Blackmail

2:15 PM, I was still in my classroom. Usually I would have either left or graded papers, but I had a bad feeling and couldn't concentrate. So why not leave? Darla Greene. A student new to the school had requested a meeting. I had just finished discussing the current class assignment when she asked, so I originally presumed she simply wanted to know if she had to do it. I teach English at Brodie Valley High School. The class she was in of mine, specifically, was Classic Literature. She had moved to the school halfway between the due date and the date it was assigned. The large brown envelope she handed me at the time confused me, but it had written plainly on the top "Open after class". I thought maybe she had heard of the assignment before moving, and so already had a rough draft. Impressive if true. I really had no way of knowing what was in it until after I opened it. She had approached within the last ten minutes of class so I asked if she'd like to discuss it, but she said she'd prefer talking about it after school gets out.

She said very little besides asking to talk with me after school. She was an odd girl, though. She dressed in mostly black, even used black lipstick and nail polish. She reminded me of goths, whom I had seen little of in this school, but she wasn't nearly so angsty or standoffish as they're said to be. Indeed, she seemed very friendly. I'd even say she reminded me of myself when I was a girl her age, aside the favored color. Mine was pink. So why the bad feeling, then? I respect my students until they give me reason to stop, so I did wait until after class to open the envelope. The last student wasn't quite out the door and into the throng of students when I took out the top page of the contents. I suppose I gasped, since that last boy turned to me and asked if something was wrong. Immediately, I pulled the photo close to me and shook my head to dismiss his worry. He looked at me for a moment, but I was sure he hadn't seen the photo, so when he left I placed the photo back in the envelope and placed it in my top drawer which was, in turn, promptly locked.

Darla was in my fourth period, the one after lunch. That next period I couldn't get the image out of my mind. I tried to focus on my lecture about Huck Finn, but I simply couldn't. Flashes of Chad Courteson from the backside stopped me cold. My legs, still in their white stockings, wrapped around to the back of him. My blouse was open and my bra undone, my D cup breasts pressed against his firm, wide chest. We were doing more than kissing in that picture, it was obvious. His pants on the floor at his feet and his muscular buttocks were clear, me sitting on the edge of my desk, his weight on me... ten minutes into the lecture, I told my students I was getting an awful headache. I took some Tylonal and gave them the rest of the period to work on their assignment. It wasn't a lie, after all. This meant more than someone somehow acquiring sexy pictures of me. Chad was only seventeen his senior year, last school-year. Much more was at stake than my privacy. I could lose my job. No, more than that, I could go to prison for some years and lose the chance to ever teach again. I was only 25, I couldn't let that happen!

I knew it was a mistake when it happened. I knew I shouldn't have done it, and I knew I'd regret it. I knew the consequences, but I had thought I had gotten away with my three month love affair with Chad. Lately, I'd think about this terrible secret with warm feelings of several varieties, and perhaps a little bit of moaning. But that would be at home, before going to sleep. Even then, not often. I still don't know exactly what it was about him, but he was irresistible. I was more attracted to him, still, than any man I'd ever met, and he was a boy. How were these pictures taken? Who took them? How did a girl who had been going to school here for less than two days get them? I used the rest of that period to look around the room, using my memory of the picture to determine where it may have been taken from. The steamy event had taken place in this very room, after all. We were on the second floor and the northernmost part of the school. There was a huge field outside, and then the stone backside of an apartment complex. Nobody could have taken it from the window without me having noticed at the time. It was the corner near the windows, though. Chad sat near the door, not near the window. So how?!

The bell rang and I hardly noticed the students leaving and more filing in. After the late bell I explained to the class that they got a period to work on their assignments due to my headache, and spent the rest of the class at my desk. Darla. How did she fit into this? How she got the pictures I hoped she would tell me, but I really didn't know what she was after. I could assume she was going to use them as blackmail, to get a good grade. I wondered how I would tell her that I would. That saddened me. Of course I would be forced to meet her demands. How would I explain that I couldn't give her straight As? I would have to make her grading seem realistic, after all. She had a history of doing well in English. I learned that by chance, going through her grade history after hearing she was going to be in my class. But she wasn't an A student. She averaged a B+ throughout her English classes at her other school. What if she didn't accept that? Well... I was in a corner, and I'd die if I tried to fight my way out. I'd have to give her straight As if that was her demand.

Back to 2:15. It had been twenty minutes since school was out, and Darla hadn't shown up. Today, I had a bad feeling in my stomach. I knew she would. I had already gotten out the envelope again. I had been going through the dozens of pictures for about ten minutes when the door opened. The silouette of the girl previously behind it was skinny, yet average of height for a young woman, with curves to match. It was her, Darla. She had made it. I was glad nobody could be heard outside and that the window near the door was covered in posters. I wanted there to be no chance someone overheard whatever was about to transpire. Darla closed the door gently and smiled at me. I heard a click. She locked the door. I was thankful. It meant she didn't want anyone to overhear, as well. She smiled at me for a moment my mind turned into minutes. She walked over to the desk closest mine and set her bag on the chair of it, then sat facing me on desk itself. She wasn't very tall but, at least then, she had a presence about her that gave the impression she was. She still smiled. It felt very hot, so I unbuttoned the neck of my blouse and started sliding the pictures back into the envelope.

Before they had gotten all the way in, Darla spoke. It startled me even though it was exactly what I was waiting for. She said, "What do you think?"

I hesitated. I finished putting the pictures back and sat the envelope on my desk. I folded my hands together in front of me and looked at her. What did she expect? Was she waiting for something in particular? I ventured a guess, "I... If you want a good grade, I would have to give you a B here or there, to make it re..."

She stopped me mid-sentence, still smiling. She even kicked her feat a bit. She appeared to not be bothered by anything going on, "Is that what you think I want? False grades? I can get As and Bs on my own, and wouldn't respect myself much if I had to cheat through my favorite subjects."

"Then what?", I asked, dumbfounded.

"Stand.", she said. She hopped down from her perch and walked to the side of my desk. I was so confused, her request simply hadn't processed. I looked at her, and I know I looked stupid the way I did it. It was so very hot and my seat wasn't very comfortable, so I shifted a little. She looked down at me and laughed lightly, "I have more than one spare set of copies, and even a video recording, so stand up."

Slowly, I got up. I couldn't look her in the eyes anymore, and focused on my desktop. My chair slid back a few feet, and I was standing. It was, indeed, in the room. I could see her to the side, but I didn't want to focus on it, "Where did you get them?"

"I'll tell you if I feel like telling you, but even that will change nothing. Currently, I do not feel like telling you. It'll take a long time and hard work before I ever tell you, and you'll still be my bitch even after then. Did you know I turned 18 two days ago? Chad was only 17.", She removed her hands from behind her and set a box on my desk. It was gift wrapped, and about the size of a clothing box, "Don't open that until after I leave."

I got the courage to look at her somehow. She was licking her lips. Her red lips, not black. It hit me like an oncoming train. She was attracted to me. And she held my career, my life, in her hands. She was going to use her power over me to satisfy her lusts! With another woman! I'm no lesbian! She grabbed my arm and pulled me to her. Before I could even think how to react, she was kissing me. I pulled away. It didn't consciously enter my head to do so, I was simply disgusted and did it. I shrank back as she softly held my chin. She looked me square in the eyes. She was no longer laughing or smiling. She was... aroused? Finally, I could think again. I knew I would have to go along with it. How awful could it really be? I raised my arms and placed my hands on her hips. She pulled me in and kissed me deeply. I tried my best, but I simply couldn't get into it. It was really gross. But what else could I do? Between kissing another woman and losing my career forever and going to jail, the kissing seemed the wiser option. I looked at the door, just to be sure. It was still shut and locked, and the posters still blocked the view at the window next to it. I tried to focus on kissing again. I jumped when I realized she was maneuvering her hands around to caress my butt. Once they were in position, she pulled me in using my butt as the steering wheel. She kissed me all over my face and neck, she nibbled on my ear.

I just began to notice that it was possible to enjoy it if I ignore it was her doing it, when she pushed me to the side and back. My reflexes at the time were slow, given how I was shaking. I landed on my desk, sitting. She looked me straight in the eye as she began undoing my blouse. I looked over to the side in embarrassment. I focused on a chalk eraser. It needed to be cleaned. Was this rape? Was my job worth it? I couldn't bring myself to stop her, so it must have been. When she pulled my blouse to each side, opening it to display my bra, I could make out her smile. She leaned in and reached around me, inside my blouse. She unsnapped my bra and began to kiss me again. Everything began to get blurry, and I felt cool air on my breasts as the bra fell. I could feel her hands on them, though I still wouldn't look at her. She rubbed them softly and rhythmically. It, like the kissing, felt good. All I had to do was ignore that it was another woman, no, girl doing it. Her head moved down, and her kisses went with it. I felt them flutter on my breasts, in my cleavage, and on my nipples, one after the other. She began to lick and suck my nipples as her hands moved down to my knees. Out of disgust and reflex, I resisted her attempt to spread my legs apart. She looked up at me, bit the air, and said, "Do you not enjoy it? You're going to. I'm in charge. You're my bitch, and you're going to do everything I want."

"I'm a teacher! Why are you doing this?", I said it, apparently. I hadn't thought to, but I did anyhow. I was too curious and humiliated, perhaps I wanted to assert my authority. It was out of my mouth, either way.

"You,r long blond hair, your pouty lips. Your huge tits, slim waist, and perfect ass. Your calves, your cheekbones, your eyes... you're beautiful. And this way you're all mine. My little slut.", she said it so calmly, so slowly, yet with a bit of disdain.

She continued what she was doing, pressing the insides of my knees to move my legs apart. I didn't resist this time. I knew she'd stop staring at me and I could think of other things if I complied, to get my mind off what was happening. I was wearing a knee-long skirt, but she began to roll it up my thighs as she continued kissing and sucking on my breasts and nipples. She didn't press my legs far apart, and she pulled me up by my rear to get my skirt past it. When it was around my waist, she knelt down onto one knee. She pulled at the waist of my panties, and they came down to where I was sitting without hesitation. Darla looked up at me, and motioned "up" with her head. My hands already to either side, I pressed up and she pulled my underwear down past my butt. She continued with them, pulling them down to my knees, then to my feet, and finally off entirely. She stood up, a wide grin on her face, and she put the panties into her pocket.

I was still shaking, and a tear was slowly rolling down my right cheek. Darla leaned against my desk, between my knees so I couldn't close my legs. She grabbed my right breast and kissed me. I wasn't prepared for it, but when she backed away from the kiss, her right hand was at my mouth. One of her fingers forced it's way past my lips. What else could I do in the situation? I opened wider and let her finger explore. She began to slowly move her finger into and out of my mouth, sliding along my tongue and deep into the back of my mouth. As she did that, she talked, "Now, bitch, I want to lay down the rules. Rule number one; Grade me fairly. I want the grade I earn. Rule two; Whenever nobody else is around, you call me 'Mistress'. Rule three; Also whenever nobody else is around, you ask permission before speaking. Rule number four; You do whatever I say, and you will not question me. Rule number five,", as she started this rule she pulled her finger from my mouth and slid it into my vagina, which caused me to jump and flinch, then she moved her other hand around to grab my hair, "the only one place you're allowed to have hair is on your head. This dirty looking shit down here is going to have to go. Shave it, electrolysize it, I don't care, but you're in trouble if I ever see it after today. And last, number six; If you disobey me, I will punish you. It's your choice whether I punish you in a way I'd more enjoy, or if it's by giving the principal a copy of those pictures. Those are my rules. You are my bitch. Obey them."

When she finished that last sentence, she turned around and stepped to the desk, grabbing her book-bag. It felt great to not have her finger shoved into my vagina. She then began walking too quickly to the door. I jumped off the table and rolled my skirt back down. She was to the door, so I didn't have time to fix my bra and shirt. I turned around just as I heard the door open. I tried to act calmly as I listened for it to shut. I desperately wanted to fix my shirt, but I couldn't allow someone in the hall to see me do it. When I heard the door shut and the room was silent, I glanced behind me and then all around. The room was shut and abandoned again. I began to sob as I fell into my chair. It was difficult to fix my bra. I had to remove my shirt most of the way to put it on the way I normally do, and then I fixed my shirt. I sat for a moment thinking about my situation as my eyes teared up. So it looked like my choices were to lose my career and possibly go to prison, or involve myself in lesbian power-play. I cried for a while more before I recognized the box on my desk. Though the writing was large, it took me a while to read, "To my favorite teacher, Ms. Greggor."

I wasn't going to leave my room in the condition I was in, so I decided to open the box. Atop the white tissue papers was a note. It read;

"Rules;

1) Grade me fairly.

2) Call me 'Mistress'.

3) Ask permission to speak.

4) Do everything I say without question.

5) Remove hair except atop your head.

6) Disobeying means punishment. Either something I choose, or you may choose for the principal to get a copy of the photographs.

                                                                                 Sincerely - Mistress Darla

PS Further instructions on back."

On the back, there were indeed further instructions. They were written sloppily, as though while in a car or, my guess, on a bus. They read, "I hope you enjoy the new outfit I got for you. I found the dress code for teachers in the office and this outfit doesn't break it, so don't worry about that. Getting your sizes was difficult, and some of it was guess-work, but I think I got it right. Of course, I'll want to see you in it tomorrow, during class. You must wear it all day long. However, you may notice some of the items in here are not made of typical cloth. You'll know them when you see them. These particular items you do not have to wear until fourth hour. Once on, though, you will need my permission to take them off. I'll see you at the same time after school tomorrow as I will see (saw, by the time you read this) you today. Oh, also, give my house a call and leave a message for my mother. Tell her that you're worried about me not catching up on the current assignment, so you've offered to come over this Saturday to help and I accepted. XOXO - Mistress Darla"

My courage was down after reading all that, so I didn't go through the rest of the box. It seemed I couldn't cry anymore. I had a numb feeling. I couldn't believe what was happening. I closed the box and put it into my briefcase. I had to clear out room for it, but there was no way I was going to answer any questions about it when I went to the office for Darla Greene's home number. Most of the contents of my briefcase were placed in my desk. Once I could close it, I picked up my briefcase and purse, smoothed out my clothes, and left the room. Walking through the school, it almost seemed it didn't happen at all, and I almost decided not to go to the office. My stomach was still tied up in knots and I could feel a breeze up my skirt reminding me what happened, though, so I did. The assistant didn't ask why I needed a student's number, and I was glad for it. I didn't think I had it in me to lie to her, but I'd have been forced to. The walk out to my car and the drive home were both gloomy, even though the sun was still out. When I got to my apartment, I put my stuff by the door and took a shower. Memories of Chad got me through the shower without tears. I wondered if I would ever enjoy being with Darla. Perhaps I could just pretend she was Chad. Heck, I had never been with a woman before, maybe I'd end up enjoying it. I hoped, at least, I didn't find it as disgusting as I imagined I would. I didn't intend to sleep so early, it was only about five PM, but I found myself drifting off as I thought about it.