Extra-Curricular

 

Waking up and not wanting to get out of bed. That was the first sign; when you know that if you crawl out of bed and into the hellish college surroundings then you won’t be able to escape the fact that you are unlovable. I felt like that for a long time. If you get told it enough it is easy to start to believe it. Every relationship I had was mad, exaggerated. I became infatuated with anyone who spent five minutes getting to know me. Then they would grow bored and leave me and I was once more unloved, lonely and ugly. So instead of making friends I worked and worked.

 

The bell sounded the end of the lesson. I looked up from my essay that I had been writing quietly and watched as my classmates filed out of the room. I slowly packed away my things till at last I was alone in the classroom with my teacher. Mr Harding was not     well-liked. At first many of the girls had been taken in by his deep brown eyes and black hair and his broad shoulders. But a twisted sense of humour and a way of teasing students who got questions wrong had made him suddenly undesirable. “Congratulations Sarah, you have correctly identified that Blake’s the Lamb is on one level about a lamb.”

In a strange way I have always liked scary teachers, always felt drawn to them, and I rose to the challenge. Our arguments about novels often became shouting matches, and I found myself trying to find controversial things to say about literature just to have him yell at me. “Lily, come here and show me what you have written.” I picked my essay off the table and walked over to his desk, everyone else had filed out of the room already and I was alone in the classroom, I found myself smiling to myself. He read through the sheet quickly then he put it to one side. “This essay is good, but not good enough,” He began to go through the mistakes and explain what was wrong with my interpretations. As he went on I began to blush a brighter and brighter pink. He got to the last line then smiled. A wolfish smile, like he was about to eat me up. “Now,” He sighed wistfully. “How do you suggest we resolve these problems?” I tried to stutter a response but for some reason it wouldn’t come, a strange excited feeling had come over me. Somehow I knew he didn’t have extra classes in mind. He took me by the wrist and led me to the board, he placed my palms flat against the board, above my head and pressed my body against the board. He took my chin gently in his hands and twisted it to face him. Looked harshly into my eyes, deeply, as though evaluating my personality. “Do you think you deserve to be punished?” He was actually asking for my consent. I thought for a moment; should I give myself up to this man, who is almost 10 years older than myself? A realisation hit me; I was drawn to his strength and he knew it. No one else had ever noticed me in this way, I had never been found sexy, I was just Lily; the English nerd.

 

I smiled at him in a dreamy way, completely intoxicated. “Yes Sir, it’s the punishment I deserve.” The Wolfish grin returned, I was his lamb. “Ten spanks should do the trick.”

The first spank struck hard, harder than I was expecting, but it didn’t hurt, I didn’t squeal or cry like I had expected, it was simply pure excitement. My face flushed pink. His face came to my ear. “Count them.”

 

“One”

I wonder if I could have started on two. I didn’t dare find out.

“Two”

I was moaning.

 

“Three”

 

Becoming excited.

 

“Four..

 

Five..

 

Six ..”

 

(In quick succession)

 

“Seven”

 

Growing wet.

 

“Eight”

 

Feeling hot.

 

“Nine”

 

Gasping with excitement.

 

His voice was in my ear again. “You are enjoying this far too much,” Mr Harding informed me with much amusement. “An extra hard one to finish you off. My kinky student.”

 

A short scream escaped my lips before I counted, triumphant. “Ten.”

I collapsed on the floor, never had I been so excited. He moved away, I suddenly noticed a bulge in his trousers, his face was also flushed. He smiled at me for a third time. “I think Miss Cassidy, that the only way we will be able to properly develop your talents will be in after school sessions.”

 

I had been wrong, extra-curricular activities had been exactly what he had in mind.

 

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Over the next few days I was even more unsociable than usual. I wondered from lesson to lesson in a daze. How had he known? How did he realise that I was a submissive before I knew myself? I felt a mixture of being touched and at the same time violated, as though he read my very soul like a novel.

Then at Registration on Friday I got a note from my form teacher. “Extra-Curricular English Classes, 3pm, Tuesdays.”

 

Normal English lessons were a thing of the past, I sat in Mr Harding’s lessons in a state of fear and sexual arousal. He would direct a question to me and I would blush furiously and mumble something. He on the other hand found it extremely amusing and with no subtlety continued to send a barrage of questions in my direction. He only stopped when other members of the class started to pick up on it. For a while, I was left to wallow in my gentle humiliation. But at the end of the lesson he decided that a little more was on the cards. “Lily, work to the front please” I breathed in deeply and marched to the front of the class. He glanced through it, and a little something caught his eye and made him smile. “Lily, please copy this doodle onto the board and enlarge it for the class.” Horrified, I suddenly realised that he had stumbled upon a doodle that may have been of him. I picked up a board-pen and shaking, drew what can only be described as an extremely poor likeness of my favourite teacher, with little love hearts surrounding it. The class suddenly became extremely interested in the lesson. Once again I felt the pinkness rising to my cheeks. “Now, Lily, your attentions are extremely sweet, but I really don’t think a relationship between a student and a teacher is entirely appropriate. Do you?” Frozen to the spot I could only gawp at him and the class in horror. In one quick motion he tore the essay in two. “ Rewrite it, without the love notes.” Then he handed it back to me and walked back to my seat, seriously considering suicide while my classmates roared with laughter. “Lily and Harding sitting a tree…” What are they, eight? I lay my head down on the desk and stayed like that till the class was gone.

Mr Harding prodded me in the rib and at last I uncurled. “Come on Lily, I need to the lock the door, and unless you fancy staying here all night I think you’d better get moving.” I laughed gently and suddenly found I was able to speak to him again. “You really are wicked.” His eyes lit up. “If you weren’t so cute then it wouldn’t be so much fun.”

I was standing now, bag in hand. I really had no response for him. “If I was you,” he said firmly, “I would get that essay finished by Tuesday.”

 

“Yes sir.”

 

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Cute? I’m not cute. Am I? I’m unlovable, I’m bitchy, I’m a nerd. I am not cute. But then why do I keep catching myself in the mirror and thinking, hey, not bad. 5’4” pretty rosebud mouth, sweet little nose, heart shaped face and auburn waves to frame it. I little bit too curvy, 10 stone is too much for a 17 year old girl. I like my breasts though, secretly. 34 C and light pink nipples. But still, I don’t think he could think I was cute based on those. I don’t exactly flash them. In fact the word most people would use to describe me is frigid. I’m not frigid.

 

Tuesday morning arrived and my I had 4 heart-thumping periods before English. I arrived at the classroom full of expectation. I thought that once again he would throw a thousand questions in my direction. But there was nothing. He picked other students every time. I rose my hand, but still it was ignored. I stared at him, he did not return my stare. I felt hurt. Was I not cute after all? Somehow his ambivalence was much worse than his attentions. I couldn’t concentrate and my achievements at the end of the lesson were limited.

The class all exited. I sat still in my seat. I didn’t even bother to put my things away, I just sat and watched as my teacher stood up and wrote on the board.

EXTRA-CURRICULAR ENGLISH

 

I quivered in my seat. “Lily, have you brought that essay?” I nodded in affirmation. “Yes sir” How could I already be wet? “Well bring it to the front.” I walked slowly up to the front. I handed him the essay. As He read through it he addressed me.

“From now on in these sessions you will obey my every command. I will try to ensure that it does not go beyond something you can endure, but it is necessary to have a safe word. Your safe word is ‘Blackberry.’ If there is something you cannot endure then you will say that word and I will stop and we will talk through the problem. Understand so far?”

“Yes Sir”

“Good. You are also currently addressing me correctly, do it wrong and you will be punished. These sessions can continue as long as I wish them to. You are in my control and unless you state the safe word I can and will do whatever I feel like. I will also stress that you are agreeing to this consensually and can therefore refuse to continue with these lessons. Got all that?”

“Yes Sir”

“Good, now get undressed.”

I froze, this was the first test. “Wh..What!?”

I failed.

He stood and grabbed me by the hair. “This essay is disgusting. I am going to punish you for it.” A slap to my face. “You will address me as Mr Harding or as Sir.” A second slap to the face. “You are not allowed to question my authority.” A final slap which sent me flying to the floor as he simultaneously released my hair. I rushed to undress. In my bra and knickers, I looked up at him pleading him to let me keep my underwear on. “Get up.”

He sat me down on the high backed computer chair at his desk. Then he drew out from his desk draw a pair of handcuffs, a blindfold and a short wooden ruler.

He handcuffed my hands tightly behind the chair and then blindfolded me. Then he began to read my essay aloud, for every spelling mistake, every grammar mistake, every little thing that he disagreed with he would hit me with the ruler on my inner thighs. At first I felt pain as the wood burnt against my skin but as I warmed up once again I was experiencing ecstasy. I was so aroused I began to arch my back in the hope he would brush my aching clitoris. No such luck I was left thoroughly excited and with no hope of release. “Please…” I began to moan as the blows continued to fall. A slap to the face. “Please Sir,” His voice rang in my ears exciting me all the more.

“Please Sir may I come?” I felt suddenly ashamed of what I had just said.

“Really enjoying this huh? This is meant to be a punishment you little slut.” He made me feel disgusting, but it only heightened my arousal. He laughed at my moans and slid my knickers around my ankles. Humiliated, I gasped, but was suddenly silenced as his finger touched my clitoris. I jumped against my bonds. “I don’t want you to come until you are given permission. Miss Cassidy.”

“Yes Sir.” I yelped at the realisation that my English teacher was playing with me. But at the same time I couldn’t wait for his touch.

His tongue hit against my clitoris in fast strokes. I had never experienced anything like it and I was immediately sweating and writhing, and feeling close to the edge of an orgasm. “Please, sir.” I said it over and over, as though I was chanting. He plunged his tongue into my hole and I rose up onto it. Then he returned to my aching bud. He was sucking and nibbling it. Swirling his tongue in small circles. The feeling was overwhelming and despite having no permission, I came.

As the excitement wore off the blindfold was removed. Mr Harding slapped me so hard I felt sure the chair would topple. He grabbed my throat and screamed at me. “You little whore! How dare you.” Then he unclipped the handcuffs. Forced me to my knees and continued to yell abusively. Then he picked up a board pen and wrote in quick clear strokes:

 

ESSAY DUE NEXT TUESDAY: WHY A GOOD SLAVE DOESN’T COME BEFORE SHE HAS PERMISSION     3000 WORDS.

 

With that I was grabbed by the hair and flung from his room still almost naked, and the door slammed shut behind me. My clothes followed me. I dressed and then ran home.

 

End of Part One.

 

Part 2

 

Right, here goes 2000 words? No 3000 words. Ok... Except it is not ok, 3000 words is a lot, more than four sides typed. And I sit at the computer staring at the blank page knowing that I am never going to be able to write him an essay 3000 words long on why I shouldn’t’t have come.  I write the title and click on the word count. Why a good slave doesn’t come without permission. Ten words. Bloody hell. So I start.

 

“The statement why a good slave must not come without permission is a statement and not really a question. Were I going to write an effective essay I would use the question “A good Slave does not come without permission” Discuss.”

 

A good start, I felt the need to enrage him a little; make him laugh at my insolence; make him want to punish me. Already I was intoxicated by the relationship. My teacher had spanked me and then he had given me an orgasm. The thought made me shiver. I tried everything to finish the essay but all I could think of in response was that a slave must not come without their master’s permission because they have given themselves up to their master and therefore have no choice but to obey turning it into 3000 words was impossible. In the end I pushed it to 1000 and then gave up finishing with the line. “A master can sometimes let the misdemeanour of coming without permission go unpunished.” I was torn between hoping this would be the case and desperately yearning for the excitement of a good spanking.

 

Once again in his lessons I found myself completely ignored. I might as well have been a piece of the furniture. My hand rose for every question but he all he gave me was sharp looks. His deep chocolate eyes burning, as though he was deeply offended by my presence. Eventually I grew sick of it. For the third time that lesson I was the only one who had a response to his question. He was about to pick on someone else, when I spoke loudly.

 

“Mr Harding, I have had my hand up all lesson and I have a response to your question.”

“Thank you Lily, but I think I will give someone more polite the opportunity to respond.” He said in curt tones. The class was watching on in a calm, bored fashion. I was flushing with anger.

“I think that in the Lamb, Blake contradicts himself considerably. He says we should be meek and mild and at the same time he was a revolutionary.”

“Go and stand in the corner.”

 

What? Did he mean that, was he really sending me to stand in the corner. Just for answering his question. The Class were roused once again. Somehow English is more interesting the second I begin to be humiliated. I looked at him opened mouth still in the middle of my analysis.

 

“W..wh..”

 

“Get in that corner right now.” Mr Harding was speaking so softly and calmly it made me quiver. “I won’t ask you again.”

I climbed up out of my chair and began to shuffle over to the corner at the back of the room. My face was rapidly becoming a deep scarlet shade. Finally I reached my destination and stood facing the wall. Mr Harding continued the lesson as though everything was normal. And I stood in the corner till the lesson was over. I felt like crying I was so embarrassed. Finally my torment was over, or at least I thought it would be. The lesson ended and the class filed out but I still stood in the corner. I could here the sound of shuffling papers at the front of the room. When I turned my head to see my teacher looked up from his marking and smiled. “Face the back, Lily”

 

I waited and waited and waited. I was so bored I counted anything and everything. The cracks in the wallpaper. I revised quotes, tried to remember all the square and cube numbers. All to no avail, when he came over to me at last, I felt like I was going mental. He grasped me by the shoulders and spun me around, like a little kid. “Now Lily, next lesson you are not going to be a naughty girl are you. You are going to behave and be polite.”

“Yes sir…”

Tears were welling up in my eyes. I hadn’t enjoyed the experience one bit.

“Now, now, Lily, big girls don’t cry do they? Off you go. Run along.”

 

Tuesday English lesson I tried my best to be a good little girl… oh God! Do I really think of myself like that? I sat quietly and did all my work. I didn’t chat to anyone and I worked hard to make sure everything was neat. I didn’t want to give him the opportunity to humiliate me again, but it was more than that, I didn’t want to disappoint him. In a way though I did, he seemed to be trying to tease me into challenging him. Saying things he knew would annoy me. But for the first time in my life I managed to hold my tongue. Then before I knew it, the words “EXTRA-CURRICULAR  ENGLISH” were written across the board and the rest of the class had disappeared. Here we go..

 

I pulled the essay out of my bag carefully and walked up to the desk. I laid it down gently, I knew it was inadequate and I was about to punished, then I walked back to my seat. He picked up the essay and read the opening. Mr Harding looked up at me and gave me his best wolfish grin as though he was going to gobble me up, he may have even licked his lips. Then he read it to the end. I’d included the word count at the bottom, but he knew that there was not enough words, he’d known the moment he set the word count.

 

He stood up and marched down the aisle to wear I was sat. Then he grabbed me by the hair and dragged me to the front of the room. He threw me against the board,  whispered “How many words were you supposed to write?”

He took my left arm and pinned it behind my back while I moaned “3000, Sir.”  Then as he pulled the arm up higher so I let out small cries he whispered again. “And how many have you written?” The pain was shooting through my arm now. “1126, Sir.”

“And do you think that is enough?” He took my right arm and bent it back in the same way.

“No Sir,” tears were forming from the difficult position.

“So you agree that you deserve to be punished.” He’d changed tone, although I couldn’t see, I would guess from his voice that he was finding it very funny having me moan.

“Yes Sir.”

 

“Lily, last time we met for this class you were given an orgasm that you did not deserve so today I have decided that you will learn how to repay me. Have you ever given a blow-job before?”

“No sir, I’m a virgin. I’ve never had a relationship before; I do masturbate though.”

He laughed at my naivety, “well all that is going to change!” He let go of my arms at last, then Mr Harding, my sometime English teacher ordered me to undress him.

 

He stood before me naked. I stood back and stared wide eyed at my handiwork.

“Now get on your knees.”

I had a feeling that I was not going to enjoy what was coming next, and at the same time a fear that I would enjoy it… and then what would I be?

I was hesitating so he forced to the floor and then slapped me across the face, hard. “You are expected to obey without hesitation.”

 

“Yes sir.”

“Now hold my cock.” I took it in my hand. It was bizarre, like holding a toy water snake. “Make a circle with your fingers. Then place the circle around the head and massage it. This is just a warm up. In a minute my little cock slut, you are going to take it in your mouth.” I flushed with embarrassment this was all so fast. One minute I’m top student next I’m teacher’s pet.

In a few moments for the first time I had an erect penis in my hands. Mr Harding smiled. “Put it in your mouth.” I looked at him, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. “Lily,” He said warningly. “Put it in your mouth.” but it was too much. “I can’t.” I closed my eyes anticipating a slap and a rebuke, but instead he talked me through it.

“Lily, you take it in your mouth and you stroke it with your tongue. You will do this, you can do this. Come on.” And for some reason I couldn’t argue. I licked the tip carefully as though testing the water and then I put the head in my mouth and began to suck. He continued to instruct me on how to do it effectively. “We won’t try deep throat today. Concentrate on stimulated the head with you tongue as you slide my cock in and out. Tickle my bollocks with you left hand, and use you right hand as though you were giving me a hand job.” I tried to do everything he said and soon he was moaning gently and calling a good slut. Suddenly I found myself enjoying the feel of it. The taste had disappeared and not even my apprehension at what cum would taste like stopped me from enjoying the warmness of his cock in my mouth.

Finally he came. And I found myself gagging slightly on the salty residue. Mr Harding laughed “You are a natural, that was a good first attempt. Now swallow it.” I swallowed and felt the fluid cling in my throat. It was awful, the taste remained in my mouth.

“Good girl.” He said and my face flushed with pleasure. “You really enjoyed that didn’t you, you little slut.” I smiled. “Yes sir.” Then he paused and shuffled through his papers packing them into a tight neat pile. “Well that won’t do. It’s not a punishment if you enjoy it.” He took my hands and placed them on his cleared desk. Then he pushed my head down so it touched the table.

My unbuttoned trousers slid to the floor and my knickers fell with them. Then in front of my face he presented me with a pencil. He smiled at my bewilderment. “Give it a lick.” I gave the pencil a lick and lubricated it. Then slowly he returned behind me and separated my ass cheeks. He slid the pencil gently into asshole. I stiffened all over and began to protest when he spanked me hard on the side of my thigh and ass. The pencil was only a minor intrusion but it felt so wrong and so humiliating. Then noticing my distress he told me gently. “Don’t complain or I will add another few in. Ten spanks; count.”

1.. 2.. 3.. 4.. 5.. 6.. 7.. 8.. 9.. 10. After each spank he wiggled the pencil, making me moan. To my horror, I even enjoyed this crudity. Once again my spanking had been pure ecstasy and I was soaking. He saw this.

“Get on your knees again.”

I went quickly this time. Then looked up at him with big eyes, like a puppy.

“Beg me to give you an orgasm.”

“Please sir, please give me an orgasm. I’m so desperate please,” This continued for a few minutes. Mr Harding watched on with a blank expression on his face.

“Why should I?”

I was crushed, and near tears. “Please!”

“No.”

Then he told me to dress. I stood up fully clothed and extremely horny. Then motioned for me to go. No goodbye or anything just a hand showing me the door. But as I was leaving he grabbed my arm and gave me his wolfy grin. “No masturbating this week.” Cue the puppy eyes. But once again all I got was a point at the door.

  

Part 3

 

Authors Note:

 

This Story was commissioned by my master. I know you don’t care.. But he does!

 

One week without masturbating? I weighed it up in my head. I masturbated daily and I was already so desperate. As I walked home I imagined crawling under the bedcovers and releasing my violent arousal. But then I reconsidered, so far had I managed to complete his tasks? Not yet. So this time I was going to do it.

 

I went a day or two quite easily, barely thinking about it or feeling the urges but by Friday I was as horny as ever and this was only made worse by my Friday English lesson.

“Lily would you come to the front, I have a gift for you.”

Dear God, what the hell does he want now? Why does my class have to be so giggly, don’t they realise how much harder they make it… Perhaps they didn’t but Mr Harding certainly did, and as I walked towards him he gave a smile very different from his usual wolfy grin, it was sardonic. Once I reached the table he pulled his draw open and handed me a little wrapped present, It was wrapped in red wrapping paper and it had a ribbon and a heart shaped tag which said “To my favourite student” Then a kiss. What on earth could it be? I wondered. “I think you should open it here don’t you? But first read out the card” I read it aloud. The class laughed, a particularly annoying pubescent boy, said something about fucking and it made me blush all the brighter; he couldn’t possibly realise how close to the truth he was. I slid a fingernail under the seam of the beautifully wrapped present, and gently prised it open. In my hands was a narrow thin box. A watch maybe? I opened the box up and nearly gasped but I caught myself and tried to internalise the panic attack. Inside the box was a pencil, but more specially the pencil that Mr Harding had teased me with. The pencil he had forced into my asshole. It wasn’t covered with shit.. But it still had a smell that would be recognisable. “Do you like it?” Looking at me with big puppy eyes like he might burst into tears if I say no..

“Y..Yes” I say in strangled tones. “It’s just what I wanted.”

He gives me a great big grin and then says in a faux-sheepish voice… “then you’ll use it to write now? Please!” This was unbearable, there is something so wrong about Mr Harding pretending to be shy, it’s so completely against his nature.

“Yes Sir, of course I will.”

“Yay!”

 

I can’t say that I was surprised to find myself aroused after the lesson, but I still was unable to relieve myself. In some ways it would have been a kindness if he’d attacked me with a chastity belt. Then, at least, I wouldn’t be able to. But that wasn’t the point though was it? He wants me to learn control. Or drive me mad, one of the two.

Maybe I could masturbate but not bring myself to orgasm? But then I remembered his specific words had been not to masturbate.

 

By Monday I was feverish, I don’t think I stopped being wet for a second. I was walking down a packed corridor when I walked into someone with a thud. “sorry” But suddenly my hands were being held behind my back. I glanced up and realised I’d run straight into Mr Harding. “You need to be more careful, pet” He said then he drew me up close, and whispered in my ear. “lets try some obedience training.. Heel” Then he began to walk on, expecting me to follow. “But Sir, my lesson is that way.” I said pointing desperately. “I don’t care I gave you an order.” So I followed.

“Speak”

“Woof?”

“That was pitiful. Sit”

I sat down in the middle of the corridor, fortunately most people had gotten to their lessons.

“Stay.”

I stared at him morosely I hope this wasn’t going to be like the standing in the corner incident… it wasn’t. “Come!” he said when he reached the classroom where he was teaching. I ran up the corridor. “Good girl,” He said as he patted my head. Mr Harding checked his watch…”Goodness, you’re going to be late for lesson. Kiss me goodbye then you can hurry along. Out in the open? I kissed him quickly on the lips and tried to make an escape but he caught my arm and drew me to him and kissed me fully on the lips for what felt like an hour, all the while fondling my breast gently. Then he went into his lesson and the door slammed shut behind. I felt like loose change, tossed aside.

 

 

Tuesday! It’s Tuesday. I am going to orgasm today… hopefully. I mean he hasn’t specifically said I will be but he wouldn’t be so cruel as to deny me one now… after I worked so hard… would he? Silly question, I try and push it out of my head. For the first time in two weeks my English lesson is completely uneventful, I’m not ignored, I’m not humiliated; anyone would think I’m just an ordinary English student, but in a way it’s a breath of fresh air and it must be helping my grades a little. I’m not an English genius I still have to work to get grades.

 

The lesson finished and the archaic, immortal were being drawn onto the white board. Need I repeat them? I don’t see why there is still the English tagged on the end; the lessons are certainly not what you’d find in your average English class. I think Mr Harding just loves the irony of it all.

“Come and sit next to me Lily.”

I go over to him and sit next to his feet. He looks down at me from his chair and asks, “Have you masturbated?”

I look up at him aroused and wide-eyed. No Sir.

He raises one eyebrow… I’ve surprised him.

“Good girl!” He says in a surprised, amused way. As though I am a puppy who has just learnt a new trick.

“I’m so proud of you I have little gift.” he went into his draw and pulled out the delightful things he would be using today. Ankle cuffs, handcuffs, a long piece of chain, a ball gag, that made me shudder, but it didn’t look to big, a paintbrush, and last but not least a small vibrator. It all looked terribly exciting.

“Take off all your clothes, Lily.” I did so. Slowly. My breasts perked up in the cool classroom. “You are going to have to trust me, you have been a very good girl and if you continue to be very good I will let you orgasm but if you make mistakes then you won’t be allowed, understand.” I nodded affirmation. “Good. Since we are going to be using this then you’ll need a safe sign, the sign is this..” He held up his first finger and little finger. “Like you a rocking out! I don’t think you are ready to be fucked yet, little girl. So won’t be doing that.. All seem fair?”

“Yes sir,”

“Good.”

 

Mr Harding locked my wrists into the handcuffs and clipped cuffs onto my ankles. Then he lay me down on his speedily cleared desk. “Hold your arms above your head.” I didn’t feel able to disobey his commands. He looped the thin chain through the links in the handcuffs and pulled it so that half the length of the chain was through the link. Then he took both the ends underneath the desk and looped them through the ankle cuffs. The chain wrapped around the desks legs so that each leg was chained off to opposite table legs and I lay spread-eagled, and completely exposed. Then the strands of strands of chain were padlocked together under the table. Mr Harding showed me the key and placed it on a student’s desk. There would be no escape unless I safe “worded”. I felt more than a little trapped. The angles of my arms forced my breasts up towards the ceiling, and Mr Harding had decided to get acclimatised to his new surrounding. He groped my breasts and touched me softly and stroked my sensitive regions. I was beginning to giggle loudly, since I am inordinately ticklish, insanely so. This unfortunately reminded Mr Harding about the ball gag, which reappeared suddenly. I looked at it with horror. There is no way that is going in my mouth, I though bitterly and clamped my teeth shut. He tried to open my jaw forcibly but to no avail. So he held my nose. I can hold my breath for over a minute but at the same time he was tickling my armpits, I burst out laughing and gasping for breath and in went the ball gag. Hard. It felt so strange and was bigger than I had expected from looking at it. Already I felt an unpleasant sensation of saliva building up around the edges of my mouth.

“It was naughty of you to try and stop me.” Mr Harding said with a smirk on his face. I glared at him. As if losing wasn’t punishment enough. This damned thing makes it tricky to breath. “How about we have a little play with this.” He produced the paint brush; this had been the enigma of the paraphernalia but suddenly strung up it made sense. “I’m going to stroke this up and down your body twice. Every time you jump we are going to start again, from the beginning of the first attempt.” My whole body was completely exposed. “Don’t move,”

He began to make maddening tiny little circles on the ball of my left foot. I instantly jumped. And he started over. The second time he got to my big toe before I flinched, the third and he was sweeping through the gaps between my toes. It was unbearable I was moaning and bucking and every touch made me even more ticklish. After the fifth attempt he decided to be lenient and skip the feet. He stroked the brush up my inner thigh towards my pussy, suddenly I wasn’t ticklish anymore the sensations were all sex. Amazing what a week without an orgasm can do. He rolled it over the lips of my vagina and felt so hot, the tension and the excitement of being tortured this way had made me covered with sweat. Momentarily he touched my clitoris and I bounced. It was back to the start and with an added warning. “Don’t cum” The rest was a sort of sweaty blur; He loved to concentrate on my clitoris and my breasts, and my armpits, trying to catch me out by either making me so desperate I’d move towards the brush or to catch me out the old fashioned with a good mean tickle. It worked very often and it must have been about thirty minutes before I managed to go the whole time. He stroked the paintbrush down my right foot and I lay there in exaltation.

“Not bad.” He said. “But not quite good enough. In fact my sugar dumpling you have earned the right to be played with using the vibrator, but you have not earned the right to cum.”

I looked up at him horrified, unable to complain through the gag. My eyes did the pleading for me, they practically welled up. Please!

The vibrator came on with a buzz and he pressed it gently against my right nipple. I had never experienced a vibrator before and even this mild sensation set me off moaning. Mr Harding laughed at my overt reaction. “Feels good doesn’t it, you little slut. How about we try it somewhere a little more sensitive. Hmm?” and he slid it onto the lips of my pussy. It made my pubic hair vibrate and I lay there in a gentle ecstasy not quite ready to cum, I was simply enjoying the raw pleasure. Then he forced it deep into my vagina, for the first time in my life there was something solid there and it was a strange experience. Humiliating on one level but on another intrigued and curious. It buzzed around and made me start to feel much more desperate. He whipped it out again. “Don’t you dare cum.”

Then it was there on my clitoris and I was bucking wildly so close to orgasm but it was so forbidden. Just when I was about to collapse in a gut wrenching orgasm he switched it off. “Phew, that was close. You almost came then!” I burst into tears. He smiled wickedly. “Do didn’t think I would let you did you? Aww poor baby. He unchained me and dressed me and combed my hair, like I was a little slut doll. Or rather, His little slut doll. Then he kissed me good evening and said gently, “if you are a good girl and don’t masturbate this week I will give you a nice orgasm next week.”

I could have screamed, but I didn’t because little sluts don’t scream, they just do as they are told.

 

Part 4

 

I got home from school and decided that I would have to do something to keep my mind of sex. I realise now, that I don’t want to break Mr Harding’s rules. I find myself yearning for his smile. Stockholm syndrome? I worry about that later, first I have to suppress this incessant need. I rolled up the sleeves of my shirt and washed my hands. Then I began to bake a cake. I know that it seems silly… but it has always been very effective when I’m in a rage, why not when I’m horny. It’s the same sort of overpowering sensation. As I continued, I began to hear this thought at the back of my mind. It wiggled and niggled and got louder and louder. The house was empty so the coast was clear. I stood in the middle of the kitchen and began to take off my clothes. Finally naked, I reached out and picked up the pink frilly apron that was a birthday gift. I put it on and looked the epitome of a kinky maid.

I carried on like normal, and somehow the naturalness of being naked made me feel hornier and hornier. Suddenly I heard a car door slam shut outside, I grabbed my clothing and ran for the bathroom. I was lucky. I locked the bathroom door as my family marched in through the front one… I don’t know how I could have explained it to them… “ I was cooking and my clothes fell off.” I dressed quickly. For some reason I felt as though I needed an orgasm all the more… funny that.

 

Not particularly funny actually. Every moment I was alone, My hand would slide towards my crotch, and every time I had to suppress the rising emotions. Despite all this I wasn’t going to let him win. Two weeks without an orgasm is a long time, but any orgasm I could give myself would be pale in comparison to Mr Harding’s vigorous training. I found myself yearning for a beating. I tried tying myself up, but it wasn’t particularly exciting. I could always get free. What was worse though, was this longing for Mr Harding himself; I was beginning I realised to actually yearn for ministrations and for his smile, and for his coos of “good girl,” and for his yells of “bad girl.”

It did feel a bit like Stockholm syndrome, but then I had made this choice, so perhaps it was something different growing inside me, beyond this girlish fancy. It felt strange. I wonder if he feels the same way? It’s likely I’m just a toy he plans to use, till he gets bored and plays with something else. This sudden realisation was something else. What was Mr Harding doing with me? I found these new thoughts sobering.

 

One bonus at least was that so depressed was I, I didn’t feel the need for sexual gratification all week. I wish the same could be said for my diligent teacher.

 

Mr Harding in true form had set a difficult essay for the class. In lesson I was too distracted to work and at home in the evening I realised I was completely stuck. I would have to ask Mr Harding for help. During lunch I approached him and explained.

“umm, Sir, the essay you set, I wonder if we could go through it, because …” I was all shy again. Why did this keep happening.

“Because I’m having some trouble with it.”

He looked at me with a smug smile. Which he shared with the teacher he had been talking to moments before. She returned his smile then disappeared, something about it had seemed altogether too planned. But there was no way he could have planned my being unable to write the essay so I shook the thoughts off.

“Alright Lily, meet me in my classroom in five minutes.” He said succinctly. Then he too like a master magician disappeared. I gathered together my vague attempts at the essay and my flying emotions into one enormous heap then walked to his classroom.

 

When I arrived Mr Harding was sat at his desk. He grinned one of his wolfiest grins as I entered and stood sheepishly in the centre of the room. Like a lamb to the slaughter.

“Ok, Lily, you’ve not been paying adequate attention in class that’s why your failing.”

“Oh?” I said, suddenly woken into bristling anger. “And whose fault is that?” I thought of my complete and utter distraction when he was in the room. The way I felt my most aroused in his lessons. Somehow the smile grew. “You are so easy to tease.” He said completely amused by my little outburst.

“Now, my sweet princess, I will do you a deal. I will help you with you essay and therefore prevent your imminent punishment if you come over here and give me a blow job under the desk.”

I glared at him. “Isn’t it your job to help students?”

He laughed, “Only good students who pay attention in lessons deserve my help. Not naughty girls like you. Anyway this is helping you… it’s teaching you to pay attention in lessons.” Still I hesitated.

 “Come on, you don’t want me to have to punish you properly do you?”

I walked over to him and clambered under the desk, I undid his button and zip. I slid his boxers down slightly and began to slowly suck. I started by placing the head in my mouth and sliding my lips over it, like he had taught me. My tongue played havoc on the tip licking and swerving whilst he moaned slightly. Suddenly there was a grand knock at the door. Far from telling the person to leave Mr Harding called them in. Horrified I didn’t know what to do. I paused for a second, then a nudge from my English teacher suggested that I should continue. I did so.. Very slowly. I soon realised that the person who had entered was the female teacher that he had been talking to earlier. Ms Philips was about the same age as him and a feminist. And not a failed feminist like me… a proper one. If she caught me here, I would be expelled and Mr Harding fired. Why did he risk so much? I licked faster and played with his balls. I heard a click as the door to the classroom closed and a moan as my teacher exploded into orgasm. His fluids flooded my mouth and I duly swallowed. I quickly got up from under the table when Ms Philips re-entered suddenly.

“ Oh and I forgot to tell you… Oh Lily, hello, where did you spring up from?”

From under the desk where I just finished giving Mr Harding a stunning blowjob… and yourself?

“I only just came in” I said as a flush covered my face. “Mr Harding has been teaching me a bit more.” I checked his face. No reaction, damn him. I would have loved it if is face had flushed to match mine. “Oh really,” Ms Philips replied, “because I was here just a few moments ago” What is this? An interrogation…

“I’m a fast learner.”

“Right.” She delivered her query to Mr Harding and then went. Mr Harding cooed as she left the room. “That woman is so beautiful, I can see the pair of you chained up together? How would you like that?”

Dear God. The man is perverse.

“My Homework?”

“Oh yes, Come here you stupid little girl. Let’s go through it.”

 

After the incident I began to analyse everything that had been said. There were a number of questions that arose. Did Ms Philips know I was there? That was the most worrying one. If she did then well, he’s told other people about what he is doing to me. I did however, feel my depression waning; something in what he said had made me feel like I was more than just a passing fancy. He had said that Ms Philips was beautiful and that was why he wanted to chain her up, so perhaps he liked me in the same way. Perhaps he thought I was beautiful. Although this cheered me up, it brought back with it the infernal horniness that depression had quelled. Oh! Cruel fate.

 

Tuesday… Tuesday…Tuesday..

I thought about climbing under his desk about the humiliation of having been caught in the act. Throughout the day these thoughts plagued my brain and made me wetter and wetter. Thankfully I had finished the essay. I handed it in and he flicked through it briefly, then sent me back to my seat.

I sat fixated on him. Once more I was unable to concentrate, and Mr Harding quickly picked up on this. He stood up and marched down to where I was sitting then picked up my work for the lesson so far. It was minimal. “Not good enough.” was all he said. Then he took me by the arm and led me to his desk. He sat me down to his left placed all my work in front of me. “You can work here this lesson.” This is supposed to help me to concentrate? But the humiliation did make me put my head down and work, if only to escape my classmates stares.

 

 Extra-Curricular English

 

The bold words hit the board for the fourth time and I sat expectant. Out of his desk draw my teacher drew such things as I had never imagined he would produce. Master Magician indeed. He lay the delights in front of.

“I thought I would go all out this week. Have you been a good girl?”

“ Yes Sir.”

“Hmm, That’s a little disappointing but I believe I have a promise to uphold if that was the case and so now I’m going to do so. You want to orgasm don’t you sweetie?”

“Yes Sir, Very much.”

He smiled. “Well today we will do something very special then.” He went to the door and locked it, then slid a black blind down over the door.

“ I think that when you lose your virginity it is a very important moment so lets make it memorable. “ I sat in wonder. He was going to sleep with me!

 

First of all he laid out a large duvet, which he shaped into a blanket. Then a pillow appeared at its head. Rose petals were scattered all over the bedding. Mr Harding saw me watching and stood up quickly handing me an outfit. “Go over there and get changed.” I went and stood in the corner and changed into the outfit. It was very similar to a Princess, except that there were large revealing gashes, that had obviously occurred when the young  maiden had been in distress. The dark stains suggested a dragon. There was also the atypical hat. That was vital. All dressed up I stood in the corner and waited for him to say I could come over. It was so very surreal. A hand suddenly grabbed my loose breast. I jumped up, surprised by the groping and turned to see my teacher dressed in black garb. In a medieval dress, that was rich and shiny and made him stunningly sexy. I gasped half from the pain half from the overpowering sensations that were flooding me. Then quite by accident I burst into tears.

 

“You have saved me!” The Princess said in dulce tones.

 “Not as such.” Then the knight flung the princess upon his shoulder and carried her to his lair where he proceeded to throw her to the ground.

“Thou art a dark knight?” said the princess full of fear and surprise.

“ Indeed,” replied the dark knight full of mirth.

 

Mr Harding locked the chains around my arms and my ankles so that I was spread-eagled on the floor. He ripped the rags off my body, which in response bounced in fervent excitement. He tipped the rose petals over my body and rubbed them against my skin. My stomach moved up to meet his hands. I was in bliss. He touched my neck gently and tipped my chin upwards. He leant forward and whispered in my ear. “This is what you want?”

I nodded. This was definitely what I wanted. Then I sunk back into the stupor of excitement. He smiled deeply, as though he was truly happy, then he grabbed my throat and licked my neck.

Then he slid down to my aching clitoris and began to lick it in long deep strokes making his tongue flat. Finally he decided I was adequately aroused and slung his swollen penis from it confines. He expertly slid a condom into place, much to my relief then drove himself into my vagina. I gasped in pain. It felt like a burning sensation. Then I felt him begin to slide into me slowly out and in. Gradually the pain began to subside and soon I found myself moaning like a pro. Chained as I was he had access to all my body which he took advantage of readily. He pinched my nipples and stroked my skin. Enjoying my body. Then he would give me a wolfish grin and slap me across the face. “Come on Princess. A bit of life please.” And I would dive blindly into action with vague attempts at motion. Finally the orgasm that I had suppressed in me for so long began to build and build and before I knew it my was jerking up and down in its throws. Mr Harding kissed me deeply and continued, soon afterwards he came as well. He untied me and lifted my naked sweat covered body onto the desk. I just lay there for a while but then I sat up and smiled.

“Did I do it right?”

“You were fantastic.”

I grinned sleepily, fantastic eh?

A dazed walk home and good nights sleep and next morning I found myself wondering if any of it happened at all. My aching nipples and pussy informed me that it most certainly had!

Part 5

 

The end of term had crept up on me, and when I finally realised it was after that last session. That meant two weeks without Mr. Harding and our exciting sessions. I began to feel a little sad at the prospect. Fortunately Mr Harding had been having similar thoughts. As I sat brooding in my form’s classroom, a memo was sent to my form stating that:

 

Lily Cassidy is needed directly in my classroom,

Mr Harding

 

To think; so few words can hide such an enormous story. I climbed up and dashed down the corridor, unable to contain my excitement. Mr Harding was fortunate enough not to have a form of his own and therefore could spend registration concocting schemes. I tentatively opened the door and walked in.

“Good morning,” I said when he seemed not to notice me.

“Sit down, Lily,” I sat in the chair he waved at and waited.

“I have decided that over the spring holiday you will required at my home.” The formality of it all made me smile, I tried to hide it and mirrored the man who had taken my virginity.

“Is that so Mr Harding,” I also tried to contain my growing pleasure. “What on earth would my parents think of that? They would imagine you were some kind of sick pervert!”

“how ridiculous!” he said with a laugh. “It’s ok, I’ve thought of that, you have decided that you are going to spend your holiday cleaning my house for some extra cash.”

“How exciting.” I felt very unsure.

“Well? It’s your choice; come and be my little slut, or don’t see me for two weeks.”

“I’ll do it, Sir.”

“Good, that’s what I wanted to hear.” He handed me a folder. “In here is all the necessary information; he handed me a small letter. Address, Telephone, and so on. And directions or the first days work. Next Monday. Oh I do so hope you weren’t planning on having a restful holiday?”

“No Sir.”

“See you Monday.”

I was dismissed.

 

I waited until I got home to open the letter. I lay on the bed and gently peeled it open. My body ached with anticipation. I began to read.

 

Dear Slut,

 

You will be expected to arrive at 8 am promptly to the address below. Failure to arrive on time will result in punishment.

Please wear the following:

A skirt that is above the knee,

A blouse

Heels

Underwear will not be necessary.

Failure to comply will result in punishment.

Furthermore I expect you to be clean; have shaved your armpits and legs, and to be wearing makeup.

 

Sir

 

I sat on the bed trembling with anticipation. Going without underwear would be something completely new, and the prospect alone was making me wet. I wriggled under the covers and masturbated gently.

 

The bus journey was fun. I had showered just before but I was convinced nonetheless, that passers-by would be able to smell me. I crossed my legs desperately but the whole knickerless experience was beginning to make me very wet. I blushed furiously and the person sat next to me noticed.

"Are you alright? You look awfully flushed?" Said the concerned middle-aged woman waylaid with shopping.

"What?!" I said surprised.

“Alright?”

“Oh.. Right! Yes, thanks.”

“Not too cold or anything?”

I looked down, and realised to my horror that my nipples were erect and showing through the thin material of the blouse. I had been so busy worrying about my wet pussy, I’d forgotten them. I folded my arms.

“No, no, I’m fine.”

Needless to say, my blush did not fade for the rest of the journey.

 

I arrived at a detached red brick house in an estate in suburbia. Not rich, not poor. The curtains were all drawn and the house looked as though it might be uninhabited. I knocked all the same. Thankfully the door swung gently open.

“In”

I stepped into the house. To meet Mr Harding dressed in a simple t-shirt and jeans. It seemed strange not to see him in a shirt and trousers, and for a moment he seemed a little less impressive than normal. Then he forced me onto my knees and the illusion that he was normal was lost.

“The door will always be open when you arrive. From now on I expect you to let yourself in and kneel at the foot of the stairs where you will wait for me. From time to time I will leave you notes, but normally I will be as prompt as I expect you to be. I won’t leave you here for more than an hour, but if I did then you of course would maintain the position. Wouldn’t you Slut?”

“Yes Sir.”

“Mornings will be spent cleaning and afternoons in training. You will be fed only if I believe you deserve it. You will be required on Saturdays but Sunday will be your day off. Follow me Slut, it’s time for the tour.”

I got up off my knees and followed him.

Downstairs is pretty self explanatory. Lounge, The Music Room, Kitchen, and small bathroom. Upstairs…”

He led the way.

“There are three bedrooms; one is my room you will not be permitted to enter that room without permission. Then there is a guest room. The third bedroom is connected to my room and has no windows. Why do you think that is little slut?”

“So it’s secret?”

He spun around and slapped me hard across the face, then forced me against the landing wall. “What did you say?” he hissed.

“So it’s secret, Sir?”

“That’s better.” he became calm as suddenly as he had become angry. “And you are pretty close with that response. Yes, but also so that no noise can escape, I wouldn’t want a scandal, and also so that a certain little slut can’t escape.”

He led me to a wardrobe on the landing, which when opened was filled with shelves attached to the door. Behind the shelves there was another door, which when opened led to the secret room he had just described. He seemed very pleased with himself.

“A clever little trick because it also insulates from sound.”

“Like a personal Narnia,” I quipped, then put my hands up to protect my face from an imminent attack. He grabbed my wrists and pulled them down. I cringed with fear at what he would do next.

He saw my pathetic expression and laughed.

“Come on slut, have a look at your new bedroom.” Mr Harding unlocked the door, and led me in. The room was the size of a normal bedroom, much to my surprise, and painted in a stark white colour; would have nowhere to hide. There was a mirrored wardrobe which amplified everything. A bed, and, worryingly, a small hook in the ceiling which seemed to be a focal point. 

“Don’t worry I will punish you later for forgetting. Stand here.” he pointed to the centre of the room. “spread you legs a bit.” He slid his hand over my nipples, feeling them through the blouse. “Someone is erect…” his hand wandered to the bottom of my skirt and slid up my slit. “and wet! You‘re absolutely soaking.” He grinned, “I’m glad you like making a fool of yourself, that will make this a whole lot easier.” He opened the wardrobe and drew out a maid’s outfit. It was in the Lolita Japanese style with a skirt and heavy petticoat, white fish-net stockings and frilly apron. Black round toed heels and a little hat, completed the outfit.

“Normally if you are as rude to me as you have been today I would only allow you the heels, hat and apron. But since it is you first day, I will be lenient.” He smiled at me. As if he expected something.

“Oh! Umm, thank you Sir.”

“That’s quite alright, now your first job will be to make me breakfast. I’m famished. Then you will clean the kitchen, and floor. The lounge will be next then the music room. Polish all the surfaces. Hoover and clean the floors. Do the guest bedroom and also the upstairs bathroom. At 12.30 I will expect lunch on the table and then at one you will receive training. When training is over then you may return home.”

“What time will training finish Sir?”

“When I decide. Breakfast, Now.”

“Yes Sir.”

I changed quickly into the maid’s outfit and found that it was very heavy because of the layers of petticoat, effectively I would be receiving a workout as I cooked and cleaning and sweated under the heavy layers. I almost wished he had left me in just the apron.

I rushed downstairs, to find Mr Harding sat at the table with morning paper.

Kettle on. Eggs beaten. Bread in toaster. Butter into frying pan; closely followed by egg. Kettle boiled.

“Strong or weak tea, Mr Harding?”

“Strong, milk, no sugar,”

I finished it quickly and placed it beside him. The toast popped up, was buttered in a frenzy and the slightly overcooked eggs were thrown on top. Panting I served it all to him.

The only response I got was “Salt.”

I handed him the cellar and rushed to clean the pan and equipment. All the time the weight of the dress pressing down. Not to mention the tightly bound corset that constricted my breathing slightly. Mr Harding was finished. He came over to me and whispered into my ear. “You look ravishing in that little dress slut. You panting dreadfully, I had no idea you were so unfit. You keep panting like that and I will be forced to treat you like a dog.” My eyes widened. He placed a finger under my chin, and licked my exposed neck. 

“I am going to get some things.” 

 And with that he left me to clean and cook all alone, wondering exactly what he meant by “things.”

By 12 I was exhausted. I had managed to clean all of downstairs but upstairs was untouched. I knew the implications of this. I made Mr Harding a roast beef sandwich and waited for him to arrive. I was starving, but I doubted my efforts had been enough to merit lunch. The door swung open at 12:15. As he ate, I knelt on the cold stone floor next to him as he interrogated me. Listing the rooms checking they were cleaned according to his instructions. I had quickly realised that I would not be able to clean every room so I concentrated on making the rooms I did do immaculate, so that at least tomorrow, my job would be easier in those rooms and I would be able to do more. Today, though, the penalties would be heavy.

It quickly became clear to Mr Harding that I had only done half the rooms.

“Do you think that’s good enough, you little bitch?”

“No, sir.” I replied wearily. Waiting for the inevitable; No lunch for you.

“Do you think you deserve lunch?”

“No sir.”

“Get under the table and suck me off, afterwards you can thank me for allowing you a nutritious lunch.”

I sat under the table and undid his trousers. His flaccid penis fell out and I slowly began to suck. I alternated between his balls and his legs, seeing which would illicit more moans and then when he was fully erect, I slid my mouth down the majority of the length until his penis hit the back of my throat. This time I gagged awfully, withdrew his penis and began to cough and splutter. Mr Harding was unimpressed.

“Not doing so well for a first day, are we little girl. Perhaps I better send you home.”

“Please Mr Harding, I will do better.” I felt so shameful and humiliated that tears began to rise up in my eyes.

“Please…”

“Well, I will just have to train you in that area. For now it is time to take you to your room. I am going to begin to teach you how to be a proper Slut.

 

To be continued.