BDSM Library - Story: Teaching The Teacher, Chapter: Part 1

Teaching The Teacher by James X.Pendergrass

Monday, September 2nd -- School started today.

It's hard to believe this is my tenth year of teaching. I'm not such a young whipper-snapper anymore. Let me introduce myself. I'm James Pendergrass, 32 years old, and I teach at Hillcrest School (Kindergarten thru eighth grade). It might be hard to believe we would cram middle-school children with the elementary school kids, but you know how it is with budget cutbacks these days. Once the Jamison middle school closed down a couple of years ago, it was determined that the seventh and eighth graders would be moved to Hillcrest. So I went with them. I teach math to seventh graders. This is pre-algebra, before things really start to get hairy in mathematical terms.

Anyway, lots to talk about during my first day. The kids seem a little less smart than last year. I've been saying that for a while. What a brain-drain we have in this messed up country of ours. But who cares about that crap? The most exciting thing all day took place in the faculty room during lunch time when I was introduced to the new piece of meat-- uh, I mean female kindergarten teacher. Her name is Talia Yount.

Since I've decided to keep a journal on this coming school year that describes my inner-most thoughts, feelings and desires, I probably should begin by telling you more about myself. I promise not to hold anything back. It's not as if anyone is going to actually read this thing, right?

Well, you already know my name and age. I'm a local boy. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree. I play softball and ride my bike occasionally. I'm in semi-decent shape. I'm easy-going most of the time. Occasionally I have temperamental outbursts -- I blame Dad for that. I have an older brother, Timothy. Timothy is in jail. He's been there for the past seven years. Attempted murder. Really fucked up stuff. It's hard to talk about.

Anyway, my dad and mom got divorced a long time ago. I never see my mom anymore. She joined this cult out West. Any day now I'll read about her drinking Cool-aid spiked with cyanide and dropping dead. It will probably be in Fiji, or Burma, or maybe Burkina-Faso. She always was crazy.

Between not growing up with any sisters and not having a good role model for a mother, I never was very good with the Ladies. Part of it is my fault. I've always been too aggressive. Finally though, I learned to tone things down. A Girl needs to be sweet-talked. Last year I struck paydirt with my fiancée, Lori. Lori 29 and super hot! I'm so lucky. She's like 5'9", thin, with high cheekbones and long, brown hair. A couple of my guy friends think she's playing me, but what do they know? Lori is a total knockout, a classic beauty if you will.

We don't live together. Lori insisted on it. She's a brand manager for a soft drink company. She lives downtown. We don't see each other as much as I wish we did, though we do hang out periodically on weekends. I'd like to say we have sex and what not, but Lori insists upon no "love-making" until marriage. Lori is from a fairly religious family and her terms are non-negotiable. It's kind of a bummer, especially since she wears such nice clothes and always looks so good. I swear she has the smoothest, most perfect head of hair God has ever created (I'm somewhat religious, though I tend to stray. I'm a man -- I have needs). Lori is always combing that hair of hers with this mahogany hairbrush she keeps in her purse. It drives me crazy, especially when we're at the mall and I'm buying her clothes, or dinner, or whatever she wants. You might wonder why I go through all the trouble. Well, there's something about Lori that I find irresistible, and anyway I can afford it.

That said, I am a man and I do need to get my rocks off. Sometimes I satisfy my needs at a nearby massage parlor. This older Asian Woman does a nice job giving me happy endings, if you get my drift. Occasionally I hire an escort. You might question my ethical standards, but I'm still a young man and a young man has to have his dick taken care of. And what Lori doesn't know won't hurt her. Right?

So I want to write about Talia Yount. Normally I wouldn't be interested in Talia for a couple of reasons. One, I'm engaged. Two, it's never a good idea to shit where you eat. Three, she's not technically my type. But forget about that shit. All good-looking Women are my type. Even crunchy oddballs like Talia.

Let me explain – I get the distinct feeling that Talia is somewhat of a counter-culture broad. When I was studying her at lunch, I could see she has a pierced nose, although it was absent any jewelry, probably because it's against school policy. Talia has this shoulder-length straight hair, only I think she intentionally doesn't style it. As a result, it has a punkish quality. It's stringy. For some reason, I like it even though it's the antithesis of my fiancé’s hair.

Talia wore this art-deco blouse to school today. It had these pastel-colored Campbell Soup cans on it -- I think it was an Andy Warhol rip-off. Her lower body looked divine in a tan, denim skirt. She's probably five and a half feet tall, quite thin and has a modest, though visually appealing pair of tits. Maybe a B-cup at most, but they still protrude nicely away from her body on account of how thin she is. She has a narrow waist and these terrific, protruding hips. It's kind of funny how despite all of her weirdness, when it gets right down to it, Talia is a Woman. I’m betting she's got herself a nice, tight little snatch. From our brief conversation, I think she's around 24. I know this because she moved here from New York City and graduated from NYU two years ago.

Talia also has these deep blue eyes and long eyelashes. Without them, she would look almost boyish with her round face and lightly freckled cheeks. It's hard to believe she's even 24. She wore these blockish black pumps with a square tip. At first I didn't like them, but I decided there was something about the shoes that made me excited, probably the sleek legs they were attached to.

When I was introduced to her, I found myself intrigued by her voice. Talia speaks with a nasally tone that belies her physical appearance. She sounds downright snobbish with her rapid, self-assured monotone. Every phrase out of her mouth sounds as if she’s complaining to the waiter that there’s a fly in her lobster bisque. No matter what the subject, she speaks as if she has this self-righteous entitlement: “The weather’s so perfect today,” Talia claimed, as if it were a personal affront to her that it was sunny and 75 degrees. The way she says everything is so sexy to me, so feminine.

Here's the topper. When I went out to my car at the end of the day, I saw Talia get into her Volkswagen. You would not believe the bumper stickers she had: an Obama '08 sticker, something ridiculous about a Woman's right to choose, and something about well-behaved Women never making history. Can you believe all that crap? Talia Yount was a big-time moon-bat liberal!

That's when I decided that I intend to fuck Talia Yount. While I confess that I haven't slept with anyone other than a prostitute, I think it's time to cross that line. And what would be better than giving some kooky liberal chick from New York City a hot beef injection? I know she'll go for me. I'm a good-looking dude, and fairly charming when I want to be. I do feel a little bit bad about Lori, but a man's gotta eat. Oh boy, this is going to be too good to be true. Just the thought of me gripping those hipbones while I stuff that tight snatch with my hard cock is enough to make me want to go rub one out. It's probably not a good idea to impregnate the little minx, so I'll do her a favor and pull out when I'm about to blast my load. Before she knows what hit her, I'll point it at her face and give her a big creamy facial. But before I'm done, I'll guide my prick into her mouth so she gets a nice, salty afternoon snack. Ha! When I'm finished, I'll tell her it's been nice doing business with her! Talk about the coup de grace.

Wednesday, September 4th --

What a busy, intriguing first week it has been.

My class has been blah in terms of intellectual talent. I think it's safe to say there are no Al Einsteins in this bunch, nobody that invokes visions of Will Hunting. Some of these kids are going to struggle with algebra.

Once upon a time I think I was inspired about teaching. Nowadays, I just try to get through the day so I can go home and smoke weed.

Personally I think I'm still very professional. I have a lesson plan and I stick to it. I make sure all the bases are covered. I'd say I'm an above average teacher. My boss doesn't necessarily agree.

Ah, it pains me to write these words: my boss is a Woman. Her name is Karen Johnson. She's actually a year younger than me. She's the vice principal of the school. All the math and science teachers report to her.

I remember the day when I found out she got the Vice Principal job. Karen started in our city's public school system a year after I did. Like me, she taught math. In my first year of teaching, before Karen came along, I won the district math teacher award. It was a thrill. I was young and my whole career was ahead of me. My Dad, who always wanted me to practice law like him, was proud of me for the first time in my life. And Karen Fucking Johnson came along and for the next three consecutive years, she won the math teacher award.

Last year, when it came time to replace our Vice Principal, Cedric Haley, who after a 44 year tenure, died of AIDS, both Karen and I put our names in for consideration. Up to that point, I suppose you could say our relationship was terse. Karen is clinically obese and I've never had any respect for people that can't keep their weight under control. If you saw me today, you might think that's hypocritical since I'm maybe slightly overweight. Nothing like Karen. Actually, Karen is not morbidly obese. She's definitely large though. I will say this for her -- she's one of those large Women who seem to have fat in all the right places. What I mean by that is not that I'm attracted to her in any way. I only mean she packs all that fat into her ass and thighs. She has huge tits, and if you were to look at her face you'd think she wasn't that fat. I don't understand how, but she doesn't have a double chin like so many fat Women. Oddly enough, her face is quite respectable.

Karen always dresses to the nines (black stockings, high heels, dresses, make-up, pearls, etc) and I'm convinced this is how she ended up becoming the vice principal. Either way, as I hinted at, we have never really hit it off. She was always so LOUD and opinionated in meetings, drinking her Diet Cokes out of a straw, smearing red lipstick all over the place, constantly tossing her hair as though she were some babe. Before she got the VP role, we had a professional relationship. We tended to avoid each other. Though I will say when we passed in the hallway there always seemed to be some kind of coldness that radiated off her, something approaching animosity.

When Karen became VP, our relationship changed. She began badgering me almost monthly on my teaching processes. She sat in on more than one of my classes. We really didn't agree on much of anything at all. Karen has this aloof way of dealing with me, like she thinks she is better than me or something. The worst part is that only a month ago she put me on a performance improvement plan. I was so furious. She even brought in Barbara Clinton, the old-bag school principal, and they formally wrote me up. I swear Karen was holding back a grin. I wanted to roll her up into a ball and bowl her down the interstate into the path of an oncoming semi. Then again, I'm not sure which would get hurt more -- Karen or the semi.

Anyway, it's not as if I need this job financially or anything like that. It's just something to pass the time. I'd be bored if I didn't have something to do. I could play golf, but I suck at golf. So I teach kids.

Back to Karen and the events of this past week. On Wednesday, Karen rudely walked into my class five minutes before the end of the third period. She knows I have fourth period off, which is the time window from 11 to 12 in the morning.

"I want you to sit in on Talia's class," she said. It was more of an order than a request.

For a moment, I was about to ask why would I want to sit in on Talia's class. For fuck's sake, the Girl teaches kindergarten. But two things stopped me from opening my mouth:

1. My dad has hinted in the past that he wants me to stick with my job. I'm afraid he might stop supporting me if I don't stay with it. That's a scary thought. I enjoy my BMW and my nice condo. I'd hate to lose either one of them.

2. It was Talia Yount and this would give me an opportunity to study her in action.

So off we went. Me walking and Karen bumbling down the hall, toward Talia's class. She was on the other side of the building, as we designed the school so the younger and older kids don't cross paths.

When we arrived, I took in the sight of Talia. Good gosh, she was dressed so informally. She wore this weird satin blouse that I think was a Salvador Dali reprint. She also had this tiny stud diamond earring in her nose, effectively flaunting her disregard for school policy. Topping it off were her jeans shorts. I couldn't believe she was allowed to wear such an outfit. Sure it was hot out, it still being late summer, but the jeans were on the small side. They weren't cut-offs, but they might as well have been. The best part from my perspective was that they didn't leave much to the imagination. We entered the room from behind her, and I had a chance to get a nice rear view. Talia had a terrific ass! Like I said, she had these impressive protruding hipbones, but her waist was very slender and the jeans rode high on her ass. She flexed one hip at an angle. Because she was so young, still in her early 20s, Talia's ass had such a nice bubble. I suspect she had a body type that would cause her ass to flatten out in a few years, but right now it was this perfect, understated piece of flesh.

We sat down behind the kindergarten kids and I got a chance to study her as she taught. Talia made these wild, overly-expressive hand gestures and constantly raised and lowered her voice. The children were all entranced. Rather than children, she referred to them as "people." I suppose it was her silly, liberal way of treating them like adults:

-People, we did a lovely job with our art projects today. I’m very proud of you!

-Okay people, let’s gather around and do the alphabet together.

-Remember to treat the people around you the way you would like to be treated.

Yuck.

"Now THAT'S how you teach," said Karen to me with such condescension that I wanted to make a punching bag out of her stomach.

I wasn't really that interested in how Talia taught though. I was focused on her pussy.

Not that I could see it, but her tight shorts didn't leave much to the imagination. I swear she adjusted her stance soon after Karen and I settled in our child-sized chairs in the back of the room (poor Karen looked like a circus-elephant on a stool).

What I mean is that Talia turned so her body was facing directly toward me and arched her back every so slightly until her body was bow-shaped, her navel pushing a few inches in front of her.

The result was spectacular. I have a very keen eye for this sort of thing, as I consider myself a great student of the female form. By arching her back, Talia's crotch took on a near-camel toe appearance. No, I couldn't see her slit, but you know how jeans are. The zipper-strip presents a Vagina-like impression for the man with imagination. Due to her prominent hip bones, Talia's crotch took on this wonderful Y-shape, if you get my drift. I could see the outlines of her mound of Venus, this tantalizing biscuit presented without pretense. My cock sprung to life in my pants, so much so that I blushed and adjusted my groin in an effort to hide it.

I began to ponder what "it" must look like. I mean, I now had a great idea of its shape. But I wondered about her pubes and how she might go about grooming her most important patch of hair. When I think about this, I get such a thrill. What I'm getting at is that I have a fascination with this part of a Woman's body. Some might call it an addiction. And here's a simple math equation for you: as far as I'm concerned, when it comes to feminine grooming choices, pubes = Vagina. What I mean by that is that when a Woman gets down to the business of tending to her pubic hairs, she is engaging in the grooming of her Vagina. Just as when she applies oils and various health care products, she is doing the same. Yes indeed, I guess you could say I am guilty of being cunt-obsessed.

In the case of Talia, my immediate conclusion was that she definitely didn't go bald down there. A crunchy counterculture chick like her would take a certain degree of pride in her patch. But would she choose to just let it go, like a forest? Probably not, I decided. The 70s were over. The modern Woman didn't like to just let things grow. And even though Talia was part hippie, she also had a tiny hint of New York Cosmo Girl in her, with her silly modern art blouses and what not.

On the other hand, she wasn't likely a landing strip sort of Girl either. No way. I decided Talia either trims her Vagina with great care, so that it forms a perfect "v." Or perhaps she trims it in such a way that it becomes a soft, female soul-patch, a nice little tuft if you will.

I wonder if Talia colors her pussy. Maybe it’s a punk blue color. Or better yet, what if it’s dyed pink? Wouldn't that be just perfect?

Karen's voice brought me out of my trance. "James? JAMES! Are you even listening to me?"

"Oh, sorry," I said.

"Sometimes I wonder where your head is," the bitch said. She gave me some know-it-all lecture about the way Talia engaged with her students and listened to them. "That's right, James. She actually listens to them!" After a while, Karen's voice began to fade out again, as I nodded my head robotically. I was too busy focusing on a little patch of denim. In fact, I think I'll focus on it right now and put my hand to good use.

Friday, September 6th –

Oh my God. Incredible Friday for me. I had a chance to chat with Talia during lunch today. I ate a roast beef sandwich, while she ate some shit called Kenwah (sic) or something. Talia is so fucking hot. And she's so sweet too. I swear she was batting her eyelashes at me. I think she might want me. She was telling me all these stories about New York City. I have to admit she's an awfully friendly Girl. At one point she put her hand on my knee as she was speaking. I hope she didn't realize how excited it made me.

Another thing I liked was something Talia didn't do. Whenever I'm with Lori and Lori wears a skirt, she's constantly pulling the skirt toward her knees whenever she sits down. As if I'm going to be able to see anything anyhow. It's not like Lori's skirts are that short. They are usually knee level.

Talia, on the other hand, didn't do it once the entire time we ate together. And her light purple skirt was considerably shorter than the ones Lori usually wears. I wouldn't describe Talia's skirt as slutty. But it was quite sexy to be sure. It was cut maybe three inches above the top of her knees. And Talia didn't care at all. She did constantly cross and uncross her fantastic legs as she relayed all these stories to me with such feminine aplomb. So many times, I got tantalizingly close to seeing her panties. When I think of the rustling sound her skirt made each time she moved her legs, it makes me want to grab myself.

Not only that, but her legs were something to be hold. They are a tad pixie-like. Very thin, especially her ankles. Despite being of average female height and having protruding hip bones, I can't imagine Talia weighs much more than 105 pounds. She has an ankle bracelet that caught my eye as well. Plus, she wore flip flops. I don't know how she gets away with it. But I noticed her pretty little feet and her toenails were painted a dark crimson color. Yum. Time to go skewer me some democratic pussy.

Saturday, September 7th --

Frustration.

That's the best way to describe how I feel right now. I went shopping today with Lori. She looked beautiful, like she always does. It's hard not to feel proud, holding her hand as we go through the mall. She's so striking-looking -- tall, slender, moves with an effortless grace -- I swear the Girl must have taken posture classes. She wore a dark skirt, conservatively cut below the knee and a white turtleneck (first sign of fall in the air today). The turtleneck hugged her upper body and her tits pressed proudly forward, a pair of sirens for all the men in the mall. Lori let me feel her melons through her shirt a couple of months ago. (She drank a cosmopolitan that night -- I've been trying to get her to drink cosmos ever since with no luck.) Her ta-tas were so firm and ripe. She was on my lap and I had my chin tucked against beautiful neck -- the smell was intoxicating. I nearly lost it in my pants. When she left that night I barely touched myself before I exploded all over the bathroom floor. It took me five minutes to clean it up.

Anyway, since then I haven't been allowed to touch her breasts. Lori said I didn't touch nicely (gimmee a break). It hasn’t been easy, but I have honored her desires. She is worth it, so gorgeous and classy is she. So what if she has a bitchy side. When we get married, it will be the best night of my life. Just to think of her pussy (definitely shaved to a perfect (v) -- she told that same night she allowed me to grope her breasts) drives me near insane!

So the mall today...ugh, it was painful. I had to deal with my pain as soon as I got home and I think I'll have to do it again when I'm done with this journal entry. We went to a Women's designer clothing store. I bought Lori all these nice clothes while she chatted with the female sales associate as if I weren't there. When it was over and I had spent all that money, she barely said thank you. Maybe a part of me enjoys treating her like a queen, but it would be nice to get more than a peck on the cheek. Don't get me wrong, I nearly melted when she kissed my cheek, but still.

After that we walked by the Tiffany store and Lori got all excited about a pair of $2,000 platinum earrings. She started giving me the eye. I told her no, I was finished shopping for her today. Her response was to play with her hair and give me those puppy dog eyes. She knows how it drives me insane when she runs her long fingernails through that perfectly straight hair.

"If I get you the earrings, do you think we might be able to re-enact the night from a couple of months ago, remember? When you had the Cosmo?"

She thought about it. "Maybe," she said.

"Only can we take it a little bit further? I'm not talking about sex, uh making love," I said, catching myself. "But maybe some touching?"

Lori rolled her eyes at me. "James, what have I told you about that kind of talk? You know I'm a conservative Girl."

"I'm sorry, Lori," I practically whimpered.

But my apology wasn't enough. Lori's face got all hard. "What have I told you about pushing me sexually, James?"

"I'm sorry," I said again. "Just forget it. I love you and I'm willing to wait," I said meekly.

"If you love me so much, then you can go have a visit with Rosy Palm this afternoon."

I swear I think I saw a tiny hint of a smile when she said it. It was the third time she told me to visit Rosy Palm. The first was the Cosmo Night. The second was maybe a month ago. And the third was today. My face turned bright red and I had no response.

"Then again," she said, again giving me those puppy-dog eyes. "It would be nice if you didn't have to visit your other Girlfriend," she said, poking at my right hand with her finger.

Again, I was speechless. Lori simply held out her hand, a signal that the conversation was over.

On the ride back to her condo, she acted as though the whole discussion hadn't taken place. She talked about this upcoming fundraiser we were going to, and about her sister's husband and the promotion he just got. I barely could hear her voice. All I was thinking about was her telling me to visit Rosy Palm.

I don't know why, but it brings on such mixed emotions for me. On the one hand, it's so frustrating to hear the Woman you love tell you something that is so embarrassing. In a way, it pains me to think that Lori knows what I'm up to when she's not around. But I respect her desires to stay celibate until marriage. And finally, I couldn't help but feel this odd sort of excitement as I replayed her harsh words again and again in my head. My dick hadn't gone soft since she said it. Something about Lori's bitchy side was pushing certain buttons deep within me. When I got home, I barely touched myself before I exploded all over the bathroom floor just as I had during Cosmo Night. What a relief of all that pent up pressure. My balls are beginning to ache again when I think about what she said and the way she casually poked at my hand. I think I need to visit Rosy again.

Tuesday, September 10th --

Damn it all to hell. Things never quite work out like I want them to.

It all has to do with Talia. I think I might have misinterpreted some of her body language and, as a result, made a very grave mistake. It is clear now that Talia is, or was, just naturally friendly and had no interest in me sexually. I have to say, when it comes right down to it, she turned out to be somewhat of a bitch. Are they all that way? Maybe I'm overreacting, and Talia was more irritated than outright infuriated. Still, there's something I saw in her today -- a flash of toughness -- which I'd never seen before. Maybe the mean streets of New York City rubbed off on her. Maybe toughness isn't the right word. Street smarts. That's the phrase I'm looking for. Talia has street smarts.

Here's how it went down: I had the kids out at recess. For some reason, probably because she's new, Talia had her kids out near our kids. It's always a little dangerous to have the 13-year-olds and the five-year-olds all together, but everyone was getting along. Plus it gave me a chance to talk to Talia who looked ravishing in her paisley miniskirt, ankle-high boots, scarf, and leather jacket. I couldn't stop imagining that delightful little gash nestled between those thighs as she stood and spoke casually to me about the time she and a friend danced drunk on the bar-top at Red Rocks, this joint on the west side of NYC. It's funny when you think about it. Here she is telling me this story and all I can think about is her pussy.

So, don't ask me why, but when she stopped talking, I just blurted it out:

"How would you like to come back to my place after school today for an afternoon bang bang?"

Don't ask me why I said "bang bang." It will go down as one of those mysteries of the modern age.

"WHAT?"

"Uh, do you want to, uh, you know, do it?"

Talia just glared at me, totally speechless for a good ten seconds. Finally she said, "I was told you were engaged. And even if you aren't the answer is no."

"I am engaged," I said, trying to keep my composure. "But you're so ripe and I want to take a bite out of you. Teach you a few lessons." I winked, trying to feign confidence, and not let her initial brush-off dissuade me.

"Teach ME a few lessons," she glowered. "What the heck is the matter with you?" She softened. "Okay, look, James, we just MET each other a week ago. We're teaching children right now. You aren't at all my type. And frankly, I'm kind of shocked that you would proposition me right off the bat, especially given that you are engaged."

"Oh, sorry," I said. Gosh, I sure said that to Women a lot.

"You should be," she said, shaking her head disapprovingly. "What would your poor fiancé think?"

"Look, I'm really sorry, Talia," I said. "I thought you were giving me signals."

"Signals? What kind of signals?"

"Just- uh, the way you dress, and the way you act toward me."

"You're being really vague. And you didn't answer my question. What would your fiancé think?"

"She doesn't put out," I complained. "She's waiting for marriage."

"That's not my problem. And that's not an answer to my question. You're quite evasive. I have boys in my class who speak with more truth and integrity than you."

That one hurt. I just stood there, not knowing what else to do.

"So," Talia persisted. "What would your fiancé say? Maybe I should ask her myself."

I felt the hair stand up in back of my neck. I'm sure she was just bluffing. But still!

"Please, Talia. I made a mistake."

"Yeah you made a mistake."

"Please don't tell her."

But Talia was not looking at me anymore. She was focused on a couple of the children in her class, two boys, who were now whaling the crap out of each other.

"Tommy! Michael! Cut it out!" she said, breaking into a fast walk. And she was gone.

INTERLUDE

The night of September 11th

RING RING!

Lori: Hello?

Talia: Hi. Is this Lori?

Lori: Yes. Who is this?

Talia: Hi, Lori. My name is Talia Yount. This is awkward, but I decided to give you a call out of respect for you as a Woman...because I think it's important that you are aware of something so that you don't get hurt.

Lori: Okay. (Deep breath) Who are you?

Talia: I teach kindergarten at Hillcrest school. I'm so sorry to bother you. The only reason I'm calling is that I think it's important for Women to look out for other Women. This is concerning your-- uh, I think he's your fiancé, James Pendergrass?

Lori: Yes, he's my fiancé. What did he do? Is he okay?

Talia: Oh, he's not hurt or anything. Look, this isn't easy for me, but it's the right thing to do. I thought you needed to know that James hit on me, rather crudely at school today. Of course I told him no. I knew from speaking to another teacher that he was engaged, and I would hate to see a sister get hurt. So I thought you should know.

Lori: That bastard...

Talia: I want to reassure you again that nothing happened between us. I totally shut him down. Anyway, I'll let you go. I'm so sorry. Take care.

Lori: Wait-- what was your name again? Talia?

Talia: Yes.

Lori: Thank you, Talia. I really appreciate you going out of your way to tell me about this.

Talia: Of course! I have a strong moral code. Sometimes guys misjudge me because of the way I present myself. I'm sort of counterculture and it makes guys think I'm easy. But I'm not. I'm actually quite the opposite, and I have some strong views when it comes to males and infidelity.

Lori: Me too. I mean what you said about infidelity, not the counterculture part. I'm very straight-laced.

Talia: I know, right? Too many guys think they can get away with murder. In an ideal world, it shouldn't be that way.

Lori: I am not at all surprised about James. Do you have a minute, sweetie?

Talia: Um, sure. I just finished dinner.

Lori: James is such a child. I think in a way that appealed to me about him. He's older than me, but, uh, this sounds odd – in a way I felt like he was the type of man I could control. Does that make any sense?

Talia: That makes a lot of sense.

Lori: I was brought up in a conservative family. I told James I wouldn't have sex until marriage. At times he seems to accept it, but at other times he pressures me. Lately that's happened a lot. But my answer to him has always been “No.” If he loves me, he'll accept it.

Talia: I respect that. You want to keep your virginity until marriage.

Lori: (pauses, lowers voice) Between you and me, that's not exactly true, but that's what I wanted my future hubby to believe.

Talia: (laughing) I totally get it, Lori. There's a difference between the type of man you sleep with and the type you might want to spend your life with.

Lori: Exactly. This sounds materialistic. Heck, it is materialistic, but I already feel like I can trust you. James' father is a wealthy, successful attorney and James has plenty of money. I thought he could give me financial security and I'd be able to keep him in check. But more than that, I honestly thought James had some good qualities. They just needed to be brought out, while I the same time I figured I could suppress the bad things about him. James has the usual raging male hormones, but that's something I thought I could control. Obviously I was wrong.

Talia: Not necessarily.

Lori: What do you mean?

Talia: You might not realize it, but you may have been presented with the perfect opportunity to get exactly what you want out of your relationship with James. As it so happens, I have a good deal of experience with what you are eluding to.

Lori: Oh? Pray tell.

Talia: How would you like to achieve an incredible amount of control over your relationship with James? I'm talking about something beyond your wildest expectations?

Lori: I think I'd like it a lot.

Talia: If you trust me, I think you'll be stunned -- in a good way -- with the results. And I would be thrilled to play a big role in helping you get what you want. I'd be more than thrilled. I'd be honored, and I know I'd be doing some good for the world and for female-kind. This is important to me.

Lori: Wow. That's pretty intense. But I like it. Please tell me more, hon.

Friday, September 13th --

I guess it's true what they say about Friday the 13th.

If only I knew Talia would have been so vindictive about the whole thing. Then again, in a way the bitch is right that I have nobody to blame but myself.

Today, I was walking across the parking lot to my car and Talia confronted me. She was wearing a sundress, not that it matters, though I'd be lying if I didn't notice the way the dress clung to certain angles of her body.

She launched right into it. Not even a hello.

"I thought you should know I intend to speak to Karen about your conduct as soon as she gets back from her trip on Monday."

"WHAT?!" I couldn't believe it. This was the end of my career. I suppose I should have been grateful that she offered me the chance to talk her out of it, or maybe grateful that Karen Johnson is currently attending a conference.

"Please Talia," I said. "I'll be fired. I'm sorry I spoke crudely to you. Get over it."

"Oh, I guess I need to speak with your fiancé as well then."

I bit my tongue. "It will never happen again. Okay? Are you satisfied?"

"Not even close," she said. That's an empty promise as far as I'm concerned. Sure you'll never hit on ME again, but I'm sure you won't stop your philandering ways. Unless you pay a big price for your actions."

I couldn't believe how calm she was about the whole thing. I was going out of my skull and she just stood there, calmly relaying her intentions to destroy my life. I wanted to strangle her, but I'm not a violent person. I asked her if there's anything I could do. ANYTHING to avoid her sharing the information with Karen Johnson, or Lori.

Talia paused and looked off at the neighboring tennis courts before turning her surprisingly strong gaze back on me. "You can tell Karen Johnson yourself. That might work better for you. It will allow you to confess your transgressions and maybe she'll take pity on you."

"No way," I said. "C'mon, what else can I do?"

Talia stared at the tennis courts again. "There's another option, but I doubt you'll be up for it."

"What is it?" I said, not hiding my desperation.

"Forget it," she said. "You aren't mature enough to handle it."

I wanted to prove to her that it wasn't true, that I was mature. "Maybe I'll surprise you," I said.

"Have you ever heard of male chastity belts?" she said, out of the blue.

I had no idea what they were.

Talia reached into her purse and removed her car keys, an unspoken signal that the conversation was coming to a close. "Then it looks like you have some homework for the weekend. Get on the internet and do some research."

"Fine. I'll take a look," I said sarcastically, not at all thrilled that she told me I had fucking homework.

Talia folded her arms and gave me another really hard stare. "Look at me, James, and listen very carefully. I am not messing around. On Monday morning, meet me here in the gymnasium an hour before the morning bell. I expect a decision. Either you are going to tell Karen Johnson what happened, or I am going to tell Karen Johnson what happened. Or there’s the third option: you are going to agree to be immediately fitted that evening for a male chastity belt. Got it?"

I got it.

When I got home and got online, I realized the gravity of my situation. Male chastity belts were torture! At least that was my initial reaction. It was something out of the middle ages. They were these diabolical devices that were fitted around your dick and balls and in many cases kept you from being able to cum, or even get a fucking erection!

I read further. These belts had gotten quite popular. A group of crazy, bossy Women used them as a device to actually control their men, keep them from messing around. But it went even deeper. Men in chastity belts often were not allowed out of their chastity belts for long periods of time. The belts came with locks and keys and often times the Women held the keys and wouldn't unlock the male. The Women often forced the men to do things since the men had such a powerful motivation to do what the key holder told them to do. As I write this, I feel a chill.

The crazy thing is that as I think about Talia I can't stop getting an erection. The thought of what Talia wants to get me to do is a bit exciting to me. I have no idea why. Would she actually hold the key? For how long will I be forced to wear the belt? As crazy as it seemed, maybe this was preferable to losing my job. In a way it's kind of kinky, I guess. Hell, I'm so horny all the time that everything is kinky. Shit this whole thing is crazy. I don't even know what to think. Obviously I don’t actually want to wear a chastity belt. But then why am I hard?

END PART ONE