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I had a hard time sleeping that night. The night before I had slept so much because of how stressed I was. However, that sleep wasn't caused by the stress so much as an escape from it. Even sleep didn't give me a leave from the reality of my situation that night. When I did manage to sleep, my dreams were filled with the pains of the previous day. I was forced to wear humiliating clothes. I had sex toys in me at work, in front of children. Most of them hadn't seen it, and my rational mind knew the one who did didn't even realize it, but the chance that they could have, the unnecessary risk of the situation, wouldn't leave my mind.
The whipping, too. It hurt. It hurt a lot. It's true. But the pain wasn't what made it so horrible. I was forced to do it. In a sense. Darla had power over me. I was not tied to my desk and forced to suffer through it, I was forced to actively put effort into allowing it. And it was for not following rules that were placed on me arbitrarily and suddenly. Rules anyone might forget, and they would probably have forgotten more. She said she didn't enjoy whipping me, but then why did she do it? She has the power, here. She doesn't have to do anything she doesn't want to. On the other hand, I do have to do things I don't want to do. I have to do whatever Darla wants. Yes, she enjoyed whipping me alright. The cunnilingus wasn't so bad. Humiliating, but I was already as humiliated as I was going to get, in retrospect. I have nothing against lesbians, or any homosexual. However, I didn't ever want to be involved in homosexuality, either. There wasn't really anything as gross about it as I expected, my problem was the lack of choice and the lack of attraction.
I awoke one time that night after a dream I was with another woman. It wasn't unpleasant. Unfamiliar, but the dream made it seem just as normal as any relationship I'd ever had. The woman I was with had no identity besides a romantic interest. Perhaps I drew parts of her from both men and women I've known throughout the years. I'm no psychologist, though. Just before the dream ended, she began tying me down. I didn't want her to, but she did it anyway. I fought her, but I was too weak to keep her from tying me up. The dream did that thing where places and people were different without it seeming odd or catching your awareness. I was in college. I was in the hallway of the dorm I lived in as a freshman. Well, it wasn't at all the same, but that's what the location was. I was still tied up. The other woman was younger, suddenly. She was spanking me with her hand, but it hurt tremendously. There was a crowd of students watching. They all clapped and told me I was so lucky to be having sex with her. I cried and shouted. None of them helped me. They couldn't hear my cries for help. They thought I enjoyed it
It was 9 o'clock AM. Apparently, I slept in. I must have gotten up in a haze and turned off my alarm earlier. I didn't want to get out of bed. I thought back to the principal almost walking in on my naked, trying to cry. After Darla had used me, I tried to cry. I don't know how long I had tried, Managed to get a few tears out. I heard something outside the door. I'm not sure what I heard. Perhaps it wasn't even a sound, but a presence that I felt. My first reaction was to get my clothes on. Why hadn't I before then? Perhaps because they were the clothes Darla had gotten me. I hated them. I shot to the cranny on the other side of the door, where my clothes were. The skirt was easy to put on, so was first. It scraped my butt on the way up, but I ignored the pain in my haste. My shirt took more time, but the door wasn't open until I had gotten it on. It wasn't entirely straight, but wasn't so out of place someone looking at me would wonder why.
The principal was talking to me. I missed some of it, being distracted with the pounding of my heart. I was almost caught. Almost caught by someone else, anyhow. He was comforting me, saying how he was sorry that whoever I was waiting for didn't show up. I didn't have time to hide that I had been crying. Sort of crying. It was obvious to him something was wrong. He must have assumed the fictitious date had stood me up or otherwise canceled. I told him there was nothing to do about it now, but he insisted that I could rely on him if I needed anything. I picked up my briefcase and purse and left, without saying bye. It was difficult to do without bending and letting him see down my shirt or up my skirt, but I think I did it. I don't know. Maybe.
9:30 AM. I was supposed to go to Darla's at noon. Her house has caller ID, and so she called me soon after I called her house to leave the message. She told me to wear anything I wanted, and to bring every piece of my underwear I could fit in my briefcase. What was she going to do with my panties? All of them fit in my briefcase, so what was I going to do without panties? What did she intend? Did she simply want me to know how embarrassing it'd be if someone looked and saw them, or was she up to something? Did she want me to count the pair I'd wear? And why did she want me to bring a hundred dollars? Was she going to demand shush-money as well, now? I wanted to go back to sleep. Perhaps forever.
I only got about fifty minutes. It was almost 10:30. I got up and out of bed. I was still tired and would remain that way all day, given the quality of my sleep. I needed to get ready. Yes, "need". I'm an English teacher, I know how to use it and what it means. People do many things that they need to but do not want to. I simply had to do something I loathed more than anything else I could think of. I had breakfast first. I was very hungry. That may have added to my poor sleep. I had a breakfast cereal. It was my favorite, but it was cold and bitter. I was cold and bitter. I ate it because I needed to. I supposed my life was going to be a lot like that.
My shower was uneventful. I used cold water. I don't know why. I think I began hating myself. I had no integrity, no dignity. I could be manipulated, controlled, by someone who was supposed to be a student of mine. She made me orgasm. How? I had gotten curious after getting home. I read it up online. Women have problems orgasming even with people they love, how had I orgasmed with someone I hated? Most of the pages I read indicated forcing an orgasm isn't even possible. Well, outside of willful bondage play. But I wasn't willing. I was actually forced. How did it happen? I investigated the dildo and butt-plug themselves. They weren't extraordinary in any way... though they did each say the company's name, followed by "most powerful vibes in the US", which could easily have been a marketing ploy. I was brought back to the shower as I saw the shaving cream. Of course, I used it. Very little had grown, but I thought it would be safe to both avoid allowing it to poke me today, and this way Darla would be pleased and, perhaps, not be a total bitch. Something inside my chest melted into sludge as I realized I would have to put effort not only into doing as she said, but attempting to make her happy. The sludge in my chest was mud. I could almost taste it.
Before leaving, I read over her rules and thought about them. I was this bitch I was forced to act if I liked it or not, so I was going to avoid getting punished again. Rule 1; Grade her fairly. I figured out how to do this. If I see her paper, I really don't know how I'd grade it knowing it's hers. I could try to be objective, but I know that I hate her, so it might not actually be fair. I would grade all fourth period assignments before seeing whose they are. I would fold the top of the first page where the names were. It might be odd when all papers have a fold in the top, but I really doubted anyone would care. Rule 2; Call her 'Mistress'. That really wasn't a problem. I wished the rules ended there, I'd have been okay with it. Rule 3; Ask permission to speak. This one might be difficult. Obviously, when she addresses me, I have permission to speak. Otherwise she wouldn't have addressed me. But it also meant I couldn't initiate conversation. Rule 4; Do everything she says without question. This was the truly epic one. There were some things I'd not do. I thought. I never thought I'd do the things I already did. Damn her! Rule 5; Remove my hair except on my head. It's not that problematic. I've done it before. Not as often as I'd have to now, but I like how I look hairless anyway. Rule 6; Disobedience means punishment. I planned on avoiding punishment. But the situation was forced on me, what if I get punished a lot because I'm forced to do things I truly dislike, and so refuse? Anyway, the worst thing that happened so far was a punishment, so... I didn't know what to think about it. Rule six was the linchpin to following the rest. I had no choice in the matter anyway, it seemed excessive. It must have been, because she enjoyed it. I hoped she doesn't punish me too much. Pain hurts. I really, really didn't like pain.
I got to her house a few minutes before noon. Her drive-way was empty. She told me her mother wouldn't actually be home when I got there, and it looked to be true. It depressed me when I heard it, but I half expected it already. I sat in my car a few minutes. I wasn't going inside until I had to. A good song was on anyhow. It ended, and I shut off my car. I focused. I got my inner strength together, in the middle of my mind. I was here not only to please Darla, not only to keep my job, career, and life, but also to keep my initiative if I saw the opportunity to end her power over me. I would take every chance I got to do just that. I left my car and approached the door.
There was a post-it on the door;
"Bitch,
Do not knock or use the doorbell. Come in. Whenever you find a note, take it with you.
XOXO - Your Mistress"
She liked notes. I suppose it gave her a sense of power. She could command me to do things without immediately expending her energy. It seemed likely to me, anyhow. I got inside. There were stairs in front of me, and an archway to either side. The right was a kitchen, and the left a living room. There was another post-it on the inside of the door, right on the doorknob;
"Bitch,
Strip nude. Leave your clothes, purse, briefcase, and anything else you may have brought, on the welcome mat. Go to the living room (archway immediately on your left) and then enter the door around the corner in the back and close the door. Go down the stairs you see. At the bottom of the stairs, sit on the bottom step, and feel under it for the next note."
How embarrassing. Nude in a strange house, leaving my things unattended. I did as the note said. My shoes first, then my slacks and nylons. I wasn't wearing any panties, they were all in my briefcase. I took off my jacket and then my shirt. I folded each one and placed them atop my shoes. I took off my bra and dropped it on the pile. I left my briefcase and purse leaning on the pile and went into the living room. It was difficult to leave my purse there, but I'd be damned if I got punished again. The living room was well furnished. Huge television, leather sofa and chair. A fireplace at the back wall. Plenty of electrical devices sat atop the TV; Stereo, DVD player, game consoles, and some I didn't recognize. I walked around the coffee table to the back corner, around which I couldn't see. Though there wasn't a sound, that only added to my tension. It felt as though someone would walk around the corner suddenly. I imagined them trying to get me, "pervert", to leave, swinging a broom at me. I rounded the corner and managed a nervous laugh at the imagined sight. I might have enjoyed it if I were chased away by Darla's mother. Well, not the chase, but being able to leave. My nudity was at the forefront of my mind as I thought about other people being home.
Silently, I opened the door. Sure enough, I smelled a bit of dust and moister. The door to the basement. I stepped in and it was dark. Some light came in from the small windows you find at the top of the walls of most basements. Or so it appeared. I didn't actually see the windows, yet. I shut the door. The stairwell was really dark, but I didn't want to do anything not on the notes just to discover I've upset something. And a light might draw attention. To... whoever might have been down there? I didn't know, but I also didn't choose to turn on the light. Being naked in someone else's house makes you suspicious someone might be around the next corner. I was already much colder. I stepped on the wooden steps. They creaked with my weight. Every one of them. If someone was going see me down here, they'd be sure to watch for me on my way, now. The coolness of the basement became coldness as I got to the last step and sat. My feet were cold from touching the cold steps. Now my butt was, too. It actually felt good, though. My butt had many long bruises and minor cuts along it, and the cold step felt nice on it.
I was shivering as I reached under the step. I looked around as I felt underneath. It was a typical basement. Dusty, cemented, and full of junk. It wasn't junk to it's owners, but there were boxes and mechanical parts of all sorts. I noticed the bottom step had been recently cleaned. There was no dust or dirt on it. I was thankful that Darla had forethought and didn't want me to get an infection of some sort, at the very least. I found the note stuck to something under the step;
"Bitch,
I don't know if you can see it, but there's a camera on the other side of the basement from you. It has a good angle. Spread your legs and place your feet at the edge of the bottom of the steps. Use the dildo this note is attached to on your cunt. As you do, audibly count to two-hundred. Get wet. When you're done, go back upstairs and bring the dildo. Go to the front door.
XOXO - Your Mistress"
Oh, great. I did as the note told me. The pink dildo was as dry as I was. The solution I came up with would not only solve the problem, but might even please Darla. I put the dildo in my mouth. Not long, but it got wet and, I imagined, was sexy. I felt what little was left of my self-respect become a little softer, more pliable. I was numb to it. I didn't move my hips at all as I moved it to the location of my body it's meant for. I pressed the dildo in. It would have hurt my butt to move my hips at all. Counting took a very long time. I thought about what the video camera might feed to. Would I be recorded for later use, or is it feeding to some web-site on the Internet. Well, my worries were irrelevant, so I tried to focus on the numbers. It took longer than I thought it would take. Finally, at two-hundred, I took the dildo out. I didn't enjoy using it, but it did get me to produce some fluids. Stimulating the vagina in any way does that, enjoyable or not.
I walked up the steps. I had gotten very cold. The stimulation, lacking quality, didn't warm me. I was thankful when I got to the other side of the door. It was warmer. However, I was also closer to actually doing things with Darla. Though, I supposed, it'd also be over faster. I got to the front door. All my stuff was gone. I was now trapped. Or, more accurately, I was deeper in the trap. In it's place was a leather strap with metal things on one end. It was a black, leather collar with the word "bitch" in pink letters on the front. Attached to it was another note;
"Bitch,
Put this on. It has your name on it. It's a gift from your Mistress. Once it's on go up the stairs. Enter the last door on the left. Leave the door wide open, and look on the bed.
XOXO - Your Mistress"
Muddy mud in my chest. I put it on and it fit well. I noticed a quiet sound coming from up the stairs. It was constant... I took some steps up the stairs and recognized it as running water. A shower? It must have been Darla. I hoped it'd be Darla. If it were someone else, I could have been in trouble. Of course it'd be Darla. I continued up the steps. A fear made each step a little taller. I reached the top of the stairs. The first door on the right is where the noise came from. It was still going. Someone could be heard moving in the rushing water, splashing a little on a different path to the floor of the tub. I kept going to the last door on the left. It was already opened, so I stepped in. I had to resist the impulse to shut the door so it might hide me. I opened it all the way, and it stopped at the wall to the right of it. The bed was against the wall I entered, to the left. The whole room was dark. The brightest colors in the room were merely a small part of larger, darker things. The walls were a dark blue. The bed and it's blankets were black. In the far corner, beyond the bed, was a computer desk. The screen saver was a slide-show of pictures. Me with Chad. My eyes tear up, but I look away and see the note in the center of the bed. It was easily spotted against the dark bedspread;
"Bitch,
Throw away the notes in the bin on the other side of the bed. You'll find a hand-cuff attached at each of the posts of the bed. Put your ankles in the ones at the foot of the bed, and your wrists in the ones at the top of the bed. The last one may be tricky with only the one hand free, but you'd better get it, or you'll be punished. Have the dildo in your pussy. Do not allow it to fall out.
XOXO - Your Mistress"
She had copies of the images on her computer. I immediately dashed to the computer and moved the mouse. The screen saver ended. I opened the options for the screen-saver to find the folder's location. The folder with the pictures of Chad and me. I wish I had my purse. There's a pen and notebook in it specifically for such notes. Instead, I simply remembered it. I read it to myself a few times. That's when I realized the screen-saver should be on when Darla comes in. It's set to begin after 30 minutes of being idle. I could've turned it on from it's options tab, but then that would be open. My other option was to change the time it takes to turn on, though she might have notice that later. I went with that. I might have been able to change the time back to 30 minutes later, but the screen saver options being open would be noticed immediately. 3 Minutes. I didn't want it to go idle in the middle of her using it, but I also want it on by the time she gets in here. After changing that, I closed the options and left the computer alone. It was a gamble, and I took it. Just like I promised I would. I didn't actually accomplish anything, but I got some useful information for when I did try to accomplish something.
There was nothing more I could do, so I threw away the notes. I got all the hand-cuffs in reach and then considered the situation. What if she was a psycho? She has already proven she's capable of deceit, and she has hurt me on purpose, because she wanted to. But then, what would happen if I didn't do this? She was going to get what she wanted anyway. I was utterly defenseless, naked in a strange house. If she intended to kill me, the best disobeying her now could do is... well, save my life. I could run. On the bed, I could not. I decide to take the chance. I had taken so many chances already. I placed one cuff on my ankle numbly. I repeated the process with the other. Concern sirened inside my head, but leaving my hands free wouldn't do any good if her intentions were to murder me anyhow. I didn't have the keys to the ones on my ankles, after all. I wasn't brave so much as cowardly. I put my right wrist in it's cuff. I grab the dildo, and put it as far into my vagina as I could. I tried to squeeze it to keep it in place, but that just shot it out. I put it back and remained as relaxed as I could. It stayed, but moving made it squeeze out a bit.
I couldn't reach the last hand-cuff. I had to stretch myself out uncomfortably to get to it. I had no idea how helpless I'd be until then. I was so stretched out, I was nearly taut like a bowstring. Relaxing to keep the dildo in was difficult, but I got the cuff around my wrist. I couldn't close it, though. I banged it against the bed-post, but it simply left my wrist. I put my wrist back in it, though it took minutes. The screen-saver came back on. Phew. I jerked my wrist and, seemingly by incident, the cuff hook went into the bottom part of the cuff. I swung my hand against the bar to tighten it. With the work of actually getting it on done, it was easy to tighten it. That's when I noticed a presence.
I looked at the doorway. Nobody was there. Huh. That's when my position sunk in. What if a murderer broke in before Darla got to me? What if after? I couldn't do anything? Well, I couldn't do anything, so I watched the screen-saver. The bead spreed beneath me aggravated my butt. I wished I could have done that upside down. I noticed the shower water had stopped. There was moving coming from behind a door. In the bathroom, I assumed. I hoped. If it was another door, someone else could find me here. Even if they didn't belong in this house. But why worry about that? It was mid-day and Saturday. The door I had heard movement behind opened. My heart raced. Helpless more than I had ever been, I was scared what was to come. My heart's beating gave away my presence.
All too soon, I saw a shadow on the door, of someone approaching. The silhouette's head looked funny. It's arms were holding it's head. The body casting the shadow approached and then entered the door. Darla. Her long, dark hair was wet and she was naked. She was pale, as usual. Pale and skinny. Not without her charms, but I didn't pay much attention to them at the moment. And not because of the camera she held to her eye. Though it certainly helped. I immediately faced the other direction. My body was hot in embarrassment She was video-taping me. My body. Helpless. I know she could show anyone the pictures she had, but this was different. She was recording me in my lowest. She was recording an ignoble, worthless bitch. I wanted to cry, but I couldn't. I think I spent them all. All I did was blanch. I suppose. I might also have gotten redder. I sure felt different, whichever it was. I couldn't react. I shut my eyes.
"Isn't my bitch so beautiful, everyone out there in Internet-land?", Darla began. What she just said struck me like a mallet. Was I breathing? She got closer and pointed her camera at my crotch, "See how she's all prepared for me to have fun? Shaved beautifully, moist, and she already seems to have had some fun with her new friend."
She played with the dildo for a few seconds, rotating it. I moved at the sensation. I didn't mean to, but it felt weird. She shifted her weight and got off the bed. I heard her go to her computer. My eyes opened automatically. I stared at her. She was connecting her camera to the computer. She turned to me and said, "My computer has much more memory."
I groaned. She did something on the computer. I couldn't tell what, the screen was too far away. I saw the camera's point of view on the screen, in a window. She picked up the camera, attached to a long cord, and got on her knees next to me on the bed. She said, "We're not going to do anything super-amazing, today. This will be the teaser."
She pointed the camera at me and began to pan it across me. I was looking away, so I couldn't tell exactly what she was doing. She said embarrassing things about my breasts and vulva, though. At one point, she grabbed the dildo and used it on me. She did it for a while. Apparently, I had gotten myself wetter than I thought I did while I was in the basement. Though, what she was doing helped. Any stimulation at all makes a vagina produce lubricants, after all. Evolutionarily speaking, it wouldn't do to have a vagina that didn't. She stopped moving it, but she pulled it up, pressing against the front of my vagina. I couldn't do anything besides lift my pelvis with the motion. She placed the camera between my legs and pointed it at my butt, "She obeys me because she knows what happens when she doesn't. My little bitch loves me, don't you, bitch?"
I hesitated. She smacked my butt with her open hand, though there wasn't much room for the motion underneath me. Thanks to the punishment I had received yesterday, it hurt much more than it otherwise would have. I turned to face her, "Yes, Mistress."
She had been recording for a few minutes. She licked her lips now that I was looking. I think she knew I hated that. She moved herself closer to my head, and then lifted her right leg. She placed it over my head, and then lowered herself. One leg on either side of my head, she faced the foot of the bed. Her butt was in my face, her vulva lowered to my mouth. I was about to begin what I knew she wanted me to do, when she stopped moving. She noticed something. She grabbed my hair and pulled my head up against her, "bitch, did you touch my computer?"
My heart sank. "Yth, Mthtrth.", I said into her womanhood. She pressed into my mouth a little, as though it felt good. She continued to do so. She gently humped my mouth. I wasn't sure if I was going to get in trouble. I presumed I would, but she didn't say anything to that effect. I began to lick and suck when and where it would feel best. She got into it. Soon, she had released my hair and bucked on my mouth. She was certainly enjoying it. The sludge in my chest grew thicker as I tried to lick with her thrusts. She didn't say anything. She was pointing the camera... at something, in some direction, on the other side of her from my eyes. It didn't feel so bad. I was effectively disconnected from the rest of my body. Though she had it, and though she had my mouth. I could look and think as I desired on this side of her.
Then, she stiffened and vibrated, shouting, "Suck my cunt, bitch! That's right! Fuck, you're good! ... Oooooooh!"
I continued what I was doing after her orgasm since she hadn't moved. I could feel one of her hands, the one without the camera presumably, feel around my abdomen. She lightly scratched down and back up each leg, back around my abdomen, and repeated it. She soon reached between my legs. She touched and spread me. She did that for a while, and the dildo eventually plopped out due to it. She stopped playing with me and used that hand to put the dildo back. She twisted it as she pushed it in and out. I heard a beep from the camera, and saw her set it on the side of the bed. She bent down. Soon, I felt her tongue on my clitoris. She licked proficiently. She's done this before. Maybe not under the same circumstances, but she's had experience.
I brought her to another orgasm. Soon afterwards, my eyes popped open. I was getting angry at myself. What Darla was doing... it felt good. How? How could she bring me to orgasm? It doesn't make sense. She got me very close, but suddenly pulled out the dildo and stopped licking. I could feel my hips move, trying to fulfill my desire, but there was nothing there and I soon found control over myself. She sat back up. Glancing over her shoulder, she looked at me. The angle was odd for me, but she was smiling, "No, you've been bad. You don't get an orgasm."
She probably thought I really enjoyed the situation! She probably already knew women can't orgasm by force. She was one, after all. But I couldn't say anything that would change her perception, and I didn't have permission to talk anyhow. The point was moot. All I could do was continue what I had been doing in hopes she'd finish with me and let me leave. She began to move. She crouched, then turned 180 degrees, and sat down on my mouth again. She had what I could only describe as a devilish grin. She seemed at an odd angle. Not enough for me to notice at first, unfortunately. Or maybe fortunately. When I stuck my tongue back out to start licking her again, it felt funny. That's when it hit me, her vulva was more on my nose than my mouth. I stopped licking from the shock of what I concluded. She could see it in my eyes, and her grin widened. She reached both hands behind herself and spread her buttocks apart. She lowered down a bit. Her asphincter was resting on my mouth. With glee, she said, "You should have known better than to touch my computer. I know your tongue can get deep, so don't hold back."
Of course I hesitated still. What she wanted me to do was disgusting. For the first time, not only was what she wanted me to do something I wanted not to do, but was also disgusting. I wouldn't blame someone for hesitating at such an order, but she seemed to grow angry, "Would you prefer something even worse? You know you didn't have permission to touch my computer, but you did it anyway. I just got out of the shower, and I... well, made sure I was clean. So you stick your tongue in my asshole right now or I'm going to think of something even worse!"
I had to take her word for it. I couldn't think what would be worse than that. I might prefer this over getting whipped, mechanically, but in practice getting whipped doesn't make me gag. I moved my tongue up to her asphincter again. It was kind of rough, but soft and somewhat flexible. The most important quality it had was lack of flavor, though. Well, it seemed as though it tasted like vagina but that could easily have been the vagina that was basically covering my nose, giving me just enough room to breath. I licked a few times, and there was nothing disgusting about it beside the concept, so I pushed my tongue forward. She was relaxed and ready, apparently, because there was very little resistance as my tongue entered her anus. She sighed as it did, and her grin became more of a smile. No terrible flavor, yet. I got brave enough to lick around inside her anus. I can't say how far I got, but I could lick around in a circle and in and out a bit without removing my tongue. My impulses were onto what I was doing, and wouldn't let me get away with it. I gagged. Darla gave me a warning look, and I shoved the gagging away. I relaxed and put my tongue back into the orifice it was just in.
It was better not to think about it, so I moved my tongue around in circles and looked up at Darla. She was using one hand to play with her breasts. She was biting her own lips softly, and her other hand was going through my hair. That hand slowly moved down my forehead, past my eyes, and right to her clitoris. She began to flick it softly with one finger. As she did, her asphincter tightened. My tongue stayed in, though, and I was forced to think about what I was doing again. Her asphincter contracted a bit every once in a while as she played with her self. She got the camera and turned it back on. She sat forward and put it behind her. I could tell she was recording my tongue going into her anus. I kept myself from gagging. I don't know how, but I managed to keep working. Perhaps, by this point, I felt I didn't even deserve to retch. She interrupted my thoughts, "My bitch loves eating out her Mistress's asshole, doesn't she?"
What else could I do? I answered, "Yeth Mithreth.", and somehow managed to restrain myself from gagging.
She shut off the camera and moved her hips back a few inches. She set the camera down and, before she could look back to me, I made her glad she had moved her hips back. My tongue was tired, and I was humiliated, and I hated the entire situation, but this way it'd encourage her to not put her anus over my mouth at all soon. Of course she happily said, "Oh, I forgot how much you love eating cunt!"
As I licked and sucked on her vulva, she picked up the still wet dildo and put it behind her. I expected to feel it on me, but I was wrong about where to expect it. She accidentally hit my right breast with it as she pulled it closer to her tail end. It nicked my chin. I felt a bulge in the back of her vagina. She was putting it in her own anus! She 'Oh'ed and 'Ah'ed as she did it, too! She began pushing it in and out of herself slowly, as she swore at me, "Eat that cunt, bitch! Eat it now, eat it right! Fuck, you're a good bitch! You're my cunt eating bi..."
She didn't get that last bit out. We both heard a door open. It was the front door. She seemed shocked. Obviously this was not planned. She immediately jumped off my mouth and to the side of the bed. I could see the dildo most of the way in her as she walked over to the door and looked towards the steps. She turned to me and whispered, "My mom!"
Just then, almost on queue, a woman's voice form downstairs shouted, "Darla? Where are you? Have you seen the receipt for the dishwasher?"
Later I would learn that her mom was gone, in part, to get a refund on what ended up being a faulty washer. However, right then I was more concerned with my position on Darla's bed. I looked back to her and whispered, "Where are my clothes?!"
She had already gathered some jeans and a black halter top and tossed them on the bed. Her reply to me, including a dirty look, was, "Who said you could talk, bitch? Open your mouth and keep this there," She sighed as she took the dildo from her anus and shoved it into my mouth. My first reaction was to spit it out, but I managed to catch it in my teeth on it's way out. I already forgot to wait for permission to speak, and was bound to get into trouble for that. Oh, crap, and I forgot to call her 'Mistress'. She was sure to punish me, if she wasn't too distracted to notice. She tossed her clothes on and left the room, leaving the door ajar. Just before leaving, she whispered, "You're checking my work. Hope she doesn't come up here, bitch."
She left me there. I heard her go down the stares. Darla said something, but I couldn't make out what. I could hear Darla talking to someone downstairs, and that someone talking in return. It was very difficult to make out what the discussion was about, but I think I heard a question about a briefcase. Of course, if someone was asking Darla about a briefcase, the only one I could imagine it was would be mine. It sounded like a woman, so I presumed Darla's mother was asking her about my briefcase. How could Darla have been so careless?! What if her mother knew someone was there? What if she came up here to see?
I heard the questioner halt the conversation and noisily ascend the stares. I knew I should have tried to get free, but I was scared stiff. Whether I moved or not, I was going to be caught. What would happen when her mother caught her English teacher naked, hand-cuffed to her bed? I may not have been able to move, but I imagined that anyone outside the door could have heard my heart beat. The foot-steps came towards the room. I shut my eyes. There was nothing else to do. A door opened. I had to look. The light was different out in the hallway. A new source of light was shining across the hallway. The door across the hall was open. The foot-steps went into that door! I was so relieved I exhaled the dildo out of my mouth. But there was still the chance whoever it was would still walk over to the room I was in. I lied and listened. Shuffling in that room. Darla and her mother's voices could be heard. I knew Darla would think of something horrible to do to me for the dildo falling out of my mouth, but I had bigger worries right then. A punishment would be worth not being found that way.
But what was I thinking? If Darla's mother found out what her daughter was up to, she'd surely be in trouble. But then it would be certain that the pictures would be discovered! I couldn't exactly ask for help in this when doing so would just as likely end with me in prison and down the career I love so much.
"A hah! Here it is!", I heard who I presumed was Darla's mother proclaim. I heard walking and saw shadows across the outside of Darla's door. Footsteps down the stares. Muffled conversation. I listened for another few minutes, and soon the front door opened and closed. Footsteps up the stares. Someone was coming to this room. The door was opening. The thought flashed through my mind that it might be someone besides Darla, and that would spell disaster for me. But I knew it was Darla with the pieces of my mind that remained rational. Those same pieces wished she'd end this silly game.
The door was opened. It took a long time to get there, but perhaps it was all in my head. Darla walked in. I let out a sigh of relief. It wasn't conscious, but Darla still saw it. She smiled, "Your mother walking in on you certainly ruins the mood, huh?"
My heart leaped. Ruin the mood? Did that mean she was done?! Even if only for that day, I would have been thankful to get out of the hand-cuffs and put some clothes on. Darla came over to me. She had some keys in her hands, though I didn't see where she got them from. She un-cuffed my right hand, first. I would have smiled if I were able to. My other hand was free, then my right foot, and left. I sat up and began to rub my wrists and ankles. Darla walked over to her computer chair and made a motion for me to come, adding to it by calling me like a dog, "Come, bitch, sit next to me."
As she sat at her chair and ended the screen saver, I slid to the edge of the bed. I sat for a moment, wondering where and how she meant for me to sit. She had only the one chair. And why didn't she give me my clothes? I stood and walked next to her. I watched the computer screen, since I didn't want to look at her. She opened up a text file. It was her paper for my class. I saw a glass of water on her desk and wondered if she would let me have a drink to get the taste out of my mouth, when she looked at me with a curious glare, "On your knees, bitch."
"Oh.", I said, as I put my weight on the desk and lowered myself to my knees. I put my hands in my lap. My legs closed and my arms covering some of my breasts, it almost felt good to cover up, if only that little bit. I still wanted to ask her for a drink. The taste had become very bitter in my mouth. I had a problem, though; I didn't want to speak to her. That would draw attention to me, and I didn't want her attention. Besides, I wasn't certain I could ask a question. I need permission to speak. Can I ask for it? But asking would require that I speak.
I watched her type for a while. I was sad that my plan for grading might fail if I watch her, but in fact she was a good writer. I taught at a high school. Finding someone who knows how to write in a high school was nearly impossible. Though I had praise for her typing, it wasn't long before I read everything she had typed up to where she was currently typing. There's no point watching every word, so I looked around the room. A few band posters, a few dozen small dolls, clothes here or there. It wasn't anything I didn't expect. Indeed, it was less than I expected, which was more than I hoped. No torture devices. No rack, nothing. I also couldn't see my briefcase or purse, but there was the fact of the closet being shut. I also couldn't see under her bed, and she had a few drawers large enough to fit my things. I was pretty sure my stuff was in there, somewhere. I didn't know why Darla would risk someone coming home and finding my clothes in some other room, so I didn't assume she'd take such a chance.
I read the last paragraph Darla typed, and began to look around her room for where she might keep extra copies of my pictures. There were no obvious clues, though I figured I'd try to rifle through her drawers and closet if I got the chance. I noticed a flash drive on her key chain when I looked back to the desk. Perhaps she kept copies on there. That was something else I'd have to check if I got the chance. Darla looked at me as I thought that. I thought perhaps she knew what I was thinking, somehow.
"That's boring. Put your hands behind your back and spread your legs.", She told me, nonchalantly. I did what she said, leaning back on my arms. She continued typing, but looked at me more often than before. I avoided looking at her. I felt hotter than usual. When would she let me get more comfortable? She stopped typing and her left hand came down atop my right breast. She typed one-handed as she fondled me. She switched breast once. She typed for another ten minutes and three paragraphs switching back and forth. The last paragraph took her a long time to finish. When she did, she put her right hand between her legs and rubbed herself over her pant's crotch.
"Bitch,", She started. I looked up at her. I knew I looked scared and anxious. She stood up and pushed her chair back, "get under my desk."
She began unbuttoning her pants as I slowly, sadly, crawled under her desk. I turned around once in there, and saw her pants fall to the floor. It was cramped under her desk, but I fit. She sat down and rolled her chair back in. With her legs down there, it was more cramped. Her legs soon spread and I found space between them. Of course that was her plan. And I wasn't even putting up a fight. Of course I wouldn't. I had no pride. I leaned down between her legs and started what I knew she wanted me to do. No, I had no pride I allowed myself to show. As I began, I had a surge of energy. I'm not sure exactly what it was, but it seemed very emotional. I was angry. It was a kind of anger I had never experienced before. I almost shoved my way out from under the desk. I restrained myself. So my pride might have still been intact, but this was no time for a rebellion.
There's not much to tell about what happened. I was the bitch that she called me, though I was content in knowing there was a part of me still struggling against her. I was under her desk for over an hour. She came at least nine times. I had a heavy feeling from my throat to my belly the whole time. It must have been my rational mind duking it out with my anger, and perhaps the pain of the humiliation. But, it could have also been something as simple as an upset stomach.
When Darla let me out from under her desk, she seemed very tired. Hell, I was tired, too. She took me by the arm and cuddled with me in her bed. She was soon asleep. I envied her, but I wasn't comfortable enough to actually ge to sleep. Perhaps I could have killed her. Woah! Yeah, I really thought that. She might be a horrible person, but I couldn't bring myself to kill her! And even if I could justify it to my conscience, I'd probably get caught and go to jail for much longer than if those pictures were found! I dismissed the idea immediately, but the fact I thought it made me feel uneasy. I had to get out of the bed.
Slowly. Slowly I edged away from Darla. Out of her arms. I got about an inch before she sighed and tightened her grasp on me. I waited five minutes. Or, at least, it seemed that long. I tried again, but first I had to move her left arm, the one over me. I got it over me and rested it on Darla's side, then slowly rolled away. I almost fell when I got to the edge of the bed, but I had gotten free! Besides, what would she do if she did find me out of bed? She never told me to stay there! I watched her slumber before continuing my plan. I had to make sure she was sleeping heavily before rummaging through her things.
It ends up she's a fairly deep sleeper. I went through her shelves, drawers, and closet. It was fruitless, though. Not only did I not find any clues that would allow me to determine her source for the pictures, but I didn't find my stuff, either. I got braver. I left her room. The door was still ajar, so I opened it wide enough to fit through, slowly and evenly. She was in the bathroom when I got here, so I went there first. It was a bathroom, and a clean one at that, so there weren't many places to hide things. I looked under the sink first. There were my briefcase, purse, and clothes. I was satisfied in that, so I moved on. No reason to take my things and get in trouble needlessly, after all.
I walked slowly down to the living room. There was a shelf I saw behind the couch earlier, but payed no attention to it then. I looked at it this time. There were family pictures. Three of them had Darla in them. In two, she was with her mother. Or, at least, who I presumed was her mother. The image fit the voice I heard earlier. Another one was just her. Her mother and father's wedding picture was at the top of the shelf. I started to look at pictures of the other family members when I did a double take. Darla's mother and father were married very recently. Darla looked not much younger than she is now in the pictures with her mother, and her mother didn't appear different at all between those pictures and the one of her wedding. Well, besides her makeup and hair, of course. I scrutinized the pictures for a few minutes. There was no way the difference in age between the wedding photo and the mother-daughter photo was more than a year, and that's overestimating.
Darla must have moved here, to this school district, when her mother married... her step-father. Or, at least, that was my hypothesis. Her father was handsome. Step-father, rather. He also had a handsome young son. Gregory. Gregory Scott. He was a senior last year, and he was in one of my classes. The name of Darla's parents in her school file never meant anything to me until now. Why hadn't I realized? How had days gone by without me seeing the connection! I was gaining nerve every moment. I nearly jogged up the first few steps, but realized the noise might awaken Darla. There were four rooms upstairs. Her mother's was across the hall from Darla's. I could presume that was also her step-father's room, now. The one to the right as you get to the top is the bathroom, and Darla's is the second left.
The first left door. That's where I stopped. It was shut. I listened at it. I hadn't realized until then that I had been assuming only Darla and I were in the house. There was music coming from within. It was quiet, but not soft. Greg apparently likes rock and roll. But was he in there, or did he simply leave music on? I listened a little longer... Just music. Well, my window of opportunity was probably not very big, so I softly turned the handle. It was locked. It took me by surprise. That could only mean someone was in the room! But nobody said anything. I've accidentally locked myself out of indoor doors before, if rarely, maybe the same thing happened here. I turned the handle hard. Harder than I meant to. The loud click was all I heard. My breathing stopped, as did my heart. Time itself slowed down.
"Hello?"... It was lazy, but certainly a boy from inside the room said it. My heart sank. A strange hollow feeling ran through me. My legs were stuck in place. It seemed I was watching a bad sitcom. It wasn't me in front of the door, entirely nude and exposed, aside a collar designating me as a bitch, but some other lady, "Hello?"
It was stronger the second time. I heard movement, as though someone got up from bed. I had no idea how far the bed would be to the door. The world spun. I hesitated a moment. I couldn't say why, I simply couldn't get going. A footstep. I felt light headed. Another, somehow more distant, footstep. No! I couldn't faint like that! I finally got my right leg to move, and everything started working again right away. I ran, no, jumped into Darla's room. I didn't bother shutting the door. I could rely on Darla for this... I supposed, for some reason. Inside her room, I heard the bedroom door I was just at open up. I dove onto the far side of Darla's bed, over her. I used the bed to soften my landing, then rolled to and over the opposite side, so that nobody could see me from the door to the room. That's when I realized Darla's closet was closer to her bedroom door, and would be much easier to hide in. Oh well, that was where I hid. No sense in moving once there.
"What are you doing?", A confused Darla's head asked, hanging from the side of the bed, looking down at me. She smiled as she saw the position I was in, hugging the side of the bed to reduce the chance someone could see me over it.
"Greg!", I whispered warningly.
"What? What about him?", She said. She seemed sincerely confused. Right then, I heard the door to Darla's room hit the wall. It wasn't hard, just enough to, it seemed, be heard. To draw attention. Darla lazily looked towards the door. She jumped up to where I couldn't see her, "What the hell are you doing! Don't you ever fucking knock?!", I heard something soft hit the wall near the door as Darla quickly shifted and pulled at her covers.
"Sorry!", I heard Greg say. It was the same voice of my ex student, alright. There was a pause, then, "Yeah, sorry about barging into your room, but the door was open, and... well... what were you doing at my door?"
"What?", Darla still seemed confused.
"Well, you were at my door, then I heard you run into your room. I figured I'd come see what was up.", He explained.
"What?!", Darla started, but it must have sunk in what happened as she continued, "Oh. Well, I was sleeping, and then went to the bathroom. I was so sleepy, I confused your door for mine. I would apologize, but I think you've gotten good enough payment for my mistake."
"Oh... yeah, sorry. Well, I was sleeping myself, so maybe that's why I was so confused by it. So, anyway, if you need anything, you know where I am.", I heard Greg say as he left the room. I heard him walk all the way back to his room, not far, then the door shut.
I saw Darla's head come back over the side of the bed. Her face was blank. She let out a sigh, "Haven't I told you I don't like punishing you? You know I have to now, right?"
I nodded awkwardly, "Yes, Mistress, but...", I stopped myself.
"Yes? you have permission to speak.", she said.
"Well... I presumed we were the only ones here. Otherwise, you know, why would you risk getting caught?", I asked as I sat back up on the bed. She leaned against a pillow, the blanket only half on her.
"Frankly, bitch, I watch a lot of porn. If Greg heard anything, he would have assumed it was porn. In the worst case scenario he might have walked in on us, but he'd just think it was cool and ask if he could watch. Besides, he's very sick and I knew he'd take his medicine before you got here. He has a bad flu, as well as an ear and nose infection, and his drugs make him drowsy. He told me his plan was to sleep all day, today."
"But still, Mistress, it is an unnecessary risk!"
She chuckled at me, "You're cute. Remember I could have you go fuck him right now, but I'm not that sadistic."
Of course she wouldn't realize my worry was that he would recognize me as his former teacher and he'd know I was doing something illegal, but I didn't want to press anything right then. I had already had a big enough rush and I was sorting through a lot of thoughts. Darla, though, actually seemed fairly pleasant at the time.
"Listen, bitch, my mom should be home soon, so I'll go get your clothes and tell you what I expect of you for the rest of the weekend and next week.", She said, calmly. Apparently, she wasn't going to punish me right away. It both relieved me and made me anxious. What if she makes me do something embarrassing at school? Oh well, I would think about it at my own home, on my own time. Darla put on some pajamas and left the room. She came back with my things. Well, most of my things. My briefcase and purse. My clothes were gone. Actually, when she set down my briefcase, there were clothes atop it that she was holding in the same hand. If you call it clothes.
"You're going to wear these home today, and when you go shopping tomorrow. Also, you're going to leave the collar on for both cases. I've taken all your underwear. Tomorrow, you're going to go to the store and buy new underwear. Not just any underwear, though. Thongs. Pretty ones, too. You're going to wear exclusively thongs as underwear from now on.", She explained as she sat on her bed and watched me draw back from the "outfit" that was on my briefcase. The most conservative piece of cloth in the very small pile was a tube-top. It was about six inches from top to bottom. It was black. Under it was a black skirt. The skirt was about as long as the tube-top, the same color, and pleated. On the top of the pile was a bright, neon blue thong that said "Slippery when wet" on the front, in bold, black letters.
I stood for a long moment. My head was light again, but I wasn't near fainting. I looked up at Darla, "M... Mistress?"
"Don't worry, you're going to shop at a mall called 'Northland Center'. It's a one hour drive north of here, incidentally. You're going to be at the front door at exactly noon, stand for five minutes, smoking, or on the phone, or whatever, then go in. If anyone's there who knows you, it'll be few.", She picked up the clothes and pushed them into my arms. I couldn't say anything. I set them down on the bed and put on the thong. I was grateful to have something on, at least, and I could then leave! The thong was alright. It fit fine, but it was bright and drew attention. I avoided thinking about what that would mean for me the next day, as I put on the skirt. As short as it looked. I couldn't see, but I was sure at least the bottom inch of my crotch, the bright thong, was visible. There was a possibility, though small, that it covered half of my butt. The tube top fit around my arms. I pulled it down. I had to stretch it to get it over my breasts. It was slightly more difficult to breath. I had the choice of showing off significant cleavage, or allowing my breasts to fall out the bottom of the top.
I walked along the room to see how the tube-top would fit in practice. The top slowly rolled down, so I had to readjust it every dozen steps or so. The skirt stayed in place, but it may as well have been a belt. As embarrassing as this would normally be, I knew people would see the marks from yesterday's caning. As much as I wanted to go hide under my own blanket's covers for eternity instead of wear so little, I certainly didn't want anyone to see those stripes' on my rear. I didn't want to speak, or to talk, so I simply turned and pointed at mu butt.
"Hahaha... oh, bitch, you're silly. Who cares if someone sees those? Just tell them, if they ask, that you're into BDSM.", replied a giggling Darla.
"But I'm not.", I accidentally said. Darla was silent, but I could feel her sudden anger. I stood motionless, in fear of Darla's reaction. I could sense her approaching slowly. She was coming up on my left. I was shivering in anxiety. She made a quick motion, but I couldn't move. *SMACK*, I heard the noise, and the pain from my butt immediately followed. Automatically, I covered my butt and turned to Darla. She had a severe look on her face.
"bitch, you do everything I say. No exceptions. What...", She said evenly. She slowly reached up to my "shirt". I cowered, but dared not step away. She pulled it down, exposing my breasts again. She looked me in the eyes for a moment. I couldn't stair her down, so I looked away within seconds. A moment passed. Another. Suddenly, her hands shot up and grabbed my nipples. She pinched hard and pulled me towards her, until my face was just below hers. I couldn't help looking at her again. I tried to plead with my eyes. My mouth was too busy trying not to scream. She finished what she began saying, "What are you?"
The scream regressed back down my throat, and I could answer. My hands scratched at my thighs lightly, to avoid trying to tear her hands away. I replied earnestly, "I'm your bitch, Mistress! I do everything you say, no exceptions! I live to serve you! ... Please let go, Mistress! I beg you!"
She didn't say a word. She pulled me towards her. My face was inches from hers. She twisted and pulled my nipples out, then back in and untwisted, just to do it again. As she did so, she kissed me. I tried to kiss her back. I think it was mostly successful, but the pain she was inflicting in my nipples was a bigger distraction than I'd have imagined. My eyes teared, and I said "Ow!" and "Oh!" into the kisses frequently. It went on for what my rational mind would call a minute, but even it could have been wrong.
More suddenly than I really expected, she stopped torturing my nipples. Mid-kiss, she grabbed my arms and pulled me down. I followed her motion. Soon, I was on my knees, and her hands moved from my arms to my head. She shoved me down roughly, and I was on my arms and knees, looking at her pajama pant-legs. She explained what she wanted, "bitch, you will kiss my feet, each five times. in between each kiss, you will beg my forgiveness. You will remind yourself of your place, and also show me that, while you're not actually worthy to be treated as well as I treat you, you're thankful that I do."
Immediately, I kissed her right foot. There was nothing horrible about that fact alone. Her foot was clean and not abnormal in any way. But I was being forced to humiliate myself as I did it. Before kissing her other foot, I said, "I wish I were worthy of you, Mistress.", and then I did kiss her foot.
"Point your ass up. Act like you mean what you say, whore!", She yelled, "and look up at me as you speak!"
I was scared her brother would hear, so I did as she said. I pointed my butt up, and even wiggled it around as though I was turned on. I wanted to get out of there, I had to do what she said for that to happen. Among other reasons I had to do what she said, of course. With what passion I could muster, I degraded myself further, "I would show you how dedicated I am by eating your cunt 24 hours every day.", and I kissed her foot.
"I'm turned on by your taking control of me, Mistress. *kiss* I'm an unworthy little bitch, Mistress. *kiss* I'm thankful for every order you give me, Mistress. *kiss* Please use me however you wish, Mistress. *kiss* I love it when you show me how worthless I am. *kiss*", I was having trouble thinking of things to say, so I simply spoke of my worthlessness, "I'm a pool of filth to your divine beauty, Mistress. *kiss* I wish I were worth the abuse I need from you. *kiss* Please allow me to serve you, forgive me if you have any pity for this worthless whore! *kiss*"
As I looked up at her, she patted my head like one would a sad animal, "To prove your devotion, you will crawl out to your car, and leave your top down for the entire drive to your place."
Avoiding further punishment and degradation, and because I felt almost as though I were going to throw up, I nodded and began to crawl to her bed to retrieve my purse and briefcase. I got them, but couldn't decide what to do with them as I crawled. She walked over to me and placed them on my back. She stretched my tube-top over them, to secure them to my back. I crawled to her door. I peered out it, down the hallway. I hoped her brother wouldn't choose then to go to the bathroom or leave his room for any other reason. I inched out. I realized what this would look like to anyone. Even if someone saw, I'd have to continue. I hurried into the hallway, and down it.
When I got to the stares, I saw a problem. I might be able to go down backwards, but then my briefcase and purse might fall. But, they might fall going down forward, anyhow. I turned around and moved one leg, just in time to see Darla frowning at me. She lifted her hand and made a twirling motion with her finger. I turned back around. The stares were steep. I looked back to Darla, pleading. She wasted no time. She rushed to me and slapped my rump. It was a resounding noise, followed by her barking out, "Go down the stairs now, bitch!"
I don't know how her brother wouldn't hear that, so I did try to hurry. I thought I knew how to maneuver such that I could make my way down the stairs, and I got my hands down a few steps. However, with gravity at an odd angle, and my shins being longer than anything designed to bare weight on the steps, I had trouble getting my hind quarter to follow. I looked up at the door. What if her mother came home just then? Yes, I had to hurry. I didn't hear anything from her brothers room, but that only added to my worry. What if he walked quietly? I didn't look back. I pulled my right leg down, putting my weight on the top of my foot, bent back. It hurt a bit, but it got me going the way I wanted. I got my other foot to follow the same way with another step down. Another step, then another. Those four steps took far too long.
Still not looking back, I tried to move faster. Mistake. My arm slipped and I slid a few steps. I caught myself, luckily, with my feet, on the edge of a step. I put my hands back down on this further down step, and pulled my feet down as I had been. It seemed like a count-down was going on but I wasn't being told the seconds remaining. Someone was going to see me. I heard footsteps behind me. It could have been Darla, but it also could have been her brother. I drew in my breath and continued as quickly as I could. So, I continued slowly. Ten more steps, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two one. I was at the front door. Someone was right behind me. I fearfully looked. Darla. I never expected to be relieved to see her. She bent down a bit and smacked my butt hard. I squealed, trying to contain my scream. When I looked up, she was opening the door. When the door was open, she smacked my butt again, and started up the stares.
I cried as I looked at the neighborhood houses. I expected a mail boy to run up any moment, SUVs to drive by every minute or so. Which meant I had to hurry up and get out of there. The small stoop was difficult to get down as the stares inside, though it was only a few. It was concrete, and hurt my feet. A car drove by as I got to the bottom, I didn't look up to see it in time, but it passed through my periphery and I certainly heard it. Hopefully they didn't see me, or at least realize how exposed I was. I hurried to my car, the sidewalk skinning my knees. getting my purse form behind me was difficult. I had to get up a bit, sitting on my knees. I could see a face in an upstairs window across the road. It was staring at me. Though it was somewhat windy, i got very hot. I managed to get my purse loose. It and my briefcase fell behind me. I got out my keys, opened my car door, grabbed both things, and jumped in.
Without bothering to look around, I started my car, and checked my rear view to see if any cars were coming. I backed out just in time to notice that one house down and across the road, a man stood with his car's hood open, staring my way. I drove past him much faster than the speed limit. The drive home consisted of me avoiding letting cars pass, and avoiding passing. A few got around me, but the only indication I got that someone saw was a few honks. When I got home, I pulled up my top, ran to my bed, stripped off the "clothes" I had on, and dove into my bed. I tried to cry, but I didn't seem able to for some reason.
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