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Message-ID: <38376asstr$1032347405@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "she-cries" <she_cries@hotmail.com>
Reply-To: "she-cries" <she_cries@hotmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} {ASS} Breaking in Teacher: Day 2-the Office,  by she_cries (mF, nc, reluc, exhib, humil)
Date: Wed, 18 Sep 2002 07:10:05 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

(I apologize for the confusion with having multiple parts to "Day 2."  I had
intended to be done with it, but I suppose those are the risks to posting
partially written stories.  This section seemed a logical followup to the
previous "Day 2" post)



As alway, I welcome comments and criticism at she_cries@hotmail.com







Breaking in Teacher, Day 2-the Office



TRUTH AND CONSEQUENCES





I hadn't realized that I had a whole hour left for second lunch.  Time
seemed to really drag while I was in the locker room.  A quick tally in my
mind made me realize that I'd exposed myself for no less than eleven
students, sat still while one of them jerked off on me, and let one of them
have sex with me while two others looked on.

For all the degradations I had succumbed to that had to be a sort of record.
I was spending half my time trying to rationalize how I let myself get into
those situations.  What was I doing that got things so bad that I'd
inevitably wind up naked, or worse, giving myself to some boy?  The other
half of my mind was busy trying to figure out how I was going to deal with
the growing numbers of the student body who'd seen me naked, had sex with
me, or just watched me guzzle their cum.

The only real advantage I had was that few people were going to take anyone'
s word at face value; they were either girls with a grudge or guys.  Well,
guys bragging about bagging the hottest teacher on campus.

I wasn't that hot, not by many standards.  I was fairly short, and a little
heavy. Though my waist was thin, and I'm very shapely, my butt was too big
for my own comfort (especially around dozens of tiny, tight teenage girls),
round and plump, you could see little cellulite dimples when I stood
straight up, and when I bent over my tummy would fold up in these pudgy
little rolls.  My chest would dangle down when I did this, flopping freely.
They hung low on my chest when I stood up, and my broad nipples were hard to
hide in the thin shirts I usually wore.

Still, I knew my allure was in the very shapeliness that put me off.  Other
men seemed to be attracted to that, if only for one-night stands and
adolescent fantasies.  They liked to play with my boobs, but wanted a skinny
china doll for their showpiece girlfriends.  They liked grabbing my ass, but
they preferred to watch waifish girls at the swimming pool.

Regardless, my looks certainly hadn't protected me from the embarrassing
situations that seemed to have snowballed since the two Johns, two school
linebackers, had accidentally torn my skirt off yesterday, which led to the
state I was in when I allowed the Mr. Gold, the school coach to convince me
to have a liaison with him in the temp building, which in turn led to my
shattered, fragile ego stripping for the Johns again and ultimately letting
one of them, John-two, rape me.  I had sex with no less than three other men
before John-two found me the next day and I willingly acquiesced for him
this time, promising to be his girl while he humiliated and abused me on the
most massive dick I'd ever seen or heard of.  This led me to further
degradations, including drinking the sperm of three eager freshmen from a
glass, and ultimately my experience in the locker room, where I'd finally
gotten one up on Mr. Gold.

I had just finished buckling the odd front clasp of the flesh colored bra I'
d looted from the lost and found bin in the girls locker room, and
contemplated the combo with the lime green chiffon panties I'd been able to
find.

It certainly wasn't the most flattering look; it made my chest seem rather
smaller while enhancing the size of my ass.  At least they fit, and as I
pulled on my skirt and sweatshirt I felt armored as I hadn't felt all day,
since I'd left wearing a fishnet bodysuit, corset and thong to please two of
my erstwhile lovers, a pair of sophomores names Eliot and James who had
spent the night at my house last night while I was on the run from myself,
seeking oblivion in further humiliation by encouraging even younger boys to
use me.



It was only 12:45 when I walked out of the locker room.  Nearly 25 minutes
before my next class started.  The Portal was a large cement block
surrounded by the gym, the administration offices, and the school lockers
maze.  The other end opened out to the parking lot.  Most kids hung out in
the large grassy quad by the cafeteria on the other side of the lockers
during lunch, but there was no shortage of students to notice me coming out
of the locker room.  I was comfortably assured that I looked fine, as
opposed o how I'd looked when I went in.  It wasn't too reassuring, because
I felt like each and every one of them must know about the things I had
done.

"Miss Caulder?"

I jumped, and glancing across the Portal saw Mr. Donovan, the school
principal calling my name.

I waved at him, and straightening my skirt a bit I made a bold show of
casually walking across the Portal to him.

Mr. Donovan was nearly sixty years old, bald, portly, and a fairly tall man,
though he didn't exactly stack up to John-two or Mr. Gold.    He certainly
didn't have the muscles, and was thusly all pudge.  The kids called him
Pudge-van, but he was really quite nice.  He loved kids, loved his job, and
worked very hard to treat everyone fairly.

He was smiling as I walked up.

"Good afternoon, Paul." I said to him.

"Hello Wendy, just take a shower?" he was looking me over carefully.

I shrugged and made up a lie on the spot, "Some kid put honey on my desk.
got all over me."

"Ahh." he nodded, "You weren't at the assembly today."

I nodded, "Yeah, I needed to get breakfast.  Didn't get to eat this
 morning."

He nodded again, "We try to encourage our staff to take part in student
assemblies.  It looks hypocritical for us to not attend if we require them
to."

He was smiling, but I gritted my teeth.  I was only on my second semester at
the school, and I still had a lot of status to earn before I'd be able to
play with the rules,

"I'm sorry, Paul.  I won't do it again.  I just had a really rough day
yesterday."

"Problems?" he raised an eyebrow, but didn't seem too surprised.

"Oh." I waved a hand, "Nothing I couldn't handle." but I trailed off, unable
to think up an excuse, worried that he might already know something.

"Come into my office, Wendy."  He was smiling, but I was concerned
nonetheless.



Mr. Donovan's office was a fairly large affair, with one long wall of
Plexiglas windows, which had long since been scarred and pitted to the point
where you could only see the vague outlines of people moving around in the
administrative offices.  Once, I imagine, you could have watched the
reception desk all the way out to the vice principal's office where students
were lined up to be disciplined, but now it was impossible to tell who was
walking past unless you knew what color clothes they were wearing already.
He had a few comfortable chairs, and a cheap, leather sofa, and a very large
desk, which he sat behind, dominating the room.

I sat down across from him, in a very high, hard backed chair.  Why he didn'
t have one of the loungers up at the desk, I don't know, but in this chair I
had to sit perfectly upright, and my feet hardly touched the floor.

Mr. Donovan was really very nice, but he was also a man who got straight to
the point.  "Wendy, as you are aware we have a fairly rigid dress code we
require students and faculty to adhere to."

I nodded.

"I am pleased to see that the reports I received today were in error, that
you are in fact not wearing fishnet stockings."

I glanced at my feet, glad too that I had abandoned the bodysuit in the
library.

"I have not mentioned anything about your blouses, though they technically
could be considered." he raised an eyebrow, "Too revealing?"  He nodded.

"They're very fashionable, Paul, and I'm always careful to." I paused, not
finding the words to describe hiding my nipples without being vulgar.

He held up a hand, "Of course you do, and you always cut a very smart,
professional woman.  I would no more criticize you for wearing those than
tell Mr. Gold that he needs to wear larger shorts in gym class."

We shared a grin, for Mr. Gold was notorious for his tighty-whitey's showing
every time he demonstrated sit-ups to the class.

"But yesterday, I am told, you attended two of you classes, well, less
modestly attired."

"Oh, I spilled coffee!" I blurted out.  "It was just before class, I didn't
have time to.  One of the students.  I borrowed the shirt."

Mr. Donovan was nodding understandably.

"That's good enough for me, Wendy."

I breathed a sigh of relief.

"However, I did receive a phone call."

I felt my heart skip, and my chest tighten up.  "A parent?"

He nodded gravely, "and I told them I'm sure it was nothing, that there was
a reasonable explanation, but the picture they described."

I forced myself to speak, "Picture?"

"Wendy, I'm sure you had your reasons, but sometimes reasons aren't good
enough."

I stammered, not knowing what to say while I tried to get comfortable in the
damn chair.

"Wendy, I told them I would look into it.  Normally I'd have assured them it
was nothing, an abnormality, not representative, but. braless?  In a white
T-shirt?"

"It was a school T-shirt.  It was totally opaque!" I offered.

"Relax, Wendy," he reclined in his chair, smiling broadly, "I'm on your
side.  I'm going to intervene here, you have got nothing to worry about."

I was, for some reason, not reassured, "Then why are you."

He spread his hands, "Because I needed to know your excuse.  And furthermore
if I'm going to call these parents back and assure them it was nothing I'm
going to have to see for myself that it was as you describe."

"Oh." That was okay.  The shirt really wasn't that bad.  It was really the
condition I was in, my nipples swollen and pouting, the leaking semen
between my legs forcing me to walk like a geisha, bending over at the waist
showing everyone my full cleavage in John-two's oversized PE shirt.

Mr. Donovan pulled a PE shirt out of the desk drawer, "So, if you'd just put
this on."

I froze for a long moment, "Here?"

He smiled, "Indulge me, Wendy.  I really prefer to be on solid ground when
dealing with concerned parents."

"Oh.  Do you want me to change in your bathroom?"

He shook his head.  He didn't seem happy, "I'm afraid I have to ask you to
undress in front of me, Wendy."

My mouth fell open.

He put up his hands, a gesture of supplication, "I assure you, I would be
happier not to have to do this, or to have one of the female teachers do
this with you, but," he crossed his hands, looking directly at me, "But, you
being new, I thought it would be best not to expose you to idle gossip and
speculation.  If you'd like I can arrange to have a female teacher do this,
however."

I shook my head.  With rumors of my indiscretions being spread by vulgar
boys and upset girls, I didn't think it would do to have any reason to give
legitimacy to a round of teacher gossip.  These were the people I might be
working with for years, and I was still the new kid on the block.  Mr.
Donovan was giving me a way to avoid having this incident taint me in their
eyes.

"But why do you have to watch?" I asked.

"Wendy, I just need to better understand why they think it was improper.  If
I know what you look like without a shirt on, I can understand what that
implies when you are wearing a shirt."

I couldn't make any sense of that at all, but he was the boss, and he was
the guy who was keeping my ass out of the sling for the moment.  I was
already in hot water for missing the assembly, and I really didn't want any
bad marks for my first year.  If this was just a way for him to get his
kicks, I calculated, perhaps this would indulge him to forgive my ditching
assembly.

Nodding, I stood up and pulled off my sweatshirt.

Too late, I realized that I had done it abruptly, without thinking.  Had I
become so wanton in my behaviors that I didn't think twice about stripping
once I had decided to do it?  I realized that it would make a far better
impression to be shy about if, and made a show about turning around to undo
the clasp on the bra.

After I let it fall off my shoulders I wondered, still, had I done it too
abruptly?  I was standing topless in the principal's office, facing a room
full of blurred, distorted figured moving to and fro just a few feet from
me.  Was this a test?  Had I failed it?  Was Mr. Donovan trying to see if I
was the kind of woman who would simply strip down in his office?  What else
did he know?

"Wendy, you can turn around, now."

That was a bit of a relief.  That I had hesitated so long.  He had to see
that as embarrassment, which wasn't an act at all.  I crossed my arms over
my chest, wondering what the Hell it was that made me so susceptible to
orders from people when my own modesty was at stake.  I turned to face him.

"Drop your arms, please."

I let them fall, again, cursing myself for not pleading with him not to.
Here I was, chilled to the bone under his gaze, exposed, vulnerable,
nervous, and my mind was telling me to show it, but his commands seemed to
trigger an automatic reflex.  An unconscious trigger in my brain that had
decided to just do the damn thing and get it over with.

"Is that the skirt you were wearing yesterday?"

I shook my head.

"Describe that skirt please."

I glanced over my shoulder, wondering if the door was locked, seeing all the
bodies passing along the long, frosted widows.  Wondering if anyone looking
in could tell there was a topless woman in this office.

"I assure you, they can't see much." Mr. Donovan said, reading my mind.

I turned to him, "It was a stretch cotton skirt.  Very smooth.  Black."

He nodded, "Not bulky, like this one?"

I shook my head.

"Very well, take it off."

I reached down and unsnapped the button, then caught myself, "Wait.  Why?" I
stammered out.

He criss-crossed his fingers, leaning forward, eyeing my nudity carefully,
but appearing as if he were merely scrutinizing the details of my body for
scientific purposes.  "I can get a better recollection by seeing the curves
of your body, based on your description, than by seeing that bulky skirt."

"Oh." I thought about that.  It was really a stupid reason, and as usual I
couldn't come up with any rational argument, since I didn't really
understand why he felt the need to see me nude.  Still, I figured that in
spite of being topless I still had a bit of mileage being the prudish woman
to play, and I crossed my arms, "I'd rather not."

But defeating my point, my unbuttoned skirt plummeted to my knees.

I made a quick gesture, trying to grab them, but almost banged my head on
the desk, so close was I to it.  I stood up, stepped back, tripping on the
skirt and fell backwards onto my butt, kicking the skirt off in irritation
and disgust.

Mr. Donovan was laughing, and he stood up and crossed around the desk.  He
came over to me and kneeled by me, "You know Wendy, with escapades like that
I can well believe that you got yourself dirtied up twice in two days."

I frowned at him, "That hurt."

I smiled back sympathetically, and stood up, crossing to a lounger and
plopping down on it. "Well, stand up, let's see you."

I suppressed my frown and pushed myself to my knees, trying to keep my ass
from sticking up too much and my boobs from jiggling like crazy, but it was
like trying to push hair back into its root.

I stood up in the middle of his office, totally naked but for the chiffon
underwear, which only hid my pubic bush but revealed my whole backside.

"Those are rather revealing panties, Wendy." Mr. Donovan said from his
position in the recliner.

"It's not as if you can see them through my skirt." I pointed out, as if
that were relevant, the number of times my skirt had come off in the past
day alone.

"Let's have a closer look."

And though my mind said to rebuff him I started walking over to him.  By the
time I had formed my objection to say I was standing over him, looking down
past my pendulous bosom at him, peering up at me from his chair.

"Well, they're fairly modest in front.  I can't discern anything like what
was described.  I think we can safely presume that they were mistaken in
that regard."

I started to ask him what he meant, but I realized too soon that he had been
told about the mass of untrimmed pubic hair that had blossomed without
panties under the elastic skirt I had worn the day before.  I had since
shaved that to the smallest nubbin tufts of hair.

"Well, let's see the back of you."

I turned around, and immediately felt a probing hand on my bottom.  He didn'
t say anything for a long time, though he fondled and squeezed my butt,
spreading the chiffon smooth, then scrunching it up between my cheeks, then
smoothing it again, hiking it up and pulling it low, nuzzling his hands
between my thighs in a way that made me have to grit my teeth in order to
avoid spinning around and smacking him.

"Yes, yes." He said, patting me on the butt.  I turned around, stepping out
of his reach.  He continued.  "You'll have to take those off too, but first,
how are you with video equipment?"

My mouth fell open.

"It's just, I'm terribly old fashioned, and modern day gizmos mystify me."

"What do you need a video camera for?" I asked.  It was bad enough that I
was going to track down one of my students and somehow convince him to give
me the numerous digital photos he and Betsy had taken of me in the showers,
but video?  Photos could be doctored.  Video was much more convincing.

"Wendy," Mr. Donovan placated me, still sitting as if he were too old and
tired to get up.  "I simply need a reference to study in case I have to meet
with the parent.  If he contests the issue, I will be able to show him that
his child's description does not match reality."
"You're going to show a parent?  A father?" I was struggling to keep my
voice down, suddenly aware that though the windows were blurred, one could
discern the outfits people wore on the other side.  It didn't seem too hard
for me to imagine being able to discern a nude woman on the other side.  But
there had to be a reason Mr. Donovan felt so comfortable with the
circumstances.

"Well, I hope it doesn't come down to it, but rather than meeting him in
person and putting on the same display you are doing for me, wouldn't you
rather he could see a video of you in that T-shirt?"

I glanced at the shirt on his desk.  "Just the shirt?"

"I would hope that's all that would be necessary."

"You're not going to show anyone else?"

"Only involved parties."



For the next twenty minutes (Mr. Donovan had arranged a substitute for my
sixth period class, which had been a great relief at the time) I stood up a
tripod in his office, mounted a very expensive and fancy camera, hooked up a
low wattage floodlight (all under his "mystified" instruction), a boom
microphone, and a pair of lavaliere microphones, one on the desk, and one on
the couch (for sound balance he said).  He then had me mount an odd
contraption to the swivel head of the tripod, which swung the camera
automatically around to the cabinet Mr. Donovan kept all the gear in.

"Oh, good.  It works!" Mr. Donovan was clapping like a child.  You're really
very good at this, Wendy."

"Thank you, Mr. Donovan."  Why had I called him that?  We only used last
names in front of students.  Regardless, my skill was totally dependant on
his expert instruction.  I had little doubt that he was enjoying watching me
setting up a little movie studio for myself.

"Now, in the cabinet there's a little clip-on sensor."

I found a small, but boxy device with a small antenna.  It was about half
the size of a deck of cards.  It had a clip on one side and a big, white
dome on the other.

"Go ahead and clip that on somewhere."

I looked at him, "I've got nothing to clip it too."

He looked puzzled for a long moment.  Then he brightened up and sprung out
of his chair.  The first time he'd moved since I'd taken my skirt off.
Rummaging through the bottom drawer of his desk he came out with an odd
assortment of dog toys, a bag of biscuits, and a heavy, red collar, complete
with an identification tag in the shape of a bone.

He set it on the desk, "Put this on, that ought to do nicely."

I froze.  "What the Hell is that for?"

He looked up.  He wasn't smiling, but he probably wasn't used to being
talked to in that tone of voice.  "Wendy, I do appreciate how difficult all
this must be for you, but you must understand that I don't like this any
more than you do.  I have a great deal of work to do and will likely be here
late into the evening making up for it.  The cost of your substitute on such
short notice is putting us over budget on the second day of semester, but we
could have done this over lunch had you been at the assembly like you were
supposed to."

I had never seen the old man so angry.  It was as if it were my own fault
that I was practically naked in his office, setting up a video production
for the sake of some specious defense of my dress the day before to be
presented as evidence to some angry father, as if it were going to prove
that I wasn't a wanton slut like his kid had described.

But he was my boss.  He was the one who had to intervene for all the angry
parents and problems that came up, so I could concentrate on the Herculean
task of teaching these kids something.  It was my fault that I'd wound up in
class yesterday in no underwear with just a T-shirt and a skin-tight skirt.
If he wanted to see a little skin in the process it seemed a small bit of
compensation compared to what I'd done.   I really didn't feel good about
the video, and the collar, for some irrational reason was even worse, and I
gritted my teeth just thinking about donning it, but he really had me over a
barrel.  If he thought this was all just about an immodest shirt he'd fight
for me, but if he probed a little deeper there was so much he could find
out.

I forced a shy smile, "Sorry, boss.  I'm just nervous."

He smiled back at me.  His relief palpable.  I felt an urge to shudder, but
suppressed it by rubbing my hands hard over my chest, and down my belly, as
much for his benefit as mine.  His prowling gaze corroborated my guess that
he was by no means immune to the dangers of being alone with a naked woman
half his age (literally), and the tingling that resulted from the caress,
which I continued past my hips, send a little wave of heat through me,
relaxing me.  I felt my shoulders drop, my nipples contract, and I let out a
breath as I stepped over to the desk and turned my back to him, holding my
hair up so he could put the collar on.

His touch was light, almost ticklish, but the collar was scratchy, and there
was a band of metal, for a leash to attach, which sent icy chills through
me.  The thought of a leash made me stiffen up.  I felt my thighs clenching,
but my pulse was pounding hard and I felt it in my chest, in my hardened
nipples, between my legs, all the way down to my toes.  I gasped, then
panted as he tightened it, not for loss of air, but for the same reason a
woman gasps when a man enters her.  It was like an intrusion, but a cold,
crushing one, which got tighter and tighter, until I had to wonder if he was
choking me.

But he let go, and although it was tight, I could still breath well enough.
I felt the dog ID on the collar bobbing against the nape of my neck.  His
hands were on my shoulders, but he reached down and patted me on the bottom,

"All right, then, go an clip on the sensor."

Obediently, I did as he instructed, and when I lifted the sensor out of the
cabinet I saw the camera adjust itself, tilting up as I lifted it.  I
clipped it onto myself, understanding the purpose of the sensor, and the
camera followed me as I moved away from the cabinet.

"Just one more thing," Mr. Donovan said, brandishing a remote control and
pointing it at a large TV screen in the corner of the room.  He punched a
button and it came on, revealing me standing alone in the middle of the
screen, bare from head to knee (it didn't show my feet) but for my panties.
In the upper right corner of the screen the word 'rec' was lit up.

"Yes, everything looks to be in order." Mr. Donovan said.  "Please, move
about the room."

I thought about that for a moment, and before taking a step I reached down
and pulled off the panties.

"Oh, yes, I'd forgotten about that." Mr. Donovan stated, and I bit my lip,
frustrated that I had assumed otherwise, like a student who reminds a
teacher that they forgot to collect homework.  Nevertheless, I began to walk
in what I felt was a casual manner.

"Oh, my.  What a peculiar little tuft of hair you've got." I stopped,
realizing that Mr. Donovan could see my pubic bush for the first time.

"I." I couldn't think of a response, so I said, "I try to keep it neat."

"Not very modest, I'm afraid," but he was on his feet and crossing to the
other side of the desk, "But certainly not the ungainly bush the parent
described to me."  He patted the edge of his desk closest to the camera,
"Come over here and have a seat."

I obeyed him, leaning back on the desk while I saw on the TV screen, Mr.
Donovan use the remote to get a close-up of my tuft.

"Very small amount of hair.  You know, I've heard some girls carve little
hearts?"

I nodded, "I did know that, Paul."

He smiled, "Well, up on the desk, let's get a good look."

I scooted back up on the desk, but realized that with my legs bent that this
would be a worse view.

"Oh, don't be shy now, you're already on film."

He was playing with me, and I faked a smile as I let my legs spread apart,
which they had already begun to do as soon as he had spoken, of their own
accord.

I had already noticed how the camera exaggerated everything, making my
breasts look larger, by butt rounder and fatter, but I wasn't prepared for
how red and raw my sex looked when blown up to ten times its size on TV.

But Mr. Donovan wasn't looking at the TV, "Is that reddening normal?"

I stammered, but simply couldn't think up anything to say.

"I'm sorry, Wendy, I don't mean to embarrass you.  You really have the most
immaculate vagina." And like before, he put his hand out to examine it,
tenderly touching my lips, stroking and poking them where they were reddest.
"It's really quite something.  So much tinier than other girls."

I was struggling not to pant and gasp as he gently rolled his fingers over
my clitoris.  As sore as I was, the pain was nothing compared to the
discomfort of having him rubbing my most sensitive, over-abused spots.  He
then ran a finger along the narrow slit under of which I could see the
glistening of my inner lips.  Mr. Donovan's finger was glossy under the
camera light, and I could see that I was positively gushing, my sex
anticipating another invasion.

"It-" I stuttered, "It's always like that?"

"Is it?" Mr. Donovan asked, looking me right in the eye.  He gestured to the
TV screen, "Show the camera."

I swallowed and spread my legs further apart.

"Go on," Mr. Donovan urged me, taking a step back to get a better view while
being out of camera shot.

I gulped again, then reached both hands between my thighs and spread my lips
apart, revealing the reddened pink and swollen lips underneath my outer
mound.  Every centimeter glowed with the bath of feminine juices, and I
caught the unmistakable whiff of semen, still dripping slowly from deep
inside me, pooling and dribbling out of my vagina into the outer folds,
threatening to overflow.

Mr. Donovan was riveted, though he had one eyebrow raised, "And this is your
natural state, is it?"

I nodded, removing my hands and closing my legs, "Is this enough?  Can I get
dressed now?"

Mr. Donovan held up a hand, urging me that there was more to do.  "We've got
your chest, the shape of your body, and an examination of your vitals," he
winked at me at that last part.  I felt myself blushing and modesty asserted
itself as I crossed my legs and brought my arms up to cover my chest.

But he wasn't finished, "There's just this sexy walk issue.  'Displaying
yourself for the students' was how he described it."

I shook my head, "That's absurd."

He nodded, "That's what I said, but if we can demonstrate what you look like
when you are trying to walk sexy, perhaps he can see his mistake."

"Who?  The parent?"

"And the student."

My first instinct was to roll my eyes at this, but the shock of the
principle condoning such exhibitionism left me speechless.  I had certainly
done worse, but little that I had intended, much less condoned.

"It will all be done under parental supervision, of course.  The student
will be left in no doubt that this is for their benefit."

I didn't doubt that, but how could I actually go through with some sort of
gross perversion of the very system that was forcing me to degrade myself to
prevent exposure to it.

"Wendy." Mr. Donovan said, using the remote to pull the camera back for a
view of my whole body. "I would much rather not have to call you in for a
demonstration if it comes to this.  It's very unlikely that this tape will
ever need to be shown to the family in question."

"Can't I at least put on my clothes for this part?"

"Yes, well, we'll do a bit with the T-shirt, and a bit without.  That way I
can have a reference for my preparations and you don't have to worry about.
whatever."

I let out a long sigh.  I really didn't have any place to go here.  I was
already posing on film for the old man; there wasn't much good reason to
argue.  At least he wouldn't be showing the student me in the nude.  I
reached for the shirt across his desk.

Mr. Donovan interrupted me. "Let's do without first, so I don't have to fast
forward and such."

I suppressed a sigh, and nodded.  Standing up I crossed to the far end of
the room, took a deep breath, and started swaggering across the room, trying
to swing my hips, keep my legs apart, and hold my chest up high so I walked
as little like I had in class yesterday as possible.  The camera panned and
tilted as I passed by, Mr. Donovan keeping tabs on the remote as I went by
to keep the frame tight, but covering the whole of me.  Watching the TV it
really didn't look all that bad for an amateur shot.

"Again, but this time, a little less swagger.  More seductive."

I held my tongue, thinking that I was supposed to be looking natural, and
directing me sort of defeated the purpose, but I did it anyway, taking my
time, taking smaller steps, and letting my shoulders, and consequently, my
breasts move even more.  I ended right by the door to his office, and was
startled to discover that there was someone standing right there on the
other side of the glass.  There was a copier, I could hear it and smell the
ink.  I swallowed, and told myself that Mr. Donovan wouldn't compromise
himself by doing something that would expose us both to scandal.

"Now, Wendy," Mr. Donovan called from across the room, "I want you to walk
right up to the camera, as if it were the student in question.  Treat it
like it's your lover.  Like you're trying to entice it to making love to
you."

I shut my eyes, taking deep breaths, trying not to lash out at the thinly
veiled opportunism the old fart was using to get his rocks off.  But, I
reasoned, as long as he has his excuse not to suspect me of worse, I ought
to play along and keep him happy.  I did as he asked, and he made me do it
again.  Before doing it a third time he had me use my hands, and I found
myself fondling and groping my chest as I strutted towards the camera,
reaching down and clutching my sex as if it were on fire for intrusion,
finally falling to my knees and crawling, slowly, licking my lips, doing
everything I could to get that camera off its tripod and in between my legs
with my eyes, my lips, and my body.  I rose to my knees as I came before the
camera, dragging my hands up from the floor, slowly across my body, letting
one linger on my sex, tenderly grinding at myself, letting my senses blur as
my other hand found a rigid, erect nipple on a flushed breast, which I
stroked, trying not to watch Mr. Donovan, but rather myself on the big
picture TV screen as I leaned back to give the camera a better picture of
myself.

"Yes, well, when you've finished, dear." Mr. Donovan had his arms crossed
and was tapping his toe.

Shit, I had gotten really carried away.  It's not like I wasn't just taking
this to the logical conclusion, but the grinding and fondling, he hadn't
asked me to do that.

"Sorry, Mr. Donovan." I murmured as I sheepishly stood up.  I was fairly
lightheaded, but I was glad he'd stopped me when he had.  I could have lost
all control, and had a spontaneous orgasm like in the library.  That would
have looked great to Mr. Donovan.

"Wendy, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but let us try to handle this with a
bit of decorum, shall we."

I wasn't exactly sure why he was chiding me.  "Sure."

"Now." He said, his arms still crossed.  "We still have an issue to concern
ourselves with."

I shook my head.

"Wendy, have you had sex with anyone at school today?"

I just gulped.  Oh, yes I had, but I couldn't own up to it.  "Of course
 not."  I'd be fired if he had had proof anyway, so there was no reason to
expect leniency by being honest.

"You look like you've had sex with someone."

"What?"

"Your vagina, dear." And he turned to the TV and with his "old-fashioned"
technical skills brought up a series of still frames of me from the video he
'd bee recording.  The 'rec' in the corner never vanished, but in the lower
left corner still video captures on me in erotic positions flashed past
until he stopped on the one of me spreading my sex wide open for the camera.

He pointed at the image, "Red, swollen, engorged labia, dear."

I felt my hand going down to cover my sex.

Mr. Donovan went on, "your vagina is slightly distended, and this material
looks suspiciously like viscous semen."

I tried to force some conviction out of my throat, but all I managed was a
weak, "That's absurd."

"You do realize that I have on a number of occasions, been called upon to
determine a ladies' chastity."

"I'm not a virgin, Mr. Donovan.  I had sex this morning with my boyfriend."
Finally.  My befuddled mind had taken that long to come up with that stupid,
obvious excuse.

Mr. Donovan walked across the room and sat on his desk, very close to me, "I
am not going to comment on the indiscretions of modern girls, Wendy, if you
want to be a slut in your spare time that, unfortunately in this day and
age, is not my business."

"Then what's the problem.?"

"Wendy, when I began teaching we held our teachers as well as our girls to
the highest standard of decency.  There were a number of times we were
called upon to ascertain if that standard had been violated.  Now, it's been
a long time since I was allowed to."  He put his hands on his hips and
peered down at me, "But I still think I know the difference."  He was
becoming visibly more frustrated, "Do you mean to tell me that the condition
of your vagina is due to fornication that took place six hours ago?"

I realized that I had both hands covering my sex.  "Of course it is."

He stood up, "I have heard about Mr. Gold's indiscretions with certain
teachers."

I stood up, finally, unwilling to be badgered about Mr. Gold.  "He hasn't
done anything with me." I quickly omitted adding the word 'today' at the end
of that sentence.

"Well, Wendy, there's a very simple and age-old method for determining the
truth of the matter."

Oh shit.  Was he going to test me?  I should have showered more thoroughly,
but there was no way for me to clean up inside myself in the locker room.
If he took a sample he might come up with the semen of three different men.
I'd be fucked.

"A simple before, and after examination."

Of course.  This was his very roundabout way of getting in my pants.  It all
made sense now, though I much preferred John-two's method of just pushing me
on the desk and doing it.  If I was going to be forced into having sex, I
found I preferred it with as little preamble as possible.

"Where do you want me, Mr. Donovan?"  I gestured to the couch.

"No, dear, I'm not going to do it.  I'm a married man; I am not about to
submit to your generation's degeneracy.  You may be able to manipulate other
men on the staff with your loose morals, but you can't manipulate me with
your whoring."

I bit my lip, trying not to lash out at the old fuck for his ignorant,
atavistic reaction to discovering that I might have had sex.  Apparently,
prancing around naked with a dog collar on was nothing, whereas the
consideration that I might have had sex during school made me a whore.
Well, I wasn't going to let him know that I was right, so I crossed my arms.
"What do you want me to do?"

"Well, in the old days I'd simply examine you, see if you are still a
virgin.  Or we'd bring in the husband, let him give testimony.  As you don't
have one, I suppose we'll have to get this boyfriend of yours in here so we
can conduct an examination, to see how different you appear after having
sex, as opposed to before.

Shit.  Now I was caught in a lie about having a boyfriend.  "He's going to
be gone all day, Mr. Donovan."

"Naturally." That seemed to be an excuse he was expecting.  "You'll have to
find someone else, then."

"What?  You mean, just."

"Please don't insult my intelligence, Wendy.  I know girls of your
generation have little compunction about sleeping around.  I'm sure you won'
t have any trouble finding an eager candidate with equally loose morals on
campus."

This ignorant fuck was actually using that misogynistic BS to force me to go
out and find some stranger to fuck.

"You want me to go have sex. with anyone?"

"Out my back door, down the hall, we have the extracurricular activities
room, I'm sure we have some older students milling about there."

"Students?"

"Well, I doubt you're going to find a staff member willing to cheat on his
wife for the sake of a simple examination.  Just make sure you do it under
the security cameras outside."

"Outside!?"

"Dear, dear, calm yourself.  The cameras monitor activities behind the
pushes and the parked cars.  I need to make sure you aren't doing anything.
irregular to yourself to skew the results."



Mr. Donovan wouldn't let me leave with my clothes on.  He was afraid that I
might not come back, so he gave me his oversized suit jacket which was like
a tent for me, though it left my legs bare well past the school dress code
limit for skirts, and the open collar left no doubt in anyone's mind that I
had little to hide underneath.  It certainly didn't hide the dog collar.

Our first stop, after a hair raising moment out the back door into the
hallway, where at least four students passed us by, all of them staring in
amazement at my attire, was the vice principals office where I was alarmed
to discover, all the security cameras broadcast on a succession of screens,
fully visible to anyone in the office, and anyone looking through the
window, which wasn't scratched and fuzzy like Mr. Donovan's were.  More
alarming was the pair of students, two juniors, both black boys, sitting on
the couch in the vice principals office while he contacted their parents,
waiting to have punishment for some infraction doled out upon them.  They
were fairly recent transfers, I knew from their attire.  It was pretty clear
that they were in the office for wearing gang colors to school in the form
of blue handkerchiefs sticking out of their back pockets, as well as their
oversized, black hooded sweatshirts.  They both turned to look at me as I
came in and didn't look away.

Mr. Christiansen, the male vice principal took one look at me, then at Mr.
Donovan and his mouth fell open.

"Paul, what are you doing." He was nervous, but my presence clearly wasn't
as much of a surprise than I had thought at first.  Mr. Christiansen was a
very handsome man, not much older than I, with a square jaw, a healthy build
(well, he had a little gut), and was generally a very amenable guy until you
crossed him, in which case he became the terror of every student who was
thinking about breaking the rules.  The two black guys in the office
probably saw him as the archetypal white, male oppressor.  I sort of did
too, though he was always pleasant to me.

Mr. Christiansen stood up, but Mr. Donovan waves him away, "Nothing to worry
about Mr. Christiansen, I was just going to let you know that Miss Caulder
here will be on the screens in a minute, but it's all cleared with me, just
procedure."

Mr. Christiansen stood up regardless and crossed over to us, "Paul," he said
in a low voice, "We need to talk."  Mr. Christiansen took a good look at me,
glanced at the boys in front of his desk and said, "I'll take care of this
Wendy."

And then he escorted Mr. Donovan to the door, pausing to draw his curtains
closed, shielding me from the administrative offices.  He turned to face the
boys, "Raul, Pierre, you behave." And then he walked out of the office.  I
saw the door latch lock and that was the end of it.

One of the boys, 'Raul' I think, turned to regard me, "Oh, we'll behave if
you take that old jacket off."

I shook my head, "I don't think so."

Pierre was peeking out the curtains, "They goin back to the principal's
office."

Raul stood up.  Both boys were very similar, though Raul had cornrows and a
pretty ugly, pouting chin with huge, fat blubbery lips.  Pierre was much
better looking, a little paler, but both boys were very dark for American
black kids.  Both of them were tall, stocky, and intimidating, especially to
someone my size.

Pierre looked up at me, or, more accurately, he took a good long look at my
legs, then looking up he said, "Don't worry teach, Raul and I just got out
of juvie.  We get into trouble we go back, so we'll behave."

"You were in." I stuttered nervously, "Juvie?"

Raul took a long, slow saunter around me, giving me the once over, "Eighteen
months, baby.  That's a long time to go without seeing any ass, if you know
what I mean."

Pierre had to comment, "You saw ass, bitch, that little white boy in block
A."

Raul didn't even look at his friend, but gave him the finger, "Put this in
your ass, bitch, I didn't fuck no boys."  He gave me a little poke, "How
come you ain't got nothing on under that."

I gave the usual excuse, "I had an accident."

"She got panties on." Pierre offered.

Raul stooped down to see, but I backed away, "I don't think so.  Don't see
how you can tell."

"She does, I can see the shadow."

Raul took a step closer to me, but I couldn't back away, leaning against the
wall of security monitors.  I could see that one of them revealed this very
room. "So what's the scoop, you got any panties on?"

"N-none of your business."

He smiled, looking at his friend, "She says it's none of my business." He
turned to me, looking down the open front of the jacket, which I tried to
pin closed, "You standin here in front of me all half naked and shit.  That
sort of makes it my business, you know."

"That doesn't make any sense.  Please, leave me alone."

He held out a hand to the door, "You're free to leave, baby."

I shook my head, "I can't go out there."

Raul moved so I was facing him, "I can't go either, so we're stuck together,
let's make the best of it."

"Meaning what?"

"Well, like I'm betting Pierre here that you don't got any panties on.  Say,
a hundred bucks."

I didn't bother to ask where he'd get that kind of money. "So?"

"Well, you could help us settle that bet."

I sighed, "Fine, I don't."

"Bullshit." Pierre cried.

"Pierre don't believe you, teacher.  What's up with that?"

I shook my head, trying to inch along the wall away from the boy, "I don't
know."

Raul stood still and shrugged, "You know you could settle this real easy if
you'd just show Pierre."

"I'm not taking off the coat."

Raul shrugged, "Come on, it's worth a hundred bucks to me.  Whatcha say?"

"Why should I do you any favors?"  I asked, stupidly adding, "What's in it
for me?"

Pierre grinned, "Shit, I'll take care of you baby." He was rubbing his
crotch.

"No thanks." I said to the leering black teenager.

"It's 'cause I'm black, ain't it?" Raul said, his expression darkening.

"Don't be ridiculous." I retorted.  "You're a student."

"You'd fuck a black man?" he sallied back at me.

"None of your business!" I barked at him.

Raul crossed his arms and turned away from me, "That's what I thought."

I don't know why, but his accusation pissed me off, considering the black
clerk I'd let use me last night. "Of course I would."

Raul just glanced back at me, "Would what?"

"What you said."

Pierre kicked his legs out, reclining in his chair, "What who said?"

"About black men." I stammered, not wanting to play their game."

Raul gave me a condescending look, "Man, you can't even say it." And he
turned away.

I sighed, "I would fuck a black man."

"Uh-huh." Raul said, still keeping his back to me.

I don't know why, but it really pissed me off that they'd accuse me of
racism.  As if fucking a black person was some sort of vindication I went
on, "I fucked a black man just the other night."

"What was his name?" Pierre asked.

I realized for an instant that I didn't know it.

Before I had a chance to make one up, Raul interjected, "Yeah, you done a
nigger."

"I did!"

Raul turned around on the desk, leaning up to me, "You let him fuck you?"

I nodded, getting really uncomfortable again.

"Top of bottom?"

I hesitated trying to figure out what he meant, then said confidently, "H-he
was on top."

"He wear a condom?"

I shook my head, not sure why it mattered.

Pierre asked, "You make him pull out?"

I couldn't keep eye contact with Raul, so I looked at the floor, growing
more ashamed of my escapade with the clerk last night, who had cornered me
as he thought I was shoplifting.  I wasn't exactly willing, but I let him
basically use me without fighting him.

"No." I said.

Raul was still in my face, "You let a nigger shoot his load in your snatch?"

I closed my eyes tight and nodded.

"Say it."

I looked up at the boy, right in the eye.  "How old are you Raul?"

He looked away for a second, "Sixteen."

"What kind of a fucking name is Raul?"

He scowled, "My folks. and Pierre's are Haitian."

I nodded at that.  "Well, Raul, Pierre." I looked at them both, "Last night
I let a nigger shoot his load in my snatch."

Both boys' jaws dropped.

Raul, right next to me, was the first to recover. "So you gonna win the bet
for me, or what?"

I let out an exasperated sigh, then turned to Pierre, "Is anyone coming?"

He looked through the curtain, "Mr. Christiansen and the principal are
talking out there, but they across the way."

I turned to Raul. "You split the winnings, and neither of you says a thing.
Ever!"

Pierre nodded.  Raul said, "Then you take the coat off.  You can't just
flash us."

"Fine I said," and pulled the jacket off.

As it fell to the floor Raul snatched it up and held it there. "Well, well,
you got a nice ol body."

I crossed my arms and suppressed a scowl.  I knew full well that whereas a
lot of white guys thought I was fat, black guys liked my round ass and weren
't shy about it.  Since I had a skinny waist and a healthy chest, I had
little doubt that I was a pretty good score in their eyes.

Pierre stood up, "Shit Miss Caulder, if more white girls looked like you
there'd be a lot more black babies in the world."

"Please, Pierre, save it for girls your own age."

Raul actually put his arm around my shoulders, "That's right, Miss Caulder's
a woman.  She don't fuck around with small talk."

"What's that supposed to mean, Raul?" I asked.

He grinned, pulling me a little closer, "Well, a woman who knows what she
wants." he let the sentence trail off.

I looked the young man over, "And presumably that would be two teenage boys
fresh out of juvie."

Pierre hooked his thumbs in his pants, causing them to drop down a few
inches, revealing baggy, yellow boxers, "You really done a nigger?"

Conscious of how close Raul was I didn't want to discuss it.  Especially if
my nudity wasn't proof enough.  "Yeah."

Raul was talking in my ear, his hand running down my side, "You really let a
nigger shoot his load in your hole?"

I pushed him off, "Yes, Raul, I let a nigger shoot his load in my hole."

He let me go and started scrambling with his zipper, "This I got to see!"

I lunged for my jacket, snatching it out of his hands and spreading it out
to find a sleeve.  "No fucking way."

Raul acted all put out, "So what, you was lyin the whole time?"

I found a sleeve and stuck my arm into it, "Just because I've fucked a black
man doesn't mean I'll fuck any back man."  I had found the wrong sleeve, so
pulled the jacket off and turned it around.  Neither boy made any move to
help or hinder.

Raul was still incensed, "So how we supposed to know you ain't lyin if you
won't put out?"

I found the right sleeve and pulled the jacket up, hiking it over my
shoulders and finally blocking my body from these boys.  I couldn't believe
that I'd actually gotten my clothes back on without getting fucked six ways
to Sunday, but I was in the Vice Principals office.  I looked at the two
black guys, "Boys.  I would be more than happy to demonstrate my enthusiasm
for black cock to you, but as we are in school, in the vice-principal's
office, and they are expected back any minute, I think you're just going to
have to do without a demonstration."

Pierre laughed aloud and turned to sit back down, while Raul just crossed
his arms and turned away, "Racist bitch?"

"Fuck you." I retorted.

Just then Mr. Christiansen burst into the office.  "Boys, consider this a
warning.  I don't have time to punish you right now, but don't think this
means you can wear those kerchiefs to school anymore."

He walked over to me, "Wendy, I'll explain everything.  I have to take Paul
home, I'll be back in half an hour." He looked at the boys.  "Did they
behave themselves?  I didn't mean to leave you alone for this long."

I shook my head, "No, they were great.  Perfect gentlemen."  I don't know
why I lied about them, but I figured if one good favor returned another,
they'd keep their mouths shut about our little bet.

"Great," Mr. Christiansen said.  He turned to them, "Boys, would you be so
kind as to escort Miss Caulder back to the principal's office?"

I froze in terror, trying to figure out how to respond.

Paul was still talking to them, "I just don't want anyone to stop her, or
ask any questions."

I tugged at Mr. Christiansen's sleeve, whispering, "Paul, these boy's were
in juvie."

He turned to me, pulling me further from the boys, "We have to put our trust
in people in order for them to learn to trust others.  They could have
misbehaved and done anything while I was out, and I think this trust is well
deserved."

I moved my mouth, trying to tell him that I had lied, but that would in turn
lead to the revelation that I had stripped, willingly, for fifty bucks.

Mr. Christiansen went on, "I just want someone who can keep you safe on your
way back to the office.  I can't go with you; I need to take care of Mr.
Donovan.  I'll send my secretary in to lock up."

And with that he grabbed his jacket and sped out the door.

Raul was already at the side door, "After you Miss Caulder." He had a huge
grin of his fat, blubbery lips.

The hall was deserted, and it took no time at all to get back to the
principal's office.  Once at the door I tried to go in first, but Pierre
burst through the door ahead of me.

The office was deserted, and the TV, thankfully, was off.  The floodlight
that had lit up the room was also turned off, though the camera was still
directed at me.  I had forgotten all about the dog collar, and scrambled to
get it off, but couldn't reach the buckle.  I sufficed with unclipping the
sensor and throwing it on the couch.  The camera spun to face it.

Both boys examined the room with no small amount of wonder.  The camera, the
lights, the microphones.  Raul went to the TV and switched it on, but
fortunately, the freeze frame of my sex was no longer there, instead there
was simply the camera's view of the couch.  I saw the 'rec' still written in
the upper corner of the screen, and crossed to the camera, but Raul
interrupted me before I could remember how to turn in off.

"So, Miss Caulder, how about that demonstration."

I tried to play ignorant.  I couldn't believe that Mr. Christiansen had left
me alone with these boys, "Thank you boys, I can take care of things from
here."

Pierre just shook his head and crossed to the couch.

Raul came over to the camera and pointed it at me.  It didn't seem to follow
the sensor when someone was controlling git, "Come on, Miss Caulder.  After
the big fuss you made about the Veep coming back, and all that.  You ain't
gonna back out on us now."

"Boys, I have no intention of giving you a demonstration.  You've already
seen enough of me."

Pierre quipped from the couch, "Like you said.  She ain't never done a black
guy before."

I wheeled on him, "Of course I have."

"It's not like you ain't already shown us the goods." Raul barked from
behind me, the camera displaying my discomfort on the TV screen.

"There's a big difference between showing you my body and letting you have
sex with me."

"I thought you was just settling the bet." Pierre said from the couch.

Raul tilted the camera down to reveal my unclothed legs, "We just wanted to
see that you didn't have any panties on."

I stepped away, but he just re-aimed the camera, "You said I had to take off
the coat."

"That was to settle the bet.  You didn't do nothin to show me you'd do a
black guy."

Pierre laid back on the couch, "You didn't seem too phased bein' naked with
us.  You done a black guy before, what's the big deal?"

"I can't so this." I cried.

But Raul was capturing this all on tape, and he wasn't going to let me off,
"You said you'd be happy." he turned to Pierre, "She said happy right?"

"Uh-huh."

"Happy" Raul reiterated, "To show your enthusiasm for black cock." He
grinned, "Your words, not mine."

I shook my head, "I didn't think."

"She didn't think she'd have to put up." Pierre laughed from the couch.

"You're sixteen!" I pleaded.

"Come on Wendy," Raul said, "Just go over, and give Pierre a little head.
That's all you have to do."

I stared at him, then turned to Pierre, "That's it?"

Raul laughed, "She don't mind that too much!"

Pierre laughed, "Yeah well, it ain't the same as letting him shoot his load
off inside her."

"Of course it isn't." I said.

"So you admit it.  You wouldn't let a nigger cum in you?" Raul accused me.

"Of course I would."

"Would you let me?"

"Yes!" I said, then quickly, "But you're a student."

"You got no problem suckin off Pierre, though."

"You said all I have to do is."  I shut up, realizing that I was actually
negotiating the terms here.

Raul stood back.  "Well, let's see it then."

I looked at the boy, and then at Pierre.

"Is it really that important.  Why can't you just believe me?"

Raul was adamant, "White people always goin on about how they love black
people.  'My best friends are black.'  'I done lots of black people.'  They
just can't ever remember their names or nothing."

"Fine." I said.  I don't know what I had to prove, but I had the distinct
feeling that the path of least resistance would be to show them I could take
a black dick in my mouth.  I really didn't mind the idea, in principle, just
that they were so young and I had already had to do so much already.  I took
a couple tentative steps towards Pierre, and Raul followed me with the
camera.

"You gonna film me too?"

But Raul seemed to back down from that.  He pointed the camera at the
ceiling and stepped in front on it.

I sat down on the edge of the couch, midway down the length of Pierre's
body.  I couldn't believe that I was going to do this just to make a point.
Who cared if they thought I was racist?  What absurd point was I trying to
prove?  I struggled to keep the coat covering me, but it was difficult,
leaning off the edge of the couch, which squeaked and groaned, as cheap
leather is wont to do.

I gritted my teeth and resolved to be done with it, as I unbuttoned Pierre's
pants and pulled his underwear down.  He seemed content to let me do all the
work, not even lifting up for me, and I had to fish his cock out through the
flap in his boxers.

Say what you will about black men, the rumors had certainly held true in my
experience.  He was healthy, thick, and jet-black.  Though it was flaccid I
could see it was no modest member.  I started stroking it, trying to get it
hard.

"Aww, she's just gonna jerk me off." Pierre quipped, and both he and Raul
laughed.  I looked down at him, then up at Raul, who had come to sit on an
arm of the couch,

"I'm just trying to get it hard."

But Pierre pushed my hand away, "Well, use your tits or something, I can
fucking jerk myself off."

I swallowed, gulping down a retort as I decided that I was just going to get
this over with.  I opened up the jacket, conscious that both boys could see
my whole body again, and leaned forward, trying to stroke his dick with my
breasts.

"Come on, bitch, wrap it up!"

I sat up, pulling the coat around me, "I'm not going to do this if you call
me bitch."

Pierre rolled his eyes, and Raul said, "You telling us your nigger boyfriend
don't call you bitch when you fucking?"

I shook my head, "He's not my boyfriend, and no, he never called me bitch."

Raul slapped Pierre's shoulder, "I told you she ain't never done a nigger."

"I have." I insisted.

"Yeah, well, where we're from we call our women bitches.  It don't mean
nothing."

I bit my bottom lip, willing myself not to run screaming from the office.
"Fine, call me bitch." And I knelt down to try to stuff Pierre's flaccid
member between my boobs, but he said, "You mean, 'I'm your bitch.'  That's
what black chicks say."

I looked up at the teenager, "I'm you're bitch, Pierre." And I started
stroking his cock with my tits.

"Say it again."

"I'm your bitch, Pierre."

"What about Raul?"

"I'm his bitch too."

"You're a fuckin whore." And both boys burst out into laughter, but I didn't
say anything, not wanting to start another round of what black men called
their women.  Instead I took his swelling cock in my mouth, glad that it
wasn't nearly as big as John-two's, and started pumping it with my hand.

"Oh, that's it bitch." Pierre moaned, "Oh, you the fucking ho, bitch.  Ain't
she a slut?" he asked Raul.  I was too involved to see Raul's reaction, but
I just wanted to show them I could do this and be done with it.

I felt Raul's hands on my shoulders, pulling the coat down, "You don't want
to get this messy, do you?"

But I came up shouting, "No way, you just said I had to show you I could do
it.  I just did that."

"You ain't gonna suck him off and not finish him?"

"Yeah, I nodded, pulling the coat around me."

Pierre wasn't pleased, "You are a fucking bitch."

I threw up my hands, "What does it take with you guys?"

Raul jabbed an accusatory finger at me, "You wouldn't leave a white guy
hangin on would you?"

"No!" I declared before I realized what I was saying.

Raul nodded to Pierre, who hadn't moved, his cock standing to attention, ten
inches of jerk straight man muscle.  I shuddered at the thought of that
pummeling my sensitive vagina.  Raul said, "Just like I said, she's a
fucking bigot."

"I just sucked his dick!"

"You didn't make him cum, Hell, you wouldn't even take off your jacket till
I paid ya fifty bucks too."

I stammered, "Why does making him cum.  What's that got to do with it?"

But Raul just taunted me, "Oh, I don't want to get a black man's jizz on me,
it might be filthy!"

"I already took his dick in my mouth!" I cried out.

"Then what's the point of stopping now if you ain't afraid of a little
nigger juice?"

I stood up, "Fine." I pulled off the jacket, letting it fall to the ground,
and slapped his legs off the couch so he was sitting up.  Then I climbed on
the couch and knelt next to him so I could get a good angle of approach at
his cock.  My ass stuck up in the air because the couch wasn't long enough
for me to stretch out, but I figured that Raul would get a better show that
way and maybe shut the fuck up.

I took Pierre's dick in my hand, appreciating his girth.  Though he simply
had nothing on John-two I could not help but appreciate what a cock this
size could do to a woman like me, "You got a great cock, Pierre."

Pierre grinned wide, "Maybe you thinking about other things I could do with
it?"

I smiled back, then leaned forward and gave him a kiss.  He didn't resist,
but he seemed somewhat reluctant.  I pulled back and said, "Too bad you're a
fucking nigger or I'd let you."

And with that I dove down, gobbling up his cock as deep as I could go (which
wasn't far), then bobbing my head, doing my best to keep the pressure on my
jaw as the boy started moaning.

"Oh, shit, Pierre!" Raul was cackling, "She just done smacked you down like
a bitch!"

I felt Pierre's hand on the back of my head, holding me down whenever I rose
too high off his cock, "I ain't the bitch with a cock in her mouth," he
said, a note of anger in his voice, and then he lifted his hips suddenly,
jamming my head down so I had to swallow half his cock, jamming it up
against the back of my throat, "Who's the bitch now, slut?"

And he yanked me by the hair back up, so I could answer.  It hurt a lot.

I glared at him, "I'm not the desperate fag who'd fuck a whore like me."

He glared at me for a long second, then pushed my head down again, "Just
shut up and suck it."

But I came back up, "I may not be a racist, Pierre," I added special
emphasis on the girly sounding name, "But I don't do assholes." And I stood
up.  "This demonstration is over."

Raul was stammering, "B-but, you didn't even.  I-I mean."

I turned to face the large black boy, "You mean don't you get a turn?"

He was obviously trying to stammer out an affirmative without actually
saying 'yes.'

I shook my head, "No.  Raul don't get a turn."

"Forget this bitch." Pierre said, putting his cock away.  "She's just having
us on."

I spun on the sixteen-year-old, "There's a big difference between having sex
with someone and what you're doing!" I jabbed my finger in the chest, and
the boy was clearly intimidated.  However, I was also naked, a full foot
shorter than he, and I'd just sucked his cock,

"Bitch, you're just a cocktease!"

"You're just pissed because you ain't getting any."  I was growing more and
more conscious of the fact that my situation was becoming more and more
precocious.  Pierre was getting angry, and he could get violent.

He growled at me, "You just like makin niggers all hot and bothered for your
fat, white ass."

I growled back, "Yeah, because when they don't treat me like shit I let them
fuck the crap out of me."

"Bullshit!"

I turned and walked to the desk, looking for what Mr. Donovan had done with
my clothes, "You fucking whore, I bet you ain't even wet.  You just doin it
to show me and Raul up."

I was getting really sick of his fucking attitude, "Of course I'm wet," I
sighed, tired of the confrontation, just wanting to leave.

"Bullshit."

I refused to turn around, but heard Raul, "Man, chill out."

Pierre wasn't going to, "Shit, she ain't no Tomb Raider, she's just a
fucking tease."

I spun around, conscious that my boobs swung out and smacked hard back down
against my chest, bobbling there as I corrected the boy, "You were the ones
going on and on about me, 'Take off your coat, Miss Caulder' 'How about that
demonstration, Miss Caulder,' and I gave you one and you treated me like
shit!"

Pierre was finally cowed, but only a bit, "Shit, it's not like you was
enjoyin it."

"I might have if you'd have just shut up and enjoyed yourself."

"How can you say that when you ain't even wet?"

"How can I get wet when you're trying to choke me on your cock?"

"You just said you were wet."

I just stammered.  I had told them that, and of course I was, it was like an
automatic reaction now, every time I took my clothes off my body just
clicked into sex mode, "I-I am."

Pierre crossed his arms, feeling the control return to him, "So which is it,
you wet, or ain't you? You liked it or you was turned off by it?"

I bit my lip, and tried to back my way out of it, "I.  I got wet because we
were.  Because I was." I couldn't think up a way to explain that I was some
sort of automatic fucking machine because I didn't understand it myself,
"But you had to be a dick!" It was all I could think of.

"So you are wet?" Pierre pushed, forcing the issue.

I nodded, "Yeah, gushing, okay?"

"Prove it."

I scowled at the boy, "Fine."  And while both teenagers watched I reached
around back and inserted a finger into my vagina.  I was rewarded by Raul's
wide-open mouth. Pierre's eyebrows shot up.  I held up the glistening
finger.  It was my middle finger.

Pierre actually grinned, liking the joke, but he said, "Shit, that ain't
nothing."

I grabbed a Kleenex off the desk, "What do you want, a fucking fountain?"  I
started looking around again for my clothes, but couldn't find them.

"You ain't wet enough to fuck."

What the fuck was his problem?  I didn't look at him, rotting around behind
Mr. Donovan's desk, "Pierre, it doesn't fucking matter." I refused to look
at him.

"That's what I thought."

I picked up a stapler off the desk and hurled it at him, "Would you just
fucking drop it!"

He dodged, his face contorted with anger.  Raul went into control mode,
putting his hands on his friend, "Maybe if you let Pierre see for himself."

Pierre let his friend calm him, but he didn't drop it, "No, she's too good
to let a nigger touch her pussy."

I stood up, dropping a button down that Mr. Donovan probably kept as a spare
and fixing Pierre with a glare "Is that what it's gonna take to get you to
shut up?"

Pierre scowled at me, "If you think you can handle it."

I looked at his crotch, "That little thing?"

He snapped, "Let's see you put your money where your mouth is, whore!"

I crossed to the end of the desk, "Fine."

"You think you can take this thing?" he pointed at his dick, walking over to
me.

I hopped up on the desk, spreading my legs and fingering my clit.  I was
really sore, and I didn't know for sure if I could handle this, but for some
reason it was more important at that moment to prove him wrong.  It wasn't
as if I hadn't already sucked him off.  It wasn't as if I had any shame to
save by doing this.  The thing that really irked me was that no matter how I
played it, I'd reward him by proving him right about me, or by giving him my
body to use. "You think you can do this without calling me names?" I asked
as he pulled out his dick, which was still brick hard.

"I just call em like I see em, whore." He snarled, and before I could
respond his dick was rubbing against my sex, rubbing the raw, bruised flesh.

Pierre saw me wince, "Shit, bitch, I only just got started."

I scowled at him, "You need some help with that thing, you seem lost." But I
leaned further back, arching my hips up to accommodate him.  His cock
nestled against my anus.

"I ain't lost, just getting warmed up," and he thrust, forcing me to yelp
and scoot away as his lubricated head threatened to penetrate my anus.

He pulled back, shouting at Raul "See, I fucking told you she ain't wet."

"That's the wrong hole you fucking amateur."

If he wasn't black Pierre would have gone bright red.  Raul could barely
contain his laughter.

"Give it to me," and I reached out for Pierre's dick as he came back up to
me.  Gently I slid down the edge of the desk and nestled my sex against him.
Guiding him gently I let his head slip into the nestle of my vagina.  It was
tender, but I was no less lubricated than I had been with John-two, and it
easily slid past my opening.  The boy let out a long low groan.

"Come on." I urged him gently, but he was almost paralyzed with pleasure.  I
had never seen anyone so enraptured without cumming, but he just stood
there, his eyes glazed over.

"Shit." He moaned.

I was definitely not comfortable, but I knew that if I got him further in
that the pressure would alleviate some of the pain, hopefully with a little
pressure.  I grabbed his butt and tried to pull him, but instead actually
slid down myself.  The result was the same, and I gasped as his healthy cock
filled me up.  I tried to ride him a bit, but as I'd learned during the
assembly this morning, it was hard to do when leaning back on a desk.

Jerking my hips I felt a few brief flames of passion come over me, but the
prone boy wasn't helping any.  I grabbed his butt again, and this time
noticed a wire sticking out of his back pocket.  I grabbed it, suspecting
something and discovered that it was the very sensor I'd tossed off hen we
walked in.  I looked around and saw the camera pointing at us.  A glance at
the TV revealed myself, impaled on Pierre in all my naked glory.  A
beautiful side shot, showing me wrapping my legs around the lean black
teenager and bucking my hips up, eager for more cock.

I pushed on the boy, but he didn't budge, "Okay, that's enough Pierre."

He grabbed my hands, springing to life, and pushed them away, "Shit, bitch,
I only just got started." He yanked the sensor out of my hand and stuffed it
back into his pocket, then pumped me, hard three times and I gasped, first
in pain, then as the breath was knocked out of me, then, finally a third
time in pleasure as my body realized it had another cock in me.  Not a
monster, like John-two's, or a wiener, like Mr. Gold's, but a long, lean
shaft that could make me forget the pain, forget the camera, forget Raul,
and forget the sixteen-year-old fucking me.  "That's it," I cried, "Give it
to me, baby!" as I laid back on the desk, bucking under his pumping, numbly
driving myself towards orgasm, and oblivion.

Then he came.

He pinned me down, leaning over me, groaning and moaning as he unloaded his
ballsack in my cunt, letting go this weird "woo-hooooo" pant as he finished
with me.

"That was it?" I cried from under the moaning boy.

He was grinning, a bead of drool on his big black bottom lip, "Oh, yeah."

I pushed at him, but he was too heavy, "You called me a fucking tease?"

He pushed himself up on his arms, his cock growing more flaccid by the
second, but not pulling out, "Come on, you liked it." He insisted.

But I pulled my leg up, put a foot on his chest and kicked hard.  The boy
went flying back, his cock popping out of my pussy with a loud 'sluuurp' and
he tumbled backwards into his friend.  "That was the worst fuck I ever had
in my life.  You're pathetic!" I hollered, and spying my clothes suddenly on
the lounger by the door I stood up, marched straight through the boys who
scattered in my rage and grabbed the first thing I saw, the flesh colored
bra.

I pulled the straps over my arms and turned to the guys, "Get out, I'm done
with you."

"Done with us?" Raul belted out in shock.

I almost smiled at the thought of how that sounded, "Yeah," I said, "I got
what I wanted, go back to class."

Pierre was dumbfounded and indignant, "Nu-unh.  You-I fucked you."

"Took you long enough to." I hooked the bra and grabbed the panties.

"No way, bitch, I had you pegged from Go!"

I gave the boy a condescending smile while I stepped into my panties,
"Right, and Mr. Christiansen just let you walk out of his office without
punishment."

Both boys were clearly buying it.  I knew it wouldn't matter in the long
run.  I'd let myself once again get manipulated into putting out.  I started
missing James and Eliot, for their straightforward sincerity.  They didn't
play stupid games, and they seemed to like my company, unlike John-two, who
just wanted to fuck.  But if I could leave these boys with the sting in
their pride that I'd used them; that was at least some compensation for yet
another humiliating submission and a cuntfull of black sperm.

I stepped into the skirt, and sat down on the chair to pull it past my feet,
"Why are you still here?" I asked them.

Pierre took a few angry steps to the door, then stopped suddenly.  Raul was
still looking at me, "What about me?  I mean, don't I get any?"

I looked at him.  "What about you?"

He was totally dumbfounded.  Pierre, however, to my horror was rooting
around the TV, "Where's the tape.  You didn't sucker me, butch." He was
trying to open artificial wooden panels while I stood up and buttoned the
skirt.

This was bad.  I couldn't let those boys walk out of here with that tape.
That was the worst thing that could happen.  Photographs of me fucking Mike
was bad enough.  If these guys got a hold of that tape, I'd be seriously
screwed.  They could blackmail me for everything I've got.  Fuck me any time
they wanted to.

I suddenly remembered the monitors in Mr. Christiansen's office, "They're in
the vice-principal's office, remember?"

Pierre took the bait as I pulled on the sweatshirt.  Covered at last.  "Come
on, Raul." He ordered his friend, "We gonna get that tape and we'll see who'
d the bitch here." He pulled open the door and looked at me, "You might as
well get undressed right fucking now, cause when I get that tape you gonna
do what I say or everyone's gonna know whatchoo doin in the principal's
office."

With that he stormed out of the office.  Raul gave me a wistful look, as if
begging me to tell him to stay so he could get a piece of me.

"Go on Raul," I waved him on, "Your boyfriend's calling."

He grimaced, balling his fists and clenching his teeth.  Had I hit on a
nerve?  Was that what they were up to in juvie?

Nevertheless he walked out after his friend, slamming the door behind him.

I quickly crossed the room and locked the deadbolt.  Then a sauntered over
to the camera, and hit the eject button.  After a long, frustrating moment
while the camera stopped recording, unspoiled the tape, and spat it out I
pulled the little cassette out and stuffed it in my bra.

After a moments thought I decided that that was about the least safe place
to put it, given the amount of time today I'd actually been able to keep a
bra on, and pulled it out and stuffed it in my purse.

I thought about going out the front door, but I really didn't want to deal
with the crowds in administration.  I listened at the back door, and heard
nothing.  I figured it would take the boys a few minutes to figure out that
Mr. Christiansen's office was locked, and slipped out the door.

"Miss Caulder, about my grade?"

I spun around.  Right outside the door Melanie was standing there.  How long
she had been there I don't know, but the thought of her knowing what had
gone on in the office terrified me.  I just stared at her.

She had a malicious grin on, looking down at me with her large, brown eyes,
her hair falling in luscious waves.  With her was a boy, probably younger
than her, but unmistakably one of the boys who had caught me in the shower.
He was trying hard not to look straight at me.

Melanie leered at me, my disheveled hair, my rumpled clothing, "You
remember, Miss Caulder.  I mentioned it in the shower." The emphasis she put
on the word 'shower' left me no doubt of her complicity in my humiliation.
I only hoped that she didn't know all the particulars, only that the guy on
her shoulder had seen me.  She went on, "Lee told me what happened." I could
only presume that the blushing boy was Lee.  "When you weren't in class I
knew immediately what happened."

I crossed my arms and tried not to blush myself.  I couldn't believe how
humiliated I was, considering the things I had done.

She smiled at me, patting me on the arm, "I'd hate to hear that that
incident got around school."

"I'll take care of it."

She acted surprised, "You will?  That's great."  She reached back and ran a
hand down Lee's arm, "Do you think this semester's class will be as hard?"

I couldn't believe that I was letting this bitch blackmail me for something
as petty as being caught naked, when I had a tape in my purse of me blowing
and fucking a student.  "No, Melanie, I think it will be very easy for you."

She grinned, her demeanor malicious.  She had a proud, gloating expression
on her face.  I forced a smile on my face, but told myself that that
shit-eating grin would vanish when she saw a big fat 'F' on her report card
at the end of the year.  Try getting into prep school with that.  She would
spend the whole semester confident that I was wrapped around her little
finger, and I'd save every half-assed test, document every missed
assignment, and by the time she tried to stick it to me, it would be summer
vacation.  Changing her last grade to an A would be a pithy concession for
the satisfaction I'd have ruining this cunt's life.

Then I saw James coming out of the room used for extracurricular activities.
Class period was just about over, and obviously his group had called it
quits early.

"James" I called out.  "I've been waiting for you."

James was a skinny little sophomore who I'd given myself to with his friend
Eliot last night when I was lonely, disheveled, and utterly humiliated.
James seemed to honestly like me, even if it was just because I had taken
his virginity.  I didn't really want to see him, but I wanted to get the
Hell out of that hallway before Pierre and Raul came back.

"You'll be back tomorrow?" Melanie asked.

"With bells on." I said, taking James by the shoulders and pushing him out
the back door, into the very parking lot Mr. Donovan had wanted me to go to
get fucked by a student.

The door slammed shut behind us, and I pulled him to the side where we would
be hidden by the row of bushes.

"Hey Wendy."

I looked at the boy, in a black T-shirt with some band on it, jeans and old,
ratty sneakers.  He was a reject in school.  An outcast who wasn't a smart
nerd, or a drama geek.  Just a reject.  The kind of kid I was in school, and
I had a lot of empathy for him, which is probably why I chose him and Eliot
to be my lovers.  Sort of compensating for all the men who ordinarily
disgusted me who used me nonetheless.  I seemed to remember having
rationalized it by telling myself that if I was going to be a whore for the
student body, I was at least going to get to fuck people who I identified
with, but really I had just been craving a mind-numbing release by
submitting myself to two boys in so humiliating a fashion.

"James, we're in school."

"Sorry, Miss Caulder."

I grinned at him, then leaned back against the wall next to the door.

"Rough day?" he asked.

I nodded to him, "When am I going to learn?"

His mouth fell open.  "You mean.  It happened."

I nodded, "Again, yes."

He seemed pretty put out by that.  "You mean you."  he looked at the ground,
embarrassed, "Does this mean.?"

He was so distraught that I just reached out and grabbed him, holding him
close.  He threw his arms around me and we hugged like that for a long time.

Finally I forced myself to speak, "No, baby, I'm still your girl."

How he responded to that I don't know, his face was over my shoulder, but he
held me tight.  Finally I let go, and he stepped away, leaning against the
wall with me.

"Why do you?  I mean, how come." but he couldn't ask the question.

"I don't know James.  I don't understand." I moved closer to the 15 year-old
and put my head on his shoulder.  "It's like I can't fight them.  I keep
getting in over my head and.  Well, it happens."

"You can't just say 'no?'"

I shrugged as he put his arm around me, "Sometimes.  I sure told Mr. Gold
off today." And I laughed at that, but quickly stopped, "Then there's other
times when it's the only thing that makes sense."

He seemed to force the next words out, "Is that why you." and he fell
silent.

But I could follow his thoughts, "No, James.  I chose you and Eliot.  I
wanted you guys to.  I just.  No, James.  The others kind of make me do it."

I turned to the boy, making him look at me.  It was terribly important that
the boy understand.  "I chose you.  I wanted you.  I love how you make me
feel.  You make me feel like a woman."

He was speechless for a long moment.  Then he blurted out, "I love you Miss
Caulder."

I stared at the boy for a second, then grinned and cuffed him playfully on
the head, "Shut the fuck up you little perv."

He laughed, and I went on, "You just want to fuck me again."

Laughing he said, "Yeah, I mean.  Sure."

We giggled for a minute; then there was an awkward silence.

"Let's not tell Eliot, okay?"

He nodded, "He'd probably get jealous, yeah."

And I kissed him.  He was still pretty awkward at it, but he was getting
better.  I kissed him like I wanted to be kissed, and let his hands rove
over my body.  By the time I pulled back he had stopped trying to jam his
tongue down my throat, and was almost using it like a Frenchman.

"I have to go meet Mr. Christiansen." I said, not with a little regret.

"Are you coming over tonight?"

I shook my head, "I don't know.  Something's going on, I'm not sure how long
I'll be."

"I hope you can."

I smiled at the boy, and put my hand on his cheek.

"I hope so too."

I was surprised to discover that I meant it.



End of Day 2-The Office

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