02-03-2020, 10:15 AM
I was grading papers a couple hours after college when everything fell apart.
It had been a long week. Parent teacher interviews are always exhausting, grading Shakespeare essays are always tedious (the majority of the students not remotely able to properly write an essay, let alone a Shakespeare essay) and to top it all off my daughter had been acting very strange of late. She had been coming home late, dressing much more provocatively and hanging out with the cheerleaders, which was strange because she had mocked them throughout high college for being uppity bitches. She had always been a mid-nineties student who usually just focused on her studies and getting into Harvard and avoided all the high college drama.
Now, before I get too carried away with the incident that changed my life, I should tell you a bit about myself and my family. I am thirty-nine, have been married for nineteen years, have two children, an eighteen year old daughter, Sophia, and a sixteen year old son Derek. My husband works in the oil industry and is often gone for weeks at a time, making me essentially a single mother at times.
I'm not complaining though, my kids are both very good kids. Sophia has already been named Valedictorian for this year's graduating class, has already been conditionally accepted at Harvard and has a summer job already lined up working for Governor Daphne Green.
My son Derek is a great athlete and will likely get a baseball scholarship once he graduates, although he also plays hockey so his options are very open. He also is academically gifted although not quite at the same exceptional level as his sister. While Sophia has the higher grades she is more reclusive (or had been until the past week), and Derek is a lot more popular. He has charisma, is funny and yet has a great heart about him.
I have always been a bit of an enigma myself. I have a great heart, I am compassionate and I love teaching; yet, I have also learned as a teacher it is easier to come on strong and back off later than try to gain power in the classroom after things go astray. Thus, although most kids like my class and me, some kids don't like my rigour and high expectations (especially in a continually more and more watered down education system).
Anyway, the point was I lived a normal upper-middle class life, with my too big for the four of us house, a nice SUV vehicle, a cabin at the lake and all the electrical gadgets needed to survive the 2015 world.
That normal life was turned upside down in just a few seconds when Jordan, a black student who was a bit of a handful (no future pun intended), sauntered into the room with his usual smug smile on his face. He closed my classroom door which was the first warning of what was to come.
I said, thinking it odd, "Please keep the door open, Jordan."
"Oh, I think you will want it closed," he said, smiling rather ominously.
"I won't ask you again, Jordan, please open the door," I ordered, my tone one that implied this was not up for debate. I was tired, cranky and not in the mood for any sort of power play between teacher and student.
"Whatever you wish," he shrugged, his smug smile somehow smugger than usual, as if he knew something I didn't.
He opened the door, and began walking to my desk as I asked, "And what brings you to my classroom at this hour?"
"You know my girlfriend Trisha?" He asked. A strange question since she was in the same class as him.
"Obviously," I said, annoyed by his smugness and silly question.
"Well, it's about your daughter," he said, which quickly got my attention.
"What about Sophia?" I asked, not remotely ready for what he was about to reveal.
"She's a lesbo," he said.
"Excuse me?" I asked, assuming and hoping I had heard him wrong.
"Sophia likes to eat pussy, well at least black pussy," Jordan said, smiling. "I can't say if she likes snacking on white cunt too."
"That is enough," I said firmly, standing up.
"I just thought you would want to know that your good girl daughter is also getting an A-plus in cunt munching," he continued, clearly enjoy himself.
Feeling incredibly uncomfortable suddenly, I demanded, "Jordan, leave now."
He chuckled, "For a smart woman, you are kind of dense."
"I have had enough of this young man, I will be having a talk about your behaviour with Principal Adams," I threatened, not used to having a student challenge me.
"If you say so, Mrs. Barber, but I think you may want to see this before it goes viral," he said, ignoring my threats, as he pulled out his phone.
Angry, I snapped, "There is nothing you can say or show me that will change my mind."
He laughed as he showed me the picture on his phone. "Wanna bet?"
My face went white as a ghost as I stared at the shocking photo. It was without a doubt my daughter between the legs of Trisha in a cheerleaders' outfit licking the black girl's vagina.
Smugly, Jordan made it worse, as he explained, "This is just a picture capture from the video that was filmed of your daughter servicing Trisha. But they say a picture is worth a thousand words, although it seems to have left you speechless."
"What do you want?" I asked, sensing that he had ulterior motives.
"I thought I was supposed to leave," he said, clearly enjoying the quick power shift that had transpired.
"Please, close the door," I said, my head spinning with the shocking revelation as I tried to both come to grips with it and try to find a way out of it.
"I thought you wanted it open," he said.
"Jordan, please close the door," I repeated, completely deflated.
"Actually, I think you can close it," he countered, enjoying his sudden power over me.
"Fine," I tersely said, going to the door and closing it.
"Good girl," Jordan purred, his condescending tone pissing me off, yet not wanting him to see me rattled I tried to play it cool as I returned to my desk.
"So what do you want, money?" I asked.
"God, no! I am pretty sure my dad makes more than you and your husband combined," he pointed out. Just another rich kid who now had no ethics or morals.
"Then what?" I snapped, unable to control my bubbling anger.
"Well, you, of course," he answered.
"Excuse me?" I gasped, even though I understood what he was implying.
"Do as I tell you and the pictures and video of your cunt licking submissive daughter won't go on the Internet," he explained.
"That is blackmail," I said.
"Yes, I am black and male," he smirked.
"I'm serious," I snapped.
"I am too. Stand up," he ordered.
"I will not ob..." I began to say but was harshly cut off.
"Now, bitch!" he said, raising his voice.
Suddenly scared, I obeyed, even as I fumed inside.
He walked up to me and said, "Starting tomorrow you will begin wearing your hair down, no more of this librarian look. You are a beautiful white MILF and you are no longer going to hide it from us."
"Fine, I'll wear my hair down," I said. "Is that all?"
"Not even close," he laughed, as he cupped my breasts. "Nice."
"What are you doing?" I snapped, shocked, swatting his hand away.
"Checking out my merchandise" he replied.
"I...am...not...property," I said through gritted teeth.
"Actually that is exactly what you are, my property, my pet teacher, my submissive white bitch," he continued.
"Please, stop," I protested, desperate to end this.
Instead, his hands lifted up my skirt, "As I expected."
"What is?" I said, my tone sharp as knives.
"You are wearing pantyhose and panties," he said.
"Of course I am," I said, his implication that he thought I wouldn't be insulting.
"Starting tomorrow you will only wear thigh high stockings and, like all good white sluts you will no longer wear panties," he informed me.
"I will not dress like a skank," I shot back.
"Are you calling your daughter a skank? She has been wearing proper white submissive dress code for a week now."
I had noticed that she had started wearing skirts instead of her trademark jeans, putting on make-up and wearing thigh highs (which I wore on occasion at work as my own sly naughtiness under my conservative attire and for my hubby in the bedroom) which I had washed this weekend; I thought it curious, but figured she was just trying to go find herself by dressing a little sexier. In retrospect, I couldn't recall washing any of her panties. "You said that, not me," I replied.
"I will make this very clear, Mrs. Barber. You will dress as I tell you to or your daughter becomes an Internet sensation. The choice is really up to you," he said, grabbing his phone. "And now that you questioned me, I expect your skirt or dress to be short enough that if you bend down I will be able to see the top of your stockings."
"Can't we find a way to make this work?" I asked.
"I just did...obey me without hesitation and your daughter's dark, pun intended, secret is safe," he said. "Now your first order. Lift up your dress, get on your desk, and rub yourself."
"You can't be serious," I said, disgusted.
"Just do it," he ordered, showing his impatience with me, which was ironic because my patience had long run out with him.
"Please don't make me," I begged, shifting my attitude from defensive to pleading.
"Obey like a good MILF slut and your daughter's secret will be protected," he said.
"You promise?" I asked, knowing I would do anything to protect my daughter.
"Yes, Scout's honor," he smiled.
"Were you ever a Scout?" I asked skeptically.
"Actually yes I was, for a couple of weeks," he laughed. "Now start masturbating."
I sighed dramatically, to make it clear I wasn't happy, before I obeyed the order, masturbating for him.
After a minute, he pulled his phone out again and I protested, covering myself back up, "No pictures."
"Either pose or your daughter is exposed," he said and then laughed. "Look at that Mrs. Barber, a rhyming couplet."
"Please," I begged, not wanting even more incriminating evidence for him to be able to use against my family.
"Now, bitch," he ordered. "I have other places to be."
Knowing I had no choice at the moment, I resumed pleasuring myself while he filmed or took pictures of me.
"Good girl," he commented, the words coming from him so ludicrous and humiliating.
"Are we done?" I asked, not wanting to have to finish the task in front of him; although I hated to admit it, but my vagina was getting wet.
"For now," he shrugged, putting his phone in his pocket. "Now if you go tell anyone about this so-called blackmail, both you and your daughter will be famous, is that clear?"
"Yes, fine," I answered frustrated, pulling my hand out of my pantyhose.
He headed to the door, "I suggest you go shopping on your way home...any disobedience of my instructions and your daughter's secret submissive cunt licking addiction is revealed as is your masturbating on your desk."
"Please," I said weakly.
"No, you can't have my cock, but don't worry Mrs. Barber, soon enough," he said confidently, as he opened the door, before repeating, "Soon enough."
Then he was gone.
Sitting at my desk, I began to cry. I considered going to the cops, but I believed that if I did the video of my daughter would go viral. No, the best way to deal with it was to obey for the time being until I could come up with a plan... which would be to convince him to give me the video.
I tried to mark another paper, but I was so upset that I gave up. I ended up obeying him as I drove to the mall and purchased a couple new pairs of thigh highs. I did have a couple pairs at home for when I wanted to be a little sexy for my Jared or at college. I also bought a couple new outfits that fit his expected attire, already feeling embarrassed for tomorrow before it actually happened.
That night, when Sophia came home I asked, "How was your day, honey?"
"Great," she said, looking super happy.
"Honey, I have to ask," I began, looking at her in a plaid skirt and black thigh highs, the lace tops visible as she sat down on the couch. "Isn't that outfit a little revealing?"
"Oh, mom," she sighed. "It's 2015."
"I can see the top of your stockings, Sophia," I pointed out.
"That's the style," she said, standing up, clearly annoyed at my interrogation of her. Deciding to let it go for now, I didn't say anything else.
That night I tossed and turned knowing that tomorrow I was completely at the whim of my worst student.
BUZZED
I showered, put on a pair of silky black thigh high stockings, a matching black bra, a new black skirt that was a little shorter than my usual attire, and three inch heels. Without panties I felt naked, but until I could figure a way out of this, I had to obey. I kept my hair down also as instructed and looking in the mirror, the minor changes really changed my look.
Sophia said, when she saw me, "You look amazing, Mom."
"Thanks," I said, flattered by the compliment. "I thought I would just let my hair down for a day."
"Well, it makes you look less like a librarian," she said, the same words Jordan had used yesterday.
I laughed, "You are not the first person to say that." Sophia was in a sundress today, with beige stockings and I assumed no panties. I saw a black choker on her neck and asked, "Is the choker new?"
"Yeah," she said, her face going red but she didn't say anything else, so I again left it alone.
I drove her to college and we went our separate ways. All morning I was on edge anticipating something from Jordan, but I didn't have him and his girlfriend until after lunch. At lunch, I worked at my desk trying to finish the marking I had hoped to compete the night before, when Lilly walked into my room.
"Mrs. Barber," she said shyly, clearly nervous.
"Yes, Lilly," I greeted warmly. Lilly was our church minister's daughter and Sophia's best friend. I didn't teach her this semester, so I hadn't seen her in a few days, since church actually, but she too was dressed much more provocatively than her usual demure attire. I also noticed she too was wearing a choker. I immediately wondered if she too was somehow involved in this sick game Jordan was playing.
"Um, I'm supposed to give this to you and," she paused, clearly uncomfortable with what she was to say, "um, you are, are supposed to have it in you for your next class."
"Who told you to bring this to me?" I asked skeptically.
"I can't say," Lilly whispered, handing me the box.
"Lilly, talk to me," I said.
"I got to go, Mrs. Barber," Lilly said, quickly walking out of my room.
Is it possible that Jordan, or Trisha, or both, had somehow got to Lilly too or did Lilly and Sophia both just choose to buy the same choker? It seemed unlikely, but suddenly nothing seemed to be as it appeared.
I closed my classroom door, before I opened the box and found a vibrating egg, a thong with a note. I had a vibrating egg back in college that my ex used to put in me to keep me revved up and raring to go on occasion while at parties. I grabbed the note and read it:
Mrs. Barber,
I see you have your hair down and your outfit is indeed a bit more provocative. I assume you are also wearing thigh highs and no panties. GOOD GIRL!! For class today you will put the egg in your CUNT. You may wear the thong so it doesn't fall out in class. I expect your phone on at your desk as I will text you instructions in class. Any disobedience and the videos go viral.
I sighed. This was going too far. If I disobeyed, the videos would go viral and I would lose my job and Sophia's scholarship would be gone. If I obeyed, I may lose my job if anyone catches on...sadly, the better option was to obey. I put the egg and thong in my purse and went to the staff washroom to put in the egg and put on the thong.
I returned to my classroom dreading the next class, which would start in fifteen minutes. Again, marking became futile as my anxiety for what was about to potentially happen had me a complete mess.
The bell rang and Trisha walked in a couple of minutes later and looked at me with a smile on her face. "Hi, Mrs. Barber."
"Hi, Trisha," I greeted, the image of my daughter between her legs flashing in my head.
The bell rang and a big relief coursed through me when Jordan wasn't in class. I began teaching, the egg in my pussy noticeable and distracting, but tolerable. I was five minutes into my lesson, when Jordan sauntered in and said, "Sorry for being late, Mrs. Barber."
"Its fine," I said, trivializing his tardiness, something I never did. "Please take your seat."
"Sure thing," he said, taking his seat.
I continued my lesson for fifteen more minutes, praying he wouldn't start the egg, avoiding making eye contact with him, until I assigned a short story to them to read.
Sitting at my desk, I saw my phone was flashing that I had a message. Taking a deep breath, I slyly checked my message (breaking my own no phone in class rule).
Mrs. Barber
I want you to take your heels off and walk around the class in your stocking-clad feet.
A strange request, but since my feet were rather sore after wearing the heels all day, it was actually a request I didn't mind.
I slipped out of my heels and wiggled my feet. Standing up, I obeyed his order, as I walked up and down the rows. A buzz suddenly started in my pussy just as I passed Jordan. Thankfully, just as quickly it stopped. I quickly returned to my desk, petrified that someone could hear the buzz. Of course, another message awaited me.
Mrs. Barber
Good girl. You have sexy feet. You will continue to keep your heels off during class. Now flip your legs onto your desk, grab a book and relax. I need to find out if you obeyed the order to wear thigh highs.
This was getting insane. I looked directly at him and he just nodded. Frustrated that I had no power in this little game of his, I cursed to myself before I again obeyed the potentially humiliating order. I put my legs on my desk, my stocking-clad feet up in the air, the top of my thigh highs clearly visible as I began reading a book. I felt utterly naked, even though I was fully clothed and thigh high stockings, while admittedly edgy, wasn't 'get fired' worthy.
All the students were reading and oblivious to my anxiety riddled plight, which was enhanced a minute later as the vibrating inside started up again. The egg thankfully was almost inaudible, but it packed a solid punch as I instantly began to feel pulses of pleasure.
I looked again to Jordan who actually seemed to be reading his book. I looked around the rest of the room to see if anyone else had noticed my unorthodox position. Everyone seemed to be engaged by the story, except Trisha who was staring right at me. I saw then it was she who had the remote. Smiling at me, she pressed the control and the vibrations inside intensified.
I bit my lip and broke eye contact, knowing that I wanted to avoid the game at all costs. The vibrations inside were really beginning to feel undeniably good, which only frustrated me more at just how helpless I was. The vibrations continued for another couple of minutes before intensifying again; making me let out a small gasp.
A couple students looked up and gave a bewildered look, one of the boys giving a lengthy gaze at my legs until he realized I was looking at him, before returning to their reading.
Looking back at my desk, I had another text:
My horny Mrs. Barber,
I'll turn it off as soon as you come for me.
My eyes went big at the expectation. The pleasure of the powerful toy making my pussy very wet, it was only a matter of time before I came whether I wanted to or not. I looked up again at Jordan, who was looking directly at me smiling. I pleaded with him with my eyes for mercy, but not surprisingly none came.
It had been a long week. Parent teacher interviews are always exhausting, grading Shakespeare essays are always tedious (the majority of the students not remotely able to properly write an essay, let alone a Shakespeare essay) and to top it all off my daughter had been acting very strange of late. She had been coming home late, dressing much more provocatively and hanging out with the cheerleaders, which was strange because she had mocked them throughout high college for being uppity bitches. She had always been a mid-nineties student who usually just focused on her studies and getting into Harvard and avoided all the high college drama.
Now, before I get too carried away with the incident that changed my life, I should tell you a bit about myself and my family. I am thirty-nine, have been married for nineteen years, have two children, an eighteen year old daughter, Sophia, and a sixteen year old son Derek. My husband works in the oil industry and is often gone for weeks at a time, making me essentially a single mother at times.
I'm not complaining though, my kids are both very good kids. Sophia has already been named Valedictorian for this year's graduating class, has already been conditionally accepted at Harvard and has a summer job already lined up working for Governor Daphne Green.
My son Derek is a great athlete and will likely get a baseball scholarship once he graduates, although he also plays hockey so his options are very open. He also is academically gifted although not quite at the same exceptional level as his sister. While Sophia has the higher grades she is more reclusive (or had been until the past week), and Derek is a lot more popular. He has charisma, is funny and yet has a great heart about him.
I have always been a bit of an enigma myself. I have a great heart, I am compassionate and I love teaching; yet, I have also learned as a teacher it is easier to come on strong and back off later than try to gain power in the classroom after things go astray. Thus, although most kids like my class and me, some kids don't like my rigour and high expectations (especially in a continually more and more watered down education system).
Anyway, the point was I lived a normal upper-middle class life, with my too big for the four of us house, a nice SUV vehicle, a cabin at the lake and all the electrical gadgets needed to survive the 2015 world.
That normal life was turned upside down in just a few seconds when Jordan, a black student who was a bit of a handful (no future pun intended), sauntered into the room with his usual smug smile on his face. He closed my classroom door which was the first warning of what was to come.
I said, thinking it odd, "Please keep the door open, Jordan."
"Oh, I think you will want it closed," he said, smiling rather ominously.
"I won't ask you again, Jordan, please open the door," I ordered, my tone one that implied this was not up for debate. I was tired, cranky and not in the mood for any sort of power play between teacher and student.
"Whatever you wish," he shrugged, his smug smile somehow smugger than usual, as if he knew something I didn't.
He opened the door, and began walking to my desk as I asked, "And what brings you to my classroom at this hour?"
"You know my girlfriend Trisha?" He asked. A strange question since she was in the same class as him.
"Obviously," I said, annoyed by his smugness and silly question.
"Well, it's about your daughter," he said, which quickly got my attention.
"What about Sophia?" I asked, not remotely ready for what he was about to reveal.
"She's a lesbo," he said.
"Excuse me?" I asked, assuming and hoping I had heard him wrong.
"Sophia likes to eat pussy, well at least black pussy," Jordan said, smiling. "I can't say if she likes snacking on white cunt too."
"That is enough," I said firmly, standing up.
"I just thought you would want to know that your good girl daughter is also getting an A-plus in cunt munching," he continued, clearly enjoy himself.
Feeling incredibly uncomfortable suddenly, I demanded, "Jordan, leave now."
He chuckled, "For a smart woman, you are kind of dense."
"I have had enough of this young man, I will be having a talk about your behaviour with Principal Adams," I threatened, not used to having a student challenge me.
"If you say so, Mrs. Barber, but I think you may want to see this before it goes viral," he said, ignoring my threats, as he pulled out his phone.
Angry, I snapped, "There is nothing you can say or show me that will change my mind."
He laughed as he showed me the picture on his phone. "Wanna bet?"
My face went white as a ghost as I stared at the shocking photo. It was without a doubt my daughter between the legs of Trisha in a cheerleaders' outfit licking the black girl's vagina.
Smugly, Jordan made it worse, as he explained, "This is just a picture capture from the video that was filmed of your daughter servicing Trisha. But they say a picture is worth a thousand words, although it seems to have left you speechless."
"What do you want?" I asked, sensing that he had ulterior motives.
"I thought I was supposed to leave," he said, clearly enjoying the quick power shift that had transpired.
"Please, close the door," I said, my head spinning with the shocking revelation as I tried to both come to grips with it and try to find a way out of it.
"I thought you wanted it open," he said.
"Jordan, please close the door," I repeated, completely deflated.
"Actually, I think you can close it," he countered, enjoying his sudden power over me.
"Fine," I tersely said, going to the door and closing it.
"Good girl," Jordan purred, his condescending tone pissing me off, yet not wanting him to see me rattled I tried to play it cool as I returned to my desk.
"So what do you want, money?" I asked.
"God, no! I am pretty sure my dad makes more than you and your husband combined," he pointed out. Just another rich kid who now had no ethics or morals.
"Then what?" I snapped, unable to control my bubbling anger.
"Well, you, of course," he answered.
"Excuse me?" I gasped, even though I understood what he was implying.
"Do as I tell you and the pictures and video of your cunt licking submissive daughter won't go on the Internet," he explained.
"That is blackmail," I said.
"Yes, I am black and male," he smirked.
"I'm serious," I snapped.
"I am too. Stand up," he ordered.
"I will not ob..." I began to say but was harshly cut off.
"Now, bitch!" he said, raising his voice.
Suddenly scared, I obeyed, even as I fumed inside.
He walked up to me and said, "Starting tomorrow you will begin wearing your hair down, no more of this librarian look. You are a beautiful white MILF and you are no longer going to hide it from us."
"Fine, I'll wear my hair down," I said. "Is that all?"
"Not even close," he laughed, as he cupped my breasts. "Nice."
"What are you doing?" I snapped, shocked, swatting his hand away.
"Checking out my merchandise" he replied.
"I...am...not...property," I said through gritted teeth.
"Actually that is exactly what you are, my property, my pet teacher, my submissive white bitch," he continued.
"Please, stop," I protested, desperate to end this.
Instead, his hands lifted up my skirt, "As I expected."
"What is?" I said, my tone sharp as knives.
"You are wearing pantyhose and panties," he said.
"Of course I am," I said, his implication that he thought I wouldn't be insulting.
"Starting tomorrow you will only wear thigh high stockings and, like all good white sluts you will no longer wear panties," he informed me.
"I will not dress like a skank," I shot back.
"Are you calling your daughter a skank? She has been wearing proper white submissive dress code for a week now."
I had noticed that she had started wearing skirts instead of her trademark jeans, putting on make-up and wearing thigh highs (which I wore on occasion at work as my own sly naughtiness under my conservative attire and for my hubby in the bedroom) which I had washed this weekend; I thought it curious, but figured she was just trying to go find herself by dressing a little sexier. In retrospect, I couldn't recall washing any of her panties. "You said that, not me," I replied.
"I will make this very clear, Mrs. Barber. You will dress as I tell you to or your daughter becomes an Internet sensation. The choice is really up to you," he said, grabbing his phone. "And now that you questioned me, I expect your skirt or dress to be short enough that if you bend down I will be able to see the top of your stockings."
"Can't we find a way to make this work?" I asked.
"I just did...obey me without hesitation and your daughter's dark, pun intended, secret is safe," he said. "Now your first order. Lift up your dress, get on your desk, and rub yourself."
"You can't be serious," I said, disgusted.
"Just do it," he ordered, showing his impatience with me, which was ironic because my patience had long run out with him.
"Please don't make me," I begged, shifting my attitude from defensive to pleading.
"Obey like a good MILF slut and your daughter's secret will be protected," he said.
"You promise?" I asked, knowing I would do anything to protect my daughter.
"Yes, Scout's honor," he smiled.
"Were you ever a Scout?" I asked skeptically.
"Actually yes I was, for a couple of weeks," he laughed. "Now start masturbating."
I sighed dramatically, to make it clear I wasn't happy, before I obeyed the order, masturbating for him.
After a minute, he pulled his phone out again and I protested, covering myself back up, "No pictures."
"Either pose or your daughter is exposed," he said and then laughed. "Look at that Mrs. Barber, a rhyming couplet."
"Please," I begged, not wanting even more incriminating evidence for him to be able to use against my family.
"Now, bitch," he ordered. "I have other places to be."
Knowing I had no choice at the moment, I resumed pleasuring myself while he filmed or took pictures of me.
"Good girl," he commented, the words coming from him so ludicrous and humiliating.
"Are we done?" I asked, not wanting to have to finish the task in front of him; although I hated to admit it, but my vagina was getting wet.
"For now," he shrugged, putting his phone in his pocket. "Now if you go tell anyone about this so-called blackmail, both you and your daughter will be famous, is that clear?"
"Yes, fine," I answered frustrated, pulling my hand out of my pantyhose.
He headed to the door, "I suggest you go shopping on your way home...any disobedience of my instructions and your daughter's secret submissive cunt licking addiction is revealed as is your masturbating on your desk."
"Please," I said weakly.
"No, you can't have my cock, but don't worry Mrs. Barber, soon enough," he said confidently, as he opened the door, before repeating, "Soon enough."
Then he was gone.
Sitting at my desk, I began to cry. I considered going to the cops, but I believed that if I did the video of my daughter would go viral. No, the best way to deal with it was to obey for the time being until I could come up with a plan... which would be to convince him to give me the video.
I tried to mark another paper, but I was so upset that I gave up. I ended up obeying him as I drove to the mall and purchased a couple new pairs of thigh highs. I did have a couple pairs at home for when I wanted to be a little sexy for my Jared or at college. I also bought a couple new outfits that fit his expected attire, already feeling embarrassed for tomorrow before it actually happened.
That night, when Sophia came home I asked, "How was your day, honey?"
"Great," she said, looking super happy.
"Honey, I have to ask," I began, looking at her in a plaid skirt and black thigh highs, the lace tops visible as she sat down on the couch. "Isn't that outfit a little revealing?"
"Oh, mom," she sighed. "It's 2015."
"I can see the top of your stockings, Sophia," I pointed out.
"That's the style," she said, standing up, clearly annoyed at my interrogation of her. Deciding to let it go for now, I didn't say anything else.
That night I tossed and turned knowing that tomorrow I was completely at the whim of my worst student.
BUZZED
I showered, put on a pair of silky black thigh high stockings, a matching black bra, a new black skirt that was a little shorter than my usual attire, and three inch heels. Without panties I felt naked, but until I could figure a way out of this, I had to obey. I kept my hair down also as instructed and looking in the mirror, the minor changes really changed my look.
Sophia said, when she saw me, "You look amazing, Mom."
"Thanks," I said, flattered by the compliment. "I thought I would just let my hair down for a day."
"Well, it makes you look less like a librarian," she said, the same words Jordan had used yesterday.
I laughed, "You are not the first person to say that." Sophia was in a sundress today, with beige stockings and I assumed no panties. I saw a black choker on her neck and asked, "Is the choker new?"
"Yeah," she said, her face going red but she didn't say anything else, so I again left it alone.
I drove her to college and we went our separate ways. All morning I was on edge anticipating something from Jordan, but I didn't have him and his girlfriend until after lunch. At lunch, I worked at my desk trying to finish the marking I had hoped to compete the night before, when Lilly walked into my room.
"Mrs. Barber," she said shyly, clearly nervous.
"Yes, Lilly," I greeted warmly. Lilly was our church minister's daughter and Sophia's best friend. I didn't teach her this semester, so I hadn't seen her in a few days, since church actually, but she too was dressed much more provocatively than her usual demure attire. I also noticed she too was wearing a choker. I immediately wondered if she too was somehow involved in this sick game Jordan was playing.
"Um, I'm supposed to give this to you and," she paused, clearly uncomfortable with what she was to say, "um, you are, are supposed to have it in you for your next class."
"Who told you to bring this to me?" I asked skeptically.
"I can't say," Lilly whispered, handing me the box.
"Lilly, talk to me," I said.
"I got to go, Mrs. Barber," Lilly said, quickly walking out of my room.
Is it possible that Jordan, or Trisha, or both, had somehow got to Lilly too or did Lilly and Sophia both just choose to buy the same choker? It seemed unlikely, but suddenly nothing seemed to be as it appeared.
I closed my classroom door, before I opened the box and found a vibrating egg, a thong with a note. I had a vibrating egg back in college that my ex used to put in me to keep me revved up and raring to go on occasion while at parties. I grabbed the note and read it:
Mrs. Barber,
I see you have your hair down and your outfit is indeed a bit more provocative. I assume you are also wearing thigh highs and no panties. GOOD GIRL!! For class today you will put the egg in your CUNT. You may wear the thong so it doesn't fall out in class. I expect your phone on at your desk as I will text you instructions in class. Any disobedience and the videos go viral.
I sighed. This was going too far. If I disobeyed, the videos would go viral and I would lose my job and Sophia's scholarship would be gone. If I obeyed, I may lose my job if anyone catches on...sadly, the better option was to obey. I put the egg and thong in my purse and went to the staff washroom to put in the egg and put on the thong.
I returned to my classroom dreading the next class, which would start in fifteen minutes. Again, marking became futile as my anxiety for what was about to potentially happen had me a complete mess.
The bell rang and Trisha walked in a couple of minutes later and looked at me with a smile on her face. "Hi, Mrs. Barber."
"Hi, Trisha," I greeted, the image of my daughter between her legs flashing in my head.
The bell rang and a big relief coursed through me when Jordan wasn't in class. I began teaching, the egg in my pussy noticeable and distracting, but tolerable. I was five minutes into my lesson, when Jordan sauntered in and said, "Sorry for being late, Mrs. Barber."
"Its fine," I said, trivializing his tardiness, something I never did. "Please take your seat."
"Sure thing," he said, taking his seat.
I continued my lesson for fifteen more minutes, praying he wouldn't start the egg, avoiding making eye contact with him, until I assigned a short story to them to read.
Sitting at my desk, I saw my phone was flashing that I had a message. Taking a deep breath, I slyly checked my message (breaking my own no phone in class rule).
Mrs. Barber
I want you to take your heels off and walk around the class in your stocking-clad feet.
A strange request, but since my feet were rather sore after wearing the heels all day, it was actually a request I didn't mind.
I slipped out of my heels and wiggled my feet. Standing up, I obeyed his order, as I walked up and down the rows. A buzz suddenly started in my pussy just as I passed Jordan. Thankfully, just as quickly it stopped. I quickly returned to my desk, petrified that someone could hear the buzz. Of course, another message awaited me.
Mrs. Barber
Good girl. You have sexy feet. You will continue to keep your heels off during class. Now flip your legs onto your desk, grab a book and relax. I need to find out if you obeyed the order to wear thigh highs.
This was getting insane. I looked directly at him and he just nodded. Frustrated that I had no power in this little game of his, I cursed to myself before I again obeyed the potentially humiliating order. I put my legs on my desk, my stocking-clad feet up in the air, the top of my thigh highs clearly visible as I began reading a book. I felt utterly naked, even though I was fully clothed and thigh high stockings, while admittedly edgy, wasn't 'get fired' worthy.
All the students were reading and oblivious to my anxiety riddled plight, which was enhanced a minute later as the vibrating inside started up again. The egg thankfully was almost inaudible, but it packed a solid punch as I instantly began to feel pulses of pleasure.
I looked again to Jordan who actually seemed to be reading his book. I looked around the rest of the room to see if anyone else had noticed my unorthodox position. Everyone seemed to be engaged by the story, except Trisha who was staring right at me. I saw then it was she who had the remote. Smiling at me, she pressed the control and the vibrations inside intensified.
I bit my lip and broke eye contact, knowing that I wanted to avoid the game at all costs. The vibrations inside were really beginning to feel undeniably good, which only frustrated me more at just how helpless I was. The vibrations continued for another couple of minutes before intensifying again; making me let out a small gasp.
A couple students looked up and gave a bewildered look, one of the boys giving a lengthy gaze at my legs until he realized I was looking at him, before returning to their reading.
Looking back at my desk, I had another text:
My horny Mrs. Barber,
I'll turn it off as soon as you come for me.
My eyes went big at the expectation. The pleasure of the powerful toy making my pussy very wet, it was only a matter of time before I came whether I wanted to or not. I looked up again at Jordan, who was looking directly at me smiling. I pleaded with him with my eyes for mercy, but not surprisingly none came.
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