Just for context, [Braces] indicates handwritten notes, transcripts, and submissions.
:
[She put down her hand, and eagerly came up to the board. The boys in the class eyed her with the unabashed lust of youthful hormones. 8th grade Social Studies, odd that though one of my best students, she’s generally shy, and not typically one volunteer for attention. Always quiet, and reserved, she get’s teased as a Teacher’s Pet. In a less kind word, I had heard in the halls, or doorway as they filtered in and out of class, she was a bit of a “Nerd.” However, she was privately one of my more gifted, and creative writers.
Honor roll, and a good bid for Valedictorian. If she could maintain her streak into high school, and beyond. In all honesty, she wrote at College level, in grammar, spelling, and had a delightful imagination for fiction. In prose and spoken diction. Unfortunately, she also developed hormones, which affected her body in ways her baggy clothes, stop-staring-at-me-hair, and modest glasses failed to completely hide. As the boys delighted in showing on their ravenous expressions.
The chalk clicked quietly behind me, but briefly. I looked back as she stepped aside to reveal a single word:
NOW
She smiled up at me, hands clasped behind her back and I barely let the out “What?” before I heard the loud roar of multiple chairs scraping across the floor. The boys were up, “What do you thinMH!?” coming forward, as I was deprived the rest of that query by a muffle of some sort.
"Shut up, bitch." Pulling back my head, then they were all around me. Grasping my arms, holding them as my hair twisted and pulled in a knot. "I think you know,” her normally quiet voice was cold, “What this is now. Right boys?”
“Yeah,” their hands, “Oh yeah.” Not just at my arms, “I think she gets it.” I shuddered in disgust at their gripping my chest, legs, and buttocks. “Yeah, she’s gonna get it!” Their rough sadistic laughter.
I looked pleadingly at the rest of the desks, even as they hoisted me up on mine, but the other girls remained seated. Just watching, or talking to each other. Smiling, whispering, and giggling to my horror, but I could implore no help from them.
They were in on it, they were all at least complicit in the assault, even as I heard the distinctive adhesive rip of tape, and felt it clinging through my stockings. “NWR!” I struggled, to no avail, there were too many of them. Too numerous hands, holding my limbs, and pressing my arms up. Together, I shut my eyes to the roll, passing over me, and shuddered. “Mhmhm,” whimpered even as another terrifying rip drowned them out.
It stuck to my wrist, held crossed over the other until they were bound tightly together.
“Hh?” My eyes flew open, at the sensation of my fingers brushing, then pressed into cloth. Her skirt, between her thighs, then it folding and wrinkling over them, pulled up, with the material to expose them. I tried to turn away, but they held my face. Closed my eyes, to the image of her crotch, but with the next desperate shallow gasp through my nose was assaulted by the unmistakable odor of her arousal. Even as I vainly tried to push the mental likeness of her underwear so close, then felt my hair pressed in, around my face. My brow, brushing her young thighs.
Why, only 13, little more than a girl in bloom, and so quiet, so shy. So unthinkable that she would even harbor such rapacious desires, much less the wherewithal to act on them. The boys, of course you trust that they won’t organize, and conspire, yet I could see it, occasionally throughout the semester. However, the single word left no doubt. They had not plotted this together. Even as their hands spread my jacket, and unbuttoned my blouse, I was seized by the certainty that this was not their plan. It was her’s, they cooperated with, and a dreadful certainty gripped my heart that it had yet barely begun.
Even as the fragrant musky cotton blotted out the light through my lids, and crushed the bridge of my nose. Even her hands, pushed enough of their rough brutish fumbling gropes away to gently find purchase on my breasts. She gave no clue, that she even saw anything erotic as something more than harassment. In her writing, it had become brooding, and darker, but only with the ideation of the persecuted. The overwhelmed.
I had even cried for her in sympathy. Remembering that troublesome time from my youth, and the oft frightening attentions of my male peers. I just never had reason to suspect it from any of the girls, least of all her. Not even any clue of sapphic attraction, to me nor any of her classmates. As much as I feared the rough manipulations of them, I could understand, even expect it. From her, it came as a shock of the unknown. The yawning black abyss of the unknowable, the infinite ignorance outside our scintilla of knowledge.
Expect the unexpected? I had laughed at that impossibility, but this. This nightmare. They would have their way with me, to be sure, even without the unsubtle indications of their fingers fumbling under my tight skirt. At my undergarments, pulling out my hose so hard they tore along my thighs, but all I could wonder at is what she could possibly have in store for her portion. What would she take from me?
I dreaded the gang rape, but that, unknowable. I feared that even more.]
Yours, truly:
Helen (Fg NS Talk.)
“Yes Mrs. Davenport?”
”May I speak with you, out in the hall?”
”Uh!” I dropped my books on the desk, but she appeared upset. “Yes, Mrs. Davenport?”
“What is the meaning of this?” She waved the sheets in front of me.
So, I took them, and. “MH?” Covered the scream before it escaped my mouth. I looked up from the incriminating page, and let it fall. Reflexively held it back, behind me. I shook my head, speechless.
“Was that ment for me?” I silently shook my head, and blink the blur from my eyes, to roll down my cheeks. “Explain yourself!”
“It was an accident!” I pleaded, “I didn’t know, and you weren’t ment to read it!”
“You aren’t supposed to, write such disgusting smut, let alone in my class, and how could you!” She cried hysterically.
“I’m sorry!”
“How could you, want something so sick, for me!?”
“I don’t, it’s not you, honest. See, I didn’t call you Mrs. Davenport, or any name in here, you’re just an anony;” Uh! “Mh!”
She frowned, fiercely.
“HhHhH!” i shivered, betrayed by my own words. “i’m. So, sorry.” i just can’t help it. i thought, there was no way, i could ever admit it, even in words, but yeah. Okay, i nodded, shamefully, but couldn’t raise my eyes to look at her.
She’s just, too, beautiful. i don’t know why, but i can’t help it. i knew the boys desired her, too. i just couldn’t think of any other way to touch her, hold her, taste her. Without their help.
“Well, return to your desk,” she snatched the sheets away, “And don’t mention Any of this, to Anyone, Ever!” She shook her finger.
“Yes, Mrs. Davenport.” my head fell.
“I’ll deal with you after class, but I have other students to attend to.”
i hung my head, in the walk of shame between giggles, whispers, and “Ooh!”s
“Now settle down, class.”
“Not miss perfect now, are you?”
i just shook my head, and cried.
“No,” put it down.
i never was.
Lucinda (F Clas Fant)
I need a cigarette. My hands shook with residual rage, but I have responsibilities, to my students. My other students, I’ll have to find placement for her later, but no reason to deprive them of their education. Which is my duty, because of that.
Just drive it from my thoughts, [x] and distract myself with the rest of the attendance. Take a ragged breath, but I wish I could just run out to my car for another cigarette. A filthy habit, I shouldn’t indulge as a bad example for them. However, I was desperate after awaking so many times to the nightmares. I hadn’t even considered buying a pack for years. Until last night, I had to find a gas station that was open.
It didn’t help me sleep, but at least it helped steady my hand. Ironically, even were I to take up my red pen, I wouldn’t have needed it. As usual, it was incredibly well written, if anything overwritten with the choice of words such as scintilla. If not for the subject matter, her obvious passion could even be construed to inspire the horrific realism, but I have to focus. They won’t be occupied with the reading indefinitely, so try to remind myself of the lesson plan.
Just the simple act of reading, panic inducing, dreading the next word, and recognizing each it had in common with. That. How can I not think of that, avoid it consuming my thoughts, as it had for the last, 20 hours? Why did I read the whole thing? Why couldn’t I stop? How did it grip me so?
“HhHhH!” I looked up. She was writing, ignoring me, even as the rest of the class looked up, and I even relaxed at some expressions of concern. Thankfully, she couldn’t. Face me, she cried, and now my heart could empathize with that. It wasn’t her fault, I can scarcely imagine being assailed by such horrors. From her own imaginings, but now I could even sympathize with that. Being assaulted myself by them, inadvertently as it may be, and surely it was fiction. Terrifying as it may be, she couldn’t truly conspire with the entire class to.
“Continue reading,” I can’t do this! “I’ll send a substitute.”
“Are you all right, Mrs. Davenport?”
“No.” I grasped the knob to steady myself. “I don’t feel well. So, I will send for someone to finish the class.”
I can’t face them, least of all her, but even the others, after the nitemares, forced to imagine their hands, and leering faces. “Huh!” I need a cigarette, but first I have to make good on my promise for their futures. So, the lounge, “Ah, Mr. Rhodes. I hate to ask, but I feel ill. Would you mind looking in on my students? The lesson plan is on my desk, but I have to take the day.” At least. “I don’t wish to expose. Hhh!”
“Go,” he dropped his sandwich, “Good lord, you’re white as a sheet! Go on, I’ll take care of them.”
“Good,” I rushed to the office. I have to, before I can get out to my car, and hopefully relax, but the flashbacks come back, and I find myself on the floor. Sobbing in the hall, but i can’t stop. “No, WHY!?”
“Oh my gosh, Mrs. Davenport!?”
“Don’t touch me! Get away from me!” I just ran, as soon as I could get my heels under me, but I can’t. I can’t even face the secretary right now, I need a cigarette, “I need some fresh air.” NOW! Then I can consider signing out, but right now, I just can’t.
“WhhhHhH!” Take another drag, and snap my fingers. “Heather.” That had to be it. I was assured that that, delinquent deviant was safely away at Training School. The bad one, which would imply I got the “Good one.”
Assuming of course that they didn’t conspire to take advantage of looking identical. Another possibility to consider would be Helen giving into a similar rebellious streak later, after her sister had been expelled. Did they conspire, to write it together, or merely the exchange knowing I couldn’t tell them apart? Regardless, we don’t have either of their fingerprints on file, but they aren’t completely identical. She had a record, so stub it out for another drag, and sign out. So I can go to the Police station for her 10 sheet. She’s not supposed to be on the property, and I may be able to catch her in violation of the restraining order.
If it is her, there’s no other way out. I will get to the bottom of this, however. With that, purpose, I can cope. The nicotine helped, but now I can face her with something to face her with. I’m not beaten yet, I won’t let her break me with her manipulations, or at least I can cry later. For now, I have some way to fight back.
;
{Heather Palmer, please report to the office before the next class.}
‘huH!?” The hairs stood up on my neck right before the bell even rung. Perfect timing! I flirted with the idea of just going to class, but then I saw the cop in the hall, and resigned to my fate. I fucked up, I should have checked my homework, but she got me. Ha Ha, very funny, she stapled another sheet to my assignment, and I just turned it in with my work.
“Come with me, miss.”
“You don’t have to carry me,” I put my hands up, at least he didn’t get out the cuffs, “I’m coming, all right? Stand down.” He followed me to the office, and man did Mrs. D look pissed! “It’s not me, it was Heather.” I swore.
She slapped a sheet of fingerprints down on the table, “Forgive me if I don’t take your word for it. This officer will administer the test, so don’t resist.”
“All right, fine. She’s at school, or she should be, unless she broke out again. It’s me, Helen. I’m sorry she did that to you, I mean it, but I didn’t know.”
“What did she do, exactly.”
I turned to the principal, “I assume she added a sheet to my homework, she pulled a similar stunt at her Private school, so it’s right up her alley.”
“Do you have this sheet?”
“No, I destroyed it.” She lied! She totally lied, I saw it.
“Well, what did this sheet contain?”
“Give me your other hand.”
“Huh!” He started over with the thumb, and rolled it on the dye pad, then the sheet. “I don’t know, she didn’t even give me a chance to read it before she made me give it back.”
“Smut,” she nodded, “Horrible, lesbian smut, and as soon as we confirm the identities here, I want her brought up on charges.” She pointed.
“I told you, I’m Helen. I’m as much a victim here as you are, you know what she’s like?” She shook her head, “Well I do. I lived with her most of my life, and this is what she does. She gets in your head, and gives you doubts until you think You are the one going insane.” Lucky she didn’t have her as a full-time student, much less being her twin sister. “Can you do the comparison here?”
He got out a magnifying glass on a big plastic holder, and bent over the sheets.
“While I’m not an expert, these patterns aren’t even similar,” he moved across just to be sure, “So it’s just a formality to have it certified my our experts. If you want, have a look for yourself, but this appears to be Helen Palmer, and not her sister.” Thank god there isn’t 3 of us.
“Unfortunately,” the uniformed policeman went on, “There’s no actual crime here, even if there was evidence. She sent you a dirty story, so unless you can find her fingerprints on the property, I can’t even charge her in violation of the restraining order. She’s not supposed to come within 500 feet of the school, but it doesn’t say anything in here about writing. Unless it could be construed as some sort of Threat?"
She lied, "No." Again!
"Which is fortunate for you, Mrs. Davenport, because then you would have destroyed evidence of a crime, and I’d be forced to charge with that, by your admission in front of witnesses.”
“I know, it’s just. So abhorrent, I felt compelled to destroy that terrible thing.” A good liar, I’ll give her that, but I was curious enough about why not to let that slide.
“Take some time off, you need anything else, officer?”
“I could use a desk to write up the report, but I can do that back at HQ if you want to get rid of me.”
“Am I dismissed?”
“No, you’re suspended. While we can’t take any legal action in this incident, I do have the authority to give you some time to reflect on traumatizing our faculty.”
“I’m sorry!”
“I know,” she patted my shoulder, “I’ll give you a ride home?”
“Of course," she led me out, “You’ll have to give this to your parents,” she gave me the pink sheet from the suspension notice, “But as you said, you’re a victim in this as well, and I think we should talk, on the way.”
“Snh?” she’s been smoking, but I’d been crying, so I wiped my eye to cover it.
“Now,” when she got me outside, “You haven’t really, been having any, thoughts like that about me, have you?”
“Not, really.” I shook my head, “It was my mistake telling her you’re my favorite teacher, but how bad was it? Did you keep it?”
“Yes.” She admitted, and unlocked her car as soon as it was in sight.
“Why?”
“So you can read it, I suppose, and I’m not done processing yet. Huh! I came, this close to burning it up, but immediately realized I would regret it.”
“Well, I better read it,” If I’m going to get back at her for this, “But just so I know what to expect, are we talking about, sapphic, ahm. Content?”
“You mean what it’s about?” she shook her head, stopped, and steeled herself. “Huh! It’s, incomplete. However, it heavily implies gang-rape. Not just her, but all of the male students as accomplices.”
“Well, thanks for the trigger warnings.”
“You think she wrote the rest?”
“Why, would you think you could read it?”
“I believe I might have to, for closure. The way she left it. Huh! You’re right about, how she gets in your head.”
“I know, as well as anyone.”
“I think I can, accept, what happened. No, correction: What she wrote about happening, I’m a little sleep deprived, but what keeps bothering me is not knowing, what didn’t happen.”
“Wow,” really did a number on her, “Huh?”
“I can’t explain it, you’ll have to read it to understand.”
“Well,” I nodded, but she produced the crumpled, then smoothed out sheet, “There is more.”
“To this story?”
“No, I don’t know.” My eyes flashed over the crumpled lines in my own perfectly forged script, “I mean there’s more stories. Huh!” I covered my mouth, “Not as bad as this!” The hose tearing down her thighs, then the ending. Or the cliff hanger, the unending, menacing implication, forcing her to wonder...
"God, I’m so sorry!" I shouldn’t have, never admitted my crush, but I had no idea who else to turn to. Sure, she’s a sadistic monster, but she’s my sister. This is probably her trying to help me in her sick twisted mind, but the feelings were true, just sitting next to her in the car. If not for the horror in my hands, as I turned it over to the back. Her presence, finally alone with her, I probably would do something like babble out my feelings for her.
Like some smitten schoolgirl. “Hihihn!”
“What?”
“Uhm,” search for the right word. “Sorry, ‘mental likeness’.”
“Yes, she rather overwrote it.”
“Yeah, just didn’t want to repeat ‘Image’, nor ‘Crotch’.” I nodded. Her favorite book she didn’t write herself is a Thesaurus.
“Uh!”
“Oh!” I just hugged her.
“Hhuhuh!” She shuddered.
“I’m so sorry,” but, i love You.
That’s why she hurt her. She gets jealous, she won’t let me love anyone else.
“Honestly, it wasn’t even like your writing.”
“Yeah?” You’d be surprised.
“Yours is so much more caring.”
“Yeah,” I know, “I’m not a sociopath.”
“Well, I don’t mean to punish you for her.”
“No,” it’s all right, 'i want You. Too.'
“What?”
“Punish me?”
The truth is, my writing isn’t more caring, it’s just submissive.
“Why?”
“Huh! I was her first victim. She dominated me, with fantasies like this. Then, she used them to tie me down, and forced me to submit to them.”
“She raped you?”
“No, she. She made me, like it. I. i didn’t just let Her. At some point, I begged Her for it. To put a collar on me, and make me Her slave. Huh! i have to warn you. i wrote, the rest of it.”
“The story?”
“Not that one, by my fantasies, and they’re at least as dark.”
“You wouldn’t, hurt anyone?”
“No, nobody else. I can’t.”
“You wouldn’t hurt, me?”
“Oh no! God no. I’m not a sadist, i can’t hurt anyone! i don’t want to hurt You! i want You, to hurt me.”
That’s why i fell in love with Her. Yeah, she’s older, and gorgeous, but she Dominates that class. I can’t be the only one who sees it, sure the boys just look at her body, and fantasize, whatever twelve and thirteen year old boys do. I don’t know, but.
"Then by process of elimination, you fear that you could hurt yourself?"
"No," she still doesn't understand, "i have to. To focus, it's like a drug, and I'm addicted now. Now that i don't have anyOne to give me my fix."
“I can’t.”
“I know.”
“I’m happily married.”
“I know!” Now I’m really crying.
“I have three wonderful kids.”
“Stop.”
“And I’m not. Homosexual.”
“HhHhHhH!” And it’s, so wonderful. i feel myself, slipping away. “Me neither.” So i can relax, with the clarity of every distraction taken away. That’s not what this is about, but finally, i felt it. Exactly what i needed. i found the way, deep inside, to that dark place, where i feel safest.
She broke my heart, which is exactly what i needed.
She’s perfect.
;
Twin's Synch
"What's this?"
"A transcript, of one of our Synchs. Huh! When we're growing up, our parents wanted us to develop our own identities, so they sent us to different classes, and camp at different times. So, we'd have the same opportunities, but also a chance to have our own experiences, separately."
"So, you had to Synchronise when you got back together, to catch up?"
"Yeah, and we wrote them down, so as to remember them better. But this is the one, where we started to experience, sexual things. I think it helps, to understand how she turned out so sadistic, while I turned out so accepting."
"How she enslaved you?"
"How we became, different enough that she could."
"You want to read it out loud?"
"You think that would help?"
"Well," talking, and skimming over it, "It is written as a dialog." Her eyes scanned down, "And without names, or descriptors, it's difficult to tall who's whom."
"Yeah," I nodded, "We're twins? Never really hat to tell eacother what we look like, it's more like talking to yourself, or an echo." Hard to explain to a singular person. "I know my part, so why don't you play her?" Read it so many times it's memorized, since she left. "I'm glad you're not her, nothing like me. Because, it's kind of like a mirror, with her. Only a darker reflection."
"All right," she cleared her throat. "Ahem:"
So, I went first.
:
["So, there was this boy at camp."
"Was he cute?"
"Yeah, he gave me this, but. Well, he got kind of pushy."
"And what did you do?"
"Nothing?"
"Did he," `touch you?'
"No! Of course not, but he asked me if I ever seen it before."
`His, thing?'
"Well, he showed me that too, but not right away. He had these, though. So, he showed me, and we looked at it together, but. He asked me how I felt, looking at them. If I was getting hot, or maybe wet between my legs. I said no, it was true, I wasn't, but then he wanted to kiss me, so I ran away."
"Did he flash you later?"
"No, well, kind of. He just, played with it, in front of me. I couldn't run too far, you know the camp, it's not like I ran away away. I just got out where he couldn't grab me or anything, without someone seeing."
"Oh, but then you went back."
"Yeah, I thought about it, and then I did kind of feel it. A little, thinking about the dirty pictures he showed me, but I don't want to do it with him. I could tell that's what he wanted, but it was kind of scary with him there. So, I didn't really get hot till he left."
"Well I feel it."
"Hot?"
"Yeah."
"Me too, and you're really red."
"You too!"
"But I'm not getting wet, like he said. Or in the stories, here. It's not just pictures, they got stories too. Let me show you."
"Sex stories?"
"Yeah, how to do it, but it's all grownups. Just like the pictures."
"Sharon, did you play with yourself?"
"Yeah, let me show you."
"Uh!"
"Just like this. It helps to get your fingers wet."
"Yeah, that feels nice."
"I know, right? So, then I wanted to see it again, but that ment I had to talk to him, so I told him I'd scream if he tried anything."
"But you saw it."
"Yeah, nhih! He jerked off, and everything. But, I had to take my clothes off, so he could see me. To get the porn, I wanted to show you, like this, but he wouldn't give me them unless I took my clothes off. So, I stayed back, where he couldn't grab me, but he just jerked off, and then gave me the magazines."
"HhHhH!"
"You're getting really hot."
"Yeah, it feels like a fever."
"Yeah, but down here."
"Yeah, you're getting hot too."
"Yeah, you want to touch me too?"
"Yeah, okay."
"This is way better."
"Then playing with yourself, with him?"
"Oh, I didn't. I just stood there naked, to get the pornos. I mean playing with yourself, period. I can't see what I'm doing, like this, and it's awkward, trying to reach everything."
"Well, this feels great."
"Yeah, try this. Nh! Yeah but not so hard!"
"Sorry."
"Neah, that's better. Gently, it hurts if you touch it too hard."]
:
["How was camp?"
"Well, I met your boyfriend, Lawrence."
"Oh! How's he doing?"
"Well, you know."
"You didn't!"
"Uh huh."
"Hihihihihin! Come on." ... "Okay, tell me all about it."
"Well, for one thing, you didn't tell me he was so, little?"
"Well, hahaha! He's not, That little!"
"Oh yeah. Good point, but anyway I don't mean short, you know."
"You mean, his" 'penis?'
"Nhihneah."
"Oh, well. I don't guess he is, really. I mean, they make them look big in the magazines, but I guess it's, like normal, sized?"
"Maybe, not like I seen any more then you, but he called me Karen, so he thought I was you."
"Well, I didn't tell him. You know, we didn't really talk, all that much."
"So anyway, since he thought you came back. I asked him if I could see it, again."
"And you did."
"Yeah, but we talked a lot first. Um, I guess he tried to get to know me, well you. Better this time. I mean, you know he had the hots for you last week, but this week he asked all these questions. Like where I live, and if I have a boyfriend yet."
"Did you lie?"
"Yes, and no. I mean, I told him no, but then. Later I told him I have a girlfriend."
"Karen!"
"Hihihn! I just wanted to see what he'd think!"
"Well? nh!'
"He got off on it."
"Nh hn? HihHhn!'
"Are you?"
"Neahhhhh."
"Yeah, me too. Huh, I mean not right now, or like. When I jerked him off."
"Ah, gahn!"
"But later, when I got back to our tents."
"Hih hih hin! You, you're not."
"What?"
"Turning. Bisexual, are you?"
"Oh hahahah! No, I just said that. Are you?"
"Uh uh."
"Well, help me get off now."
"Okay."
"Here, let me suck your thumb."
"Like a dick?"
"Mhm!"
"You didn't!?'
"Mh, yeah. I did!"
"You sucked him off!? You slut!?"
"Yeah, just like this. Mh!"
"God, that's so hot!"
"Mhm!"
"And you liked it?"
"MHM!"
"Did you taste it?"
"Mh, smuip! Yeah. Faster, yeah. Nyeh nhnynynmyeah AH!"
"Huh god, you're gonna have to tell me all about it. When you're done."
"Huhuhuhuhn, neah!']
"This one starts with her."
"So," she cleared her throat;
["So, huh! I guess I better start over, from the beginning. You know, when you told me about it last week, did you tell me everything?"
"I think so."
"Good, so he didn't catch me in any lie, because I could pretend to remember, but then I told him about everything I thought about him. I guess I layed it on pretty thick, cause he was, well at least he tried to be more romantic about it this time. But you know, I really did imagine, seeing it, and touching him, and I just jerked him off the first time. But then he got bored and left, so I wondered about it, and I tasted it."
"What's it like?"
"I don't know, jizm?"
"Uh huh?"
"No, I mean, that's what it's like. I guess kinda like runny eggs, but it doesn't taste like that, or creamy, or salty, or any of the stuff it says in the letters."
"But good."
"Yeah, I really like it. I don't know, maybe a little like glue? I mean Elmer's, but not as sticky, it's just got this tangy flavor, that's kind of like how glue tastes."
"So then you sucked him, after that?"
"Yeah."
"Let me suck your thumb, and tell me about it."
"Okay, uh. I don't know, it's not really like my thumb. I tried that too, thinking about it to play with myself, but you know. It's like a penis?"
"Mmh?"
"Right, well. Anyway, huh! I guess we better get a boyfriend. Or boyfriends, or you want to take turns, with one? It's too bad they don't have any twin boys here, and I didn't know how to ask him if there's any in Clayton. Oh yeah, he lives in Clayton, and I got his number so we can call him later, but he doesn't have a car. So, I don't know how he can come over, and see us, but try rubbing it with your tongue more. Yeah, on the bottom like that, he really liked that."
"Mh, did he try to. Uh, you know." 'screw you?'
"He wanted to, but I told him, huh! I asked if he had any rubbers, but of course he didn't. So, I said I didn't want to get pregnant. Or caught, fooling around, so that scared him, and he didn't ask again, but he really likes blowjobs."
"Me too. I mean, I want to try it now."
"With him?"
"Yeah, I guess. Or one of the boys here, but. You know, all the boys here are jerks, and can't keep a secret. So, they'll probably brag about it, and then we have to worry about being called slut, or our parents finding out."
"Yeah, but nobody else knows us in Clayton, so maybe we can go out there, to see him."
"Yeah, but then we have to tell him the truth."
"Oh yeah, I want to. I felt kind of guilty, pretending to be you, but I couldn't tell him. I was scared he'd get mad, and not want to fool around any more, but. Huh! I'm sorry."
"Why?"
"Well, because yesterday, before we left. He said I love you. To me, but he really ment you, because I didn't tell him yet."
"And what did you say?"
"Well, I didn't lie. I don't love him, or anything, I really like making out with him, but. I also wanted to talk to you first, to see if you want him, or to take turns, or share him?"
"I don't know, but. You know, when I just climaxed?"
"Yeah?"
"Well, it wasn't because of the, gay thing. I'm not gay, you know that, but. When you said that, the only thing I could think is, how hot it was, lying to him like that."
"Yeah, it's really hot for me too."
"So, why don't we lie to him? He's just a stupid boy anyway, but since he doesn't know about you. Did you mention you have a sister, at all?"
"No, I said a girlfriend, at school."
"Good, so I was thinking, maybe we can go over to Clayton, and I can give him a blowjob before he sees you. Then, we can surprise him!"
"Yeah, that would be so hot."
"Yeah."
"But first, you better practice some more, so he doesn't notice. When you give him a blowjob, why I guess I gave him. 3, 4, no 5 times. So, he'll probably feel the difference, since you never really done it before."
"Did you kiss him?" Uhuh? "Well, you better show me that, too, then."
"Okay," then we can call him.]
:
Cindy (FG Talk NS)
"Huh!" I rubbed my eyes.
"You okay?"
"Yeah," I guess. "Fine, I just need a break." She followed me out to the porch, where I could light up. "Huhhhh!"
"It's hard, huh."
"I just need to think about it, but;" The ember sizzled, and I snapped a little ash off.
"You having a little trouble with the Incest?"
"It's, more like masturbating, each other?"
"Yeah," she nodded, but looked at the tip. "Can I have a drag?"
I just frowned at her, shook my head, took another.
"Hihhihn, sorry." She shivered. "Probably not a good idea."
"Yeah, so. I guess I can see what you mean. He victimized you, whereas she used it to, sexually." I don't know. "Huh! Well, it sounds like she might have taken advantage of him?"
"Yeahbut, I wasn't there. I read it over and over, for years, but I still can't tell at what point, she started lying to me."
"Right." She said "Sociopath. Officially diagnosed?"
"Depends on the shrink you talk to, whether they say Psychopath, Antisocial Personality, or Conduct Disorder."
"Well, I'm not a psychologist, but I've all of those on more than enough student records to tell you they're all Pathological Liars."
"Yeah, I just have no idea when.
Nodding, "But I see what you mean, she took the active aggressive role, while you became more passive, and recessive. She molested you."
"I know," She shuddered, "You have no idea, it was years before i could look in the mirror. I didn't feel ugly, she just triggered me, looking back. I just have to warn you, it gets worse."
I know. "Huh! Yeah." About half done, I put the rest out to finish later. "I think I can go on;"
"This one starts with her, too."
"Okay," scan the first few lines...
[“Sharon?”
“Hm?”
“You ever wonder what it would be like, if we were boys?”
“Too? Yeah, sometimes.”
“Oh good, I was starting to worry it was just me.”
“Well, you know with the thumbscrews? Yeah, I guess that’s kinda like. Well, sometimes I imagine that.”
“We’re boys?”
“Well yeah, doesn’t it feel kind of gay?”
“Yeah, but. It’s a shame, really. That we don’t have any real gay porn.”
“Well, lesbians.”
“Yeah, but. We’re not lesbians, right?”
“No, that’s just. Like masturbating.”
“Yeah, but it’s not. I mean, now when I climax, I start thinking about. Well, don’t you ever think about doing it, like fags?”
“You mean,” like, ‘in the butts?’
“Yeah.”
“No, but. Huh, now that you mention it. It does sound, kind of hot?”
“So, you want to try it?”
“Yeah, but. You want to suck me first?”
“Yeah, but so you can screw me first.”
“In the butt.”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, then maybe you can do me?”
“Oh yeah. Mh!”
“Yeah, suck that dick, you fag.”
“Hmhn!”
“You like it? You like sucking this big fat cock?”
“Mhm!”
“Yeah, your a good little cocksucker, huh?”
“Mh, you want to try, fingering my butt too?”
“Oh yeah. Smp! Bend over, faggot. I’m gonna fuck your tight little virgin ass good!”
“Nh! Hhn!”
“It hurt?”
“Smp! Ngh! Yeah, but. Huhh! Not to much. You can screw it in a little deeper. Nh! Neah!”
“Shut up, and suck it.”
“Mh!”
“Suck it good.”
“Shlc, chlughk! Huh! Nh, I think I’m ready.”
“Really?”
“UH! Huh? Yeah, I want to feel it, now.”
“Turn around, yeah. Bend over so I can fuck your little boy ass.”
“Just your pinky, still. Nh! Hn!”
“Nice tight little boy butt.”
“Hhhhhh, hnhhh ahhn neah! Ngh! Lh, wait, huh! Let me lay down.”
“Okay.”
“Can you try and see if you can get your thumb in, now? Uhn! Hihihn!”
“Smq, slLH!”
“Hhn, yeah! That feels, ohh, so good! Huh! But doesn’t it taste, nasty?”
“NhlhL! Huh! I love it.”
“Here, let me try it real quick.”
“You want to kiss my ass, too?”
“Yeah, I wanna try it. Here. Smq!”
“Huh! Yeah, that Does feel, pretty, Nih’hhhhn!’
“Slwrp! NLalalal!”
“Yeah, tonguefuck it, nuh! Give me your thumb, I wanna suck it. Mh! Smp! No, don’t stop, kissing my ass. You like it, too?”
“Mhm!”
“Yeah, you dirty little shit licker. Lick that shitter, huh! Get it good and wet, so you can fuck it. Mh, MhmHM! Smuph!”
“Huh! Get up, no bent over, I want to try it.”
“Neah, Nh! Awh! Nh nht notso hardh uh!”
“Huh, neh! Nh, you like it?”
“Yeah, nuh! Hn!”
“You think Lori’ll like it?”
“Huh!? Nh, yeah. Let’s go get him, and fuck him, like a faggot.”
“Huh! Yeah. That’ll be so hot!”
“Yeah!”]
;
Cindy (FG NS Talk)
"You all right?"
"That it?"
"That's the last of the pertinent synchs, but you want to grab another smoke?"
"Yeah," good idea. "Terrible habit." But I pulled the short out from between the bricks. "Huh! Don't start."
"Okay, Mrs. Davenport."
"Huh, Cindy."
"Really?"
"Yes, just outside of school, you don't have to be so formal. However, I don't want you slipping up in class."
"Okay, Missus." She grinned, "Cindy's fine, I just. You don't really look like a Cindy, or act like it, at all."
"Well, what's a Cindy supposed to Look like, or Act like!"
"HhHhH!" She tensed, but leaned back. Against the wall as if at attention, and closed her eyes.
"Oh, I'm sorry." Seemed to snap her out of it, so she could relax. I took another drag.
"It's okay, huh!" She shook it off. "I guess it's like seeing each other without our glasses. Well, my sister, before they shipped her off for rehabilitation."
"Well," I shook my head, "If she's Sociopathic, I have to warn you that the prognosis probably won't be too optimistic."
"I know, they're trying, but she doesn't want to get better." She likes being a Dominant Sadist. "It's not even like she can't control herself."
"No, she just found out how to control other people."
"Yeah, and she likes it too much." She nodded, "You too?"
"I don't know, I'm not a psychotic."
"No, but you do like the power."
"Oh?" I had to scoff, "Is that so, doctor?"
"Yeah, you rule the school, or at least the classroom."
"Somebody has to keep them in line."
"Is that why you got into teaching?"
"No, I was one of those dreamers, once." Long drag. "Huhhh! I was going to be a novelist, mysteries, but then I decided that I liked being able to eat after I got the rent payed, got married, and decided to start teaching English because of a genuine love of the language."
"Then what happened?" She frowned.
"I guess I got jaded, probably would have burned out eventually," if not pushed over the edge, "But I might as well tell someone." It was eating me up inside, "I'm planning to finish out the semester, and retire." Maybe take a stab at Erotic Horror. Hell, if a 13 year old, no matter how gifted can do it, how hard can it be? "Maybe write some screenplays, or something."
"Well, I was thinking, if you can handle it. Well, I have the first draft of the one she wrote for her teacher. It's a bit different, and not nearly as polished, but you know what you said about closure?" I stopped lighting a fresh one off the first, and nodded.
"Mhm?" Chain smoking, Really? Shook my head.
"Well, maybe a different fantasy will help you get it out of your head, like brainbleach. Only this ones's not as violent."
"All right," In over my head anyway, "What the hell, I'll give it a shot." Barely started this one anyway.
;
[“Heather?”
“Yes, miss Oldman?” Sorry.
“What are you doing, in my class?”
It's Missus. “Nothing, Mrs. Oldman?”
“Lying won’t get you out of trouble, I can see under your desk from here.”
The 6th grader pulls her skirt over her thighs, then folds her hands on the desk in front of her.
“Sorry, miss;”
“You didn’t even pull your underpants up.” She shifts in her seat.
“I’m sorry, missus Oldman.” Pulling her skirt out again, her hands return to the top of the desk.
“Perhaps you need the lesson driven home, so now that your clothes are back in place, why don’t you join me in front of the class?”
I giggle along with the other students, but don’t look at them, nor tear my eyes away from the caught naughty girl, shyly pushing back her seat, and slowly walking forward, her head hanging in shame.
“Is there something in the lesson you find particularly alluring?”
Behind her, the ram’s head shape of a uterus, and fallopian tubes is drawn in painstaking chalk on the blackboard.
“Yes, miss Oldman.”
“Well, perhaps your classmates would appreciate the show I got,” The teacher stands behind her desk, “Turn around, and lift your skirt, Heather. Unless, that peep show was for me.”
“No, mh!”
Whack! The humiliated student jumps.
“Is that disobedience, or an admission that it was not for my benefit?”
“But, unh!”
Another whack of her palm, and her ginger pigtails shake with her reaction. “Your Skirt! Hold it up to show the entire class what you were hiding.”
Tears rolling down from her tightly shut eyes, but she feels down, and gently gathers the pleats up her shaking thighs.
“HhH!” She shivers, and trembles.
“What’s wrong, are you ashamed of your body, Heather?”
“Please, i can’t.”
“You should have thought about that, before you chose to expose yourself to me. So, if you’re going to be such an exhibitionist, then you just volunteered as an example to your fellow students.” Then, without any further explanation, the severe teacher, a stunning lady in her 40s unceremoniously pulls the fabric clutched in the naughty girls hands, and exposing her to the rounded pink triangle of cotton held tight across her narrow hips. “Would anyone like a closer look?”
Predictably, all of the boys raised their hands, drooling with lust, so I raise my hand as well.
“June,” I jump at the opportunity, so quickly that my chair cracks against the desk behind me, before bouncing back to it’s feet. “Come forward, and assist me with this demonstration.”
“Yes, missus Oldman.”
Heather, everyone knows as sexually precocious and exhibitionistic for her scant eleven years. However, I scaresly looked at her, and with not a little envy, for I would happily take her place to be scolded, and exposed by the older woman, still holding the skirt beside her. “Sit on your hands, Heather. You won’t need them with my assistant.” I beam with pride, “June, please do me the service of helping her underpants down, so that your classmates may see a real example of a naughty girl in bloom.”
“Of course.” She squirms, but dare not stop me, even as the warm fine cotton slip down her hips and thighs in my fingers.
“Good June.”
“Thank you, miss Oldman.”
“You may return to your seat.”
“If I may, still be some assistance. I would gladly continue to help you with your demonstration.” “Good,” my heart swells, just at her smile, and praise at my willing helpfulness. “In that case, help this reprobate onto the desk, and spread your legs, Heather. It’s far too late for modesty after your indiscretion.”
I love to stayed after class, but not for bad behavior. Now I can help her, to earn more approval, show her my appreciation for her stern beauty, and modestly dressed figure, as I had admired it all semester. But without hiding it, all eyes on the humiliated example, exposed before her peers, I can do this in front of everyone, rather than wait for the bell to ring.
“Boys!”
“Yes, miss Oldman?” In unison.
“Naughty Heather saw fit to masturbate in class, so in all fairness, should you feel the need, you may open your pants, at your desks, and take care of any reaction this shameless exposure may have caused.”
“Thank you, m’,”
“In silence.” They nod obediently, but not a hand could be seen, even at the girl’s desks. Only their knees, exposed and spread, their long skirts withdrawn no doubt for similar actions.
“May I,” I look down, my face burning, and focus on the swell in her tightly buttoned jacket, right in front of me. Her hidden bosoms, longing to unbutton it right then and there, bare her to the envious eyes, and buy my face in them once again.
“Yes, of course.” She nods. So, I smile, and rather than touch my clothing, much less my own warming nethers, I reach out, to gently touch Heather’s
“Huh!” her eyes fly open, and look to mine, as does her mouth as her jaw dropped.
“Silence.” The teacher warns, as I felt her labia, and spread them with my fingers, to expose her further.
By feel, and from personal experience of my own, as my eyes leave the examples’ and find the piercing blue of the instructors’. With a smile, and a wink, she can’t conceal her approval, surprise, and the flush of her cheeks betray her arousal as well.
That’s what I came forward for, not to get a hand on the slut, but to show Her what i was capable of. To show her what I might be able to do, after class, in private, after the other students left. But first, we had a show to perform, which she indicated with a nod, and wink in return.
“As you can see,” she points with the ruler, “Heather is in Tanner Stage 1, with no signs of pubic growth, and any indication of arousal is also gone away. Heather, does that mean you have learned your lesson?”
“Nhm!” She sobbed, but nodded assent.
“Now you may return to your seat. Any other volunteers, to show your anatomy?”
“Yes,” I just smile, “I’m all ready here, so obviously, I can help you continue the lesson.”
“Good.”
“Mh?” I blinked, and looked up from my desk.
Mrs Oldman glanced up, but just returned to her grading, while the other students continued the reading.
“Hh,” I looked around. Having finished it, and been given permission to put my head down, I got out my notes, to write out the fantasy.
I wish we had sex education here, in private school, much less that the lovely, if dour woman would teach it, with such erotic dominance.
But I am a good girl, with the naughtiest of thoughts.
“Hihn!”
Impossible ones, and sinful as hell.
Not just for boys, nor could I confess them honestly, but I know I’m destined for hell. No one else has to, not that I crave that kind of attention. Exposure, shame, and ridicule from my peers. Maybe I can finish it, with them standing up, cumming forward to shower me with their sinful seeds.
My teacher, one teacher in particular? Yes, I could certainly appreciate that sort of attention. Not that I would ever act. Out for detention, punishment, but a spanking, in private, bent over the desk with her hand gently caressing my skirt between swats of discipline.
A girl can dream, if I’m already destined for hell. For ever, more of these thoughts won’t burn me for any longer, with the naughty things I have already done, and look forward to doing when I get home. Alone, in my room, where my sin is between me, and the eyes of God.
Yeah, you like watching me, play with myself, you immortal pervert? Go ahead and judge me, damn me, punish me. I look forward to meeting Him. To see what He has in store for my eternity. My darkest secret is I welcome it. An eternity of Rape? Demonic torment, erotic torture?
I’m just saving up, my secret sins, so when I do die, he’ll have plenty of ideas for me. Too bad he’s not a she, but we don’t get what we want. That would defeat the purpose, but I imagine Lilith looks a lot like Mrs. Oldman. The bitch. The beautiful, scary, sadistic judgemental bitch. But I bet she likes to watch. Go ahead, rape me for eternity. As long as she can watch.
She looks confused by my wink, so I smile, when she looks away. Turns another paper, but glances up, before taking a breath, and turning back to her work. See you after school, bitch. I’m sure she’ll ask about it some time. What is she going to do, spank me?
“Hihihn!”
“Sh!”
“Sorry, mis,”
“Heather, HUSH!” I nod, obediently.
I just wish, I had the courage to do it. For real, slip my skirt up my thighs. My underpants down to my knees, my fingers to the hellish pit of sin to show her what I think about, just looking at her.
But, there’s all these boys around, and I am a coward. The truth is, if I could, such a display would be.
Just for her.]
;
Mrs. Davenport
Returning to class monday, I must admit some nervousness at the approach of fourth period. Of course, by the time her suspension expired, she would be with a new teacher. However as they filed in, I found my eyes going to her chair, even as they found theirs. I did enjoy her writings, before being exposed to her more. “Ahem.”
They took their seats, and I closed the door. “Now class, open your books to Chapter 8, page one-fifty six, and begin the reading.”
I crossed out her name, and flipped back the page to a new spreadsheet. Yes, a fresh start, looking over the heads of the students, bent in concentration. I re-wrote their names, mostly from familiarity. We had been together through enough of the semester that I merely need recall their work, their names at the tops of their submissions. “Huh.” [Alyssa Charmel: x]
Just get through the semester, no need to punish. Shake my head.
[Robert Jenkins: x] “Huh!” I just smoked, almost half a cigarette in the lounge between periods.
Another empty seat. Look up to recall, the brunette, who should be there, her dyslexia. “Oh,” [Francine Makris: ] Of course.
I would like to think that, what happened didn’t affect me, but I don’t have that luxury.
[Edward Lewis: x] The bully, and a nitwit to judge from his poor effort to apply himself to his language skills.
[Astrid Sharon] Huh. My hand shook, and I had to lift the pen from the paper, to avoid an errant mark. Merely a coincidence, of course, a common name, and they had decided that alias years ago. A pun, or 2. Matching, “Sharing and Caring.” I got it immediately, but had to remember her last submi; “Uh!”
“Still feeling a little ill Miss Dav’;”
“Concentrate on the reading. And it’s Mrs.” I’m happily married, a good Christian. “Miss.” Oh yes, “Lassiter.” [...Lassiter: x]
She just obediently bent back to her study, but I’m not; Surely they don’t see me as such a tyrannical; I’m just under a lot of stress, and at least I can say I slept through the night, though the nightmares not waking me can hardly be seen as a blessing.
Which begs the question of how they see me, the boys predictably enough, but I don’t want to think about that. So, put it out of your mind with Empathy. Something I cannot teach, but an invaluable tool, for the students. Putting myself in their place, I am not too old to remember, that turbulent time in my own development, even my favorite teachers. Mr. Rogan, I too developed feelings toward him, he was handsome with his unruly shock of black curls, and semitic good looks. “Hn,”
Look around at their heads, bowed in study.
Yeah.
Surprising what you overlook, until you have your eyes open, but I can’t knot that box shut again.
Their Submissions, heads obediently bowed, as if in supplication, all of their seats facing me, behind the larger desk, the thronelike chair, standing to lecture, and deliver discipline if they got out of line. Of course, I did not get into teaching for that, a sincere love of the language, and an academic outlet for that passion. I was the nerd, teaching lit was just a natural transition from my failed dreams at writing it, a career where my interest could be put to good use, instead of putting off people by nerding out to some allusion, to some story nobody else had read.
“Huh!” So, when did I become that teacher? The Authoritarian, as long as I’m exploring this introspection, I might as well use all my education to find the right word. Of for a less kind one, I had heard muttered disobediently under their breath.
The bitch.
We had been warned, and I even recall thinking that becoming too familiar could encourage that kind of inappropriate romantic ideation. However, avoiding it, to the point of subconsciously becoming this did not prevent just that from happening. It just turned the resulting fantasy violent, and abusive. I shouldn’t have closed my eyes, as if the flourescent glare could wash it from my mind’s eye.
I had already thought, unbidden. Gang Rape. “Huh.” Lesbian fantasies, bondage and humiliation in class. Shake it out of my head. They’re starting to get through the assignment, so to the lesson plan. I’ll think about it later, it’s unavoidable, but not here, now. It’s inappropriate.
;
Sharon (GG Saph Fant)
"Hey!"
"Helen!" she got off her suspension.
"How's Lucinda?"
"Who?"
"You know, Mrs. Davenport?"
"Oh, I think she having a nervous breakdown, why?"
"Well, because I gave it to her."
"What?"
"I just opened her eyes, with a little fantasy. I might have accidentally turned in with my homework." Oops!
"Oh!" I giggled. "What kinda fantasy?"
"You know. Like, Heather's?"
"Yeah," I nodded, "I remember." Getting kinda hot.
"So, I think she's probably thinking about it now, instead of trying to hide it, subconsciously."
"What?"
"She's a Domme."
"Yeah," I noticed. "Totally."
"Yeah, so you want to get together," she ran her knuckles up my arm, "After school?" Looked up at me, with her big bright eyes, and her glasses. Her long bangs hanging aside to expose her cheeks, and the flush spreading from her nose.
"Yeah," I looked around, "I'd like that." And ached to bend down, kiss her, reach behind her to pull her head back by the hair. The way she likes it. "I missed you."
"Yeah. You too, but I have to get to class." She ran off, the wrong way, but I found out she was transferred to another class.
But that got me thinking about it, looking up, at Lucinda, huh? It's perfect, you know sounds dour and severe. Like she looks, her looks of disapproval. I practiced, in the mirror, but I still can't get it quite right. She did help me, with my writing, I brought my grade up, and was getting better and better marks on my essays, especially. Even the occasional note, a single word of praise in her lovely script, in red ink.
Too bad it's a pantsuit today. I'd rather see her legs in one of those tight skirts she usually wears. Drawn taut by her heels, and run my hand up the fine nylon of her stocking. Feel up under the fabric to the garter belt, and unzip it from the side to slip it down. Sit her down, so I can bend over her. Slip her blazer off her shoulders for her to hold it behind her, and slowly work my way down the buttons of her blouse...
Yeah, I hope she's thinking about it too, what I'm thinking about. I like Helen, but she's a girl. Fun to play with, and so creative, she even helped me with my grades until she shared her writing with me. Her dark fantasies, and then her bed. But she's still just a girl, and I'd much rather learn from a Woman. She can teach me, I can submit to her, all that I had learned, and show her what a bright pupil I can be. Then, maybe we can do one of the old ones. Like Mrs. Goldman, Yeah. I can imagine the rest of the class there, watching and laughing, playing with themselves obediently at their desks. Watching her get punished for abusing herself in class, then calling on me to assist in the demonstration...
"Yeah!"
"Sharon?"
"Yes, Mrs. Davenport?" She pointed, down, and I lowered my head. Better get back to the reading, so I have time to finish this, later.]
;
Lucy (FG Fant)
"Ngh!" She flopped the book closed, and Edward turned back quickly.
"Sharon."
She looked up, biting her lip, guiltily. I snapped, and motioned for her. "Bring your notes."
I had seen them. Together in the halls, and considered that she might be conspiring with her peers, in my class.
I took a glance, then folded it, behind my desk. "Return to your seat."
"Yes, Mrs. Davenport." She sat down, but I had seen enough in that glance to deduce that her flush was not entirely of shame. I frowned, then glared. Down to indicate without speaking it out loud, but she nodded, and closed her knees together under her desk. I transferred her to another teacher, but that didn't completely eliminate the problem. She found a way, and while I missed her, even went back over her work, it's not like I longed to see her again. Merely exchanged glances, in the hall. At most a smile before she had to run off to her new Social Studies class. I had wondered, who else might have harbored such feelings in my class, but now is not the time. It wouldn't be appropriate to pull out the folded sheet, and read what she had written beside the picture, but it was almost like a snapshot. I just had to close my eyes, but I had wondered how some of the other students see me.
More like an X-ray, though more appropriately PG-13. Actually 14, remedial, I remind myself. I would pass her, could without reservation due to her notable improvement. Even aknowledge her tutor, no need for extra credit, for her to stay after class,
...
But that's not my fantasy, and I shouldn't indulge them, here in front of my charges. I just could not help but notice that she must have drawn the underlying structure first, to drape the outlines, over the underwear. No, not X-rated, but certainly Erotic. The Underwear, in greater detail than the shear outline of a skirt, jacket, blouse. The garter belt. My husband had noticed, said that I had been so much more. Passionate. Paused to select the proper word, looking down, and nodding approval, when really I had been. Feeling more attractive. No, what's the word. "Hhhh," I could use a cigarette, to think. Desirable. Desired as I had been lately, and forced to face it. I am a woman, in my prime, and I can't hide it. When I was that age, I felt ugly, then slutty when they found out I was dating. Going steady, called me Lucy, as if I were that easy;
"Uhm," I looked up. "I think we're all done with the reading."
"Good," stand, and button my blazer. A bit warm, but I still have to wear that hat. That slowly slipping fascade of professionality. Not to say I haven't wondered, what they must think of me, but there wasn't much written beside that profile she had drawn. Hopefully enough for some insight, for I must admit, I am a little curious.
'aHm." I cleared my throat, "Now;" And went on with the lesson.
;
“DeDee” (GF NS D&D Talk)
I dropped the latest Submission on her desk after class. “You wanted to See me?” Smirked.
She sighed, and busied herself writing a pass. Rather than look up, at me. Should have worn my heels, stockings and garters for her, but I wasn’t anticipating this. What I had learned, or figured out just from seeing Her before class, and reading Her notes.
“Here,” she finally looked up, “In case you’re late.” She had her blouse buttoned up, so I couldn’t look down it, and see the bra she was wearing. But I just stood, in my best pose. “No, I can’t have you drawing such pictures in class, they’re distracting to the other students.”
Oh, “Okay,” that’s how you want to play it? “It’s just fashion.” I already had excuses prepared.
“So, you’re interested in becoming a model?”
“No, a designer, and coordinator, but that’s why I had to draw the underwear, as the foundation of the entire outfit.”
“Yes of course, but the boys in class may not see it that way.”
“No, but Ed probably couldn’t tear his eyes away to read what I was writing.” I could reach out and touch the trunk of the unaknowledged animal next to me. Figuratively speaking, so I didn’t. Just left my hands on my hips, and nodded down, while she considered that.
“Hm,” she slipped the folded papers into something. “What’s this?”
“From her.” She looked away, then turned to hide her reaction, but I saw it. Her eyes went wide with excitement. “Well, I helped her write it, too.”
“Well I don’t know where you Think you.” She got up, “Two are going with this.” Angry.
“Distraction.” Definitely should have worn the heels. "We're all driving, but that reminds me. We need to use aliases for anonymity. So, you can call me DeDee."
"What's that stand for?"
"Domination, and Discipline." I stood up to her, not her level, but the assumption is that being the Teacher, she can't learn anything from us. "You know, BDSM stands for multiple things?"
"I've researched it, a little."
"Yes," she's a scholar, "Of course." First, and foremost. "So, she decided to Share, not unlike their Synchs. So, we don't have to worry about being seen together, or being distracted by direct presence."
"So, what's your role?"
"Besides the messenger? I can play both of your parts. So, if you want to discipline me, I can discipline her." The bell rang, "So if you'll excuse me, I have to get to class." Well, that was fun!
;
Tutor (G/G Teen)
[We push the desk up to the door. Ostensibly for room, with both of us around it, but of course as a barricade against parental entry.
"Relax," I rubbed her shoulders, "You feeling all right?" Brush the whisps of hair back from her neck to see the heat spreading, that I had felt.
"It's just a fever," she nodded, "But. I have been feeling odd, lately."
"How so?"
"Hot, in my chest. And swollen, and they. Ache?"
"Here?" I felt down her dress, and training bra.
"I'hm?"
"Well," I found the points of inflammation, "It helps to massage them, when they get like this. Does that feel better?"
"Oh, yes."
"Of course, it's easier without this shirt on, and it might help you cool off. Okay?"
"Yeah," I helped her out of it, and she held up her arms. "Any other symptoms?" For the cotton to slip up, over her long lean supple smooth skin. "There, still feeling hot?"
"Yeah, but." She crossed her legs, "Now it's just lower."
"Well, go ahead and massage them, like I showed you," I come around the side, and sit on the corner of the desk. Much redder now, it spread over her shoulder, down her chest, and under the immature undergarment, which contained the source of irritation. "Is this in the way?" I plucked at the thin straps, and she nodded. Inflammation.
"My heart. It's racing so fast!" I felt over it. "Hhn." She bit her lip, and looked up. At me, her young lovely angular face, covered in these new feelings as the deep stain of her flush. Devoid of makeup, the gritty grease paint that tries, yet ultimately fails to reproduce this. Her youth, her arousal, and how they only enhance her natural beauty.
"Let me help you out of this." She has to twist a shoulder out, and her hair falls, as she lets her arms down once again. To nervously twist the fabric, ribbons, and straps in her fingers. Fidgeting, uncomfortably, "There," lift her chin in the crook of my finger, and swipe my thumb along her swollen, blood darkened lips. She smiles, sighs through her nose, and the backs of my fingers run down her hot ruddy sternum to her flat midriff. "Here?"
She shook her head. "Inside." Closed her eyes.
"Lower?"
"Mhm?" Barely a teen, and little more than a tall graceful girl. Pale by default, though now a deep red, deeper than any pink, burning up, from the source of her fever. The hearth, in her lap. 'between my legs.'
"Here?" I felt out, gently brushing down inside the thighs, then caressing back in with my fingertips. "How does it feel?"
'hot.'
"Does it ache?"
"Hn, noh? It feels." She frowns, "Hungry?"
"Maybe I should try massaging it. You think that might make it feel better?"
"HhH!" She shivered.
"Are you cold?" Shook her head. "No, you don't feel cold at all." Plucking at the scalloped pink edging, around the elastic band on the top of the last thing she was wearing.
"Yeah," She swallowed. "In there."
"You fell hot?" I slipped my fingertips, back and forth, inside the waistband. "In here? Yes, you do. So hot, you're sweating."
"Yeah." My nails brushing the whispy curls, I flipped my hand over, to gently work my fingertips into the hairs, and the spongey swollen mass behind them.
"Ohhh!"
"That feel better?"
"Ngh! No, I think, it's getting worse. Uh!" They snapped back as I quickly pulled out my fingers.
"Snh! Well." I felt up her sides, and help her "Up! Why don't you sit down here." Back down to her hips. "Lets get these hot things off of you." Turned around, I put her feet up on the chair. Turned sideways, I knelt, as they came to a stop around her ankles. "SNHHHHH! Huhhhh! Snhhhhh!" I felt back up her legs, to spread her knees. "Well," I followed my nose. "I could try," my knuckles in between her thighs, "To kiss it and make it better."
"Oh!" Her shoulders fell back against the door.]
;
[Dear Lucinda:
As you have no doubt been made aware, I do have an outlet for my need to be disciplined. That’s what this is about, so let me explain. Of course I am not “Miss-perfect,” as she so cleverly put it. However, I am driven, and with my hystery, I believe therein lies my need. To let go, relax, I can’t do it myself, so I have to be Forced to.
First of all, it is not sex. It’s sexual, but that’s not the Motive. The goal isn’t a sexual climax, just getting out of my head so that I can enjoy life, or even sleep. I’m driven, but with that dedication comes an inability to relax, stop and smell the roses, as it were. The sexual aspects are means, not the end.
That’s another reason for the alias’. To disassociate from myself, and enjoy it as someone else. That’s the fantasy, and escape from the horrors I cannot adequately describe to someone without the identity issue I grew up with. You know who I mean, she’s not like me, and yet not completely like someone else. What with how she was able to take over, and control me, I cannot control myself, without someone to take that control.
D. D. is adequate, but as I understand it, she is Asexual. Not in the sense of a neuter, nor a hermaphrodite. She is completely female with regards to gender, but likewise does not experience sexuality, neither as you, nor I do. A different different, for her it’s an opposite of Sadism. There’s 3: Normal empathy is feeling hurt instead of pleasure when you see someone hurt. Masochism of course is deriving joy from being hurt, or needing it for an intellectual patch as I do. She is the 3rd, she experiences other’s pleasures empathically, however she has sex for you, or I. That’s all the pleasure she derives from it, satisfying us.
That, and proximity is why we decided on her to maintain this connection. With a degree of separation, because I believe direct interaction is potentially dangerous. You scare me, and i love that, but that fear is not unjustified, which brings me to my understanding of you.
Again, hear me out, but first let me explain how I can know this about you. Primarily denial: You had it, I do not, but secondarily Experience. I have been in an all encompassing relationship that completely eclipsed my identity from the rest of the world. I have been Dominated, completely. Not by you, but enough to believe you’re capable of it, If you think about it.
Somehow, subconsciously you were able to hide it from yourself, but if I can teach you anything, may i be so bold as to presume, at least consider believing me on this: You are a Dominatrix. A natural, you don’t even have to think about it. However, if you do, then consciously you could rule. Whatever you set your will to, if you just learn to control Your Self. Consciously, you can stop holding yourself back to the 8th grade.
And finally: Closure. I suppose I might be able to finish that fantasy I wrote, personally for you. To open your eyes. I’m not sure if you looked into it, where nor how far, but believe me on this, my sister is incapable of writing that. She wouldn’t know you well enough to if she could. I only did it to wake you up. Open your eyes, and hold up a mirror to see yourself. Because you’re beautiful, but if you saw what i did in you, you could also be Mighty.
Or, you can keep lying to yourself. ‘Twould be a shame, but i saw right through it. I might not even be the only one.
Sincerely Yours, if you would have me;
Charon.]
Teaser (f/m NS)
“Hey,” roll my eyes at Ed, “What’re you all dressed up for?”
“A date.”
“Oh yeah? Who you goin’ out with?”
“Destiny.”
“Who’s that?”
“Not a Whom, a What.” Turning skillfully on my heels, I bent to sit down, and turn my now exposed knees under the desk. Crossing my legs, and he took his seat beside me. “More of a fashion show, really.”
“Oh yeah?” Still grinning, idiotically, “Where at?” He skipped When.
“It’s private.” I looked away, raised my nose, “Invitation only.”
“Stuck up slut.”
“Yeah,” that’s the fantasy. If I were a slut, maybe he’d have a shot at me. “Right.” Beneath me, you know you’d be a lot cuter if you weren’t such a dick. “Right.” I know my place, waving him off.
That ain’t it.
There She is. “Huh!” turn to give her my good side, maybe rub my thighs together to put on some blush. The fine microweave of nylon, bands shearing scalloped edges against each other, and the clips holding the straps up to the garter belt. Over satin panties, the ruffled hems bunched around the tops of my thighs, and between them. Purse my blood thickened lips, and lick them to make them shiny. Yeah, that should do it.
“UhimH!” The rest of them sat up straight, in attention, I just uncrossed my legs, and watched Her. Glance up from Attendance until she caught my eyes.
Blink, look down, and smiling guiltily as I slowly spread my knees, and watch her stop, before forcing her gaze back to the Roll. Her face lighting up like windows in a church fire. Cross my legs, and turn to look boredly out the window.
Yes, [x] I'm Here.
That should do it.
;
Cindy (fF Switch?)
"Yes?" I looked up at the door.
It swung back to her leaning up in the frame. "Can I come in?" Turning, just enough for that 3/4 angle to bring out both cheekbones, her far eye peeking around that incredibly sculpted nose. Knowing full well exactly what she looks like in that outfit.
"Yes." I dropped my pen, "Of course."
The skirt slipping down her thigh as her knee came back, sliding the heel down the doorframe so it draped back over the virginal white stalking. "Hh," I shivered a little with excitement.
"What can I do for you?" I hoped she had another submission, from her and our lover.
I gave up, wasn't last night, I just made it official. Fine, you win, Teach Me. Already had it written up, where do I sign?
She came onto me? Lock me up, guilty as charged. Jailbait? I'll kick down gas money.
"What can I do for you?"
She draped her blazer on the back of the chair, and crossed her legs on the way down. In those heels.
"I been bad."
"I saw." Not that she was particularly subtle about it, but talking about Distraction? Okay, she took the wheel. For your safety, please keep your arms, and legs inside the hand basket until it comes to a complete stop. Grease me up, and throw me down the slippery slope.
I just found out, hell is incredibly sexy.
"Huh!"
"You're drooling." At both ends.
"Sorry, um." I licked my lips, and shook my head, "How bad?" Grasping for a straight line.
"Well, for starters." She paused to collect her thoughts, and took a deep breath. "Huh, I had to leave my home town, after we got caught running a burlesque show out of our middle-school. I had it all written down, if you want to read it."
I straightened up, "Of course," nodded. "You, and your friends?"
"My brother, and a few gay friends. It wasn't just for middle schoolers, they just had the right venue at the time. Some of the more mature grade schoolers, and socially retarded freshmen were invited as well."
"And you had it written down."
"Yes, my first model, in addition to being stunningly beautiful, was also a much better writer than I. I have some pictures, if you'd like to see."
"I really can't accept childporn," here, in my own office, even from a 14 year old that looks like a supermodel. Really did her eyes, justice, but nothing on her lips, nor cheeks, not even foundation.
"Hahah, no. He was eighteen at the time. I'll leave the birthday shoot with you, there's a picture of his ID in the first image."
"So, by burlesque."
"I mean stripping, dancing, exhibition, and the occasional Bukkakae."
"I'm sorry," shake my head, "I don't know that term."
"White rain. Circle jerk, on me." And her pale face lit up, just like that.
"Hm!" Okay? Shake that image out of my head. "So, now what?"
"Now, you punish me for being bad," she pulled something out, and slipped the purse from her shoulder to the floor. "So I can go punish her too." A minicassette recorder, she set on the desk, and hit record. Held out her hand, silently, for me to speak.
I thought, as quickly as I could, but mostly flashed back over the fantasies I'd read recently. She'd called it Mrs. Goldman in what she'd written beside the X-ray study of my underwear. She has a great imagination, but it was visual, the tape won't pick that up.
"Well, I suppose you're wondering why I called you in here. I warned you about immodesty in My class," I pushed my chair back, unfortunately quiet on it's casters, "But apparently I didn't drive that lesson home."
"I'm sorry," she leaned over the recorder, "Mrs. Goldman." Winked.
"It's miss." I slapped the table. "And rather than continually reminding you, you may call me Mistress."
"Yes, mistress." She grinned, "Sorry, mistress."
"Not sorry enough. Bend over my desk. I'll show you to expose your underpants, in MY!" SLAP! "Class!"
"Unh!"
"That's one. Say it."
"WUhn! Nh? Two!"
"You like wearing slutty underwear?" I pulled her skirt right up.
"Hh, yes mistress."
"Yes," I rubbed it in, "They look nice, but you like how they feel?"
"Oh yes. Mistress."
"Snh! You reek of sex, sLUT!"
"Nh! Uh, three?"
"Mh, yes. Such nice silky underpants."
"HhHhH!"
"Getting so hot, and wet?"
"Oh yes. Mistress."
"For me?"
"Oh yes, mistress. I wore them for you."
"Good."
"Nh! Four?"
"But I don't want you showing them to anyone else. That's right, this hot little ass is Mine. All mine, you hear me?"
"Oh yes, mistress."
"Now," I slipped them down, to expose the cherry red cheeks. "Let me kiss it, and make it feel better." Bent down, and sniffed loudly, right over the microphone. "SNHHHH!"