. Your secretary Eileen doesn't have the same poise and charm but will do as a simple party pet. She was under training before you left so will soon be working hard at our parties.

Your master paid a large price for you so serve him well, little pet. If he grows tired of your services you may be sold on, maybe to a more challenging master, so learn how to please him.'

Leonora gasped out loud. Poor Eileen! Her secretary would be doing... Memories came flooding back into her consciousness. The parties, the men, the depraved games, they swamped her mind.

She lay back on the bed madly fingering her pussy and pinching a nipple with a free hand. An orgasm struck with maddening ferocity without sating the lust. It started all over again culminating in a less intense orgasm, only to continue on and on. Eventually she fell asleep exhausted.

Waking in the early hours of the morning to the sound of cicadas' chirping Leonora lay thinking, trying to make sense of what had happened. It was obvious Jonathan had tricked her into thinking she was free after arranging to sell her as a slave to this man.

With the return of those dreadful memories this was a better alternative. She dare not count up how many men she had served whereas now she had just one master to please.

Tears ran down her cheeks knowing what Eileen would be compelled to do. Jonathan just had to tell her this knowing it would hurt. It also revealed how he had found out about her rebellion for Eileen had given her the telephone number of Jonathan's friend. He must have been preparing her for Jonathan.

So what was to happen now? The training was certainly effective. Without a doubt she would obey any order given by this man, who considered her his property not just a plaything for the weekend.

"Damn!" she exclaimed. She couldn't help thinking of him as her master and every time she did a naughty squishy feeling started between the legs.

That first ********** to him had been programmed into her mind like every lewd act committed during the last six months. Only then she had given up just two nights a week to become a ********** plaything during their special parties. The rest of the week she had been left free.

Now she would be obeying orders twenty-four hours a day, everyday. Every time she obeyed her master it would reinforce her position as a sex slave.

There would be no second chance at escape as everyday she would be tied in to this life by an ever tightening straight jacket. It was a cruel joke that this time she would remain aware of what was happening to her.

When those memories hit last night she reacted to them as trained, as a hot slut needing a cock. They called her a party pet but she had been programmed into being a hot slut compelled to please a man.

There had been no need to warn her to please her master for there was no choice. She was no longer a weekend pet she was a twenty-four-seven sex slave, forever. So this was it, from now on she would be a master's sex slave compelled to pleasure him.

Leonora groaned in anguish realising she was playing with her swollen bud. The desire to please her master was strong even without his presence. It tormented her to realise she was enthusiastically looking forward to learning his needs and couldn't wait for morning.

Life as a slave begins

Leonora awoke early in the morning with a faint hope it had all been a dream and she was at last to start the vacation she badly needed. She looked across the room at the dawn's tentative rays pushing out the shadows to see this was no hotel room. There were bars across the window.

The shadow bars pinned her to the bed more forcibly than chains. Calmly she thought through what had happened and knew there would be no escape. Colleagues were hardly likely to miss her and after awhile would forget all about her. It hadn't been a request for a vacation, she thought was sent, but a resignation letter.

She had drifted out of contact with friends in her home town so there would be little thought about where she had disappeared to. As an only ***** there were no close relatives either.

Her secretary Eileen was a good friend and would be the only one to miss her. Unfortunately for both of them Eileen had been visiting the same ************** and was on the same road as she had travelled. It was more like a sewer than a road. Eileen had probably already been ordered to forget her.

The ********* Eileen put her in contact with was the same one she had used six months ago to help lose weight. Ordered to forget he existed she had visited him again thinking he would help set her free from the ordeal. She felt so stupid to have fallen into their trap.

Ironically the dieting at least had been successful. Her figure was ideal. Unfortunately it had been achieved to please men not her. She remembered performing exercises at home to strengthen inner muscles and cringed. Her breasts were large and natural over a slender waist. Her legs were slim and shapely; not too muscular as they had arranged just the right exercises.

So there was no-one she could rely on for rescue. This was her life now and it would have to be endured. What was so cruel was that bastard Jonathan had opened up the memories of all those terrible acts of debauchery she had performed over the last six months.

The memory of what they were doing to her had been safely tucked away while she was working. It was a diabolical arrangement. She supported herself with a job while being available to them whenever they called.

It didn't seem quite as terrible as it should and wondered if that was a part of the conditioning, or training as he called it. Some of the games she had played were just naughty and even now thinking about them it began to arouse her.

She cut off the lewd memories not wanting to endure it. Perhaps performing for her master she might recall them to help her please him. "No!" she moaned out load. How could she think like that?

It would be necessary though. To prevent him selling her on to someone who might ***** her badly, it would be necessary to please her new master. "Well, I've learnt a few tricks. I've been trained to please a man so that shouldn't be a problem," she said quietly with a tinge of anger in her voice.

Deciding to treat it like a management problem she moved on to thinking about escaping. The first thing to do was explore how tightly the damned ******** had her trapped. There must be loopholes in the command structure!

A knock at the door interrupted the thoughtful planning and she pulled up the sheet to cover her naked body.

The old servant put his head around the door and told her, "Get dress, master wants you."

He spoke English after all, though haltingly and with a thick Arabic accent. She pulled on the caftan and found him waiting outside. She took a deep breath and followed.

The fabric of the house was richly carved wood with intricate eastern patterns. In alcoves stood ancient artefacts, mostly vases with the occasional ****** figurine in bronze or clay.

From her room she walked along a balcony with finely pierced shutters overlooking a courtyard. With no time to stop she heard a tinkling fountain the only clue as to what might be glimpsed from her prison.

A gentle knock at the seven foot double doors brought forth one word. "Enter," her master commanded.

Timidly she walked on bare feet over richly patterned Persian carpets. In the large room it took what seemed an agonising age to reach him where she prostrated herself. The caftan split over her back revealing her bare bottom. She knew this from the feel of a cool breeze off the courtyard.

There was no hum of air conditioning to disturb the silence except an ancient fan high in the ceiling that occasionally groaned a protest. "Stand up," he commanded. "Drop that," he said, pointing to the caftan.

He sat in the same large wicker chair padded with cushions but now she was calmer she managed to catch sight of him from the corner of her eye.

He was thin but not ancient like the servant. She guessed he was in his late thirties, with a pale skin and somewhat handsome. He was looking her over as though he too had been too excited to asses her properly last night. She stole glances in his direction, whereas he was blatantly staring at her naked body.

The cooling breeze was refreshing but his examination was heating her up. He knew she was stealing a look at him but ignored the slave's breach of protocol. He crooked a finger drawing her forward. With a hand on her head he guided her to his lap while pulling his robes apart to reveal a hardening penis.

Leonora knew what her position was in this relationship. As a sex slave she had no option but to lean forward with mouth open and kissed the end of his cock. Forming an O with her lips she sucked gently. She would have to learn his requirements so took it slowly.

***

She had played this game before in a room decorated as an Eastern harem at Jonathan's mansion. Two other women had been with her dressed as harem girls with diaphanous tops and pantaloons split for easy access to their sex.

They had giggled and cavorted like silly little slave girls. Being older mature women it would have been deeply humiliating for them to be aware of how foolishly and lewdly they were behaving.

The three of them had been chased and caught to be tickled and eventually made to submit. All three had taken turns in being taken by the stranger. The young man had made them grovel at his feet making them admit to being his sex slaves.

Leonora remembered telling him in detail how her body was available to be used by her master. The two others grovelled at is feet demeaning themselves with the same terrible details. Remembering the look in their eyes left her feeling sorry for them bringing a determination to free them if she could.

***

All along she mechanically worked upon his cock until seeing his hands tighten on the arms of the chair. She looked up at him through long eyelashes. His eyes were tightly shut; he was ready.

Leonora was about to serve her purpose so speeded up the bobbing of her head swallowing the thick head of his penis down her throat, feeling the first spasm of an orgasm. He pumped sperm into her mouth but despite the bitter taste she couldn't swallow, or heinous of crimes, spit.

She rocked back on her heels spreading her legs to present her sex to her master. With hands on knees, steadying the precarious pose, she arched her back pushing out her breasts. Opening her mouth she balanced his sperm on her tongue hoping it wouldn't take long for him to recover.

Her tongue ached from working hard on his cock and she needed to pull it in, but not until given permission. Her legs ached in this uncomfortably vulgar pose so it seemed an age before he cleared his throat.

"Swallow," he told her.

Having served his purpose she was summarily dismissed back to the room. Falling down upon the bed she gritted her teeth in anger and frustration. Would he never use her properly? She had been trained to respond to stimulation and felt frustrated from not having had him inside her where she needed it.

"Slave needs master to fuck slave's cunt," she moaned into the pillow. It was an agony knowing she could never tell him what she wanted. All that was permitted was to look with pleading eyes hoping he would recognise the signal that she wanted to speak.

What if he never gave permission, and if he did, would she be able to plead for his cock? The frustration would grow until she would willingly grovel at his feet, begging him to fuck her. The thought was terrible; it was so demeaning she shuddered. Which was worse though, being in a state of arousal so bad it hurt, or grovelling at his feet?

***

The first week had passed slowly with little to do. There had been no conversation except the occasional command from her master which she dutifully obeyed. Leonora hadn't given up thinking of escape but hope was diminishing fast.

During the second week he took her to his bed and made love to her. The feeling of satisfaction had been fleeting for he didn't know what she needed, or even cared to ask. It was comforting though, to have his arms around her for a moment, before being sent back to her room.

During the fourth week he began to explore her body more thoroughly and took the trouble to discover how she responded to his touch. The satisfaction for her was still just an ****** lust, short lived, but at least she had an orgasm.

Summoned to his room she dutifully stood with head bowed awaiting his command. Climbing onto the bed she lay between his legs ready to satisfy him.

"What is it you like my pet," he asked.

It was clear what he meant and she couldn't avoid breathing a sigh of relief. "Slave likes her breasts stroked and sucked, master," she sighed. The anticipation heated her, or perhaps it was the embarrassment of revealing such intimate details.

She even guided him to the right place between her legs and the rhythm she needed. It was enjoyable but still a mechanical thing, nothing like new lovers playing.

That night she fell asleep in his arms. In the morning she felt a stirring of emotion for him as he looked so serene and peaceful in *****. His eyes fluttered and opened but she forgot to look away. He smiled at her showing such warmth she responded as a woman not as a slave.

Leonora had been a sex slave for six weeks and was settling in to a routine. It no longer seemed a terrible ordeal and she wondered if this was the conditioning or had she just given in. Maybe she genuinely enjoyed being his slave.

The evening had been pleasant enough. She served her master as usual and now sat at his feet while he read. "I can't read this," he complained, with exasperation sounding clear in his voice.

Leonora wondered if she had displeased him in some way.

"I am bored with a compliant woman," he started but couldn't continue.

She wanted to cry. Inside she pleaded fearfully not to be sent away. A little sob unavoidably escaped her lips.

He leaned back in the chair looking down at her. "You are a beautiful woman and I thought that would be enough. It was supposed to be an ideal arrangement, uncomplicated by the confusion of a relationship. Now I know it is wrong." He told her.

She looked up at him briefly with a pleading look in her eyes, needing to speak. It was no longer the fear of being sent away to a cruel master but something much more. She needed to stay with him she wanted him to be her master. It no longer mattered if this were the conditioning she felt it deeply.

"I have arranged for a friend look at you," he told her.

'No! Please master, don't send me away,' she cried inside. It didn't matter what this stranger was like he could never be her master, never.

"He is an accomplished *********. I have asked him to examine you to see if this ******** state can be removed. What do you say my pet?" he asked.

Her heart raced, pounding in her chest. Her master wasn't tired of her, he still wanted her! He was thinking of her wellbeing as a responsible master should. She smiled beautifully at him, glowing with pride. "Thank you master, whatever you wish, your every command is your slaves' honeyed desire," she responded.

A cloud scudded across her face marring the look of happiness. "What is it my pet?"

"Master, your slave is afraid," she answered.

"Tell me," he simply stated.

"You are my master and this is enough for your slave. To change this might spoil," Leonora chocked unable to continue. She lowered her head, no longer able to keep the emotions in check. What if she could no longer serve him, what if he no longer wanted her once he met the real Leonora?

"Your master understands. You will be free to decide and fate must take its course," he said, with a shrug of his shoulders. It did not indicate a casual indifference for he too was concerned.

"I am willing to take the chance. I shall work hard to make you love me, to keep you at my side. Whether you stay must be your choice! That matters to me so much, it must be resolved," he said emphatically.

The emotion in his voice was so strong she could not argue against the decision even if it were permitted. Given a choice she would not go through with such a risky undertaking. Everything they had built together could crumble into the sand, losing everything among the debris of time.

***

Leonora was summoned from her room. She wore the same clothes, a simple loose shift and wore the same demeanour of servility. Without being told she walked to him and sat at his feet.

He couldn't see her face but had been told the deep ******** influence was now removed. Did she hate him for what he had done to her? Was this a ruse to make the confrontation all the more hurtful?

Despite the uncertainty he declared his feelings hoping not to have his desires shattered. "I love you Leonora, with all my heart," he told her.

The whispered words were new but she had known them in her heart. She had hoped his feelings for her had not been imagined. More than that she hoped the relationship could survive this drastic change.

She looked up at him with a beatific smile and with tears of joy in her eyes. "You are my master and your slave loves her master with all her heart," she said with a tremulous voice.

He slid from the chair and picked her up and she wrapped her arms about his neck. He carried her to his room to gently lay her upon the bed. He looked at her with an intensity she hadn't seen before. Her breathing was ragged pulling in deep breaths.

She felt she might drown in emotion. "I want you! Master, please, I am yours, take me!"

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Maria


Maria was walking on air with a feeling of elation. After working so very hard for promotion it shouldn't have been a surprise to receive the exulted position, CEO of the Eastern Division, but it was. Every time she walked into the large impressive corner office it was impossible not to look out over the city and exclaim, "Wow!"

From high school through university an ethic of hard work had permeated her being and this promotion was the culmination of ten years dedication to the corporation. At thirty-two she was the youngest executive with great prospects for the future.

The only downside was the work experience week but it was Friday and the brats would be gone by four. It was one pm nearly time for the usual department walk round to pick up on faults that would be hammered out with department heads afterwards.

Maria looked up on hearing a light tap at the door. "Enter!" she said loudly. Her voice had to be raised to overcome the mute effect of plush carpeting and fittings. 'Damn what does he want?" She thought, on seeing one of the staff's adolescent brats walk in.

All the work experience brats had to be over eighteen for insurance purposes but this pimply youth looked like a young geek. He looked decidedly unsure of him self so what was he doing here? Surely he had been warned not to get in her way. "Speak up young man. What do you want?" she stated.

His eyes had wondered absently around the office until the sharp tone brought him back to the report he held in a trembling hand. "There seems to be something wrong with these reports." Peter started to say then faltered.

"Let me see," she said. It was an opportunity to bite someone's head off for this week of unwelcome disruption to the smooth running of the office. A quick put down and she would send him on his way.

He held them out but she didn't move so he pushed the papers across the large highly polished oak desk. "The account on the first page seems to contain too high a value for the past three years. It's within budget but you can see it hasn't been balanced with receipts. Plus, some of the positive transfers are from the wrong accounts." He said.

Maria glanced down the figures seeing he was right. They looked vaguely familiar though. 'Damn, it's my private account,' she realized. "Don't worry about it I'll get my secretary to investigate just to make sure its all in order."

"By the way where did you get this report? These figures are confidential," she asked, attempting to turn on the charm.

"I programmed the report myself." he started to say.

"Very good, I'm impressed. Who else has seen this?" Marian asked.

"No one has seen it yet. I thought it better to bring it straight to you seeing as you've been embezzling corporate funds," he said. From the look she gave him he took a step back as though slapped. This was the showdown he had thought about all day. Peter stood defiantly with arms folded to hide the shake in both hands.

Maria sat dumbfounded staring at the little computer geek. How dare he accuse her of such a thing! A sinking feeling in the pit of the stomach left her mouth flapping for air with the words dying between them in a stutter of sound.

"It is quiet clear what you have been up to. I only came across the figures by accident. I'm sure you wouldn't want anyone else to see them presented so plainly," he said. A little smirk began at the corner of his mouth ready to take over his face.

Maria decided to find out how he pried out of the computer this damning information before it ruined her. She looked around the office licking dry lips watching it disappear, elegant object by object. She would be fired with nowhere to go. Mortgaged up to the hilt, the house would have to go, and the company BMW too.

At least it was this little twerp of a youth who probably didn't realize the true significance of the discovery. Thinking positive would turn this into an advantage. Pay him off and cover the tracks more carefully.

"So no one else knows, it's just between you and I. Good! So what do you want?" She smiled, trying to make it warm and inviting with years of corporate infighting effectively hiding the insincerity.

She looked at herself in a mirror hanging behind him and saw how pale she had become.

"Everyone says you're an office tyrant. So, I thought I might bring you down a little. Teach you a lesson in humility. You're arrogant enough to think you wouldn't be found out but I have. I might even help you cover up the evidence, if you do as I say."

She looked at him in surprise. He seemed to have grown taller; lifted his shoulders up and jutted the chin out, in an attempted stance of defiant authority. She would have to puncture that.

"So what do you want me to do, smile at everyone around here who makes a mistake, and let them off without punishment?" she said. The anger in her voice was not going to help so she abruptly stopped talking. Thinking it over she realized a more conciliatory approach was needed.

"I'm sorry, it's been a shock. What do you want me to do? I'll co-operate with you as long as you promise not to reveal this to anyone. If you help to hide the evidence I'll reward you, generously." She smiled again, bowing her head slightly attempting to bow to the inevitable.

"I want to sit at your desk for a start," he said.

She stood at the window watching him run his hands over the polished surface. She smiled to herself. This was going to be easier than she thought. He was obviously intelligent when it came to computers, but with people? She doubted he had the skills or experience to manipulate anyone let alone her.

He looked up seeing a silhouette of her body where the sun shone from a large picture window through the light summer dress.

She caught the look and stopped herself from moving with just a slight sway of the hips. An inexperienced eighteen year old interested in her body would be an added advantage. A slight shiver of discomfort followed the thought.

Tempted to thrust out her chest she demurred on realizing it was more of a sign of power than an offer, especially to a computer geek. It would be better to show some small signs of being defeated rather than reveal the confidence she felt.

The silence grew uncomfortable as he eyed her body and she wondered how much was revealed. She made a mental note not to wear this dress again in the office. Certainly none of the employees had dared to look at her like that, though behind her back maybe they did. She was starting to feel disgusted from his open gawky expression.

"I'm due at a meeting, overdue in fact. You can sit there and make yourself comfortable until I get back. I'll tell my secretary not to disturb you while I'm gone." She said, while trying hard not to cross both arms over her breasts. They had always been an attraction to men and so it seemed to adolescents too.

Before she could move he said. "Undo a few buttons first."

"What?" she said. A little startled she wondered if she had heard correctly.

"You're the office harridan and need pulling down a little." He said. The guys he worked with all week had called her a bitch but he didn't feel comfortable with that.

"A couple of buttons will show off a little cleavage, not too much. You can pretend not to notice but it will dent that stuck up pride a little. Everyone will get an eyeful and you will be the one feeling vulnerable for a change." He said.

He was painfully experienced at feeling vulnerable among the in-crowd at college and she was definitely one of 'them'. The guys in the computer room had commented on her figure and he had pretended not to hear their lewd remarks.

It would surprise them all to see him now. He wondered how she was going to get out of this, knowing she would eventually. At least she hadn't just thrown him out of the office. He looked at the 'boss bitch' willing her to do it.

"No, you can't make me do that!" she stated flatly.

"Do you want me to email that report to your boss?" he asked.

"Just one button then," she said, and deftly twisted a top button undone.

"You agreed to do as I said," he reminded her. "I will have to think of a suitable punishment for your disobedience. Two buttons or I'll have to come up with a double punishment."

This was fun! Speaking to a mature adult as they did to him was awesome. There was no shortage of ideas for he had suffered punishments and being talked down to for as long as he could remember.

The audacious demand had caught her by surprise otherwise she wouldn't have given him the advantage. By undoing the first button she had given in to the blackmail. With an agitated expression she twitched another button undone.

When he pushed the bridge of his glasses back it reminded her of school and those nerdy computer geeks spying on the cheerleader practice sessions. Friends would have pounced on him with derisive put downs at the nerve of him just talking to her let alone making demands.

The thought of friends left her feeling lonely and vulnerable. It had been too easy losing contact with everyone she had grown up with. It would have taken time and effort to mature friendships and neither was available after working long hours and putting in so much effort at the office.

She stormed out in a huff not daring to look in the mirror. At the door to her office she hesitated. He was right she did feel vulnerable and self conscious. Picking up the stride she determined to brazen it out. It was all the more difficult with fate conspiring against her as for once she was wearing a low cut bra.

Bending over a desk here and there asking how things were going, glancing at reports making out they were important, was all a part of the usual routine. Only this time it was difficult to bark at staff as they furtively looked at her ample cleavage.

It was embarrassing and distracting. She hadn't got through one department with the men wanting her to look at something, asking questions, getting her to lean over their desks. She could feel the increased tension in the office. They stood in two's and threes obviously discussing her; looking away when she looked up.

Why didn't she just walk on or refuse to lean over these unimportant requests for attention? The buzz of excitement running through the office was affecting her too much.

She felt as though she were back in college parading around in a little pompom outfit amongst these grown men. Since starting work she had always worn sensible clothes that covered her body, wanting to be taken seriously, not treated like a cheerleader airhead.

'Damn!' The attention was exciting and she was enjoying it! The revelation was difficult to accept and difficult to ignore.

Looking at her watch meaningfully she announced to her assistant. "I need to prepare for the 'head meeting'. You had better carry on here." Maria marched off, retreating back to the office with breasts bouncing proudly before her.

Almost slamming the door she breathed a sigh of relief. Even her secretary gave her a funny look. No one had dared mention the bra was showing. Thinking it was an accident none of them wanted to spoil the fun of seeing the boss's breasts bouncing around the office.

She looked directly at him ready to shout, 'You've had your fun now get out!'

"Are you ready for your punishment?" Peter asked. He had plenty of time to contemplate something and decided to be dramatic. After all, she had given in once why not again.

"Sure why not," she said casually. Best get it over with. Let him show his hand then I can get on with pulling cards from up my sleeve.

"Bend over the desk." Peter said. He hid the nervousness well.

"What! Just wait a minute young man," she stopped short on seeing a finger meaningfully poised over the keyboard. Of course! He could reply to an email from her boss attaching the report. 'Damn! Why didn't I think of that?'

"Hold on. There's no need for that." She could see it now. It was an email from not just the divisional boss but the owner of the whole damn corporation. The bastard was about to reply to an email of congratulations from the top man, Mister Warner. "Let's talk about this. I'll accept a punishment for what I did but let's be reasonable here."

He cut her short. "This isn't a punishment for what you did, that will come later. This is for disobeying me."

"But I did what you asked. It did have an effect on me. You were right." She added the last statement from habit. Tell a man he's right and he will go along with what you have to say, it usually worked.

"Don't press that key, please," she said, while walking round the desk. She meant to bend over the desk to get a closer look at the email. He also had a good look at her cleavage but that suited her, hoping to fluster him.

He pressed her unresisting head down onto the desk. Her eyes were so close to the screen she could read the small print found at the foot of all executive emails; 'not responsible for errors', etc.

"Lift the back of the dress," he said. There was a nervous tremble to his voice despite trying to sound authoritative like the principal at college.

She watched his finger trembling slightly and quickly reacted incase he accidently pressed the send key.

'At least I have a decent pair of panties on,' she thought. The incongruity of it all almost spilled out as an inane giggle. This young man was about to spank the bottom of a CEO in her own office.

She wondered if it was too late to put a stop to it all right now but the consequences of losing her job would be too much. All those years of hard work lost for ever.

Maria felt his eyes on her and the thought of him ogling her rear was distasteful. The last boyfriend had admired her heart shape bottom telling her it was a best feature. She had told him what she thought of such a remark in stinging tones. That had been nine months ago and she hadn't seen him since.

It wasn't just that of course. She just didn't have time for a relationship, and had to admit she was a just a bit on the cold side. She just needed a more experienced man to warm her up. She had told him that too.

It was so humiliating she wished he would hurry and get it over with. She felt a slap then another, one for each cheek. 'It's ridiculous letting this twerp demean me like this. If my secretary walked in and saw the boss having her bottom spanked by this eighteen year old I'd die of shame.'

'No doubt the rest of them out there would enjoy seeing their bitchy boss bent over for a spanking. Yet it's this student who gets to degrade me. A powerful woman with her dress up around her waist, panties on show, it's terrible.'

"Lock the door, quick, lock it." She gasped.

The phone rang and she was caught between the two demands.

"Answer it then," he said. He kept a hand on her back holding her down over the desk.

She couldn't see the phone panel to know who was calling but picked it up anyway. If she didn't her secretary would and might barge in to tell her it was important.

"Mister Warner, how are you?" She gulped on feeling another slap. It wasn't hurting her bottom just her pride. She tried to shut out was happening back there to concentrate on the important man's speech.

"Yes, sir, thank you, Sir. I appreciate your advice." She dare not make a sound and struggling wasn't an option either. She felt her panties being pulled down and almost hung up. Surely he heard the slap on her bare ass? 'Damn the little ****.' She thought.

"Oh!" She let out a little yelp. A finger was exploring between her legs.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Yes Sir. I think it's a cold that's all," she lied with a trembling voice. Those damn fingers were becoming more intrusive and there was little she could do about it. The second time he touched her sensitive bud she was more prepared and just squirmed rather than yelped. It was obviously by accident but her reaction was teaching him where to touch.

She dropped the phone on to its rest and collapsed upon the desk with a sigh of relief. She tensed again, this time from what he was doing to her rather than from talking with Mister Important while being spanked.

She needed desperately to clamp her legs together but couldn't. He was standing between them and in any case she couldn't move. He was doing unspeakable things to her pussy. The idea of him seeing it all was bad enough, but those fingers were working her over only too well.

Only yesterday she had a wax job ready for a vacation to Hawaii next week. Her pussy was completely bald and he held her in the palm of his hand. Those fingers were working hard on her and she could hear the squishy noise of her soaking wet lips. He had learnt quickly what buttons to press and was working her like a fiddle, fast and furious.

'Damn him, I'm nearly there. This is so fucking humiliating,' she thought while shuddering on an inevitable climax. The phone rang again but she couldn't move, didn't want to break the sensational rhythm.

"Answer it then." He said, and stopped playing with her. His hand held her crotch in a firm tantalizing grip.

She wanted him to continue and bit her lip instead of letting loose a demand for satisfaction. "Yes?" She croaked into the phone. It was her secretary. "The meeting? I know I'll be out in a minute." The fingers started up again and she groaned turning it into a cough. "I'm OK. Just coming. Coming down with a cold. I'll be ready in a minute."

She slammed the phone down. "Quickly, make me cum, please." She said. On the cusp of a long awaited orgasm another interruption almost brought on a loud groan of frustration.

Her secretary and assistant were at the door arguing. Any moment he would walk in and catch her with this young man finger fucking her over the desk. "Did you lock the door?" She croaked through dry lips. She knew he hadn't.

He still had her crotch in the palm of his hand with fingers working in her pussy with just the right pressure and movement. She was caught in limbo for what seemed such a long time. The voices receded away from the door to merge into the background hum of the office.

A finger pressed against her bottom and slipped in. Wet from her juices it easily overcame a tight resistance and squirmed up her asshole. Collapsing upon the desk she bit a clenched fist not daring to scream out.

The orgasm hit her full in the belly with muscles clenching tight, legs rigid, toes tingling. The nerves throughout her body were racked hot with fire. Her nipples hardened, her lips swelled to even greater puffiness.

Peter held her against the desk by her crotch with one hand. He watched her body trembling guessing right she had an orgasm. He reveled in the power he had over her completely unaware he had finger fucked her into the most powerful orgasm of her life.

Maria had been too busy for too long for a relationship and would have probably cum with little effort. That it had been this young stranger playing with her was mortifying. She was too distraught to think about how much the *********** had played a part in her downfall.

"You had better get along to that meeting. You don't want to keep everyone waiting." Peter told her.

There was still a look of awe on his face but she didn't notice. She dare not look at him as she straightened the dress pulling it defensively over her body. She looked at his hand holding her panties, still unable to look him in the eye.

"I'll keep these. A souvenir," he told her. He patted her ass and watched her scurry out of the office.

Chapter 02: A bad weekend at home

With every squirming movement in the meeting room chair Maria was reminded of her bare bottom and how sore it was. She had been given a spanking in her executive office by a student and he added to the *********** by keeping her panties as a souvenir.

If she hadn't been so shocked from the audacious act Maria would have tried to wrestle back some authority or at least demanded her panties back. Instead she scampered away without them, running late, to this departmental meeting.

The department managers gave their usual reports but she couldn't concentrate on what they said. All she could think about was how that young man had produced a damning report showing how she was siphoning off company funds. It started as just a game to prove how clever she was. It wasn't a large amount but theft was theft. It was enough to have her fired and face the dire prospect of prosecution.

"Thanks Bill, a thorough report as usual. I'm sure everyone will need time to digest the facts so, Monday morning sharp, emails with comments everyone," she commented tartly. "Any more urgent business," Maria said, emphasizing the word urgent, effectively winding up the meeting.

The sigh of relief by everyone else was missed by Maria who wanted to get back to her office. Bill was about to point out he hadn't completed the report but a kick under the table brought him round to the fact it was Friday and everyone wanted to get home.

With smiles all round they realized the office harridan wasn't going to keep them working late. The smiles turned to astonishment on seeing their boss scuttling off to her office without a scolding remark to anyone, without even a glare at the underachievers.

"I wonder what the tyrant is up to. She didn't even take notes," Bill commented with a sigh, while shoving his report into a briefcase. The others were already pushing toward the door, fortunate enough not to hear or they might have dwelt on an uncomfortable thought over the weekend.

Maria slowed down toward her office willing him not to be there. "This stupid game of his has got to stop," she said to the empty main office. Pushing the door open wide she stopped dead in the doorway.

"You still here?" she boldly stated.

"There's unfinished business," he said, right back at her. Peter didn't feel as confident as he sounded but had enough time to contemplate how easily she had capitulated earlier. He was enjoying playing with this office tyrant and wondered how far he could push her.

"Everyone's gone and security will be around soon. I'm locking my office, you can't stay here," she briskly stated. She wasn't prepared to call his bluff until there had been time to cover her tracks but had no intention of letting him manipulate her again.

The dilemma of wanting rid of him and keeping him from revealing the awful truth was gnawing at her. He had offered to hide the information better than she had so needed to keep him close. She was confident of gaining back the initiative yet was still undecided how to play this game.

Gathering a laptop under one arm she maneuvered him toward the door. She began talking to him, keeping him with her on the way to the elevator.

"You're a smart lad. There's always a job here for someone with exceptional ability with computers." She listened carefully letting him know she was taking an interest with an appropriate question along the way.

While trying to find out what he wanted she steered the conversation along as well as purposefully steering him out of the building.

In the underground parking lot she handed him the lap top to fish for keys in a black designer bag. It had been purchased from purloined company funds and it was usually swung around like a trophy.

He smiled at her, still holding the lap top. Maria realized he held the means to get back into the main company computer as well as having access to all her contacts, including the high and mighty bosses.

"You were away long enough for me to get those email addresses off your desktop," he said, with a self satisfied smile. "I could of course bury the fraud," he said.

Not liking the confident smile and wanting to get him away from the office she told him to get in.

"Wait! Remove the skirt first," he quietly told her.

Opening her mouth to berate him she hesitated when he turned around and strode off with the laptop. Security cameras were all over the place though where she was standing no one would ever know. She slipped the skirt off, flung it on the seat and slid in on top of it. In haste Maria caught up with him. The urge to run him down was strong but pulled alongside instead.

The window slid down silently, with the Mercedes engine quietly purring in the background echoing off concrete walls. "As you said, we have unfinished business," she stated, almost spitting the words at him.

He looked down at her with a look of pleasure on his face. It was more than just a victory smile and it sent a shiver down her spine.

He walked around to the passenger side and climbed in. Clicking in the seat belt he didn't even glance at her bare thighs. She kept them pressed tightly together from intense embarrassment at being naked from the waist down.

"You could at least give me my panties back," she shot at him. The slight edge of a pleading tone in her voice surprised her. 'Hell! How low will I sink to save my job?' The thought was cut off as suddenly as it had arisen. It was too frightening to dwell upon.

"Just drive," Peter told her.

Maria cringed as they came up to the security booth. Whoever was in there could look down into the car and see her bare legs. There was nothing she could do but hope he instead just glanced up to see it was the head of the Eastern Division.

Keeping a light foot on the gas was torturous when all she wanted was to crash through the barrier. Keeping her eyes to the front she watched the barrier jerking upward expecting any moment a head to pop out of the box.

Seeing Peter in the car would be bad enough but with bare thighs on view tongues would wag. The embarrassment would be bad enough but the dread of loosing authority in the office gave her palpitations.

Maria couldn't help taking a sideways glance. A security guard was there but he was studying a clipboard. In the fleeting moment she passed an impression of concentration bore out he had purposely ignored her. Not being popular at least had some advantages.

The fuel-gauge was high so a quick dash home was possible without stopping for gas, which was a nightmare of a prospect. Just the thought of pumping gas half naked was humiliating enough to make her nervous. She would have to keep a light foot on the gas for it would be an agony of *********** being stopped by the police.

He had won the first round by keeping her off balance, unable to think straight. Not far now, and at last she was regaining some composure, allowing her to think more clearly. Once on home territory she would work on him, flattering him to get the dreadful mistake buried.

On the off-ramp a van pulled up beside them. A guy glanced in and exclaimed something to his friends. They leaned out of the windows shouting, laughing and jeering at her with lewd gestures. The lights changed and the black sleek Mercedes sped off only to be caught by another set on red.

They caught up and the instinct to ride the lights, with a dash for the safety of home, nearly won. The thought of them following her home was just as mortifying as their constant requests to open her legs and worse.

"Show us your beaver honey, how much do you charge, get those tits out," they recited with excited shouts.

The lights changed and she shot up the on-ramp intending to out run them on the freeway then double back. Unluckily the Friday evening traffic was backed up and the Mercedes ground to a halt inches from another car. Hearing them shout ***** from behind she shrank down in the seat grinding her teeth in anger.

People started to look at her, just staring, wondering why she was a target. Wondering why those young guys were asking how much she charged. Was she a whore? She must be an expensive whore to be driving a set of wheels like that. Imagination rattled her nerves to pieces.

On the hard shoulder a police car rolled up and the guys went quiet. The sudden quietness drew her attention and in the mirror she saw an officer speaking to the driver. When he glanced her way she cringed.

"Please Peter! Give me my panties back! I'll do whatever you say, whatever you want, please!" she urgently pleaded.

"They're mine, a trophy. I'll loan them to you but you'll give them back when I ask," he said.

"Sure, whatever you say just let me cover up before the cops get here," she whispered, as though they might overhear.

He leaned over the gear shift and lifted a leg. "Damn! You don't have to put them on," she scolded him.

"You just sit there otherwise they'll see you struggling," he warned her.

She kicked off the shoes knowing he was right, it would be difficult to maneuver in the driver's seat. She felt his breath on her thighs as he struggled to pull them over a foot. Reaching for the other he had to bury his face in her lap. Torn between pushing him away and needing to cover up was upsetting.

In the mirror the officer was looking their way. "Hurry up!" she whispered. In desperation she lifted a leg, parting her thighs. To reach the foot he pushed closer with his head burrowing between her legs. She felt his lips on hers and wanted to scream.

It would be better to be caught half-naked rather than be charged with performing a lewd act on the highway. His tongue tasted her and she whimpered. Her eyes were on the cop talking to those brazen young men while her tormentor explored her pussy.

She watched the cop saunter toward her. Peters' tongue found her swollen bud and she gasped. She stared out ahead gripping the wheel tight, unable to stand watching her nemesis approaching. The car in front moved and she put her foot down.

The Mercedes jerked forward a few feet. The cop hesitated then started forward again. Maria breathed heavily from the physical stimulation and the *********** of being caught. The arousal was tremendous, overtaking her, swamping her mind, washing away a lifetime of inhibitions.

She wanted to be caught, wanted to be humiliated before the crowd of commuters. She imagined being torn from the car to be sprawled on the road, for all to see, aroused like a wild ******.

The car in front moved slowly forward and she followed with a foot wobbling the gas as though she were peddling the car. The traffic was thinning and when she looked in the mirror the cop had given up stalking her and was waving the van on.

Suddenly the road was clear and she managed to glide down the off ramp. They weren't following! Peter was working on her harder than ever with a skill learnt while on the job. She pressed her thighs on his head momentarily thinking to stop him. She couldn't, didn't want to. She desperately needed an orgasm.

"That's it, just there, please don't stop," she cried, when he came up for air. The car found its way home. They pulled into her street and outside her house, before neighbors, an orgasm overcame her. She wailed out an ****** sound and squeezed his head between her legs. No-one heard or noticed but it felt as though every neighbor had witnessed the deplorable exhibition.

Somehow she managed to flick the garage switch and drove in breaking sharply before hitting the back wall. Maria sat there a moment wondering how this had happened. A young man had led her by the nose through one agonizingly embarrassing moment after another. Yet she had the most deeply satisfying orgasms ever. Not one but two!

This would have to stop! The trembling of her legs, as he continued to work on her, made the thought a lie. "Please Peter, enough," she sighed.

He peeled the panties off her feet and pushed the shoes back on. She struggled out of the car and led the way into the house only just remembering to switch off the alarm.

Peter followed her into the house feeling elated knowing he had this office bully under his control. He hadn't planned on going this far. He simply wanted to show her the damning report with the idea of ******* her to go easy on the staff in the computer room.

It was no longer for the guys in the office it was an exciting game just for him. He had a mature woman at his mercy and couldn't resist getting his own back on this adult and bully, representing those who had pushed him around at college.

After embarrassing her in the office he just couldn't resist pushing her further. He guessed she had an orgasm in the office and was certain she had again just now. So what could he get her to do next?

Maria felt so ashamed giving in so completely to a stranger. The blackmail put her into a difficult position and he had out manoeuvred her every time she tried to regain some composure.

What made her feel so wretched was having succumbed to two overpowering orgasms from a young inexperienced man. Realising they were in part from the humiliating situations he had contrived, left her feeling bewildered and pathetic.

Walking into her home, naked from the waist down, with Peter following didn't help. He could see her bare bottom, still red from his spanking. The very idea of being excited from this vulgar exhibitionism was hard to accept.

From the garage they walked through the kitchen into an open planned room decorated with expensive furnishings. A large luxurious sofa acted as a room divider between dining area and lounge. Maria hesitated before walking around it knowing she should get dressed before giving him a talking to.

She needed a few moments to bring her thoughts together before launching into a lecture. This was all wrong. She must stop this dire game of his but her thoughts were in a whirl of confusion.

What was so difficult was she was beginning to readjusting her self-image from a tough business woman to a weak female dependent on ***********. This revelation was hard to accept.

With a hand lightly resting on the back of the sofa she stared across the room. All this too would be lost if he revealed what he knew to the owner of the corporation. With a great summoning of willpower she pulled her thoughts together. She must use her management skills to wrest back control.

She felt him close then a gentle touch. It was like a shock of electricity stunning her. She felt the rough jeans graze her sensitive bare bottom. She dare not turn to confront him as he would see the weakness in her eyes. The words were forming but the throat and lips were dry. A hesitant voice would do no good; she needed to sound authoritative.

Peter followed from the garage watching her bare ass gyrating seductively. One cheek scrunched up, then the other, with each step. It was fascinating. Everything that had happened over the past couple of hours had been a first and he wondered what would happen next.

When she stopped right in front of him he took the extra step to stand against her. The front of his jeans pressed against a bare ass for his already stiff cock to suddenly ache with an extra hardness.

He lowered his hand to touch the beautiful bare bottom, only the hand diverted to his fly. Without thinking what he was doing he instead pulled an aching cock from the jeans. From habit he gripped it, ready to play with himself, as though this were a bedroom fantasy.

Maria felt his penis nudge her bottom and in a panic leant away from him. There was nowhere to go but over the back of the sofa. In slow motion she creased forward stopping herself with both hands pressing into the cushions. As she fell it became painfully obvious what was about to happen.

"Damn!" she exclaimed, in a soft pitiful voice, almost a sob. She was presenting her private place to this young stranger. Was there no depths to which she would sink to save her career?

Peter's hips pushed forward while he watched as though from a distance. His hard cock pressed against her sex. In that moment he felt elated, too worked up to think about what he was doing.

"No!" Maria shouted.

He lifted her onto her toes or perhaps she had risen in an attempt to escape this ultimate indignity. She tried to push away from him but her hands sunk into the soft cushions of the sofa. She felt his hardness press against the soft open folds of her sex and she wailed pitifully.

"No! Not that. Please stop!" Maria wailed.

She felt a harness invade her body and moaned in anguish. The young blackmailer had entered her without resistance. There was no fight left in her but the realisation that her body had been so unresisting and so easy to take, so wet and ready for him, it was mortifying.

Peter watched the throbbing bulb of his cock push between the lips of her wet pussy. The hairs might have tickled but no sensation other than the grip of that luscious hole could be contemplated. This was the first time and he worked on instinct.

There was no thought of holding back or care for her needs. He stared at his cock the only contact between them. Like a rod of iron it poked into her. His thigh and calf muscles tensed in a spasm. With an almighty thrust he shoved his hard cock all the way into that tightly gripping pussy.

Gripping her hips he began to piston his whole body back and forth fucking her with all his strength. Without experience youthful exuberance took over for him to slam into her again and again.

"No! Please, no!" Maria's plea was sobbed in gasps. Never before had she been so humiliated but despite her protests he was taking her. She tried to escape over the sofa but he had her pinned to it. The unwelcome rod was thrusting into her. She was being fucked.

She tried to fight back, to push him away, only the thrust of her naked arse helped him reach into her. Deeply, with strong thrusts he was taking her. She was being fucked by this young man, a stranger, a blackmailer, someone who had teased and humiliated her.

On feeling it drive all the way inside, filling her, she moaned a different kind of sound. A guttural anguish in her throat arose from her stomach spluttering from her lips. This young man was fucking her hard and she couldn't say she didn't want it for she needed it after such intense sexual stimulation.

Never before had she submitted to a man; she had always remained in control in the bedroom. Now she was letting herself be taken by a stranger, a young man, hardly more than an inexperienced boy. He had spanked her, humiliated her and now he was taking her and she let herself go.

Peter didn't think to hold back for her satisfaction. Disjointed thoughts ran through his mind. 'I'm doing it! I'm fucking my dad's boss. I'm fucking the office bully, fuck them all!'

He wanted it to last for ever but all too soon he felt an overwhelming desire to bury his dick deep into her and hold it there. "I'm cumin," he exclaimed. The loudness of his voice was nothing compared to the feeling of exaltation.

The last guttural sounds were squashed from her body as he pressed her tight into the hard back of the sofa. In a sigh of compressed air her lungs were emptied as he began to fill her.

"Yes! Fuck me!" she gushed with heart felt pleasure. Maria had finally relented to pure lust and it heated her veins red hot. She felt his cock twitching inside spurting his seed deep inside. The thought warmed her entire body.

She couldn't move with his weight pressing her into the sofa. She felt completely under his control. Her career rested in his hands, he had opened her up to unexpected sexual feelings, and now he had mastered her completely.

She wanted to wrap her arms around him, for him to hold her tight. Instead she tried to breath. Small shallow breaths came and went with little gasps of pleasure incoherently uttered. "Oh ****! Yes. Fill me up, I'm all yours, fuck me, make me cum," she whimpered.

Her knees rattled against the back of the sofa, her arms shook, with the spasms of an all consuming orgasm.

Peter felt elated with a great wave of warmth for her. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled the limp body to him. He wasn't sure what to do next, didn't care, merely wanting to hold her close.

Feeling the stickiness between them an idea of washing her came to a befuddled mind. He half carried her upstairs and found the bathroom. He pulled her clothes off and his too, throwing them in a heap.

The shower came on with frantic twists and he pulled her under the spray. A bottle of shampoo came to hand and he lathered her body in slippery soap. He explored her body with trembling hands.

Over her neck, down her shoulders, over her breasts, he gripped the swollen nipples. He pulled the unresisting slippery body to him wrapping his arms around her, pressing close with both hands tight on her bottom.

He nibbled her neck and lips, sucking them into his mouth. Their tongues explored with water dousing them yet it was unable to quench the fire. The flames of passion ignited again, she knew, for she felt him harden.

This time he led the naked unresisting woman by the hand to her bedroom. He sat on the edge of the large bed ready to pull her down onto him, only she sank to her knees.

Maria had never before consented to perform what she thought of as a lewd act but in her present state wanted more than anything to reward her attentive lover. So many orgasms should have satisfied her, left her sated, but this was for him. Or so she might have thought if she had been thinking straight.

She pushed his knees apart to get to his already hardening penis. She bent forward and gave it a gentle full lipped kiss. It tasted of strawberries from the shampoo they had both been drenched in. Hesitantly she opened her mouth and sucked its head into her mouth.

Peter watched in awe. The office harridan was on her knees before him sucking on his dick. The sensitive petting was more thrilling than if she had gripped it hard. Little tingling sensations added to the thrill of seeing this mature sophisticated woman submitting herself to him.

He could see her full lips begin to suck his dick into her mouth; it trembled and twitched under the careful attention. He wanted more, needed to be engulfed. Instead he fell back and closed his eyes.

It seemed so large, how could she take more than that. He fell back onto the bed and his hips bounced up ******* his cock deeper into her mouth. She ******. With determination she sucked hard on it. Unsure what to do she continued to suck on it like a pacifier.

In a moment of inspiration she moved her head up and down. Hearing his moans of approval she continued. The initial passion had passed for her to be left with a sense of calm satisfaction, with a feeling of giving herself utterly to him. As though it were pacifying her she felt tranquil. She was his, belonged to him, needing his approval.

He thrust up his hips with taught muscular legs pushing his cock deeper into her mouth. He didn't hear her spluttering ***** but felt every drop of sperm squirt from the end of his dick.

She sat back on her haunches looking down at his feet. He lifted her head looking into her eyes. There was no need to speak. The messages were clear. She fidgeted uncomfortably, knowing she felt gratefully for his approval but feeling that was wrong.

He stroked the corner of her lips and pushed a finger into her mouth. She tasted the bitterness of his sperm and felt even more humble. She was an important business woman on her knees feeling so small and helpless. It must be her failing, not his power over her, yet there was nothing she could do to overcome it.

"Your body is so beautiful," he whispered.

Maria became self-conscious of her nakedness but couldn't lift her arms to cover her body. The pure innocent remark overwhelmed her. He was no longer a nasty blackmailer but a master of her body. He had stimulated her like no other lover, despite his inexperience.

She was sure it had been a coincidence that he had pushed her into finding that such despicable behaviour was exciting. It had been there hidden and undiscovered. But what could she do but submit. All the fight had been fucked out of her.

He stroked her wet hair and cupped her cheek in the palm of his hand for her to nuzzle against it. She felt wonderful as though she could fly and cure all the worlds' ills.

"We had better get dressed," he told her.

This was a surprise. She had always made love under the covers in the dark but here she was naked and proud. She watched him open the dressing room, listening to the swish of hangers as he rummaged around. Still squatting on the floor she wondered what he was looking for, what he intended her to wear.

This was certainly another new experience. She wondered how deeply she had sunk under his influence to allow this. She smiled at the thought. He brought out a plain cotton slip and let it fall over her breasts then dragged it over her nipples.

The teasing made her laugh. They were still sensitive and they tingled, as she did, with excitement. She heard him opening and closing draws in the dressing room until he brought out a pair of white panties.

"Come on get dressed," he scolded her. Pulling the lethargic body up, he pulled the slip over her head and stood back in obvious admiration. She bathed in the glow of his pleasure. He lifted one foot at a time and began to pull her panties up her legs.

He couldn't resist smoothing them into place between her cheeks, eliciting a pleasant little giggle from her. "Come on, I'm hungry, I need to eat," he admonished her.

It seemed she was dressed despite the lack of a bra or even a dress. Fitting a bra was probably beyond him, she thought. It didn't matter for the kitchen wasn't overlooked by neighbours. She was thankful to be wearing panties rather than a thong.

He took her hand to lead her downstairs. She felt like a young lover, letting him take her, submitting to his wishes. His youthful exuberance was infectious. "What do you want? To eat I meant," she said, with a playful glint in her eyes.

"A burger, two burgers, and an ice cold milk shake," he said.

Before she could stop him he opened the kitchen door leading into the garage. "No, I'm not dressed. I'll cook something," she said in alarm. Maria didn't want to be seen like this or with him either. It was one thing to let go of her inhibitions in her own home, but in the reality of outside, it would be painful.

She tried to think of what might be in the fridge to convince him to stay. The feeling of ********** to her young lover was difficult to overcome. With protests being ignored she found herself in the driving seat while he buckled her up.

"I can't go out like this! This is a slip not a dress. It's too short. I need a bra," she complained. It all went unheeded as the garage door slid up. Before she knew what was happening he started the engine and slipped it into reverse for them to back out onto the drive. Not wanting neighbours to see them she drove away.

"We can go for a drive-through," she suggested. There was no way she could get out of the car dressed so skimpily. From the big smile on his face she wondered what he had planed for her next. If earlier was anything to go by she was in trouble.

The annoying thing was she could feel herself becoming heated just from driving around in a thin slip. It had risen up around her waist but at least she had panties on this time. Her nipples seemed to be imitating Pinocchio's nose.

She could just imagine pulling in at a drive-through with the young guys crowding in the pay window, keeping them waiting for a good look at her. The nipples pushed harder at the thin slip ready to burst through and she dare not look down at her panties.

"Please Peter, lets go home, please," Maria asked plaintively. She felt so vulnerable driving around in just a slip. At least she wore panties but the slip was thin and far too short to be seen in outside. Dominating her thoughts was the idea of how embarrassed she would be if someone familiar saw her. If they spotted her dressed like a tramp, with this young man, the cruel gossip would do incalculable damage to her reputation.

Peter had blackmailed and humiliated her with the intention of bringing down the office bully. He had meant to tame her just a little to give everyone an easier life in the office but it went too far when he had sex with her. It didn't seem as though he need mention the threat to her job anymore. She was going along with whatever he wanted, for the moment.

He also found she became hot under the threat of exposure. Peter had heard about exhibitionists and he was quickly learning what turned her on. The hotter she got the less self-control she had, allowing him to take charge. At eighteen he wasn't an experienced adult so controlling a beautiful mature woman like this was a fantastic adventure.

At first he wanted to punish her for all those times he was put down by adults and students in a class above him. Now he was simply enjoying playing with a sexed up female.

"Just turn in here," Peter told her.

With a firm hand on the wheel there was little choice but drive into the parking lot. The convenience store was as in a downtrodden part of town adding to her nervous state. At least the store looked empty, of customers anyway.

"You'll be alright he's a friend of mine," Peter told her. He walked around the car to open her door. She sat staring at the shabby store front not wanting to get out.

"Please Peter, let's just go home," she protested.

He grabbed a wrist and pulled her out of the car. Not wanting to draw attention by making a fuss she said nothing more, with the intention of getting it over with as quickly as possible. He was determined to show her off to his friend so it would have to be endured. Maria looped her arm through his to walk close alongside him hoping the lack of clothing wouldn't be noticed.

"Don't forget, you're my girlfriend. Just do as I say and we can leave, Ok?"

"Sure, whatever you say, Peter," Maria answered. She wanted to tell him to make it quick only she knew he would embarrass her all the more.

"Hi Andy, meet Maria, what do you think?" he asked.

Andy didn't know what to say. The way she was dressed indicated she wasn't his aunt. She looked more like one of the prostitutes that came in for condoms. "Hi!" he said, nodding with a non-committal expression.

"Go get us some snacks and stuff," Peter told her. As she turned he slapped her bottom with a hand up the short slip.

Maria scuttled off to find a quiet out of the way corner to hide in. It was terrible knowing he was going to brag about her to his friend. Knowing how gross two eighteen year olds could be she definitely didn't want to hear their smutty talk.

"So it's her? You actually went through with it!" Andy exclaimed. "Wow!" he laughed. Watching her trip down the aisle to the back of the store was far more exciting knowing his friend had her at his mercy.

"That is just awesome. You got her to dress up like that! Wow! What's next?" Andy asked, with a look of admiration on his face.

"Not sure, you got any ideas?" Peter asked his friend.

Andy shrugged though he wanted to ask if he could borrow her for the night. When she got to the far corner he remembered the new stock on a rack behind her. He nodded his head in her direction. "We've got a new range of tights, you could get her to try them on," he said.

Peter didn't look interested, so he added. "The ones that fit all over, she could wear one instead of that dress," he leered suggestively. He almost told his friend they were popular with the street walkers but that might put him off.

"You mean a body stocking?" Peter asked.

"Yea, that's it, real tight," he confirmed. "Can you get her to wear stuff, like anything you want?" he said, with an obvious dare lighting his face. He had sold a few but could only imagine what they looked like on a voluptuous female body.

Peter walked down the aisle, picked a package from the rack and found Maria. Hustling her into the back-room didn't take as much effort as expected, but then he guessed she was happy to get out of the way in case a customer walked in.

"Some tights, try them on," he told her. "Here, give me the dress," Peter said. Before she could protest he had it up over her head.

Standing in her shoes, panties and nothing else, she covered her breasts. Apprehensively she looked toward the door fearing a show had been arranged for his friend. Peter had the garment unwrapped so she quickly pulled it up her legs. It was more than a pair of tights, it was a body stocking. At least it would be better than nothing under the slip.

He helped her pull it up, which was needed, as it was so tight. Maria figured his friend said something offensive about the skimpy little dress, so now he wanted to cover her up. At least with this on under the slip she wouldn't feel so vulnerable.

It felt way too small. When stretching it over both shoulders it was pulled tight between the cheeks, almost cutting her in two in front. He took her by the hand toward the door where she pulled back. "My slip!" she said, with an anxious whisper.

"You don't need that now, you're completely covered up," Peter told her, with a roguish smile.

"Its too tight," she started to say then looking down at her breasts she gasped. "I need to cover up." It was all she said before emerging into the brightly light store. Even without a mirror she could tell how the thin stretchy fabric clung to her body. She could feel it revealing every feminine curve. The light flesh colour made it look obscene.

With her free hand she covered her mouth stifling a yelp at being pulled into the store. The indignity of being paraded in a public place so exposed was shocking. The swell of her breasts was undisguised and her nipples were clearly protruding through it.

Maria was so taken with fright she meekly followed him through the store unable to look up in case there was anyone there.

At the far end of the store he stopped her before an old scratched mirror. She couldn't help looking at the image carefully, however embarrassing it was. She gasped, putting a hand to her mouth. A cursory glance would suppose she was naked. A stare would unmistakably discover protruding lips between her legs in the folds of the thin stretchy material.

If she had been wearing body pain it could not have been more revealing. The material had pulled between them separating her lips into a lewd presentation of a once private place.

Seeing his friend over her shoulder in the reflection she suddenly tensed. Her whole body shook and the slightest movement was plain to observe. Her breasts jiggled but were held in place with artful stitching and material reinforcement under them. It was designed to be worn under a slinky dress, not on show in a public place.

"Nice ass," Andy commented. Although she was a mature woman his reticence disappeared on seeing Peter's obvious demonstration of power over her. Peter had dressed her like a whore. Andy didn't need to treat her with the respect a powerful business-woman demanded if she bent to Peter's will so easily.

Maria felt their eyes all over her body taking in every detail and it was all on show. She didn't need to turn t the mirror to see her rear for she could feel how tight the bodysuit fitted between the cheeks. If felt as though it had been pulled up into her asshole. Andy could see it, as well as everything else, as he looked over her shoulder into the mirror.

Peter pumped her rump marvelling at the effect of the spandex gripping her ass. Her cheeks bounced a little but were held firmly in place. Andy joined in so both young men were bouncing her cheeks. If she had, or could get the keys to the car, she would have sprinted for it and driven home, despite the consequences.

Maria wanted to sob at this latest indignity. She could feel herself opening up! Looking into the mirror she could see it all happening. She had been tense and defensive yet now, it was clear to see, her pussy lips were swelling. Her last vestiges of privacy were lost. It was as though her inner most secrets were on display for all to see.

"Walk up and down," Peter told her.

Like a new toy the adolescent's watched every movement as she walked up and down the isle. Every muscle of her body was on show. They commented on her body with lavish compliments. They observed the bounce of her large breasts, the long legs flexing, a cute ass, and most embarrassing of all, how distended her pussy lips were.

However wrong it felt she couldn't help reacting to the bawdy comments. She began to sashay, wiggling her hips just a little, feeling her bottom wriggling in its tight confines. It was the shame that kept her under his control rather than the blackmail but she couldn't break out of the vicious circle.

The *********** was heating her up making her more ashamed of herself and less able to fight back. While so vulnerable he controlled her, escalating the ***********, which aroused her further so she became all the more susceptible to him. It was a terrible vicious circle she must escape before something dreadful happened.

The bell rang announcing customers. A big beefy man walked in with a young girl. She was about nineteen, dressed in a micro mini and skimpy halter top. The heavily plastered makeup alone announced her profession. He was nearer Maria's age. He wore plenty of gold with dark shades so as not to be blinded by its gaudy exuberance. He bobbed as he walked as though he had a Turkey stuffed up his shirt.

Maria shrunk behind Peter feeling so much worse at the sight of the young woman. She was a hooker yet Maria was showing off her body more lewdly. "Get me back in the storage room, please!" Maria whispered to Peter.

"Ok, let's go down the other aisle," he suggested.

They met Andy standing at the counter before they could pass into the back-room. "Hold on a minute," Andy said. "You guys, this is it," he called out, beckoning to the two customers.

Andy took a hold of her wrist preventing her from escaping unless she made a fuss. Breathing heavily from anxiety she kept her head down in shame not wanting to be there, especially dressed so provocatively.

"I'm taking her to get changed," Peter told his friend.

"I can't sell that thing now. Who's going to pay for it?" Andy asked looking at them both. It was obvious she had nothing on her and Peter patted his empty pockets.

"You can earn it by modelling it to customers," Andy told her. His brisk tone halted Peter and he still had a tight hold of her wrist.

Maria looked from one to the other of the two young men. She didn't have the physical or mental strength to escape them.

This afternoon she had been a confident manager of over fifty staff, CEO of the Eastern Division, with a plush office in the most prestigious tower in the city. Now she was a bundle of nerves working for this young stranger, modelling a rude body-suit, in a shabby convenience store.

The two customers ambled over. The young woman looked Maria up and down with disdain. "You expect me to wear that?" she asked the man. "It's gross, and impractical," she pointed out.

Maria cringed in pain on hearing a whore reject what she was wearing as too explicit.

"What do you mean, impractical?" he asked. "Oh! Yea!" he laughed.

"You could open it up here," Andy said, with a hand on Maria's crotch. "Walk up and down, show them it in motion," Andy told her with a push setting her in motion.

"I like it, the John's can see what their getting. She's well behaved too, unlike some others that work for me," he said, with a sarcastic laden voice referring to the young woman.

She crossed her arms showing annoyance at having her opinion ignored.

Maria wanted to weep but continued to walk up and down. She looked for Peter but he had sloped off. Timidly she stopped by Andy not knowing what to do now Peter had deserted her. How could she run away into the night wearing this lewd body stocking as anyone stopping would only want one thing, her.

"I like the look of this, how much you want for her?" the man asked.

The young woman turned her head toward him like a mantis eyeing up prey, saying nothing, letting the angry expression speak for her.

"She's booked for the night," Andy said.

Maria cringed at Andy's defence as he had just told them she was a whore. She wanted to run but was frightened of the woman and so terrified of the man she couldn't bring herself to speak, let alone move.

"I meant buy her, to work for me," he laughed quietly. It was nothing like a sound of pleasure, more like a vibrant snakes hiss only deeper. "She shouldn't be working here, this area it's mine. I'll take her off your hands," he growled.

The man mentioned a large sum to Andy which brought Maria's attention back to them. Understanding of what the pimp meant slowly crept into her head like a dark shadow leaving her mind cowering in a corner. She looked at Andy with eyes wide trying to catch his attention. She glanced at the door wondering why she didn't just walk away from these nasty people.

Her legs refused to move. Her mouth hung wide as though she were the village idiot. Her mind emptied of all thoughts leaving an understanding of just two devastating facts. This man wanted to pay for her, to buy her, to work as his prostitute! The second fact was the most devastating. Andy was overawed by the amount of money being offered and was considering it!

Maria looked at Andy imploring him to refuse. From her silence the powerful man thought Andy had some hold over her as a pimp would. It wasn't Andy that stopped her screaming at them or running away. It was this new condition that afflicted her; becoming helpless from ***********, unable to function.

She could understand the man buying an asset that would earn him a return but she wasn't for sale. The very thought of being purchased as a sex object was absolutely degrading and still more disturbing was how aroused she had become.

She felt like a fragile little thing ready to be broken underfoot. The powerful feelings of arousal and shame overcame her moral fibre leaving her so very vulnerable. She was convinced this powerful man could dominate her and lead her away to a life of debauchery. She was ready to plead with Andy to save her. He was her only hope.

Being completely dependent upon Andy she resorted to speaking to him as she would have done to Peter. "Please sir," Maria mumbled.

They all looked at her. They didn't see a powerful business woman who dominated an office full of staff, efficiently running a prosperous division of a national corporation. They saw a pathetic whore who could be easily manipulated and controlled.

"Don't worry girl I won't put you on the streets. I'll rig you out in expensive clothes for executives on expense accounts, in my whorehouse," the pimp told her.

His predatory smile brought on a cold shiver down her backbone. The young woman looked at her with contempt and envy. Andy looked at her in awe thinking about the amount of money he would gain.

Maria imagined the ignominy of serving her body to executives from head office. Even her staff could make use of her in a brothel! In an aroused state she would be unable to refuse anything the customers wanted, always ready to perform the most contemptible of sexual acts.

Peter came up and stood right behind Maria placing his hands firmly on her shoulders. He was well out of his depth having never been this close to a hooker and her pimp before. Peter raised his shoulders, took a deep breath, and pushed out his chest to stand taller. This pimp wasn't having his Maria for the night.

Andy caught the tension and looked at his friend. He didn't want a fight to break out, messing up the place, as the boss would take any damage out of his wage. Besides, Peter wouldn't stand a chance against this street experience man.

"Sorry, I didn't know this was your area, she's going now anyway," Andy said. He tried not to sound nervous but the tremble in his voice was clear.

Peter new nothing of the violence these people lived by so he was ready to brazen it out. He took Maria's wrist, twisting her toward the door, almost dragging her out of the store.

They sped away with Peter driving this time. He was furious not knowing if it were him, Andy or the pimp he was most angry with. He couldn't look at Maria. His eyes focused on the dark road back into town.

Maria couldn't get out of her mind how close she had come to spending the rest of her life as a whore. Spending everyday performing for strangers was a terrifying thought, but now safe, it was becoming such an overpowering arousal she couldn't waist to get home.

"Thank you Peter," she simpered, with rapid little breaths. She undid the seat belt and leaned over into his lap. Pulling his cock from the jeans she kissed it gently. The head rapidly expanded with a hand stroking his balls and the other gripping the lengthening cock.

She slurped noisily over the head of his cock oblivious to how things had changed. Earlier while driving she had reluctantly let him put his head in her lap. She licked the full length of his dick down to his balls to tenderly take them into her mouth. They hardened like huge walnuts.

She licked and kissed up its length to the tip which she sucked on for a moment to tease it into full manhood. She pushed her pursed lips over the head of his cock purposely making it a tight fit. Gripping the fattening cock with her lips she pushed down its length feeling it hitting the back of her throat.

Unable to bring her self to swallow it she began to run her head back up to start a rhythmic head bobbing.

The car bounced off the road hitting the dirt with the suspension screeching and only just recovering from the sudden diversion. They came to a rest with the engine stalled, ticking loudly, in a cloud of dust swirling about in the dark.

Maria had his cock suddenly thrust down her throat and was now *******, unable to breath.

Next thing she knew they were both over the seats into the back fighting for a tenable position, clawing at what was left of their clothes. A hole was torn in the crotch of the body stocking and at last she felt him enter.

He thrust in powerfully without the least restraint blissfully unaware of how easily he took her. As the hardness touched her lips she absorbed it into her body as though he were feeding her starving body. They fell to a frantic rhythm desperate for satisfaction.

The lights of cars passing went unseen. Their eyes were screwed up tight as though concentrating on the most important thing in the world, as though their lives depended upon it. She moaned in syllables of delight while he grunted out-breaths of sound.

It seemed like only seconds but it was many minutes of effort, the heat steaming up the windows, until they fell exhausted. They clamped each other tight in desperation to become one being.

He lay in her arms with his face pressed into her breasts. She held onto him with both hands holding tight. For some time they lay there murmuring to each other unintelligible sounds that they both understood perfectly well.

Eventually they surfaced. Peter handed her the dress he grabbed earlier from the back-room. With glowing faces they pulled themselves together. It was a struggle to clamber over the seats in their weakened state but neither of them wanted to leave the little world that had been created between them.

"I'll drive home and get some clothes," Peter told her. There had been no need to discuss where they were bound for. This was just a necessary diversion on the way to her house, her bed. Something had been started that needed completing, maybe never finishing, and needing further exploration.

The hyperlink is visible to registered members only!


Olivia


A Rich Bitch Arrives

Olivia parked the red British sports car in her aunt's garage. She hesitated getting out while cursing her ****** under her breath then felt bad about it. "I'm twenty-eight not some stupid adolescent needing my life organised," she sighed, knowing at the moment maybe he was right. Since the divorce she had been drifting. Relying on the allowance he provided, living back home with nothing to do, left her behaving like one.

She wasn't looking forward to staying at her aunt's home or the job they had organised. It was for 'her-own good', which made it sound daunting. "Well, I'll show them I'm not useless. I'll make this work then get a decent position somewhere in ******s corporation," she said.

"Talking to your self is the first sign of madness," Mark sneered.

"Who the hell are you?" Olivia exclaimed. She had been startled out of her reverie to see a young guy gawking at her. "So? Who are you?" she demanded.

"I live here. You must be Olivia," he said, just standing staring at her.

She was used to men staring at her but this creep was eyeing her a little too openly. "It's rude to stare. Aunt Jane doesn't have any kids so what are you ding here?"

"I'm just staying here like you. I've been bad too," he shrugged.

'Impudent ****,' she thought. So Jane still fostered kids but this one looked too old. He looked over eighteen so maybe she was looking after delinquents now.

"Help me with the luggage," she ordered. Getting out of the little red sports car her dress rode up as she struggled to climb out, inadvertently revealing a pair of lacy red panties. She flashed him a stern look on seeing him stare right between her legs.

"You have to look after your own stuff around here," he told her and sauntered off.

"You scruffy twerp," she said, to his retreating back.

Hefting a suitcase she made ready to face Aunt Jane wondering what her ****** had told her.

***

In the kitchen Jane pulled a rack of biscuits from the oven. "So your ****** caught you fooling around with the pool guy. That's not why your here though is it. He seems to think you need something useful to do so I can send you back with a sense of purpose," she said, looking at Olivia over a pair of half rimed glasses.

"Your ****** spoilt you Olivia. You are going to inherit from him and me too, making you a rich young woman. With no idea what to do with your life, that sounds like trouble. It is about time you had some idea how to handle money and people. I can give you a purpose, if you learn care about others," she said, trying not to lecture.

Olivia was a beautiful woman knowing very well how to handle men. She would just tease them until she got what she wanted, which definitely didn't include what they wanted.

She cringed at the mention of Joe the pool guy. She had tanned her bikini clad body beside the pool while he was working, smirking on seeing his shorts bulge, knowing what he was thinking yet unable to do a thing about it.

She pushed him a little too far when asking him to rub cream into her back. She enjoyed it and so did he. It wasn't harming anyone as they were old enough to make their own decisions on how far to go.

She remembered his hard calloused hands on her perfect silky flesh and brought on a little shiver. It had been a long time since making love and she needed a distraction. If her ****** hadn't arrived home early she would probably have let him continue. He had a delicious technique of kissing. He sucked on her lips, biting them then exploring her mouth with a long tongue.

"What's this job you've lined up for me?" she asked.

"It's a community job. They need someone at the pool. You are an excellent swimmer and you still look fit, do you think you can handle it?" Jane asked.

Olivia really didn't care either way and would just go along with whatever was arranged. At least it got her out of the way of Jane. If it didn't work out maybe they would leave her alone so she could return home.

"You're ****** has stopped the allowance giving you an incentive to put some effort into it," she informed her.

"What? I was going to buy some new clothes, I didn't bring much with me," Olivia complained.

"You won't have to fund your expenses here so you can live on the small salary they can just about afford to pay. It's an inner city pool for poor kids with little funding. You'll just have to learn to budget and don't think you can load that credit card either," Jane scolded her. "It's been suspended."

Lecture over Olivia went to her room feeling even more like a wayward adolescent. She opened the French windows to take a look at the pool and wondered if it was worth taking a dip before dinner. She pulled clothes out of the case throwing them around anyhow forgetting there wouldn't be a maid to clear up after her.

Finding a bikini she pulled off the light summer dress ready to strip off her underwear.

"Hey you, what are you doing here?" Olivia crossly asked.

"Is that all you ever say? Are you some kind of wind-up Barbie doll? I'm just standing here, what are you doing?" Mark retaliated, with a smirk on his face.

He looked intently at the beautiful blond woman. Her long tanned legs were so smooth and the swelling of her tits in the skimpy little bra was fascinating. He hadn't seen such a sexy woman up close before. She looked as though she had stepped out of a magazine.

She pulled her arms around her body in embarrassment from the way he looked at her. "I'm getting dressed. You shouldn't be in my room," she said lamely.

"Looks to me as though you're getting undressed and I'm not in your room. Anyway, it's your fault, you should close the door properly," he smiled and coolly walked off.

Olivia grimaced at the audacity of the young rogue. She kicked the door closed and changed into a bikini. She looked at it in the mirror. She decided to try something else, it was too revealing with that young guy around and Jane certainly wouldn't approve. Without knocking he appeared again.

"Aunt Jane says to help with dinner," he announced. He couldn't help ogling her bottom. It was a perfect heart shape with just a thin strip of material between the cheeks. His face said 'wow' and his eyes glowed.

"Knock before you enter my room and don't look at me like that you ruffian," she scolded him. He walked off looking pleased with himself and she slammed the door. Stripping off the bikini she looked at the door with a mean look as though daring him to try it once more.

She pulled on a pair of white panties but couldn't find a bra in the heap of clothes so pulled the dress over her body. Fortunately, although her breasts were large they were firm enough not to need one.

Jane organised her and Mark around the kitchen where Olivia slowly peeled a small potato from a large one. "Here let me do that." Mark told her. She watched him expertly peel the potato feeling useless. He did it without even looking. Then she realised he was staring at her breasts.

Standing between him and the window, the low sun shone through the dress, he could see clearly the outline of her breasts. It was fascinating to see those lovely big melons so close. He looked forward to seeing more of her.

Olivia marched up to Jane looking cross. "OK! Is there something I can do? I just don't know how to cook. Sure, I can lay the table."

The food was plain and simple compared to at home where the chef always prepared something interesting looking. Olivia wondered why her Aunt didn't employ someone for these menial chores, she was wealthy enough.

After the meal she was left to load the dishwasher and became annoyed at breaking a fingernail. Jane had left for one of her many committee meetings while Olivia carried on struggling with a list of chores. Now she needed him Mark was nowhere to be seen.

The on-suite bathroom had a shower but no tub so Olivia decided to use the family one for a greatly needed soak. Her dress was a wet mess on the floor so she left it there to pad back to the room on bare feet, her lovely smooth skin wrapped in a towel.

"What the hell!" she exclaimed, almost falling over Mark. "You pervert, you've been spying through the keyhole at me in the bath, how dare you!" she shouted at him.

He scrambled up onto his feet looking guilty, not daring to meet her eyes. "I'll tell Jane about this and have you sent home. Is this why you are here because you're a pervert?" she ranted at him.

"Don't you dare snitch! You're just a teasing bitch showing off your body," he said. He was angry and upset at the idea Jane would find out. She had given him a home, avoiding a custodial sentence. In a temper he reached forward and pulled at the towel, unravelling from her body.

Before she could move her hand to grab at it the towel it slithered from her naked body to the floor. She quickly bent to pick it up then straightened without reaching it.

Bent over she was displaying her bottom and everything between her legs in the mirror behind her. Trying to cove her breasts with one arm she slapped a hand to her bottom. She pressed her thighs together tight, knees slightly bent.

Her face was crimson with embarrassment from being naked before this young guy. He could see everything and was still staring while she desperately tried to cover up. "Give me the damn towel you stupid ****!" she yelled.

He held it in his hand before her but she had to reach for it and that meant revealing something. She couldn't stand the *********** of his smirk a moment longer and reached for it only for him to snatch it out of the way. She covered her breasts again glowering at him.

"Promise not to snitch?" he warned her.

She watched him twirl it into a weapon threatening to whip her ass with its wet end. "Alright I won't tell on you, just give me the damn towel and we'll forget about it," she reluctantly agreed. Again she snatched at it and he let her take it. She wrapped it around her prone body trying not to give him any more of a thrill than was necessary.

She turned on a heel muttering angrily but he wasn't finished with her yet. He slapped her bottom speeding her on the way. She felt his hand on her bare cheeks and ran to the room hearing him laughing at her. She was in such a fury she couldn't speak.

She heard him strut out the back door and slam it behind him. She slammed the bedroom door too and kicked at the pile of clothes. Olivia ranted at the four walls while searching through the pile of clothes but hadn't packed a night gown.

"That raga-bond ****! Wait until Jane gets back and I'll tell her to get rid of him. The little pervert was spying on me in here then the bathroom. It's not me who needs a slap it's him." She pulled a gown from the wardrobe, checked it was clean then wrapped it tightly around her body.

She flung herself down on the bed and hurt her back on something hard. It was a vibrator. It had been hidden in her underwear and must have rolled out while unpacking. Holding it in her hand she was about to throw it at the door then changed her mind, deciding to use it.

She needed to calm down and definitely needed some pleasure. It didn't seem there would be much fun in her life for some time to come.

Reaching for a stocking she tied one end to the bed rail and the other around a wrist. Wriggling down the bed her arm became firmly held above her head. With both eyes closed tight her imagination began to work on her hot body.

She squirmed rubbing her thighs together feeling the wetness of arousal. The naughty secret fantasy was working as usual.

***

A big rough man had caught her naked outside the house and she couldn't get away. She couldn't run naked into the street and couldn't get back into the house. He caught her in his strong muscular arms and pinned her to the lawn. He tied her hands together above her head with his belt.

He was going to take her and there was nothing she could do about it. His penis was nudging her sex, teasing her.

Olivia moved the vibrator over swollen lips finding the bud hard and sensitive. Touching it gently for a moment she pressed it hard for the tingling vibrations to push her nearer.

The big man was going to take her little pussy and she whimpered knowing there was no escape yet knowing she was ready for him. The more he teased the more she needed it.

The vibrator was thrust into her pussy between open glowing wet lips.

She arched her back, spreading her legs for the big brute of a man to take her. Olivia whimpered with shame at being so wanton with a stranger.

The fantasy disappeared as a gentle orgasm fluttered in her tummy. It wasn't enough, she needed more.

She was on vacation and had been *********. Sold into an eastern harem she soon became the Sultans favourite concubine.

***

She lay back panting feeling better but not completely satisfied. The second orgasm had been better but a vibrator couldn't cuddle her afterwards or tell her the soothing love words she wanted to hear.

She lay there a moment then reached up with a free hand to undo the knot. "Hell, why did I use an expensive stocking." The knot was tight and her fingers were slippery.

The bed rail was higher than she was used to and usually she used a pair of play handcuffs; easy to unclasp. In the throes of passion she had pulled the damn knot too tight. This improvisation was a menace.

The back door opened and closed and she scrabbled at the knot only it tightened as she desperately pulled at it. She gave up and looked for something to cover her naked body. The sheets had been kicked to the floor out of reach.

The door opened though not as wide as her eyes that showed white in fear. In desperation she double crossed her legs. She wanted to shout but her mouth was too dry.

As he opened the door Mark belatedly remembered to knocked. He came to apologise not wanting to take a chance on her informing Jane of the stupid prank.

"Sorry Olivia. I shouldn't have ..." he began, then stopped cold. His mouth fell open on seeing a beautiful naked woman stretched out on her bed. He knew he should leave but couldn't move. His eyes roved over the attractive body that was so much more powerful an image lying on a bed.

He noticed the stocking and it awakened him. "What's happened?" he strode to the bed on seeing her tied to it. "Who did this to you?" he said in alarm.

"Get out!" she croaked. "Just go now!"

"I'll phone the police," he said. He was afraid he might be blamed in some way, not knowing why exactly.

"No! Come back. Don't call the police. Please, just wait," Olivia was mortified at being seen her like this, let alone explaining it to Jane or the police. It was so shameful.

"Just untie me, please!" she said.

He stood there with a look of puzzlement on his face. She realised he was staring at the vibrator. Her face and breasts were already red from exertion now she was burning hot with embarrassment.

"I was just playing a game that's all," she said defiantly. Olivia wanted to shout at the stupid lump of a youth but needed his co-operation. She needed him to keep quiet about this and more immediately to free her hand. "You saw me naked before so I guess it doesn't matter now," she lied.

"What kind of game?" he asked.

His face revealed he new very well what she meant. She wanted to pick it up and throw the dreadful thing at him but was too embarrassed to draw any more attention to it. She would distract him until he untied her then get rid of him. There was no chance of telling Jane anything now, he could tell a much more damning tale about her.

Deciding to shock him she asked, "You play with your self don't you?" Seeing his shy response she pressed on. "Women do to. So now you know. Untie me, then just go." she said firmly.

"So you use this?" he asked and picked it up.

She looked from it to the bulge in his trousers. She almost groaned on wondering how experienced the young thug might be and how vulnerable she was. Her legs tightened in response to the nasty idea of this ruffian getting excited over her. He dropped it onto the bed where it rolled against her thigh.

"Yuck, it's sticky. You must have shoved it deep." he stated.

"Yes I did! As you seem to have discovered my little secret now perhaps you might untie me?" she asked sharply.

"No need to get touchy Olivia. You are the one who got into this and need my help. So, ask nicely," he said imperiously, attempting to mimic her finishing school accent.

'Damn the scruffy urchin!' Olivia took a deep breath. "Please, kind sir, will you untie me, pretty please," she asked, with her best imitation of a little woman in distress, seeking help from the big strong man. She even used the trick of looking demurely up through her long eyelashes. This usually worked.

He lent over her to get at the knot. In that position she couldn't look away from his crotch and the hardness there. 'I would never have guessed. He is a big lad after all,' she giggled.

"It's OK. You're just tickling me, just free me quick as you can," she said, when he asked if she as alright. She caught herself from calling the damn nuisance her hero. This was another fantasy she used, only the hero rescuing her was big, strong and handsome, not a common ruffian off the streets.

***

At least he kept his distance from her for the rest of the evening. 'He's probably in his room flogging himself silly,' she thought.

While making a coffee Olivia heard the front door chime. Just in case it was Jane she rushed to it, wanting to speak to her before Mark did.

"What are you doing here?" she exclaimed. Joe pushed passed her before she could close the door on him. "Now you're in do you want a coffee?" she said. Walking quickly back to the kitchen she wondered how on earth the pool guy found her?

"You bitch! Your ****** cancelled the contract and so have most of the best customers in the area," he spat the words at her.

"That is not my fault," she asserted.

"No? You're just a spoilt teasing bitch!" he shouted. "You knew exactly what you were doing to me. How could I resist, how could any man. ****! It took me a long time to build up that business and you ruined the best part of it," he furiously poked a finger toward her.

"What do you expect me to do about it?" she said petulantly.

"I don't know, I don't know why I bothered coming here. An apology wouldn't put it right and you don't seem capable of understanding the real world. You've never had to live in it. Your rich ****** keeps you. . ." his angry outburst was suddenly cut short.

"Leave her alone. Get out of here," Mark said. He spoke quietly but the tone of voice was hardened from the streets where he grew up.

Olivia looked from Joe to Mark and back. "Not in front of him, leave him out of this," she said, feeling embarrassed.

Joe reached out and grabbed the dress in a big calloused hand. "Another of your spoilt rich relatives I suppose. Well, you all need a lesson of what it's like to live in the real world. You need to be spanked like a naughty spoilt girl," he snarled.

He yanked her forward and the light summer dress split open spilling her breasts out. Joe quickly sobered from his anger realising he had gone too far.

He had driven here wanting an apology or some consolation, something to compensate for the loss. It all seemed so unfair, these people with their privileged lives were able to mess his up without a thought.

"No! You slob, get out, you deserve everything you get, you stupid oaky," she shouted. She struggled to cover her breasts but he shook her, jiggling them about as though she were a rag doll.

"Let me cover myself up. Please!" she said, not pleading but with anger in her tone.

Past thinking straight, he reacted by bending her over the table and slapped her ass a couple of times. It didn't make him feel any better. Knowing he had gone way too far he stomped out of the house feeling worse than he had before going to see the spoilt bitch.

Mark leaned back against the breakfast counter pushing the blade of the flick knife back into its sheath then pocketed it. Olivia was lying over the table in shock. He laid a hand on her back taking in the delicious sight of white lace panties. "You are a teasing bitch. You deserved that you know," he said quietly.

His cock ached in his jeans and he wondered if he dare take it out and fuck her. All he had to do was pull the crotch of those expensive panties to one side. He could see her shoulders shaking from silently sobbing, probably feeling sorry for herself.

"You don't know anything, you're just a young ruffian aunty took off the streets," she said, in a great explosion of anger. Olivia wasn't used to such ill treatment. That obnoxious man treating her with such disdain was deplorable. Yet she felt aroused and that knowledge was appalling, so hard to accept.

He stood tantalisingly close to her as she lay sprawled across the table where Joe had left her. "You said I should be punished yet it was you having your ass spanked," he mused. Mark looked closer between her legs wondering at how wet she was.

The bitch needed a sharp lesson on the streets to teach her how unfair and cruel life could be. It wouldn't happen though. This family was too rich to even imagine how hard it was for the likes of him.

He didn't want to get chucked out onto the street so hurried away before he did something the bitch could use against him.

Monday morning came around too quickly. Olivia wondered briefly if her sports car was safe in the parking lot in such a rough neighbourhood. With a shrug she left it to march into the large shabby building that housed the indoor pool.

In the small shabby office she met the superintendant. With the usual greetings over he showed her the changing room and where to get a costume.

"I'm glad you turned up as there's no one else on duty and I didn't want to close up. This is the only facility in the area, if you exclude the pool halls and worse. The caretaker will arrive before opening up so he'll show you the routine. Do you think you can cope until then? Good! I'll be off then."

She didn't ask what he meant by 'worse', merely wanting to get this over with. The sooner she started the sooner the tiresome job could be ditched and she could get back to the house of shame. That's what she thought of Jane's house after last night's ordeal. Well, it had started off badly, but maybe she could turn it around.

The pool was nothing like the country club she knew and loved. There would be no flirting here with her kind of people here. She was tempted to ask where the bar was but didn't think the caretaker would appreciate the joke.

He was a short balding man, somewhat serious from life wearing him down and certainly not worth flirting with. He seemed to think she knew what to do and didn't want to spend time being bored with lectures about rules and regulations.

Fortunately he soon scuttled off with an excuse. The smell of beer on his breath told her where he was off too. It didn't matter for she was relieved he was out of the way. How hard could it be keeping a bunch of kids out of trouble?

Bill shuffled away muttering to himself. "The arrogant young thing won't last long here. This lot will sort her out. What's she doing here for Christ sake anyway," he said as he left.

The first problem was finding a bathing suit that fit. She couldn't wear her own and the thought of wearing someone's cast offs was deplorable. That left these two unopened packages. The nearest size was too small but took it anyway, to try on in the changing room.

"Damn!" They didn't have a staff changing area. She opened a locker and shoved her clothes into it, not caring they were expensive, for she was used to just buying more. After all, shopping was a nice hobby.

Pulling on the red one-piece was difficult but she got into it just as a group of girls barged in with yelps and shouts of young fun. Olivia scowled at them but their youthful enthusiasm was hard to squash. These weren't kids they looked over eighteen. She remembered the superintendent said Monday was for an older age group.

She slammed the locker shut and left. She walked out to the pool and was saddened by the dismal look of the place. There weren't many there that early but as the temperature outside mounted it began to fill.

Olivia blew on the whistle. "Hey! Yes you, in the lurid green trunks. No diving from the edge like an idiot. Look at the sign if you can't read, it's clear enough," she shouted.

She was enjoying wielding a little bit of authority. This was a chance shout at someone else after all those times she had been reprimanded or banned from the country club for silly pranks.

Sitting on a chair against the worn tiled wall she was fidgeting with boredom. They seemed to have settled down and were behave themselves, just having fun, but she wasn't. 'Maybe this is why people read books,' she thought.

"****!" she jumped up and ran to the edge of the pool.

"Get out of the way!" she shouted.

Olivia dived in and grabbed a young guy. With his chin cradled in one hand she back stroked to the shallow end and pulled him from the pool. She bent over him and breathed into his mouth while pinching his nose.

A crowd gathered round enjoying the excitement. He spluttered and opened his eyes. He was black but at the moment looked very pale.

"Just lie there a moment. Get me a blanket or something to cover him," she said to one of the girls.

She stood up and they cheered. "You saved his life miss!" one of them said. The voice didn't sound too enthusiastic and they dived back into the water soon forgetting the incident.

She bent over him on her knees. This time he was checking her out. He looked straight down her cleavage into the too small swimsuit. It pushed her breasts together in a cheap way she would have poked fun of on anyone else.

She could feel the guys behind her checking out her ass. She flicked her eyes around the pool, the first time she had bothered to really look at them. These were out of work school leavers, the ones unable to make it to college.

"I'll have to write out a report, you OK now?" she asked. Olivia stood up and turned quickly but the guys were looking in all directions except at her bottom. That confirmed it the, jerks had been checking out her butt.

She strode back to the seat and glared at them. "Ok! Shows over, get back in the pool or go home," she growled. On the seat she felt her bare bottom and fidgeted not wanting to adjust the costume in front of them. She didn't want to look down either knowing it was pulled tight over her crotch.

When they were out of the way she casually looked down and groaned. The tight swimsuit was pulled between her lips forming a clear camel toe. She had been too busy to bother only feeling it when sitting down. Now she realised how much of herself she had been showing off she felt stupid and embarrassed.

She smiled to herself. The guys at the country club would have loved to catch her like this. They would have teased her to destruction but afterwards she would have them fawning over her like idiots.

The view of her rear would have been spectacular too with lips pouting between a pair of slim thighs while bending over that drowning fool. "The damn shits!" she whispered. She soon dismissed it as men being men.

As the day wore on word went out about the new sexy lifeguard. Toward the end of the day a group of black teenagers moved in to check her out. They kept out of the way and of course didn't go into the pool for that would be un-cool. The two that had ogled her rear continued to swim, taking every opportunity to sweep their eyes over her fit white body.

The janitor pressed the bell in the office and those still there reluctantly got out and change from their wet things. Olivia patrolled around looking as though she knew what she was doing. The old guy had quickly left, leaving her close up.

The keys were in the office and all she had to do was lock up and escape the dreadful place. On reflection she had enjoyed chatting to the girls for it was an eye opener to how they lived. Perhaps it was working on her conscience, working towards appreciating what she had.

"OK! Day one completed," she said to the empty echoing hall. The female changing area was empty and there was no sound of males changing so she locked up. All she had to do was get dressed and escape back to Jane's house. She just hoped that juvenile delinquent Mark left her alone tonight for she was too tired to be bothered by the nuisance.

Walking past the male locker room she heard an argument. Striding in Olivia found two boys squaring up for a fight. "Hey! You two stop that right now!"

They stepped back looking as though they were relieved she had entered the place. She thought it was because they were unsure of themselves in a fight and were glad it was being broken up. She was very wrong.

She approached them to stand in as intimidating a pose as she could manage. With hands on hips she asked. "What's all this about? You should have left here, the pool is closed!"

With squeaking trainers on wet tiles four more appeared from behind the lockers. Now Olivia was the one feeling intimidated.

"So guys, tell the nice white lady what you were arguing about," the tallest of them said.

She couldn't back away for they were all around her, with leering looks, checking her out. The swimsuit felt so small she wanted to close her arms about her body but dare not show a sign of weakness. She lifted her shoulders to emphasis her height but they were tall strong looking young men.

She shook off the first fright for they were probably more nervous of her. She was a mature wealthy woman and they were just poor teenagers. They knew their place and so did she.

"Well!" she asked, trying to take charge of the situation. "What are you doing here?"

With a grin one of the potential fighters looked directly at her cleavage. "I was telling Leroy your tits are best and he said it's your ass." They all laughed at this including Leroy.

"You're banned from here. I don't want to see your face or hear your dirty mouth in here again. Do you understand?" she said with a stern voice. Olivia could feel her face tinting pink. She flushed hot with embarrassment and anger.

"I'm a twenty-eight year old mature woman and you adolescents should show respect. I'm here to look after you, not to be insulted," she spluttered in outrage.

She turned on each of them, facing them off with a severe glower. They quietened down. "It's me you are discussing not assets, I'm a person. I'm not in the habit of being discussed like that so desist," she said, effecting an outraged tone.

"I think you ass is cute lady," a tall lean guy spoke up. He looked her in the eye and she found it difficult to look away. "Let's vote on it," Mathew said."All in favour of the ass raise hands."

"That is quiet enough. You are all very rude and I shall report you," she grimaced. Pushing past one of the boys she felt him grab her arm. Mathew took a hold of her wrist.

"Don't go nice white lady. We haven't decided yet," he told her.

Olivia looked at the strong black hands gripping her thin wrists. "Let me go you're in deep trouble as it is, don't make it worse," she said. An edge of fear had crept in but she tired to hide it.

"Hands up for the big white tits, now the ass. The ass has it. Me I prefer white pussy," Mathew told her.

"Let me go, this has gone far enough!" she complained. Scared now, she found it harder to breathe and keep the rising fear under control.

"It's more difficult to decide without seeing them tits girl," Mathew said.

"We should give them a fair look over," one of them suggested.

As it sank in what he meant she let out a yelp. "No! Leave me alone," she cried out.

"You been flaunting your body all day miss rich girl. What you doing here anyway. This no place for the likes o you flaunting your rich white ass. They is sure great assets if you gonna sell them," he told her.

"You can't talk to me like that. Just let me go and I'll not tell anyone. Your two friends can come tomorrow I won't tell anyone about them fighting," she said, sounding weaker.

"Yea, they are gonna cum alright but now and again tomorrow," Mathew laughed, with the others joining in.

Olivia watched in astonishment as his hand slowly reached out toward her. He gripped the top of the suit and she struggled. She kicked out at the two holding her until one of them let an arm go and she managed to hit Mathew on the nose.

"Bitch! Tie her up," Mathew ordered. He watched her struggle panting heavily. They tied her arms above her head attaching the loose end to a wrecked locker.

Her breasts heaved with each inward breath. On tiptoe she couldn't kick out while needing to keep her balance. She watched the hand through tears, the only thing in focus. It gripped the top but surprisingly he yanked it upward.

She thought he was going to pull it down to reveal her breasts. She felt it pulled tight between her lips, uncomfortably realising what he had done.

She felt the material pulled tight between her cheeks and more devastating was how much of her pussy was on show to these dreadful young men. He wasn't finished with her yet. He still gripped the top and this time she could feel the gradual pull.

"No please! Don't show them my breasts. It's wrong! You can't do this to me. My ****** is a rich man, he will pay you to leave me alone," she cried.

Mathew pulled, spilling her breasts out and grabbed one of them. He twisted a nipple enjoying the yelp of pain. Her breasts were held in a tight cleavage by what was left of the costume. It pushed them up and outward in a lewd display.

The boys yelped in delight at the show and she cringed in fear from their nasty remarks. They were meant to be complimentary but she didn't think so. Not those foul words from dreadful youths who shouldn't be seeing them at all.

"You bastard! Leave me alone. Fuck you!" she cried out in distress.

"No, fuck you miss white rich woman. What you expect comin round here flaunting you're white body, you want it slut. Tell me slut," Mathew demanded.

"No! Please let me go you disgusting youth!" she yelled through snotty tears.

"What you think of them big tits now guys?" Mathew asked.

A ragged growl of approval sounded like a roar in her ears. She was sensitive to every movement and sound with nerves stretched to breaking point. 'They can't, they won't. Surely not! I don't deserve this. Please make it stop!' Olivia pleaded inside not daring to make a sound, too afraid to say a word.

He slapped her face to gain attention. "What you say white slut, you want it right?"

"No! Please let me go. I promise not to say anything," she spluttered.

"Wrong answer rich bitch!" he told her. He grabbed her long auburn hair lifting her face to his looking close in the eyes. "Say 'Sir' when you answer me bitch!"

"Please, sir, let me go. I won't tell anyone honest, Sir," she pleaded.

Seeing a knife in his hands she quaked with fear, her knees almost giving way. The pain in her wrists ****** her up on tiptoe. She watched intently every movement of the shiny blade as it cut the costume away from her body.

Mathew cut the straps and her breasts bobbed without support and the boys murmured appreciation at the way they stood out. He fondled them, weighing them in one hand squeezing them together then letting them go to see how they bounced. Each time the lads cheered, all the time being gradually worked up by his demonstration of power over her.

He cut down one side and she felt it peeling away from her body.

"No! No! Please sir," she shouted. Every shred of her dignity was being cut away. "You can't strip me in front of these, *******" she cried out.

"*******?" he asked angrily.

The sound of his voice was enough to have her whimpering. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean that, I meant strangers. Please don't strip me in front of strangers, sir," she pleaded.

"You strip for friends then? We should get friendly then. You don't belong here this is our territory. You is trespassing. I can do anything I like with you. Ain't that right guys?" he said, and they cheered.

The crotch of the suit was wedged between her lips and cheeks, where it hung between her legs. The trembling of her legs swung it from side to side. She tried to think of something to say something to halt the dreadful degradation.

With eyes shut tight she felt the remains of the suit tugged away from her body. It pulled slowly from between her cheeks and slid agonisingly from between her lips. She was completely naked before the excited group of brutes.

She looked down in shame staring at the shreds of her costume disposed of on the cracked tiles. It didn't seem long before she too would crack. Holding on to the shreds of her dignity were difficult. She dare not speak for it would be nothing more than a meaningless whimper.

The two guys beside her loosened the rope until her feet were flat upon the floor and her knees buckled with weakness. They easily pulled her legs apart. Mathew moved closer pressing his body against her. He licked her ear and neck all the time taunting her.

"You want me to fuck you don't you old white woman. You look twice my age you know that? I may be a big **** in your eyes but I have you helpless and naked. You locked up the place so no-one can get in to disturb us," he taunted her. Putting his hand to her crotch he told her, "I can get in though, right in here," he said, while squeezing her pussy.

"I'm going to fuck you nice and deep and make you cum," he sneered.

"No! Please, Sir. Don't do that to me, you can't, you're just a... You've seen my body and humiliated me, isn't that enough? Please let me go Sir!" she yelped desperately.

"What don't you want me to do?" he asked, while nibbling her lips trying to ***** his tongue into her mouth. A finger scratched over her pussy lips. "Tell me with words we poor critters can understand. Tell me slut!" he said, slapping her ass.

"Please, Sir, don't, don't fuck me, Sir," she yelped. It was deplorable using that word and calling this young thug sir, but she had gone way beyond caring about her position in life. She was shrinking into a tiny world of dire ***********. Having to beg not to be fucked had drained every iota of pride from her.

The hand was cupped over her pussy with a finger pressing against her anus. He was taunting with lewd suggestions. She bit his tongue as it probed her mouth. In retaliation a finger pushed at her cold flesh, piercing between her lips, roughly invading her vagina.

"Bitch, whore! You'll pay for that," he shouted at her, and shoved two fingers into her vagina roughly taking her with slow deep strokes.

"No! Stop it you bastard, you can't do it to me, it's bad, your evil" she croaked.

He slapped her ass then slapped her face. His fingers stopped while buried deep inside her. "You goanna behave now? Open your mouth wide and let me see."

Olivia opened her mouth and let him bite her lips and flick his tongue over hers. Her mind was working rapidly trying to think how to get out of this disgusting mess but the only hope was if they didn't want to be charged with ****. Perhaps they wouldn't go that far or couldn't with friends watching.

"Your pussy is nice and tight woman, you gripping my fingers like a good whore? When last you make out?" he slapped her ass again to gain her attention.

She was trying to block out what was happening, not wanting to feel this revolting ***** of her poor body.

It was so humiliating having to tell this thug such intimate details of her life but there was little choice. She bit back a sob to tell him. "A year ago, Sir."

"Please, Sir, don't do that. I've not done anything since I was divorced. I'm a respectable mature woman. Please don't hurt me," she pleaded, in a fluster of words unable to bring her thoughts together.

His fingers were exploring deep inside and though it was gentle it was unpleasant. His thumb nudged her bud but there was no joy in it. This would have been a powerful fantasy but the reality was so very bad.

"You're nice and tight woman cause you ain't been used for awhile," he laughed. "Tell me what I'm doing to you bitch."

Olivia didn't hear the others laugh, just him, just his derisory voice so close and that awful exploration.

"Y. Y. You're finger fucking me, sir." She moaned in an agony of ***********. This thug had his fingers inside her and was intent on humiliating her to the limit.

"You've been married, so you must know how to pleasure a man. I sure could use you. You want a young stud like me fucking you right?"

"No! Please Sir, not that," she whimpered.

He pulled away and she hoped this was an end to it. They turned her sideways from the locker and he stepped in front of her again. She felt someone behind her holding on to her hips. She felt Mathew's hard cock against her belly and she moaned.

They thought she moaned from being hot but she was still dry and the moan was from anguish not anticipation.

He slid it between her legs nudging her lips then heaved his cock into her.

"Oh! No! Please no. You bastard, take it out, bastard, no! Please don't fuck me, sir." she cried out.

"My huge black dick too big for you?" he laughed.

Not until the stranger behind her pushed at her anus was she aware of why he was there. "Not that, no, no, no. Stop it, please stop. Please sir, make him stop. Not that! Not my bottom," she screamed.

Pushing forward away from him she impaled herself on the cock in her pussy. There was no escape from the stranger behind her they were gripping her too tight. He ****** past her clenched ass-hole into her tight virgin bottom.

Before she could rally to fight they pounded in unison rocking her body between them. A desperate whore might take it up against a wall but she was standing with two cocks penetrating her body. She could feel her breasts swinging against his chest as she shook her head from side to side.

Spittle sprayed from her mouth as she repeated one word, "No!"

She didn't want to feel it or be aware of it but two cocks rubbed against the thin wall separating her pussy and anus. The strange feeling was despicable as the whole disgusting ***** of her lovely body was shocking.

It didn't take long before the two guys both began to cum.

"Please sir don't cum in me, you can't do that! Pull out, please! Oh ****, no!"

They both spurted fluid into her body. It wasn't as though they had made love, she wasn't ready, not even warm. There hadn't been a coming together of lovers for they had just made use of her. They used her body as they might a hand to flog themselves with. She felt completely degraded.

Her legs gave way leaving her hanging by the wrists, used, *****d and defeated. There was a vague awareness of being cut down and a pair of arms lowering her to the cold floor. She screwed her body up into a ****** position the only protection from those terrible staring eyes.

Olivia wasn't relieved it was over. She was too afraid to feel anything. She just wished they would go and leave her to recover. If that could ever be possible.

The sight of their friends fucking the beautiful female body was too much for them, they needed to relieve the ache. It didn't mater who or what she was they just needed her. They pulled Olivia to her knees, positioning her stiff body on all fours. One of them lay next to her then pulled her on top.

He felt her collapse upon him with her breasts squashed against his chest.

She felt this cock against her belly. "No! Please sir! Don't let them take me. I can't take anymore," she whimpered, knowing each of them was going to take his turn. Unable to find the strength to move, let alone fight, she lay sprawled over the young man under her.

"Don't tell me the whore is full up with cum. She's not much of a sperm bucket is she!" he laughed. His friends weren't listening for they were too intent on entering her lovely white body.

Someone positioned himself behind her, grabbing a pair of thin hips. Another of them grabbed a fistful of hair to pull her mouth over his cock. They didn't count down, or say a word to co-ordinate it, they just thrust in when ready. Her bottom and vagina was well lubricated with the gangs cum so they slid in easily.

Her body bounced around between them in quick jerks from three cocks viciously thrusting into her. Quietly she moaned a string of invective cursing everything and everyone in her life.

The nightmare would soon be over she kept telling herself.

A boy flogged himself over her back unable to wait for a hole to become available. They just saw her as a three-hole fuck slut. She had been reduced to a thing to be used.

Again it was over quickly. They were so near before starting they needed little friction to spurt their sperm into her prone body. The young man standing close shot his load over her back and hair.

She lay on the hard floor without enough strength to pull her body into a protective ball.

Olivia didn't hear them arguing about what to do next for she was almost out cold. Her body was bruised and her mind in turmoil. They had pounded her pussy and her ass so hard she was sore inside.



Mathew had two of them drag her into a shower where they hosed her down. The cold water brought her round. When it was turned off she huddled on the floor trying to block out where she was and what was happening.

"Here, get dressed," Mathew told her.

Slowly and painfully she drew the clothes together he had thrown at her. It was clear they weren't hers but thankful to be covering her body she pulled them on.

The skirt wasn't much more than a belt. The blouse was too small and the buttons had been ripped off, so she tied it in a knot, baring her midriff. Even without a bra it pulled her breasts into a deep cleavage with them almost hanging out.

"Where are you taking me? Haven't you done enough? Please just let me go, Sir." she wailed.

Mathew slapped her bare ass and propelled her out of the building. She tried to cover herself as with every step the little skirt bobbed up showing off the bottom of her cheeks.

"Don't talk unless you are told to bitch. We are going to show off our trophy white meat, then get rid of you," he said.

"Get rid of me? You can't **** me, please sir," she begged. "I'll do anything, please, Sir, just let me go. Please sir, I'll be good, I won't tell anyone, I'll do anything you say, honest sir," she babbled.

He slapped her face laughing at her. "I told you to be silent." He didn't mean to **** her, he meant to show her off then dump her at the bus station. What did she think he was? "What do you think, you stupid white trash," he said. They pushed her into a beat-up old car.

She tumbled onto the back seat and managed to sit up between two of them. Was this to be the big one way ride? She had heard about how violent street gangs were.

She scrabbled around in her memory for something, anything that might save her. She remembered reading a Sunday supplement about gangs keeping gang-girls at their club house. She didn't believe it at the time, thinking it was just sensationalism for the white middle classes to be outraged over.

She grabbed a hand and pressed it to a breast. Another young hand she pulled up the tiny skirt shoving a finger into her pussy. "Let me be your gang-girl. I know what to do, I'll fuck you all. I'll do whatever you say. Just let me," she broke off with a sob. She wanted to live!

She was too scared to say the word die. Inside the car and outside seemed to be in stark black and white. It seemed too bright. Her eyes took in every detail as though this were her last moments.

"Can we keep her Mat," the guy next to her asked, while enjoying fingering her.

She willed him to say yes. She tried to encourage the one next to her by whispering in his ear. "Keep me and you can fuck me whenever you like. You can have my ass and I'll give you blow jobs. Just keep me as your gang slut." she told him.

She encouraged him to ask Mathew again by squirming on his fingers, pretending to be excited.

"She wants to be our gang slut, she's real hot, we should keep her," he suggested again.

"Yes, let me be your slut. All the gang can have me, I'll fuck real well," she pleaded desperately.

"There's twenty in our gang, think you can handle that?" Mathew shot back at her. He had no intention of keeping her, she was trouble. Though a little fun could be had while she thought she was for the high jump.

"You want to look after twenty young virile men every night, whore?" he teased.

Olivia thought this was the gang and they didn't seem interested in taking her again. She was trying to buy time but the thought of servicing twenty of these rough psychopaths almost broke her completely.

It was still light and the rough neighbourhood they were travelling around depressed all hope of help. She hadn't seen a police car. She looked at the door handle wondering if she should try it.

She whimpered as they pulled at her manoeuvring her round on the seat. She didn't have the strength to fight. Before she knew what was happening she was jammed into the window frame with her ass outside. All she could think of was at least this way no-one could recognise her. Not that anyone she knew would be in such a rough neighbourhood.

They cruised around then stopped where a group of men walked over. "Yo Mat. What you got there? Bit of skinny white booty," one of them laughed.

"You got the cash you can have it," he said.

Olivia's skin crawled. She was drowning in an agony of degradation. Her pussy and asshole were on view to complete strangers and it was being offered for sale. She was jammed tight, half hanging out of the window and couldn't move. Her head, legs and arms were on the inside with just her bottom hanging out.

"You still want to be our whore? Or what?" Mathew taunted.

Surely they couldn't sell her on the street in broad daylight. This was some kind of mad test. Perhaps if she passed they might not **** her. "Yes," she stammered in a whisper.

"Can't hear you girl," he shouted at her.

Only yesterday she had a pampered life of luxury in her ******* home. If someone dared look at her in the wrong way her ****** would have them sued with a team of lawyers. She thought of the pool guy, but if this was retribution from the gods it was too much to pay.

"I'm you're whore, Sir. I'll do whatever you want, sir," she moaned.

"She's a polite whore but right here on the street? You're mad bro," he laughed. "I've got five, what'll that buy me?" he asked.

"You got five minutes, do what you like," he told the stranger.

The crowd of young men hid him from view of anyone passing so he handed over a five.

Olivia felt his hands on her ass and gasped. His hands were all over her crotch, fingers from both hands exploring roughly. She whimpered but dare not speak. She couldn't even see who it was. Evidently he was excited for a much harder, bigger object entered her. His cock thrust in and she cried out.

Olivia wanted to beg them to stop but the words didn't form, just a pitiful sound of abject dread was emitted. She felt for the third time that evening a spurt of cum hit her insides. Another of them took his place but this time he didn't bother touching her he just rammed his cock into her asshole.

She yelped in pain, though it was easier to take him, for she was no longer a virgin. The very idea of it was repulsive for no one had taken her there, not even her ex-husband. These filthy barbarians had raped her tight little virgin ass. They were stretching it with every thrust making it into just another fuck hole.

Olivia lost count of how many took her pussy and asshole. It had become a competition between them to see who could cum the quickest. The noise was attracting attention and she hoped someone would save her.

As they drove off she could feel their sperm in her body. The very feel of it was repulsive. They made her sit on an old cloth where it slopped out of her open holes.

"She sure is some sperm bucket," one of the gang told Mathew.

"The whore no use to us, so one more stop and we get rid of her," Mathew told his friends.

Did this mean they were going to **** her? After all that she had suffered it didn't seem such a bad prospect, she just hoped it was quick. She had given up all hope of being rescued or ever being free. Not even a common whore would have done what she had. Her pussy had been used and ****** by strangers she hadn't even seen and it was from a car window, on the street.

They stopped outside a mall where they hustled her into a store. One of them wiped the mess from between her legs while she just sat there. With her head hung in shame, hiding her face under long auburn hair, she didn't see what kind of place it was.

They sat her in a large leather chair and looking round saw it was a tattoo store. She shivered in fright.

"I was going to make you our gang slut but changed my mind. Instead we are going to send you on your way with a little reminder of the fun you had," he told her.

"Please, sir." She looked down between his feet hoping he would let her speak otherwise she would have to endure a slap but she had to stop them.

"What you got to say whore," he said.

"Please, sir. Don't tattoo me," she pleaded. The thought of something ugly and permanent marking her body was sickening. A permanent reminder of this evil day couldn't be tolerated. She would have to fight knowing it was hopeless.

"I just told you bitch. We ain't gonna make you our gang bitch, so no gang tattoo," Mathew told her.

They pulled the chair back and hoisted her legs up. With knees fitted into stirrups they had a perfect view of her pussy. She struggled but the chair held her firmly in place.

Mathew stood buy while one of the guys ran electric clippers between her legs. She was already trimmed but they were removing everything. Despite having suffered such a terrible ordeal this seemed so much more humiliating.

"Keep still we don't want mistakes here," he laughed.

They were all intently staring at her crotch enthralled with the view of her legs spread wide. Unable to close her eyes she watched the young guy clipping away at her only protection. When he pulled upon her sore lips she yelped. The razor skimmed over her pussy not sparing anything. Every hair was cut away.

A couple of them felt her bald pussy telling the others how smooth it was.

"Can we have her again, Mat?" one of them asked.

In that helpless position they could stand there looking at her while fucking and she cringed at the idea of it.

"No! She's too dirty a whore for us. It's getting late, we got to drop her off," Mathew ordered. "Put some make-up on slut. I want you looking pretty."

This must mean they weren't going to **** her. Catching sight of herself in a mirror for the first time she wondered that she didn't look a hundred years old. The clothes she wore were from a young gang slut and that's what she looked like. The heavy make-up completed the look to perfection.

She hardly recognised herself. With a slim figure she looked young but not innocent. Her breasts were on show and everything else when the tiny skirt bounced up.

Olivia couldn't understand why this was happening to her. What had she done to be suffering this way? She was a beautiful twenty-eight year old woman and not long ago had been a high society debutant. If she had any more tears left she would have flooded the place.

The person looking back at her was a stupid little slag. A gang-girl would look old before her time and Olivia looked the part. She was supposed to be a teenager and she would pass dressed like this, if they didn't look too closely. Instead of being admired decent people would turn away.

Gone were the designer clothes to be replaced by a cheap blouse and a skirt a hooker would be embarrassed wearing. With lurid make-up plastered on the image was too real. She had helped transform herself into the cheapest of whores.

After such ill use and the way she had reacted, offering herself to them in a most vile way, she felt empty. She felt her self-esteem crumble to nothing knowing whatever they had planned would be submitted to. However vile the chore, she would carry it out like the obedient little slut she had become.

Walking through the mall between them with head down, she suddenly froze. They bumped into her and she almost fell. Her ******* office was here. Surely they weren't going to deliver her looking like this? How could they know he was here? Mathew slapped her ass hard and she tottered on weak legs that threatened to collapse.

Olivia was prepared to suffer even that vile degradation to escape. Daddy owned the building towering above them. His personal office suite was a whole wing of the building on the top floor. She imagined being trooped in by these street urchins, if it were possible to get past security.

His secretary would certainly have something to gossip about. The boss's ******** visiting those plush offices, dressed like a filthy whore, would certainly excite attention.

The men and women on the top floor thought of themselves as the cream of society. They had the clothes and manners though they had been described as vicious jackals. The thin veneer of society was soon washed off under the wrong circumstances. She had watched them at parties manoeuvring for position with a heartless disregard for others feelings. Polite niceties were dropped if it meant winning. That was the world she had grown up in.

Thankfully they veered away from the office block entrance toward the restaurants. She didn't react at all for she was past caring. It was as though someone else was there and she was somewhere distant just observing.

With head down her face was buried in long hair hoping no one would see her. Even if they did it was unlikely she would be recognised like this. The young guys kept her between them so there was no chance of escape.

"Hey you, yea you. You want a good time with our gang slut. She wants to compare us with a white dude," Mathew said to a group of businessmen.

"Get out of here! I'll call security if you don't push off," one of them grumbled.

"No-one would see her under the table. She gives good head and she's cheap," Mathew told them.

"Don't be such an old fart. It won't hurt to look old boy. How much?" another of them asked.

"Five each," Mathew said.

Olivia heard muttering and disagreement between the group of men expecting security to be called any moment. It was too outrageous for anything to happen here in this upmarket mall. These men weren't like that filthy scum out there buying her ass. Mathew would find he had gone too far and these men would call security. It would be an awful *********** but at least she would be free.

"Bring her inside," one of them said.

The coffee shop was dark and empty, apart from a guy behind the counter and the smartly dressed businessmen. They were slightly inebriated after celebrating a newly won business deal so called in for coffee before returning to the office. One of them was still complaining but less so as the others cajoled him.

Olivia looked up at them ready to ask for help. She quickly looked away. 'No! Not now, not them!' she cried inside. She could hardly believe it. The nightmare had become so much more evil. These men were her ******* employees.

The decision had to be made whether to shout for help or keep silent. As bad as it would be to reveal her identity to these men, she must. Mathew had a firm grip on her arm so she would have to make a scene. Opening her mouth to shout she suddenly clamped it tight.

Mathew pulled the knot open releasing her breasts. He lifted the little skirt around her hips and tucked it into the waist band. Olivia held back the cry for help; instead she felt like whimpering.

In a large wall mirror she could see, through her long hair, what they were all staring at. She stood before them practically naked. Her breasts were on show with her shaven bare pussy on display. She had been wrong it could get worse and just had.

It was impossible to reveal who she was. How could she tell them her body had been so badly defiled by these fiends? Everyone would know and her ****** would be so ashamed of her. Their rude remarks about her naked body made it impossible to talk let alone plead for help. She was thankful for having long hair to hide a tear stained face.



"This our whore, she likes face fucking. She can suck you good. Tell em, girl!" he demanded.

Disguising her voice she spoke up, knowing he would get her to repeat the disgusting words if she whispered them.

"I'm a gang whore, I do whatever I'm told," she said. She was surprised how poor and mean she sounded.

"Tell them what I said," Mathew told her.

"I want you to fuck my face. I'll suck you off real good," she stated plainly.

"Do a good job and we let you go," he whispered.

There was no way she could ask for their help now. How could she tell them she was a respectable woman, a rich woman needing their help? They wouldn't believe her until she ****** them to look at her properly revealing who she was.

She looked like a stupid slut ready to defile herself just to be accepted into this gang. Would they think she had joined them as a game only to find it too much to handle? Gossip would tour the country club and didn't need exaggeration to paint her as contemptible and pathetic.

What they saw before them was what she was, a compliant little slut. She got to her knees and crawled under the table. It could have been a hiding place only four sets of legs in business suits were waiting for her. She could see hard bulges in their trousers and demurred.

"One more thing, just one more ***********," she thought, "then it will be all over."

She reached for one at random to quickly pull his cock from an expensive pair of suit trousers. With her head against the underneath of the table she managed to manoeuvre her lips over the rigid shaft. Pumping it with a hand and sucking hard she just wanted to get it over with quickly.

Performing such a horrible act was bad enough, but in a coffee bar it was devastating. If her emotions hadn't already been ground into the dirt she would have fainted away. She barely hung on to sanity. A functional part of her mind concentrated on the mechanics of the job.

Fearful of appearing from under the table covered in sperm, she sucked the thick slime down her throat. She felt it slither down her throat almost retching on his vile fluid. She sucked the long strings of sticky fluid from his cock squeezing the deflating sack then pushed it all back into his trousers.

Leaving him to zip up she moved on hands and knees to the next man. Cringing at the horrid task she summoned all her willpower to keep going. With her head banging against the table with his thrusts she heard them laughing. This one, whoever he was, had more enthusiasm.

This was worse than having those strangers fuck her ass. She knew these men. She wanted to shout at them for being so vile. As they were her ******* employees she had always thought herself above them. She had let them flirt with her and teased them at company functions. Watching their wives count up points against them had been amusing.

This wasn't New York but it wasn't a small city either and she moved in the highest circles of society. She was divorced but nevertheless a desirable rich woman. At the very least they should have respect for the boss's ********. This was not how it was meant to be; naked at their feet on all fours, sucking for dear life on their cocks.

Olivia felt a hand on her ass and a finger slide into her pussy for a coarse finger fucking. She felt the juddering spasms of an orgasm from the cock in her mouth and looked up to see him peering at her.

Henry the sales director was watching her suck his cum down her throat.

With his cock filling her mouth, distorting her face, there was little chance he would recognise her. The angle and unexpectedness was against it too. Thankfully there was no sign of recognition in his face, just the screwed up look of passion.

This man had danced with her at company functions, she even knew his wife. Olivia remembered him flirting, as they all had, for she was an attractive woman. At company functions the ***** flowed and they had all danced holding her a little too tight.

When under the influence they all wanted to kiss the boss's sexy ******** but were always careful not to push the boundaries of propriety. She would swan around in a bikini by the pool while they tried to avoid wives seeing them ogle her.

She had teased them thinking they were beneath her, knowing she was off limits. Now he had her sweet lips sucking on his cock, swallowing his cum. If he knew it would be a shock but how much more thrilling would the pleasure be. He leant back sated while she sucked him dry of the last drops from his balls.

She let him pull his cock back into place while quickly shuffling to the next appalling job. Before she could get another cock in her mouth fingers spread her lips.

She would have been dry, for this was not exciting, it was a terrible ordeal. She was wet from sperm still leaking from her body but they thought she was enjoying it. The crude remarks were unbearable.

They thought she was such a hot slut she was enjoying sucking them off. She could hear their derisory comments on how wet and open she was. What would they think it they discovered it was the result of so many men fucking her it left her pussy and ass leaking sperm? Even her bottom was open to their delving fingers.

The last one spurted into her mouth and in surprise she banged the back of her head on the table and groaned in pain. The man with his fingers working her bottom and pussy let go thinking she too had cum. Not once, after so many men had taken her, had she even the slightest orgasm.

The dreadful ordeal was over and she crawled from under the table. She felt her belly was full of their disgusting fluids trying not to think of it as sperm. She had to dismiss the degrading action trying not to think of it or she might just collapse in a heap at their feet.

Thankfully Mathew collected the money quickly for she was desperate to run and hide. At least two of them had fingered her pussy and ass and they all thought she had been hungry for them. She had been eager to complete the filthy task not eager for them.

Standing before them after that was a torment of shame. What could she say, 'this is a new company perk'. Just call reception and I'll come running like a good little whore to squat under your desk. If I can't give satisfaction just bend me over your desk and take my asshole.

She was no longer the beautiful rich woman they once knew and desired but so very unattainable. What they saw standing there was a stupid little whore ready for anything. She had been reduced to a three hole fuck toy, available for less than what they tipped at dinner.

"So, thank the gentlemen whore," he demanded.

"Thank you," she said demurely. He pressed a booted foot on her sandal and whispered. "Make it good, you want rid of us don't you?"

He held the back of her hair threatening to lift her head for a slap. She was painfully aware there was a slight chance they might recognise her if he showed her face.

These employees of her ******* were such hypocrites. What they had done, even if it hadn't been her, was just appalling.

She took Mathews words as a dire warning, not daring to take a chance, she cleared her throat. "Thank you, thank you for your lovely sperm," she said, while rubbing her bare belly. The action was supposed to be appealing but was pitiable.

She wanted to cry. She was standing naked before so called respectable men who knew her as a rich socialite but thought she was a young gang girl. She had their disgusting cum in her belly and they were looking at her, judging her to be a depraved whore.

She felt him pulling her hair back. He guessed she was too ashamed to look at them, but not why. She cleared her throat and quickly continued.

"I loved sucking and licking your big cocks. You made me cum so much when I swallowed your juicy cum," she intoned flatly, despite trying to make it sound alluring.

They were ***** enough not to notice the lack of emotion in the flat statement. They laughed at her for being such a despicable little whore.

"If I'd know how filthy you are you wouldn't have come near my cock," one of them laughed, setting the others off again.

Mathew was enjoying himself. He whispered in her ear and she cringed.

"Yea," she faltered. After going this far there was no turning back. "I'm a disgusting little whore but I love it. If you think I'm not good enough to suck your cocks perhaps you will let me kiss and suck your assholes," she said.

She just didn't care anymore. There was no further to sink. This was rock bottom. At least they looked a little shocked.

"Yea guys, next time, the bitch will kiss ass," Mathew laughed. He gripped her arm and dragged her away.

The little gang swaggered through the upmarket mall with her between them where she shrank in shame. They attracted looks from security but well to do shoppers avoided them.

Once more into the bright daylight they headed into the parking lot. The little crumpled skirt hardly covered anything but she didn't care anymore. She had given up holding it down as she had given up caring about herself altogether.

They stopped and she wished with all her might to be away from there. If her ****** saw her, or one of his staff recognised her, she would die of shame. Perhaps that was the only answer.

"We've all used the slut and made some money on her so its time we let her go," Mathew said to his gang. He listened to their approval then turned to Olivia.

"You were a good little whore. You want to say goodbye to the gang?" he asked.

They didn't seem to want to even touch her let alone take her. Olivia was relieved it was all over. They had robbed her of every shred of dignity until she was ready to submit to whatever they wanted, however depraved it was. What did they want now?

"Sorry Sir. What must I do?" she asked.

"Just do as I say," he said, leading her to a car. "Get in."

Surely this must mean she was being taken back to her car. A flutter of dismay at driving to Jane's house dressed like this came and went. It didn't matter just as long as she was free of these brutes.

She slid onto the back seat of the old car, another version of theirs. A couple of young Hispanic lads slipped in beside her. She watched the guy in the front passenger seat hand over a wad of notes to Mathew, not understanding what was happening.

The young money guy leant over the seat examining her. Under his scrutiny she tried to pull the little crumpled skirt together, to at least hide her bare pussy. It covered little else and she felt so very naked under his stare.

"I've just paid good money for you. You now belong to our gang. What do you say, slut." Rodriguez said.

"W. W. What do you mean?" she gulped.

He gripped her chin in a strong hand looking at her closely. "You're a bit old for us but Mat said you're a good gang fuck. How old are you?" he asked.

"I'm twenty-eight, sir" Olivia whimpered. Before she could gather her wits to protest he slapped her face.

"He told me you need to be slapped around to keep you under control. No talking unless asked a question, you got that?" he watched her nod. She was quickly subdued having suffered so much. She simply gave in to the thug while her mind whirled in fear.

"Twenty-eight! That's a bit old gyrl but you look fit. I'm eighteen like the rest of the gang. We're called the eighteens. Cause of our age and that's how many we have in our gang. It's our lucky number. We'll have you tattooed with our symbol of ownership and you can get to work. Mat said you can handle all of us. You're experienced and know plenty of tricks," he said seriously.

'No! No! This can't be true. Surely they're just taunting me. They can't keep me for sex.' She wailed inside not daring to speak. She believed it. After being used by Mathew and his gang, then pimped as a prostitute all self worth had been ground into the dust and trampled upon.

The sight of that money being handed over flashed through her mind and she burst into tears. She had been sold! Mathew had used and ****** her then he sold her to this gang. They considered her property. She was a thing to be used.

They didn't care about her tears. She had been reduced to being a gang slut and was considered just an object they owned. Being bought and owned by these gangsters just added to the nightmare.

They were callous and hard but she doubted they would use her more roughly than Mathew had. It stunned her to think she had been reduced to thinking like a gang girl. She cuffed away the tears and tried not to think about her fate in the hands of these young men.

No-one knew where she was so there was little chance of help and they would watch her closely after paying so much for her. It seemed she belonged to this gang and would be subject to their demands. Olivia slumped in the back of the car having been ground down into accepting her fate. There seemed to be little choice but get on with whatever fate threw at her.

***

"No! Please let me go, please, Sir," Olivia squealed. Rodriguez watched as two of his gang stripped her naked. The pitiable clothing was little enough but it was something. They pulled her over the concrete floor by both arms and pushed her into a cage. She curled up on a piece of cardboard wrapping her arms around her body for protection and comfort.

They had driven her to an old warehouse in an area of abandoned factories. A bowl of water was put into the cage and the three of them walked out slamming a steel door behind them.

The small dark room held two cages and the other was occupied too. "You Ok?" someone asked.

Olivia tried to control her sobbing. She looked into the other cage to see a young woman also naked, squatting, holding onto the bars of the cage. "No! I'm not alright, I want out of here," she sobbed.

"I wish I could say it's going to be alright but it isn't. My names Rosa," she said.

"How long have they kept you like this?" Olivia asked, trying to bring her thoughts into order. She needed to find out what was to happen to her and maybe escape.

"I don't know, a year, maybe," the young woman said.

Olivia cringed at the thought of being kept like this for so long. "Do you know what they're going to do with me?" Olivia asked.

"They will probably use you as their gang slut for awhile. Then train you," the stranger answered.

"Train me? What for," Olivia asked with a look of dismay on her face. She looked a mess with hair awry and face streaked with a mixture of tears and cum.

"Maybe like me, I don't know. Me? I'm a cum whore now. I spend the night giving blow jobs to anyone who'll pay. I'm hungry for it too. I don't know if it's cause of the training or cause they keep me hungry. Whatever it is I do it good and quick so as I can to get as much as I can. Don't look at me like that," Rosa complained.

"I used to be a student studying geology. I made the mistake of taking a loan I couldn't pay back. I got sold to this gang and they used me as their gang slut for awhile. When I gave up fighting they trained me as whore. More than that! They turned me into this," she cried. Drying her tears she leaned back from the bars rocking on her heels.

"Maybe we can escape," Olivia started to say.

"No going back for me. I'm addicted to sperm. Got to have it! That bread and water in your cage, that's all you're getting tonight so eat it. In the morning some soup then it's up to you to milk as much sperm from them as possible. Yeah! All the protein you can squeeze outa their balls, gyrl. You'll get used to the taste then grow to like it. After awhile you won't remember what good food tastes like. You'll start to forget what life you had before this. Or maybe you will want to because it hurts to remember."

A hard look crossed her features and Olivia had to look away. If this was the life ahead of her then maybe it should be ended right now. Surely they couldn't break her so completely as that. On the ride here she had been so overwhelmed by what had happened earlier she had already become completely submissive to them.

Olivia dreaded what might happen to her over a couple of months with these callous men using her as a sex object. Olivia looked at the young woman in the cage, agonizing over what might happen. She had a wealthy pampered upbringing, so would she still be as sane as that young woman in a year's time?

The gang slut is sold on

The cage was too cramped to stand up or stretch out, so Olivia massaged her legs to prevent cramp. Her calf muscles were the worst, from having too much salt in her diet. She went through the regular routine, having become used to living in the small cage, over the last few months, to the extent of thinking of it as home. Rosa was asleep in her cage opposite, so she tried not to make a noise.

That first disgusting day, when she had been *********, had thoroughly demoralized her. She had been dragged around by a mean gang of youths, with them a***ing her in the most dreadful ways. They had broken her will to resist anything they cared to demand.

When they saw how pliable she had become they sold her to a gang of young Hispanic thugs. They locked her in a cage, which defined her lowly status, demeaning her more thoroughly that words could ever have done.

For twenty-eight years she had grown up, pampered in comfort, and spoilt by a doting wealthy ******. The shock of this new world left her susceptible to them, for she had no defense to such barbaric behavior.

She had spent the last three months locked in a cage, like an ******. They kept her clean and fed, just enough to keep her alive, only letting her out to serve them as a gang slut. Rosa had been right. She had become used to the taste of sperm, looking forward to it, as a supplement to the meager rations - hence the high intake of salt in her diet.

At least, when brought out to entertain them, she could stretch her limbs. She was still lithe, and a little slimmer, though less fit. Except for one thing, she was now a fit piece of ass, as they had proved time and time again. There were five hard core members, with thirteen others in the gang. She had grown to know all of them, intimately.

In a previous life she referred to down there, as her vagina, and when being naughty, it was her pussy. Now it was a fuck hole and no longer hers either. It was theirs, to use as they wanted. Whenever and however they wanted to use their fuck hole, and any other hole, she had to be ready for them.

Rodriguez was the gang leader. He would simply hand her over to one of the others, to whip her ass, if she didn't please him. She had learnt the hard way, at first, to pay attention to their particular needs. After three months pandering to the gangs' whims, she knew exactly how to present her body to each of them. She had become adept at anticipating a man's needs, so as to avoid a punishment.

Olivia had been corrupted, from being a high society woman, almost a sexual innocent, knowing little more than the missionary position, into becoming an obedient gang slut. She had been prepared, ready to marry one of her ******* wealthy business contacts, to become a trophy wife. Instead, the beautiful young woman had been perverted, into becoming a trophy-whore.

They were vulgar teenagers from the wrong side of the tracks, or so she would have called them previously. Now she called them sir, or master. What was so damning was that she meant it. She had been sold to them, defining her as a slave and they were her masters. It left her feeling like a lowly object, something to be used.

Mitch opened the cage and clipped a leash to her collar. He enjoyed making her crawl and she pretended to like it, just to keep him pleased with her.

"Come on bitch, hurry up. You're owner needs some attention," he told her. The large old warehouse had a large open space, with small side-rooms running along an outside wall. The windows were boarded up and the one outside door was always locked. Not that she had the temerity to think of escaping.

On her way into an empty side-room, there were a couple of young guy's playing cards. "Don't wear her out, there's a party tonight," one of them shouted at him, and laughed.

"Don't worry you can tell when a whore is full," the other said.

"How?" he asked, taking the bait.

"When cum seeps from her nose," he laughed.

Olivia cringed on hearing there was to be a party. It meant all the gang would be there and she would end up serving every one of them. All three holes would be sore from so much use. She didn't mind entertaining their cocks it was the objects that hurt.

She crawled to the centre of the room and squatted on the bare floor, waiting. The young guy stripped off his trousers and sat down on an old tatty arm chair. She got up on her haunches, with hands dangling, like a dog begging. She squatted with her tongue hanging out, panting like a bitch on heat. She yapped quietly, so as not to let on what was going on to his friends.

"Over here bitch," he grinned.

Olivia waggled her ass, as though eager to please. She was hungry and looked forward to a small helping of cum. This young guy produced a lot of cum, especially if there was time to suck him dry. She had overcome the natural gagging reaction so as to swallow even a large cock. That way, when he spurted his load, she didn't miss a drop. It also meant she could finish a guy more quickly, to move on for another load of man cream.

She was bobbing her head up and down his shaft, reminding herself to lube up her asshole and fuck-hole, as well as possible, for tonight. Starting off dry would ruin her evening.

She was proud of her forethought, as well as her consummate fucking skills. She considered herself the best fucking slut the gang had. She had pushed away all thoughts of a distracting previous life, to concentrate on being a fuck-doll, always eager and ready to pleasure the gang. Olivia was pleased to receive little gifts, like the lube grease, for her asshole and fuck-hole. Sometimes she even got to wear clothes too!

***

Olivia felt elated. She had been allowed a bath instead of a quick shower. Rosa had lent some bubble bath, in exchange for some lube gel, so this was a very special day for her. She lay there reminding herself of the gang members' particular fancies.

Shorty liked to spurt his load over her breasts, and watch her suck his cum from her tits. She spooned it up with a finger, making exaggerated sucking noises for him. She always left a drop on each nipple till last and sucked each one with relish.

That brought her to Beanie. He demanded she work on her breasts to enlarge them. He gave her a breast pump which she worked on in the cage. There wasn't much else to do so she worked diligently, knowing it would please them all. She also massaged them with creams he provided. The posture exercises she practiced had Rose in fits of laughter, but it was worth it, because it kept them nice and firm for her young masters.

Rodriguez gave her nipple rings to enhance them. They had grown quiet large over the past months, as she wore them all the time, only removing them when let out of the cage. They looked much bigger than before - in proportion with her larger breasts.

Not having a bra it was difficult to tell how large they had grown, as it had been so gradual. Beanie was pleased with her progress, giving her little treats as a reward for her hard work. He would let her suck on his cock for ages and give her make-up. The lipstick she would use on her breasts, to please him.

Baby Face was eighteen like the others, though he looked so much younger, hence his name. He liked her to pretend to be a teacher or some other authority figure, for she was much older than him. At least it was a chance to wear a dress. She would tell him off then he would hand over naked pictures of her.

Olivia would then beg him not to tell anyone, so he could make his demands upon her. It would start by lifting the dress up for a spanking. She enjoyed the play acting, though he could become a little too rough sometimes. On her hands and knees she would beg him not to fuck her mouth, knowing it got him going, to get what she wanted. It didn't always work, as he could take any of her holes he chose.

Manuel liked to shackle her. Sometimes he would hogtie her into a helpless shape, unable to move. He would tease her, pretending to think about which of her holes he was going to use, all the time knowing she wanted to suck him off. If he took her asshole, she pretended not to be disappointed that he didn't face fuck her.

Some of his cum could be recovered from her bottom, even though the taste was spoilt. Rose had told her she was a nasty bitch doing that, but she had become addicted to sperm and wasn't sure when she would get another dose.

She had been such a bitch before, expecting the world to revolve around her. These young lads had helped her become such a better person now. She thought of others, and their pleasures, instead of just thinking of herself.

The water was getting cold so she jumped up in excitement, ready for the party. Her lithe body would be well used tonight. She looked forward to stealing little snacks and of course, there would be plenty of lovely cum to fill her belly.

***

"Come on bitch, shake your ass, Rod wants you. Get these clothes on," Shorty demanded, as he threw them at her. He watched her dress, impatiently tapping a foot.

Olivia was ecstatic. She had somehow earned the privilege of wearing clothes! She tied the shirt under her boobs, making sure there was plenty of cleavage on show. The skirt was nothing more than a belt, slung low over her hips, just about covering the tops of her thighs. She pulled at the back of it, making sure her booty was on show.

"Hey, panties slut," Shorty said, pointing at a scrap of material lying on the floor.

She hadn't expected them! It had been such a long time since wearing panties. The tiny thong gripped her lips, covering little else. So unused to panties the tight feeling of the cords between her cheeks and the little flap of material covering her pussy was unnatural.

He didn't bother to attach a leash to her slave collar, for they no longer thought it mattered, after becoming so willing and obedient. She followed him into the main room of the warehouse, where some gang girls were preparing for the party.

Rodriguez was talking to his main guys, so she squatted on the floor to wait.

"Here's the fuck hole, ready and waiting," Shorty announced.

"Get some shoes on bitch," Rodriguez said.

One of them handed her some high heel pumps. Again this was unusual. She scrabbled with them trying hard to quickly slip her feet in and buckle them up. She stood up feeling so tall, she wobbled, with the unfamiliar feeling of wearing shoes. She felt a wave of delirious pleasure wash through her mind, from being so well dressed.

The red shoes complimented the little floating skirt. Even her red lips and nail polish matched the outfit. Her hard nipples poked through the thin white blouse and she was showing off a deep cleavage. Although she wished she could have seen herself in a mirror, she just knew she looked a perfect little slut for them.

"OK! Let's go," Rodriguez told them.

The five guys walked toward the exit, with Olivia tottering behind them. She was wondering where they were going but dare not ask. It was frightening walking out the door, for this place had been her home, seemingly for ever.

They drove in the dark, through a rundown neighborhood, out onto the freeway. Olivia shivered in fright wondering what was to happen to her. She wanted to return to where she felt safe and at home, back to her cage.

They pulled into a restaurant car park where she was helped out of the car. If she had noticed, the car park was empty, since the restaurant had gone bust. She noticed a car pull up, and park next them. She was pushed into the lights of their car and told to turn around. She was being shown off to a stranger.

She didn't want to hear what was going on, even if she could have heard what they were saying.

Rodriguez called her over. "What are you, bitch," he asked.

Olivia took a moment to think what he meant. "I'm you're gang slut, sir," she answered.

"And?" he said.

"I'm a fuck hole, sir," she said, wondering what she was supposed to say.

"Who owns you?" he persisted.

"You do, master," she added, without a hesitation.

"You're a slave, ready to be sold?" he asked, while looking at the stranger.

"Yes, master, I'm just a slave, ready to be sold," Olivia said, trying hard not to cry. She now knew why she had been dressed up in these lovely clothes, and was frightened. She watched a bundle of notes being handed over. It was a reminder of that fateful day so long ago, when she had been bought by the gang.

"This man now owns you. Go with him and obey him. Be good, little fuck gyrl," Rodriguez said, without a hint of emotion in his voice.

She couldn't see his face as she trotted behind him, on the high heels. She dare not look back or she would cry. It was difficult leaving her masters, her cage and her home. He opened the door for her, and she slid onto the leather back seat, of a large sedan. This was no gang leader she had been bought by a rich man.

***

Frank looked at the young woman standing before him. She didn't look anything like Olivia, though the accent proved she was more than an uneducated gang slut. At least, she had been a well educated woman once. The lewd clothing was terrible and she didn't seem to mind showing off her body, rather she flaunted it proudly.

He had quietly made enquires, trying to find her, a few days after she disappeared. Her ******, his boss, thought she had run off somewhere. It was probably to Europe, where she had wealthy friends, who would provide accommodation and entertainment. That was the story circulating around the offices.

He was sitting in a café, opposite the office building, when an image of a young girl came to him - completely out of the blue. At the time he thought he recognized her, after she had blown them under the table, only to dismiss the feeling. Of course the connection hadn't been made. How anyone could even considered that dreadful gang whore, was the boss's ********?

She looked like a gang whore, was dressed like one, and behaved like one. Even now, standing before him, it was difficult to believe she had been a wealthy socialite. She used to be such a prude and a tease, yet now, she looked a depraved slut.

He picked up a photograph to take another look at it. "Look at me," he said. Holding up the picture, taken at a charity gala, he compared the two. The young woman standing before him looked thinner, except for her breasts. That could be because she wore an evening gown in the picture, whereas now, she was practically naked.

"What do you want, right now," Frank asked.

The question threw her, for she hadn't ever been asked what she wanted. She always received instructions to perform for the gang. "You're cock, master," she clearly stated.

The young woman was looking at his crotch, licking her garishly painted lips. For some reason he asked a stupid question. "Why?"

"I'm hungry, master, I need your lovely cum, master," Olivia stated.

"What? Why? I mean," he hesitantly said, while trying to fathom what this meant.

Olivia reasoned he didn't understand. He was her new master and knew nothing of her life as a gang slut. "I don't get enough to eat, so I try to get as much cum as I can," she explained. It sounded perfectly reasonable to her, yet he looked shocked.

"What else do you eat?" he asked.

"I have bread, water and vegetables in my cage. Also, the gang's cum, and anything I can steal at the parties, master," she explained. She dropped her head, in **********, to stare at the carpet. She had thankfully removed the uncomfortable high heels, on entering her master's house. The carpet was nice and soft under her bare feet, compared to the rough warehouse floor.

"A cage, they kept you in a cage?" Frank asked, trying not to sound outraged.

"Yes master. It was my home," she sighed. All these questions were getting in the way of what she needed. She was hungry and wanted to feed on his cock.

"What about those clothes, do you usually wear things like that?" he asked.

"I don't usually get to wear clothes, master. They are so lovely; it's a privilege to wear them. If you would prefer it, I've greased up my asshole for you, master," Olivia suggested. Turning around, she bent over to show him her bottom, and pulled apart both cheeks, to show off a gaping asshole.

This was all so much worse than he had expected. The boss's ******** was showing off her asshole to him, offering it to him. The boss was the wealthiest man in the city, with an enviable network of contacts running right across the country. The countries wealthy and influential people were his friends and business contacts.

He had bought the man's ******** for what amounted to two months salary. She was now his sex slave. More than that, she was a willing, skilled whore, ready to do anything to please him. He had thought to rescue her. Returning the ******** would reap untold rewards with the old man.

Returning her like this would be impossible. She had been completely corrupted. Olivia, the wealthy woman, had been brainwashed into thinking of herself as a mere possession. She was a man's plaything, a sex doll, to be used and ******. His cock was hard in his trousers, affecting the decision, of whether to return her or not.

"Would you like some pizza?" Frank asked.

"Yes! Please, master. You're slave-slut will be pleased with anything you give her," she responded, trying to keep calm. "Your slave is ready to please, whatever you like, master," she gushed.

"I know lots of ways to pleasure you, master," she sincerely added.

Sitting in the leather armchair, he watched her bouncing with enthusiasm. He had only offered her a snack, and she had responded with eagerness to please. "Is there anything else you want?" he asked.

"Please, master, may I remove the panties, I'm not used to wearing them," she shyly requested. He nodded, so she quickly pulled at them and stepped out of them. Unsure what to do with them she left the little things on the floor. She felt awful, seeing the dirty wet things, lying on her master's clean respectable carpet.

"What about the rest of those clothes," he asked. He meant to get her something decent, though she misunderstood him. Before he could stop her she stripped off the top and skirt.

"Thank you master," she said.

She had already said she was unused to wearing clothes, which explained the relieved look upon her face. He could see the red marks around her hips and crotch, where the panties had been rubbing, so understood why they were uncomfortable. He looked the naked woman up and down, unable to take his eyes off her luscious body.

"I hope master is pleased with his slave-slut," Olivia quietly asked. He nodded. Olivia felt relieved. This was such a wonderful home she had hoped, with all her heart, he would keep her. He seemed such a considerate master she wanted to please him so very much.

It was a delight to nibble on a slice of pizza. Her waist was so thin and her stomach so shrunken she had to be careful what she ate. After dinner she looked forward to sucking on her master's cock, all the while wondering what his cum would taste like.

"Thank you master," Olivia dutifully intoned.

"What would you like now?" he asked. He had an idea what her answer would be, for she was again licking her lips, while staring at his crotch.

'Fuck!' Those young Hispanic kids had her addicted to sperm!

Keeping her hungry and face fucking so often had made it habitual. It probably started as a defense mechanism, where she had to like it or lose her mind. In some ways she had lost her mind, or at least lost all moral standards. Unable to object to the mistreatment she made herself enjoy it. Eventually she really did like the taste of sperm, and so, became hooked on sucking cocks for it.

Frank extracted the outlines of what had happened to her over the last three months. She didn't seem to remember a previous life. Again, it must be a defense mechanism, protecting her mind from the truth of how far her morals had collapsed.

"Here's your room," he told her.

"Where is my cage, master?" Olivia asked.

"You can use the bed," he suggested.

"Please, master, I need to be in a cage or I won't be able to *****. I'm sorry, master," she said, looking pathetically wretched.

"Come with me," he said, leading her to his bedroom.

"Your slave-slut is just a possession, master. She cannot ***** in here," Olivia said.

The look of wonder upon her face pleased him. "You will ***** at my feet, slave," he pronounced, accepting no argument. She seemed to accept this as an order. "Lay back on the bed, your master wishes to examine you." Without being told she spread her legs, expecting to be checked out thoroughly.

He ran his hands over her lithe body, over the silky smooth flesh, still flushed with youth. She was around his age, a couple of years younger at twenty-eight. Despite the rough treatment received she was unmarked, with model looks, as though stepping from a glossy magazine.

Between the legs she was completely hairless. He looked closely at her unable to see any damage except to her bottom. "What happened to this," he said, grazing her asshole with a finger.

"Sorry, master, is slave-slut's hole not satisfactory?" she asked, with a look of innocent enquiry.

"It seems stretched open," he commented.

"Stretched with toys, for master's pleasure," she explained.

This gave him something to think about. She had already told him she had expanded her breasts and nipples, for a master's pleasure. "Undress me for bed," he told her.

She nimbly removed his clothes and waited while he got under the covers. He lifted one side for her to get in. He wanted to hold her close, but before he had a chance, she slithered down the bed. She wriggled into place, pushing between his legs. He lifted the covers to look at her.

Olivia looked back at him, with wide open eyes. "May your slave-slut have masters, cock, please," she asked, drawing out the last word as a plaintive plea.

"Suck all you want, or until I fall a*****, slave-slut," he smiled.

He watched the beautiful woman form a sexy open mouth over the head of his cock. She licked the tip with gentle flicks, wetting it then sucked on it. Taking the head of his cock between her lips she squeezed it professionally. She squeezed it then gripped the base of his penis, with a firm grip of her small hand.

With the other hand she held his balls, juggling them smoothly. He watched her mouth engulf him. Instead of stopping, her mouth continued. He gasped in amazement, at the sight of her throat swallowing his cock. She gripped the base of his cock for a moment then her head lifted the covers, as her mouth slid up its length.

He laid back feeling her mouth grip his penis, watching her head lift and lower, speeding up, into a regular bobbing motion. Never before had he experienced such a sensation. The suction she used was phenomenal. His entire cock was being stimulated with her lips and tongue and throat, working hard upon the entire length of his hardness.

He couldn't take anymore. As much as he wanted to hold back, to prolong the experience, it was impossible. The way she held his cock in her mouth, he felt every drop spurting, like Niagara Falls, gushing through the tiny eye of his penis. The intense feeling calmed, yet was carried on as she sucked his cock and fondled his balls.

She really was addicted to sperm, for she was milking every last drop from him.

Some of the guys he knew had a pet, though he had taken little interest in the boring details. One of them owned a horse, and another owned a dog. He now owned a well trained, willing slut. How appropriate it was that she had lived in a cage, as though he had bought her from a pet shop. He lay back imagining walking past a row of cages, eventually deciding on this little pet.

He would keep her and look after her, experiencing all the delicious tricks she knew. It would be exciting exploring such a beautiful, available body. Thinking of keeping her, led him on to making a mental note. Tomorrow he would buy a cage for his new pet. Slave-slut would have to be kept in the basement, where the cleaner didn't go.

A name too would have to be found. He would have to name his pet, and buy it some clothes. A new collar, with its name on would be purchased. A whole new world of exciting ideas was opening up to him.

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Teacher


Denis was on the way to class when he stopped to answer his phone. He was surprised to hear a teacher sounding nervous and angry.

"Denis I need your help," Miss Andrews blurted out in one long string of sound.

"Yea, sure. What can I do for you Miss Andrews," he said.

"Just turn around and you'll see my car. It's the blue Ford parked two rows back."

"Yea I see it. Do you want me to fetch something for you?" Denis asked, casually.

"Just do as I say, OK!" Carol told him, sounding cross.

"Is this a joke or something?" he asked, wondering if it was a friend imitating her voice. He looked around expecting to see the guys setting up some lame joke. Maybe they had written something on her car and were trapping him into taking the fall.

"Just walk over to the car," she ordered. Trying to regain some control she relaxed a fraction seeing him comply.

"When you get here just get in to the driving seat. You can drive can't you?" she asked, worried she had picked the one eighteen year old in college that couldn't.

"Of course I can! What's this is all about? Where are you?" He was feeling nervous at the tense tone of voice, it didn't sound like the usual confident teacher he knew in class. He hesitantly stepped in the right direction, though becoming more convinced it was some kind of lame trick.

He was right by the car so she tried to calm her voice so as not to spook him. She just hoped he wouldn't look in or attract attention if he saw her on the back seat.

"Please Denis, just get in. It's OK nothing's going to happen, I just need you to drive the car somewhere," she pleaded. She was conscious of her voice changing from commanding to pleading but couldn't help it.

He opened the door allowing in the sounds of noisy students reluctantly moving toward class and cars cruising looking for a space.

"You don't need the phone now I'm in the back here. No! Don't look, just start the car and drive," she told him.

Denis stared at his teacher lying on the back seat in her bra and panties. Hell! He hadn't seen a woman up close like this and for it to be her was some image to get used to. He couldn't help staring.

"Denis! Denis! Just drive, please." Carol said, with an urgent pleading voice.

"I've got a class in ten minutes miss," he said, trying to crawl back to reality.

"You can cut class this morning. Just drive, damn it!" Carol hissed urgently.

In the mirror she could see the campus patrolman walking along a line of cars inspecting passes, getting closer. The very person she didn't want to see right now. She could take the creeps innuendo's and smirks most times but right now she dare not think what he would say; more importantly what he would tell others.

Some story would make the rounds becoming more exaggerated in the telling until the principle heard a garbled tale. She would have to explain why she was half naked in her car with a student. Old people sensibly kept a rug in the back of the car which right now seemed such a wonderful idea.

"Just drive, get me out of here," she pleaded with him.

Denis concentrated on driving the unfamiliar car through the car park onto the main road. He angled the mirror to get a better look making sure she was really there. Miss Andrews was a beautiful blonde that any young man would **** to have naked on the back seat of their car.

It wasn't his car and she wasn't completely naked but any man would revel in such a sight.

"Concentrate on the road, Kevin," she told him.

"Where to?" he asked.

"Home, get me home, please, quickly," she urged him on feeling an urgent need to pee. Her tone was taking on a higher more desperate pitch too.

"What happened? Was it a dare?" he asked.

"No. Just a stupid day," she sighed. "I was up late last night and was late this morning, rushing to class. I slammed the car door on my dress. In a temper I tore it free and there I was standing in my underwear. I was fumbling with dress and purse getting the key when the damn dress blew under a car. I just leapt into the back seat before anyone saw me. I was terrified," she added.

Just thinking about it brought her out in a cold sweat. To calm herself she thought of being safely home. The first thing she would do is pee, refresh her makeup and get dressed.

At last they pulled up outside her home. She hadn't bothered telling him not to look in the mirror again for it seemed an impossible task not to. Just the once she had anxiously reminded him the lights had changed to red.

The house was so close yet so far away. A neighbour was out mowing an immaculate lawn. She dithered on making the decision to make a break for the front door. Wanting to pee and not wanting to be seen became an agonising moment.

"Get your key ready and make a break for it when he turns around," Denis suggested.

"The key! Damn it, it's in my purse in the car park. I dropped it when leaping into the car."

"I'll drive back and get it," he said, putting it into drive.

She watched her house and neighbour pass by with eyes peering just above the door panel. "No, not back there! Somewhere else," she said, her voice tailing off, wondering where to go.

"I could take you back to my place," Denis suggested.

Carol grimaced at the thought. An alternative hadn't occurred to her so she agreed. "OK. Slow down! I don't want to be caught like this by the cops." In the mirror Carol could see a big grin on his face. She grimaced again.

With a figure like hers she was used to being ogled by men but he was a student. At twenty nine with large breasts fending off men had become an art form. So this young guy wouldn't be much trouble. The trouble was, being driven further into a bad day that was becoming worse by the minute.

Racking her brains for an idea didn't help. She was stuck with him until either she had some clothes or she thought of an escape route.

She considered sending him into a store for clothes but her purse and credit cards had probably been handed in to lost property by now. He didn't look as if he had a bean in his pocket and thinking about the ghastly clothes he might bring back ****ed that idea.

At least this time there was no-one in sight. He led the way up to the front door with key in hand. Without fumbling the door was open and she was inside safe from the outside world. Still in a crouch trying to hide her nakedness she followed him to the stairs. A sudden burst of laughter was joined by others. Carol froze in fear with a foot on the first step.

"Quick, upstairs to my room," he whispered. Taking a hold of her hand he led her up two flights of stairs at a run to the attic rooms.

Safely in his room she breathed heavily from the panicky escape. "Who was that?" she gasped.

"The guys who share the place, I thought they would be in class," he shrugged.

Carol looked around the room. There were no sheets on the bed and only blinds up at the windows. "Do you have a towel or something?" she asked. Still holding herself defensively she looked around again, desperate for anything that might cover her embarrassment.

"It's Friday, nothing's back from the laundry," he shrugged.

It was a typical students' room though not as untidy as hers had been. It was larger too, running the whole length of the building under the roof so that the ceiling sloped along one edge.

"Do you mind not looking at me like that," she said. The look of a predatory wolf after prey came to mind. She couldn't blame him for a look anyone might give her in a nightclub and under these circumstances it was understandable, though more uncomfortable.

She was going to have to do the thinking for both of them "Do you have something for me to wear, please," she asked, trying not to sound too bossy or sarcastic. It was necessary to keep him sweet as she still needed his help to get out of this mess.

He produced a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. From where she stood it was obvious there was nothing else in the wardrobe. Why had she picked a damn minimalist? Struggling with them she found they wouldn't pull up over her bottom. "Damn! My ass is too big. My breasts are too much for that t-shirt," she said, thinking out loud.

"No. Your ass is nice. I think your," he began.

"Don't go there Denis. You are way out of your depth," she was thinking of married friends who teased their husbands asking what they looked like in a new dress. The sensible husbands declined to even look.

"A piece of advice about women is to leave their butt alone. It's not a safe route to take," Carol stated. 'Hell! Did I just say that?'

"I wasn't thinking of your ass like that Miss Andrews," he stammered. The look of apology on his face was amusing but she didn't notice while thinking of something more urgent.

The sexual tension was working on her too after the panic and excitement of running upstairs. The flight from danger of discovery had been exciting. He too was looking keyed up and the last thing she needed right now was an over excited young man.

"We need to think of a way out of this. Just take a deep breast, breath!" she quickly corrected herself. "Relax and breathe in."

Too late she realised the bra was too tight to be expanding her chest in front of a young inexperienced lad like this. With the intake of breath her fleshy white breasts overflowed the little cups almost bursting free. It was just making it worse for the poor fellow.

She plonked her body down on the edge of the bed and looked up at him. He was watching her breasts bounce. "Damn!" she complained. "Is there anyone out there, I need the bathroom."

With the door open a crack they froze on hearing a whistling grow nearer then a door slam.

"It's Blow. He'll be in there for ages," Denis explained. He rummaged around and found an empty bean can, held it up toward her, shook his head then threw it into the trash.

"Will this do?" he asked.

Carol looked at the old army helmet and gritted her teeth. "Needs must I suppose."

Without being told he turned around while she carefully balanced on the precarious potty with knickers around her ankles. It was difficult balancing but let it go, keeping it upright with her weight while leaning back against the bed.

Before she could relax the damn thing tipped and she landed on the floor with an exclamation not used in class. When he jumped round to help she swore again.

"I'll hold your shoulders," he said, trying to be helpful.

He was studiously looking across the room not down at her which was some small consolation. That she had been on her bare bottom with legs splayed either side of the damn helmet when he picked her up was highly embarrassing. She couldn't bring herself together enough to speak so gave in to the helpful suggestion.

He had a firm grip of her shoulders otherwise she might have shrugged him away. After an agony of waiting it hit the bottom of the helmet to make a terrible racket, swishing around, echoing loudly. This was such a bad day it just had to go on and on adding to the *********** of a most humbling moment.

It didn't make it any easier that her face was inches from his crotch. It was no wonder he had a raging hard-on from what she had put him through. She felt sorry for him and herself too. If she hadn't panicked then maybe the damn dress wouldn't have been dropped and they wouldn't have been thrown together into this terrible situation.

Hurriedly pulling up the panties she wriggled into them while he held the improvised pot. Now his face was inches from her crotch, so close she could feel his breath over her thighs.

Plonking herself onto the edge of his bed she dropped her face to hide it in long blond hair. It was only a gesture but at least she had some privacy while trying to think. "This is terrible. What am I to do?" she moaned.

He moved back to her placing his hands on her shoulders. "It's OK! I'll get you something to wear so you can drive home. I'll find a way into your house and you can start the day afresh," he said, trying to mollify her.

The soothing concern in his voice was touching. If she had been in a bedroom with one of her friend's husbands she doubted sympathy would have entered the tone of conversation.

Right in front of her she could smell the scent of aroused male escaping from the tight jeans. He may be inexperienced but he was a man with a near naked woman in his bedroom.

"I've got to get out of here Denis. If I get caught like this, in a student's bedroom, I'd be dismissed. I wouldn't get another teaching job either," she sighed. A touch of desperation in her voice was picked up on. She could see it from the look on his face.

She was going to have to be careful. He must already be feeling feint from a lack of ***** supply to his brain and his penis was probably starting to do the thinking for him.

Taking charge shouldn't be too difficult; after all he was her student. He stood there holding onto her shoulders looking down at her. It was probably the first time he had touched a woman dressed in underwear and a pair of sandals. Carol almost sobbed a laugh on thinking it was the sandals that did it every time.

"Sit down here Denis," she told him, patting the bed. "You're a nice boy," she said, emphasising the word boy. "It must be hard for you," she stopped on catching herself looking at his crotch. "You must try harder, I mean, try to get me out of this mess, please," her voice tailed off in confusion not knowing what to say.

"I will, Miss," he said. He put an arm around her shoulders. "You must do me a favour in return."

Before she could un-wrap his arm she froze. This is not what she wanted to hear.

"In class you give me a hard time, I know you're encouraging me, others have said as much," he began.

"I don't mean to!" she exclaimed. 'Damn!' She knew men looked at her like that but was so used to it she thought nothing of it. Surely he didn't think she encouraged the boys in class. What had she done? Was it the clothes she wore? What was the gossip if they were saying she had purposely made him hard in class? Had the gossip reached the other teachers?

"You do miss. I know it's for my own good but exams aren't the only thing in life," he said.

"Oh!" she said, feeling so very relieved. He was talking about being pushed to try harder. "You're right of course," Carol concluded in a sensible tone that belied the turmoil of emotion inside.

Jumping to such a silly conclusion made her wonder if she were being fired up from this stupid vulnerable position. He was a handsome young man so maybe he wasn't so interested in a woman her age. Whoever was being affected the most didn't matter, she must think of a way out of here and quick.

Catching her unawares he pulled her head onto his shoulder and wrapped both arms around her. He whispered something in her ear. The little tingling sensations whispered bliss straight to the pleasure centres of her brain.

Her ears had always been sensitive. Touching the backs of her knees did nothing for her. Stroking her thighs and even attention to her breasts could be resisted but breathing heavily into her ears did something. It was like being shot with a pleasure dart.

Sitting there in a state of acquiescence confirmed she must have been aroused all along otherwise she would be fighting him off. A part of her mind was telling her to give in, to give him what he wanted so she could get what she wanted – clothes!

It was just an excuse and she tried to convince the naughty self it was wrong but was failing dismally. She could hear her heavy breathing as though she had climbed another flight of stairs.

The excitement of danger from being discovered, the panicky flight up the stairs, had worked upon her emotions more than she realised. She was dependent upon this young man to get her out of here and that dependency was leaving her too compliant.

Denis had his teacher in his arms kissing her ears and neck. He had merely tried to reassure her by holding her tight and talking quietly. Feeling her press against him was an opportunity impossible to resist. He kissed her ear then followed her neck to her lips, kissing and caressing all the way.

When she opened her mouth he kissed her deeply. The last girlfriend had taught him well but he didn't think of her now, he was on automatic pilot following male instincts.

His hands pushed up the bra exposing a luscious pair of breasts for his fingers to explore. It was a rougher fumbling than it should have been but with their tongues entwined neither could ask nor give instructions.

So carried away Carol might have pulled the crotch of her panties to one side or it might have been him but at that moment she didn't care. It had been a long time since anyone had paid so much attention to her lips and neck and ears.

The sensations of pleasure were intense enough to break down the barrier between morals and desire. If the last boyfriend had been a better lover or if it hadn't been so long ago or Denis wasn't so strong and handsome then maybe she would have had a chance to resist.

On feeling a hardness press against an upper thigh alarm bells began to ring. An intruder alert was bringing her back to reality. "No. Stop!" Carol whispered hoarsely through gritted teeth. She couldn't fight him and herself. 'This is wrong, very wrong,' she thought, only half convinced. She hadn't even noticed they had fallen back across the bed.

He heard not a word as he manoeuvred over her. His lips found her nipples as he arched back sucking them away from her body thrusting forward with strong hips.

She felt a rod of iron entering her. It slid in leaving her feeling guilty at being so easy. It wasn't a coming together of two people in love or even the sad inevitability of a long term relationship. It wasn't her lover's cock it was just a hard shaft invading her body.

As she lay prone under him time seemed to stand still as the unwelcome thing penetrated deeper and deeper.

She sobbed from the indignity of being taken by this young man, her student. The frantic thrusts slowed and he began to tell her how wonderful she was. At first she felt even more disgusted for letting him do this to her.

They were the touching words of a young man in love. He was a virgin pouring his heart out to her. It should have been to a young girl his age and she began to feel privileged to be sharing his first time.

A slight shift in his weight changed the angle of his penis. It rubbed against her clit which brought a spasm of movement to her hips.

"Oh! Yes," he breathed out the words in obvious pleasure.

Carol lifted her hips in a gentle push to hear him utter some garbled gratitude. The accompanying squirm of his hips did something for her too. His movements were now hitting the right spot.

She began to thrust up with her hips, arching her back, listening to the murmurs of appreciation and feeling the enthusiastic response. It was irresistible. She began to take the initiative. The thought of fucking this young virgin began to build her to a climax.

She was ready for him. She needed him to cum. She desperately needed to feel him empty his seed into her. The sensation of fullness was no longer enough she needed to cum, now!

"Fuck me harder. Faster! Cum damn you!" she wailed. Her fists bounced off his hard flexing back. His strong legs pushed and heaved, pounding her hard. She felt as though he were about to pierce her entire body with the next thrust.

"I'm cumin!" he said quietly, as if she needed a warning.

"Oh! Yessss," she hissed. It felt as though he were filling her up with his thick potent juices. She imagined it filling her whole body. She felt as though she were nothing but his vessel of cum. She was a small thing in the universe completely given over to him.

She opened her eyes to see him watching her. The intensity of the stare was overpowering.

"I've been talking to you," he said. "I was worried I'd hurt you."

She felt like a teenager again. It was like her first time all over again. The moment didn't last long as the situation gradually bore down on her. She was about to tell him she wasn't on the pill but it would be pointless telling someone who hadn't had to face the realities of life yet.

She smiled at him not wanting to spoil the moment. "You had better stop that. It's too nice," she said, on becoming aware of his fingers gently stroking her thighs. The naughty fingers barely touched, skimming over the soft flesh causing goose bumps.

"Don't start something you can't finish," she teased. "Damn!" she exclaimed. She felt how ready he was and wondered what to do. She should be in class setting revision for him and the rest of his friends. Instead she was in his room fucking him.

She giggled and he quickly caught onto where to touch. She grabbed his wrist but couldn't pull his hand away. As they struggled across the bed he stripped her and tickled her. Helpless from laughter she felt him grab her wrists in one hand while he continued to work on her with the other.

"Stop it! I've got to go. Please! You are being naughty young man," she told him in a contrived stern voice.

"I think you have been the naughty one, teacher," he laughed.

At this reminder of responsibility she pulled her legs up to push him off the bed. Instead he rolled her over and held her down with the flat of his hand on her back.

"It's not too big at all," he told her.

She felt his hand massaging her bottom remembering trying to get into his jeans. At least he wasn't teasing her pussy. She began to enjoy this too as his hands travelled over her thighs and bottom, up her back.

"Such a naughty teacher!" he scolded her.

Before she could tell him not to call her that she felt a slap to her ass. "You can stop that right now!" she told him sternly. "Owww! Stop it!" It was only a gentle slap but it felt so wrong to be naked before a student being spanked. The whole sordid situation was closing in on her.

Carol felt so guilty from giving into her own wantonness. She wanted to curl up in a ball and hide while wishing nothing had happened but it wouldn't just go away. "I am naughty, I'm sorry," she apologised, suddenly feeling small and fragile.

"So you admit you're a naughty young woman," Kevin smiled. He took in the sight of his teaches naked body lying stretched out on his bed and just had to pinch the lovely soft ass. Her bottom quivered in such a tantalising way he had to stroke it, running a finger between her blushing cheeks.

"Now I've spanked the naughty young woman she had better say sorry; and call me sir," he added as an after thought. The delight at having turned the tables on his teacher was almost as thrilling as having fucked her.

"I'm sorry, Sir," she croaked. It wasn't a joke to her for she really meant it. Carol felt like a naughty little girl who had been very bad and felt very irresponsible. He was innocent and blameless leaving her feeling subdued and lowly.

She watched him dress. Pulling up his jeans she had a good look at his firm ass and felt guilty at the thrill of knowing this young man had fucked her but couldn't look away. She was hopelessly in lust over him.

"Where are you going?" she asked with concern.

"I'll see if Blow has something for you to wear," he said.

"No! Don't tell anyone I'm here, please! Where's my underwear?" she asked in fright. She curled up in a ball for protection from his lustful look feeling very vulnerable.

"I won't. I'll go into his room while he's out, won't be long. Don't move naughty girl, stay exactly as you are." He scooped the abandoned underwear off the floor and strode to the door. "I'll take these with me as I know how disobedient you are, naughty girl!" he laughed.

"Don't do that! Please! Please sir, can I have my panties back," she pleaded. She watched him with imploring eyes as he turned in the doorway to give her a broad grin. He had her where he wanted and wasn't going to let go easily. She imagined being trapped there all weekend pandering to his whims begging for clothes.

Her hand reached between her legs and she threw it back onto the bed. "Damn!" she exclaimed. Asking a student for her panties back had been so wicked it had been unexpectedly arousing. The idea of pandering to his needs had been so hot she didn't know what she was doing.

Who would be pandering to whose needs? Calming down she told herself he was getting some clothes, so the ordeal was nearly over. The damage recovery would start then for she couldn't let him brag to his friends. Appealing to him for protection would be a necessity and easy to do as she felt so vulnerable.

It took her by surprise when he burst in and bounded over to her crashing onto the bed. He scooped her up holding her in a tight embrace. "It was a good thing I knocked, he was in. They're all going out soon. I found out a girlfriend left some clothes behind so I'll grab them when he goes out," he told her.

"Where's my underwear?" she asked. "Stop that, please. Ouch! Not so hard," she yelped when he bit on a nipple. This would have to stop. She shouldn't have said that, it sounded as though she wanted him to continue more gently. It was probably because she wanted him to.

"Ask me nicely," he said.

"Please sir, can I have my panties back," she asked, sounding more pathetic than she had meant to. It was the effect of what he was doing to her body as well as the request sounding so naughty. His strong hands were everywhere and she gave up fending them off.

"I meant this," he said and nipped a nipple again.

"Ouch! Treat them gentle." Catching on to his game she tried again. "Please sir, kiss my nipples nicely," she moaned. It was too late to back away now even if she could escape his grasp. She was aroused and her body had decided to give in.

Carol moaned out loud feeling him enter. She was still wet from before and the foreplay together with her imagination and the naughty words had kept her going. "Slowly, not so fast, that's it," she tutored him.

He let her manoeuvre his hips with both hands gripping his cheeks. When she lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist he nearly let go with an urgent need to cum. Still recovering from last time he was able to hold back. With more control this time he manoeuvred his cock finding the place where she moaned the most.

With a steady deep rhythm he thrust in enjoying with pride his teacher's groans ejected ********** between pursed lips. He noticed the ****** grunt when he moved in a certain way so continued thrusting at that angle.

She was no longer giving instructions being lost in a world of her own. It included nothing but the sensations driving her toward a climax of overpowering feelings. "I'm cumin," she gasped. Pinned to the bed, prone beneath him, she felt a hard deep thrust.

He held it there with his cock pumping a jet of sperm into her. It felt as though he were filling her up. She couldn't move, dare not, wanting to feel every tingling sensation radiating throughout her body. She was so deeply routed in the ******-self it felt as though his vital juices were in her ***** pumping through her body, reaching into her brain, swamping her mind.

***

Carol stroked his dark hair marvelling at how vital the orgasms had been with this young man, whishing they hadn't been. She hadn't known anything like it before and sadly wondered if she ever would again.

He was a***** cuddling her with a cheek on her breasts. She felt wonderful in the arms of her lover only it was a pupil and that was trouble.

The thought of being ridiculed in newspapers had been pushed back out of the way but she still had to face the problem of keeping all this quiet. Getting out of his room was the first priority. Patiently she waited, stroking his hair while he slept.

Occasionally he sucked on a nipple in his ***** and she smiled. Perhaps if she promised to do this in class at break time it might buy his silence. Holding back the giggle in case it woke him she tried to focus on something else.

His teacher is humiliated

Miss Andrews felt him stirring from a deep ***** and gently eased his head from her breast onto the pillow. It was her turn to be looking at him when he opened his hazel eyes. There was a mix of disquiet and pleasant satisfaction on her face.

"I'm hungry," Denis announced. With a wicked grin on his face he pulled her close and sucked on her soft breast devouring it like a ravenous beast. She pushed with her legs trying to break free but he was ready and wrapped an arm round her calf pulling it up opening her legs.

"Stop it," she whimpered on feeling finger tips probing her lips. "Damn you, let me go," she complained. It was exciting fighting off an ardent young lover but he was her student. It was wrong so she couldn't let him take advantage again. It had been understandable the first time under these extraordinary circumstances but it must stop right now.

"Ask me to stop properly, naughty teacher," he laughed.

Locked in a vice like grip she would have to play by his rules. To avoid being seduced into a state of ********** she was going to have to plead for mercy and quickly. "Please, sir, let me go," she whimpered, just as he found her bud. She would capitulate to those teasing fingers if she didn't stop him quickly.

"Teacher must try harder to express herself," he teased.

"Can my favourite student remove his fingers from teachers' pussy, please!" she said in a tremulous voice. This wasn't working for the statement was only adding to her arousal. She was naked on a student's bed begging him to stop fingering her knowing her resistance was fading fast.

"You had better do as I say or else," he grinned, and slapped her ass.

She knew it thrilled him to have his teacher at his mercy and so she would have to play along to get what she needed. Being left alone was the first priority then clothes. Carol felt desperate enough to run home naked.

"Please sir, I need clothes. Thank you, sir," she sighed when he let her go. Carol settled back on the bed letting him take charge for the moment while she struggled to regain some self control. Her legs were firmly pulled together under his disconcerting stare.

"Please, sir, can I have my panties back?" she said. They both broke into a fit of giggles breaking the intensity of the mood. Thank heavens he had been sated for she couldn't take much more. Making love had never been so exciting; it was a pity to give up such exciting sex but it could never happen again.

They heard the front door slam shut damping the sound of raucous young men leaving for an early Friday night out on the town. She looked at him with a meaningful request, her blue eyes wide with expectancy.

"I'll get you some clothes," he said. The simple statement made her heart race with a sense of freedom, of escape; the simplicity of being clothed had come to mean something special. The madness was about to end.

He returned with a cardboard box of feminine clothing when she thought he would bring back a pair of jeans and t-shirt from a larger built friend. The sense of excitement was funny and she laughed out loud.

"Where's my underwear?" she asked.

"I chucked them in the bathroom on the way to his room earlier. They've gone," he said with a shrug of his shoulders.

Dismissing what she thought was a ruse she sorted through the pile of clothes. She held them up then discarded each garment in turn. She leaped up off the bed to hold a skirt before her. "She's shorter than me and slimmer," Carol stated.

She clipped in place the wraparound skirt only just managing to fasten it around her waist. With a sense of pleasure that she could get into a young woman's clothes she grabbed a top from the bed. It wouldn't button up over her large breasts so grabbed a stretchy boob tube.

He watched her stripping in reverse, yet it seemed all the more sexy. Watching his teacher dressing in the clothes he had brought her gave him a feeling of power over this woman of authority. It was fascinating watching the way she pulled at the clothes trying to make them fit over her luscious body.

Carol didn't need a mirror to see how awful she looked. A glance in his direction was no help for the look of lust emphasised what she felt. "Don't you ever look in the mirror? Not even in the mornings? Is there a mirror in the bathroom?" she asked.

"Make sure there's no-one around!" she said.

The bathroom mirror confirmed what she already knew. She looked like a slut. 'I behaved like one now I look like one,' she wailed inside. "This is almost worse than being caught in my underwear," she complained. Looking around the bathroom confirmed what he said, her underwear had gone.

"You look great!" he told her.

Dismissing his opinion she marched upstairs to sort through the underwear. It was at least clean. Nothing seemed substantial enough to wear under the little skirt but pulled on a thong grateful to have her pussy safely tucked away.

The friends' ex-girlfriend obviously didn't need a bra as the tightness of the boob tube testified to her having small breasts. At least it held her in place though running would be out of the question and even a fast walk would have them bouncing around.

"You look fantastic." he encouraged, trying to cheer her up.

"It's more traditional to bring your teacher an apple." She looked down at her large breasts stretching the boob tube to bursting point. She told him, "It would be a good idea to stick to tradition in future."

She looked and felt like a dumb blonde, exactly the image she had always avoided. Her confidence on facing the world was far smaller than just one of those mounds presented in such a vulgar display.

He took her hands in his kissing them tenderly. She couldn't be annoyed with him for her own silly mistake. He took out a pair of expensive sunglass from a back pocket and perched them on her nose.

"A disguise," he announced.

She laughed and reached up to kiss his lips. He took her into his arms and ****** her to take his tongue in an unexpected deep kiss. It took her breath away and lightened her mood. 'Nearly home,' she told herself, trying desperately to remain focused.

She looked at him over the rim of the sunglasses to tell him, "Now be a good boy and run your teacher home. No more sex education you've learnt enough," she said with a mock sternness.

"Marks out of ten?" he teased back.

"A plus, well done young man," she congratulated him.

He watched her trying to pull an extra inch or two from the short skirt and failing as he followed her out to the stairs. He grabbed a handful of bum under the skirt and she hissed at him.

"Go look to make sure they've gone." She stood a moment pulling the skirt into place then followed.

He looked up the stairs for a flash of white panties under the flared navy skirt bouncing up with every step.

"Wipe that silly grin and start the car. Wait! Give me a sign if its all clear." She stood at the door looking up and down the street and soon as the engine revved - why did men have to do that -- ran to the back door and dived in.

"Get me safely home Denis, please," she pleaded. This time she studied him in the mirror while he hummed to himself obviously feeling very pleased. She would have to invite him in and talk him back to reality. No more fooling around. They would have to return to the proper relationship between teacher and student.

***

"It's no good. Everywhere is locked up tight," he told her.

"Did you try the kitchen window, I sometimes leave it open to get rid of cooking smells," she asked. The sincere look of concern told her he had tried hard to get in; almost as hard as he had been getting into her.

"Better drive and park up somewhere, one of the neighbours might come over to find out what's going on," she told him. There was a slight excitement to planning breaking in even though it was her house. They felt like Bonny and Clyde.

"If we smash a window the alarm will go off and attract attention. I know a guy who can get in without breaking anything or making a sound," Denis told her.

"Desperation calls for desperate methods," she intoned and imitated one of his shrugs.

***

They pulled up in a seedy looking area of town. "You had better not stay out here. There's no-one you'd know around here so it'll be OK." he reassured her.

Carol reluctantly got out of the car feeling a little better when he gripped her hand tight. She felt like a little girl afraid of the dark with a big brave man taking care of her. While trying to shrug off the feeling they turned a corner onto a brightly lit street where her confidence evaporated.

"I'm not sure about this," she demurred holding him back.

"Its alright, everyone will assume your my girlfriend. You look young enough and you certainly don't look like a teacher," he told her.

She had to agree about not looking like a teacher. She looked like some dumb bimbo and was feeling like one having let all this get so badly out of hand. There was no going back now; he had the car keys and she had lost track of where the car was parked.

No-one pointed an accusing finger at her and they were soon at what seemed to be their destination. Outside the club a couple of Hispanic guys gave her the once over slowly while continuing their conversation in a halting staccato of sounds. A huge slab of a man wearing a dark suit stood in their way.

"She old enough?" he demanded.

"Yea, she's mine, she's cool," Denis said, with nervous tension clearly in his voice.

A large hand gripped her chin taking a closer look at her face. "No Id, no ********," the big man warned her and stepped aside.

She felt even more like a damned teenager being taken out by a boyfriend. She trailed along behind him into the club.

In the hot dark cavern of sound there was little chance her ****** would recognise her let alone a student and if there was a fellow teacher here they wouldn't want to. She giggled like a schoolgirl and shouted at Denis, "Don't I look over twenty-one," imitating of one of her least bright pupils.

He leaned back looking her up and down. "Funny, you don't. It's your smooth skin and you have a kind of impish look. The sexy outfit distracts from anyone looking at you properly. Just don't go ordering some sophisticated cocktail. Keep close."

She didn't need telling. Through the close packed crowd of rowdy young people she was pulled, feeling lightheaded at getting away with the subterfuge. No-one took any notice of the teacher infiltrating the fun so her confidence started to recover.

It was off-putting squeezing between them, having to rub her breasts against hard young fit men. One or two turned to face her taking a good look at the bulging tits rubbing their chests. From embarrassment she wanted to apologise for them being in the way but after awhile it became a part of the game.

Being dragged through the crowd of moving bodies was exciting. The unfamiliar steady beat of the music vibrating her ribs was unsettling and exhilarating. She felt ***** from the battering of sound and flashing lights to which bodies gyrated in unison. Responsibilities of adulthood lifted from her shoulders leaving her feeling like a teenager again

When a girl sneered at her and pulled on her boyfriends arm she was thankful not to hear what was said. If she had been at a friends party dressed like this a *****en husband would have been sure to goose her yet here, surprisingly, they left her alone.

Though not entirely. The young men looked at her with obvious lust. They hadn't a clue she was a teacher flaunting a bare midriff with lots of thigh and breasts bouncing around. The headiness of the moment had got to her and she was flirting right back at them. They saw her looking like a dumb slut on the prowl and wanted some. It was a heady thought bringing on a familiar naughty feeling.

At last the search seemed completed as they turned out of the main hall into a quieter room. The thump of sound was felt through the wall but at least she was regaining some hearing.

"Hey Joe, thought I'd find you here," Denis said with relief.

"What you up to, haven't seen you around," the young man said, not wanting an answer. He was as tall as Denis looking as though he needed a good meal. His hair was gelled back, stuck to his scalp.

"Who's the tits, yours?" he grinned.

Without missing a beat Denis replied, "Cindy, she belongs to me."

Carol was glad he hadn't revealed her name, more so than being insulted by the arrogant young man. There was a Cindy in her class, a blonde manipulative bitch, so she was a bit miffed that Denis had picked the name so readily.

Denis stood solidly whereas Joe seemed to vibrate on the spot with barely restrained energy. He opened his arms out to her in a greeting but not the kind of welcome she liked the look of.

"Give him a squeeze," Denis prompted with a whisper.

If this was a ritual they had then she had to carry it out for this was the young man who would get her back safely inside her home. She took a step closer and held onto him as though her were a dead rat for a brief hug.

He wrapped both arms around her grabbing some bare ass and squeezed holding on tight. She felt his hardness against her belly and felt terribly vulnerable. She almost kicked out at him but restrained the impulse.

He let her go and she turned to Denis looking to see if this was usual. He didn't like it but sensibly kept his mouth shut.

"Nice ass your Cindy doll has," Joe told him.

She quickly pulled the back of the skirt into place from being crumpled up. She looked crossly at him letting him know she hadn't enjoyed being touched so intimately. It was a damn degrading experience.

Not once had he spoken to her, treating her like Denis' dumb pet. Well, she was dressed like a dumb blonde so what could she expect. All she could do was follow Denis's example, keep her mouth shut and endure it. She held on to the thought of him getting into her house and putting an end to this dreadful day.

"So long as the doll's parents are away it won't be a problem. I'll get the gear," Joe said.

Again on the back seat she scrunched down not wanting to be seen the way she was dressed. She was being ignored but didn't mind at all. Realising they weren't on the way home she started listening to their conversation.

"Just a couple of stops along the way and I'll do you a favour in return. It's handy for me you turned up, my vans in the shop," Joe said.

"Here, this is it. Come in you might meet some useful contacts," Joe enthused.

Trailing behind them reluctantly into a pool hall she wondered if this was a punishment for her misbehaviour earlier. The men were around her age but that only made her feel less confident and uncomfortable from the way she was dressed.

The men ignored the three of them as though they were insignificant kids. Their conversation was course and Carol felt like telling them there was a lady present but under the circumstances she preferred to be ignored.

"You here to pay up, Joey boy?" Freddy asked. He leant on a pool stick looking mean.

"I'm going to but need some stuff. I'll sell it and come back straight away. I'm a good customer Freddy," he said.

"A good customer? A good customer pays," the hard-man told him with a warning glare.

"I'm doing my friend a favour and he's going to pay so I'll be right back and pay you, OK?" Joe told him, looking nervous. He seemed to be hoping from foot to foot only his feet never left the ground.

"Stop your dancing Joey, your putting me off my game. So what's this big favour that's going to pay off your debts," he demanded.

"I'm going to break in to her parent's house, she's lost her key," Joe said, with less enthusiasm now the trivial fact was out.

'Damn, don't involve me you little ****!' Carol thought. What ever in hell he was involved in with these dangerous looking people she just didn't want to know about. Keeping her head down she hoped they would leave her out of it.

"It's not much but when I sell the stuff you give me I'll pay almost all I owe you," Joe pleaded.

"Give you? Sell! How do I know you'll be back once I sell you what you want?" Freddy said, while chalking up a stick. He nodded toward a package and stepped forward leaning over the skinny kid. He put a hand on Carol's shoulder. "She'll stay here till you get back. Take him with you and make sure you return with my money."

Carol cringed. Not from the strong grip of his hand but from the thought of being there, alone, with them. "What's your name?" he asked gruffly.

The numbing fear left her wondering what Denis had called her and she certainly couldn't reveal her name to this bunch of hoodlums. Even if she had been dressed appropriately she would hesitate telling them anything, let alone revealing she was a teacher.

Running around skimpily dressed with a pupil was bad enough but being involved in some racket meant she had to pretend to be what they thought she was. "Cindy," she replied, imitating one of the less likeable students in class. In the dim lighting she might get away with it.

"Over eighteen?" Freddy asked.

Warily she nodded her head. '****, what now?'

"Are you with Joey boy?" he asked.

"No, I'm Denis' girlfriend," she stammered, in a little quavering voice. It was easy to put on for that is how she felt, a little vulnerable thing among fierce looking men.

"Tell him not to hang around with that creep, you as well," Freddy advised.

She nodded her head still trying to hide her face in long hair. She felt small and stupid from acting like a young girl among these men who were her own age. At least it gave her some protection, though their leering looks could be imagined easily enough, almost felt upon her bare flesh.

"Here," he said, offering her the stick. "Shoot some pool while you're waiting."

It was an offer she couldn't refuse however much she wanted to go and hide in the shadows of the shabby pool hall. His voice was full of menace out of habit even when trying to be kind.

With a shove to her back she was propelled toward the table. It suddenly dawned on her what it meant. Leaning over the table in the damn skirt would show off her bare ass. He wasn't being thoughtful he was making her put on a show for his buddies.

The thong merely pursed her lips so it was a *********** agony knowing they would be leering at her rear end while she played. Standing there looking stupid she hoped they were teasing and wouldn't expect her to play. She was fooling herself. She felt sick from a sinking feeling in her tummy.

Anyone dressed this way wouldn't care about showing off her body and thinking about the Cindy in her class, she would probably revel in teasing them. One of the players took a hold of the stick and leaned over her. The smell of beer on his breath wasn't pleasant.

"I can do it, thank you," she rebuked him. The others laughed at Hank and he slapped her ass before standing aside. She reminded herself to keep in the role and not antagonise them. She just hoped Denis got back soon. She'd pay off the damn debt just to get out of there.

"That's better we can all see now," one of them quipped.

Carol's hand shook with anger but what could she expect looking like a silly little slut. For once she wished she had learnt to use her looks to manipulate men but this wasn't the place to start that game. One mistake and she would be in serious trouble with these rough types.

Bent over the table showing off her peachy ass they were less raucous than expected. Her husband's friends would have humiliated her, so maybe this wasn't so unusual in a place like this. She wondered what kind of women they were used to.

The word whores came to mind and she shuddered.

"Nice move," Hank commented, looking at the way her breasts shimmied in the boob tube.

'Damn you ****head,' she thought, but smiled sweetly at him as the ball nudged the edge of the pocket and twisted in.

"Yea, Hank, you could learn something from the Cindy doll," Mac laughed.

She tried to manoeuvre around the table but the only possible shot would mean lifting her leg or leaning right over. Giving in she bent over their end of the table presenting her ass and gritting her teeth against the inevitable lewd remarks.

When she turned around they were discussing the football, ignoring her. It was a surprise and unaccountably she felt miffed. Becoming used to bending over the table she settled into the game, trying hard to beat him. The game continued and Carol was pleased to only lose on the black.

"Good game, there's more to you than meets the eye, and that's saying something," Hank smiled. "That's five you owe me," he said, holding out his hand.

"I don't have any on me," Carol said, lamely. The look on his face told her she was in trouble.

"Well, you can pay me in kind now or see how it goes on the next game. I don't mind if you build a debt it'll make the payment all the more interesting," he smiled.

"I can't. I'll pay you honest," Carol said, not caring what he had in mind, whatever it was just wasn't on.

"Freddy insists all gambling debts are paid before you leave. Don't know why you're so antsy about a kiss, you look up for it, and more," he chuckled. "You can always pay it off working for Freddy as one of his girls. I'd be your first customer sweet lips," Hank told her.

Was he suggesting she would whore for that gangster? ****! They were tough enough characters not to give her a choice if she riled them. A kiss didn't seem so bad after all, just to get it over and done with. "Well, I guess. I could let you kiss me," she stammered.

"Maybe I'll just wait till you owe me enough to make it interesting," Hank teased.

"For a ten you can get those sweet lips round your dick when she's whoring for Freddy," Mac sang out.

"Who asked you?" Hank fired back over his shoulder. "You'd be after me in line for a sweet new one like her."

Carol shuddered at the thought of these men lining up to take her. Did she look so cheap they could casually assume she would stoop to being a whore? The clothes, bending over the table, associating with that skinny **** Joe, just being there, it all added up to mark her as being just another dumb slut on the make.

It made her feel so hopeless knowing this was the prospect for some poor girls. She could just see their squalid lives, the inevitability of whoring for an intimidating man like Freddy. "Let's just kiss, OK?" Carol said, in a flat voice devoid of emotion.

"Not sure I like your attitude. Anyone would think you don't like the idea of touching me," he said, with a contrived hurt look.

"Please, let's kiss and move on," she said, forgetting the cutesy tone of voice.

"You have to play another game anyway so why don't we see what happens, you nearly won. You could get lucky," Hank teased.

The thought of what he would want for ten appalled her. The debt might be an excuse for Freddy to get involved and that was disgusting. If Joe didn't get back she could imagine Freddy ******* her to pay the debt by whoring.

It would be an impossible situation when she dare not tell them who she was to get away from them. Her nerves were unravelling after a day riding a rollercoaster of emotions and she was pushing herself into a corner from guilt. She was letting her imagination get the better of her.

In a panic she grabbed his sleeve. "Please let me kiss you. I. I want to kiss you sir," she said earnestly. She had wound herself up into such a state she couldn't think of anyway out but comply.

Her name sake would have wound them up and taken their money, winning by putting them off their stroke. Cindy would have leaned over the table with plenty of cleavage on show in front of a crucial shot. Maybe she could have rattled them with just enough flirting or just making it all a bit of fun.

Carol was too straight to see what was happening and way out of her depth. A pair if arms wound round her for a second time that evening only these were strong muscular hard working arms. They clamped her tight with big hands lifting her off the floor by her ass.

She closed her eyes as he kissed her ears and neck. She opened her mouth. His tongue was thankfully fresh and gentle. She kissed him back. She was being paid for this. He had paid her for this sexual favour, so didn't that make her a whore.

She was dressed too provocatively, how could she blame them. The way she had acted, the way she had displayed her ass, it was all too much. It left her head spinning. He was damn good at kissing. Their breath mingled as their nostrils noisily sucked in air.

He was devouring her mouth and lips as though he couldn't get enough of her, wanting all of her. She no longer felt ********** she felt alive. She felt a desperate need. She gripped his waist with her heels hanging onto him feeling large calloused hands on her soft smooth ass holding her close.

Finger tips pushed against her crotch and asshole. Her breasts were squashed against his chest and she couldn't help squirming against him rubbing her sensitive nipples, stimulating them into swollen buds of pleasure.

'I can't help it. I've been so bad I deserve to be treated like a whore, I deserve everything I get,' she told herself. Carol was so carried away she prepared for the worst, not wanting it but unable to fight the need.

All day she had been stimulated until giving in to be ravished by Denis. This evening she had paraded around like a slut being teased until she became a bitch on heat. How could she withstand such an assault on her morality, it had stretched her endurance to breaking point.

Hank perched her on the edge the pool table laying her back on the green baize. Her legs were still wide from being around his waist but they had all seen the crotch of her panties before and only casually looked her over.

She looked as though she had just run a marathon with hair awry and her face gleaming with perspiration. Her chest heaved up and down in the tight boob tube where her nipples protruded sharply.

Hank was right. She had been fired up on entering the pool room and their teasing had pushed her arousal to the limit. She had been fired up enough to let them push her along. He didn't know how she came to be with those two but something had happened earlier to get her into this state.

Realising she was lying there with legs open waiting to be fucked a wave of shame brought her to her senses. Before she could move he leaned in close and she froze.

He whispered in her ear and she closed her eyes tight with fear, letting out a stifled groan.

He said to her, "You're a great kisser Miss Andrews. Don't worry your secret is safe with me. Just do as you're told and I'll get you off the hook. I'm sure you don't want to spend the night whoring for Freddy," he lied, to frighten her.

"If they don't come back for you I'll take you home otherwise you can repay me sometime," he breathed the words seductively in her ear.

He patted her between the legs and pulled the crotch of her panties over her wet lips. She lie there a moment shaking.

"You had better get to the restroom and sort yourself out," he told her.

"She should pay you for a kiss like that," Mac commented casually, as though the performance were an everyday event.

Carol didn't even bother pulling her clothes together; she just rolled off the table and stumbled to the restroom. Holding onto a basin with both hands she tried to bring her shattered nerves together. Her left knee twitched threatening to give way.

'"Do as he says? Who the hell is he?" she said to the cold running water splashing around the sink. She felt her career was all washed up as her ethics drained out of her down the plughole. She thought of herself as a sensible professional woman only she had behaved like a sex starved adolescent.

Even the worst of the girls in class wouldn't have succumbed so shamelessly. It was true she had little experience after two dull relationships but to have lost control so easily was a shock.

Pulling herself together she managed to walk into the pool room knowing they thought of her as a stupid little slut, or worse. She felt belittled and humiliated but tried to hold her head high. She had been found out and could no longer hide or excuse her behaviour behind the facade of being Cindy.

If he kept his word she could at least play the part until the lads got back. Wondering what *********** she was gong to be put through next she bravely walked over to Hank. Before he had a chance to provoke her yet again they turned up.

Hank winked at her and mouthed, "Be seeing you."

***

They didn't wait around for Joe. Carol was glad to be hauled by Denis out of the dreadful place. In the car he told her, "He's left the house unlocked." Then he clammed up.

He was obviously in a huff. It was from the ribald comments the men had goaded him with on his return. 'Get you're whore home and give her a good seeing to before she rapes us, she's a natural blonde, she puts on a good show playing pool, kisses like a nympho,' they laughed. Not exactly those words but close enough.

Carol felt devastated. Even this nice young man was ashamed of her. Not as ashamed as she was.

At his questioning look she went red and dropped her gaze to her lap. Her nipples were still hard and large. The skirt was pulled open revealing her sopping panties. She wondered if he could smell her wet pussy as she cringed in the front seat.

She would have to buy one of those little air fresheners tomorrow, if there was a tomorrow. Her whole world might implode by then.

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Student Teacher

Jessie walked from the staff room feeling confident. The teachers tried to make her nervous about the new class she was to teach but it didn't cut any ice with her. At every school she had been assigned to, the teachers had tried to put her and the other student teachers off.

She had an advantage this time. A fellow student teacher had been there last week and gave her the low-down on the class, so she knew this would be an easy week. Everyone was eighteen and just waiting to finish the term in two weeks. Her friend said they would all settle down even without her presence. She was just there while they revised and so she might not even have to teach. "This is going to be a piece of cake," she laughed.

She sat at the head of an empty classroom refreshing her memory over school rules and the time table while waiting for them to arrive.

The first student rolled in chewing gum and sat down looking bored. Jessie smiled then buried her head in a notebook revising for her own exams. She needed just this week and one exam to pass the course. Following that was the onerous task of finding a teaching post.

As they filed in it was obvious her friend was right. They were quiet and seemed ready, if not eager, to get on with studying for they only had a few weeks to go and just needed to stay out of trouble.

The low buzz of conversation was silenced by Jessie clearing her throat and calling for attention. "As I understand it you all have assigned work. You're not going to classes but will remain here all day; is that right? I'll be here if you need help," she said with a smile. She looked around the classroom seeing a bored, 'can't wait for end of term', bunch of students.

The guys had already checked her out and liked what they saw. She was a petite five-foot-five with a perfect hour glass figure. Most of the girls were taller but they didn't have her curvaceous body, except Melisa but she didn't count. Anyone could see Melisa's large breasts for a joint or a ride home.

"OK. If you need me for anything just let me know," she said. The young guys murmured indecent proposals to that statement but she pretended not to hear. Her face reddened a little and she wondered what she might do if they became too obvious with such rude remarks. She hated confrontation and would do anything to avoid it. Thankfully she had been right to ignore them as everyone quickly settled down.

In the last school a rather large football player had made an obvious pass at her in front of the whole class. There was an awkward moment of silence and she felt everyone looking at her expectantly. She made a mime of receiving the ball and turning it into a joke. The young guy gave her a big smile and the rest of the class went along with it. They too settled down, as she had evidently won them around, even though they had to sit through a particularly boring lesson.

It was well before lunch when the class became agitated but she couldn't see what was happening. It might have been a note circulating or some gossip designed to antagonise one of them. Whatever it was she needed to nip it in the bud before they got out of hand for they were obviously bored and in need of a distraction.

She stood up and asked for their attention. "Has anyone practised interview techniques, for university or work placements?" she asked.

"That might be something useful to do as a break from studying. My guess is you need one," she said. When they laughed politely she was pleased with the reaction.

"Who wants to role play in front of the class? Any budding actors or actresses?" she asked. Having the students squirming from the idea of performing put them onto the wrong foot and defused the earlier rising agitation. She again felt confidently in-charge of the class.

A volunteer put her hand up. "OK, Jenny, I'll interview you for a college placement," she told the girl. In front of the class she interviewed her but despite being in the drama group Jenny didn't do too well. "Not bad but you need to remember they don't know you and may be tired and bored from interviewing other applicants," she said, to the whole class, not just her.

"Why don't you interview me and I'll show you what I mean," she said, trying to be helpful.

Jessie stood at the door waiting for Jenny to prepare herself. The girl smiled nervously at her so she walked across the front of the class and sat at one of the desks.

"Its not right miss you don't look like a student, you're even too well dressed for a teacher," she complained. "You need to get into the role," the young, would be actress, explained.

The others joined in playfully teasing her. She was wearing a smart business suit with high heels and had done so since starting the training course. Her smooth complexion and long hair left her looking too young to be a teacher, even a student teacher, so she dressed older, maybe too frumpy.

"OK! OK! Quiet, I give in," she laughed. At least they seemed keen to join in this lesson. She had always worried about controlling a class, for she was more of a follower than a leader, yet the last few weeks had passed without mishap. It seemed she would pass the test with full marks when the teaching examiner decided to turn up.

Jessie slipped off the jacket to hang it on the back of a chair. Slipping out of the high heels was a relief. She hated them but needed the extra few inches of height. She slipped a hand into her hair to loosen it a bit but it fell down over a shoulder. Meaning to pull it back under control the class convinced her to leave it and to pull the pins out all together.

"That's nice miss you should wear it like that all the time," Melisa told her. "Here, let me help. If you want to be a student you shouldn't be so formal, we aren't in the army you know," the large young woman cajoled Jessie.

A few in the class groaned wondering what the girl was going to do knowing Melisa had little sense of propriety. Her heart was in the right place but she had been looking after her family for some years, since her ****** died. It meant she tended to ****** everyone, not always in a way expected or welcomed.

"You show her Mel," some of the students remarked, in way of encouragement. They all thought the last person to show anyone how to dress was Melisa. The girl was good natured but known for her outlandish dress styles. It looked like being fun so they coaxed the teacher into going along with it.

Melisa was a tough character used to dressing the youngsters in her family and was putting that experience to good use now. Before the teacher could recover from the first assault another adjustment was made to her clothing. As expected Melisa had unbuttoned the blouse a couple of notches, for her own ample cleavage was always on display.

Before the poor teacher could pull the top back together the young dresser had hoisted up her skirt. She tried to pull it down but Melisa had it gripped in a fist while she rolled the waist band up at the back. It was rolled thick and impossible to unwrap from under the tightened belt.

Her long jet black hair was loose and floated over her shoulders as Melisa pulled her around like one of her siblings. It looked as though she was being shaken up like a cocktail. She had lost the thick rimmed specs so it was difficult to focus. The class showed its approval with murmurs of encouragement. Not all of them decent suggestions.

Of most concern was the short skirt as it was way above the knees showing too much thigh. The girls may wear them short but she was no longer a young student. Her bra was on show but she hadn't noticed it while nervously pulling at the blouse and skirt.

"Thanks Melisa but it's not a play just a short act," she said, trying to disguise the discomfort by sounding amused. She stood before them feeling very uneasy. She wondered if this was a breach of discipline to lose marks over. She had better get herself straight before the examiner walked in.

Jessie tried to pull the skirt down only the waist band was rolled up tight under the belt which had been tightened a couple of notches. "You had better loosen the skirt, it's too short," she told the girl. The guys voiced their approval but she ignored them. The girls added their opinion too but she thought they were being patronising.

Melisa walked off to sit back down at her desk obviously not going to help. She looked at Jenny smiling up at her from the other side of the desk. The young woman had pinned up her hair and donned Jessie's jacket and glasses ready for another interview. The little madam had her high heels on too!

Jessie clenched her fists in frustration and sat down to at least hide her legs for a moment.

As though it were a cue Jenny asked her a question and Jessie wondered if she should just carry on with the role play. It would soon be lunch time so probably too late to expect the teaching assessor. She shrugged her shoulders and leant her head to one side in what she thought was a typical girly pose. "I guess so," she replied, purposely being obtuse.

Her tone of voice mimicked a dumb teenager. She had decided to play along with them and show how not to be interviewed. She concentrated on playing at being an eighteen year old girl, which wasn't too difficult, as she had seen far too many of those strange beings recently

Jessie was twenty-eight and thought of herself as a mature professional woman. After having so much pressure and responsibility recently it was fun sidestepping the questions while playing at being a bored insolent teen.

She pulled her hair away from her face to look at Jenny for something had changed. The questioning had suddenly altered in character to become an interrogation. Jenny had a sharp tone to her voice and deepened it to sound more authoritative.

"Sorry, Miss, what did you say?" Jessie asked, continuing in the little girly voice. It was more than just the question she had missed, the atmosphere had changed, and everyone was looking tense.

"This drawing is obviously your art work, is it not?" Jenny asked.

Jessie looked at the piece of paper with a blank expression. It was an exceptionally fine drawing of a woman in sexy underwear provocatively posed before a blackboard. The lewd suggestions scribbled around it were from different pens.

So this was the note being passed around class, raising the noise level earlier. A look of recognition passed across her face as she realised what had happened. She nodded her head in recognition of the solved mystery.

Why was Jenny showing her this rude picture that was obviously meant to be her? She looked at Jenny with a confused look returning to her features.

"You recognise it then. This note was passed around the class disrupting everyone around you. I won't tolerate disruption of others who are here to work. Say what you like about me but keep it outside the classroom, understood, young lady?" Jenny said with serious undertones.

The heavy tone confused Jessie as this wasn't a part of the interview scenario they had discussed. "No! I didn't do that, what are you talking about?" Jessie flustered, not wanting to join in this new game. One moment she was day dreaming, shrugging her shoulders in a vague answer to questions and the next minute she was being accused of disrupting the class.

For a moment she felt as though this was her high school and she was about to be sent to the principle. She shook her head to clear the nonsensical situation. Before she could put a stop to this new role play Jenny spoke up loudly addressing someone behind her.

"Mister Chapman, how were students punished when you started out? "Jenny asked, with an obvious smile on her lips, which bordered on becoming a smirk.

Jessie looked round to the back of the class. She dropped her face in the long dark hair almost gasping out loud. This must be the teaching examiner and of all things he was marking her ability to enforce discipline in class. She sat at the desk in trepidation wondering what to say to explain away this stupid situation.

How long had he been there listening to their role play? Damn! She had been playing at being a student too well and the way she was dressed must be a breach of discipline too. If she could have pulled down her skirt as she stood up and the assessment had been for class participation it might have been explainable.

She took a deep breath, that sounded more like a sigh of resignation, readying herself to stand up to face the demolition of her career.

He had the miserable sketch in his hand studying the drawing showing amusement rather than annoyance. Perhaps she might appeal to his sense of humour. Thinking of her friends notes she remembered the comment on his lack of humour and there was something else too that she couldn't quite remember.

Her legs shook too much to stand. Jessie looked up at him ready to confess to anything just to get the awful moment over with.

"In my time a student would be caned. Not acceptable now but then discipline has suffered as a consequence," he stated firmly.

"I agree Mister Chapman. What do you have to say to that young lady," her student asked. Jenny leaned forward to whisper. "Keep quiet and I'll get you out of this otherwise you'll lose your career," Jenny told her.

She couldn't play along with this it just wouldn't work, anyway it was wrong. "I'm not." She started to say she wasn't a student but was cut off.

"I know you regret it so say no more," the student told her. Jenny patted her teachers head meaning it to be condescending as a way of showing superiority. Her teacher was about to rebel so she deftly palmed her chin. The grip was tight preventing the teacher from speaking.

Pulling up her teachers face enabled her to look down at the woman from a position of superiority. Jenny brought to mind a part in a play to add authority to her voice and apply pressure on her teacher.

"You're a fine artist and I understand the artistic temperament courts controversy. You need to pass your last exam, so don't cause trouble in my class, understood?" Jenny demanded of her teacher. She was alluding to the teaching exam and by the look on her face Jessie caught on.

Jessie tried once more to denounce the girl only the words slithered out meaninglessly. It must have been a mental block preventing her from declaring her position before this powerful man after being humiliated. At her age she was dressed like a slut and had obviously lost control of the class. Whatever Jenny had in mind she would have to go along with, it was her only chance for redemption.

"Sorry miss, yes miss, thank you miss," she said. Feeling it was a complete capitulation Jessie slumped into the seat hiding somewhat behind the desk and her long hair. She felt as though she might sob as if in a private world hidden away behind the long dark hair.

Jenny and Mister Chapman stood by the teacher's desk chatting. Jessie squirmed in a student's seat irritated at having her authority stolen from her by a young girl. It was too late now to stand up and declare she was the teacher, she would look a fool. She felt more than foolish for she had been downright stupid.

The situation was intolerable. She should be standing there with the examiner discussing her future; instead this eighteen year old student had usurped her place. She felt as though all the power and authority as a teacher had just slipped through her fingers.

Sitting there as a student pushed her back to high school days leaving her feeling small and insignificant. She was a ***** wishing to be recognised by the teacher and a powerful imposing man. To escape the dreadful feeling of helplessness she was willing to raise her hand for permission to be excused.

Everyone around her knew what had happened and it had placed her further in that girl's power. She tried to remind herself she was an adult and a mature responsible woman, not a young irresponsible student. She managed to gain enough self-confidence to put her hand up.

After all, the student teachers put their hands up in class, though not to leave the room. It was obvious she was being ignored. She needed to get out of this class and pull her clothes back together, for she dare not do it in front of him, in case he took a closer look at her. Besides the practical issue, it had to be admitted, there was a need to run away and hide from them all.

The students could see she was being ignored and were enjoying her predicament. At last Jenny took notice. She had to for the students were starting to giggle at the sight of a teacher sitting with her hand up waiting for permission to speak.

Jessie was visibly relieved to at last escape the dreadful tension. It was dreadfully humbling but she had to do it. "Please miss, may I go to the bathroom," she asked. Hearing her trembling voice asking the young girl for permission to use the bathroom was dreadful.

"Not now young lady, you will have to wait, class will break up soon for lunch," Jenny interrupted. Her voice was hard and she meant what she said.

The rest of the class understood the message as clearly as Jessie did. She was being firmly put in her place while Mister Chapman looked on. He nodded with approval at Jenny's show of discipline.

They watched in silence their teacher reluctantly lowering her hand, looking as though her whole body was collapsing with it. The mood of amusement changed to derision for their teacher as she clearly submitted to Jenny's new found supremacy. At the same time they were delighted with their fellow students rise to power, looking up to her with admiration.

If Jessie got up and stormed out now she might be stopped by Mister Chapman. She would be recognised as being too old to be a student and the sorry situation would emerge. She would be thrown off the course and more crushing still, she would be laughed off the course.

She tried to calm down while carefully watching them with the terrible thought that her future career was in this young girls hands. She wished she could hear what they were saying.

"It is refreshing too find a teacher that believes in discipline," he said.

"Oh yes! My ****** was a strong disciplinarian, Mister Chapman," she lied.

When he walked in the door he had nodded, mistaking her for the teacher. It was then she switched into teacher mode. Easy to do when you've spent the last too many years listening to the same old hackneyed sayings they trot out. She was sure he wouldn't recognise her as a student and she was right.

"Call me Bernard if you like," he said.

The old devil was flirting with her! She blushed but then realised he had seen the teachers records and thought she was nearly thirty. Jenny looked across at her teacher and marvelled at how young she looked. Especially since she caved in, her whole body language had changed.

"Oh no, I couldn't. My ****** taught me to show all men respect. He taught me to be a respectful woman, sir," she said, as sincerely as she could without laughing. The whole class knew what he was like with student teachers, not that he ever got anywhere with them. Jenny was determined to make trouble for him and perhaps at the same time gain some points for Jessie.

"I just remembered something I found in the back of the cupboard. I am sure it would amuse you, perhaps bring back memories," she smiled. Jenny was good at presenting winning smiles to adults. The old teacher fell for the respectful demeanour and was ready to follow her anywhere.

In the store cupboard she bent under a low shelf with less modesty than usual. "It's here somewhere, do you mind waiting while I find it?" she innocently asked.

She and two others knew exactly where it was for they had been tasked with clearing the cupboard a few weeks ago. It had been amusing finding it in the dust and they had played at being teacher and students.