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From: jenny_stupid@yahoo.com (cowgirl)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: 12 Apr 2003 03:33:55 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} NEW HUMILIATION STORY: 'Little-Miss-Annie' (F/F,Humil,Cons?,Ws)
Date: Sat, 12 Apr 2003 05:10:05 -0400
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'Little-Miss-Annie' (F/F, Humil, Cons?, Ws.) cowgirl



A shy college student is aroused by how intimidating her stern
Philosophy Professor is.

This story was written for, and dedicated to, the real life 'Miss
Annie', a cute li'l baby-dyke who deserved every little
deliciously depraved word! ;-)

_________



'Little-Miss-Annie' cowgirl



My name's Annie.

I'm a college student, perusing a master's in Art. Though my
teachers say I'm too reserved and shy , I'm getting better, I
think. Hope.  Anyway,  I'm nineteen and have a pert-ish slim body
and what others call a 'cute' face, a description I always
*loathed* growing up.

I was the 'baby of the family'. Mom and my big sis Jenny pointed
out the more seriously, I tried to be take myself, the childishly
I behaved. Jenny herself even relished picking in class, and
teased me to tears before my peers, claiming I *liked* such
attention, reveled in it, which caused gloating titters from
other girls. My face would explode brilliant fire engine *red*
and I'd become furious over the Idea, my liking to be shamed, my
sister's foul mouthed nick name for me ' cuteMissAnnie'  the kids
would mockingly chant.

I was also very confused about my sexuality in high school. 

Never had 'feelings' for any guys, so I was amazement and
relieved in collage when I surrendered to my quizzical attraction
to -- girls!  Especially older ones. The first girl I had a crush
on treated me like Mom and jenny used to. She's laugh, by hyper
critical and mercilessly point out when I goofed, which only made
me goof up more. We started dating soon after, and I totally fell
for her!

Sometimes, even when we made love, she'd tell me I was 'doing it
wrong', or scold me about what to do to better please her, and
would even correct me while I with my face between her thighs.
I'd get angry with her for it, which only amused and caused a
laugh. Her laughter hurt and drew tears and red cheeks, but I my
insides grew warm and moist, knowing she'd discover the ' real
me' I was trying to live keep hidden. The one jenny and mom knew.
'CuteMissAnnie'.

After she dumped me, I cried and cried even though I didn't even
really like her. I did move on, and I told myself its still okay
to be a lesbian. Being queer doesn't mean being 'baby annie'.

Now I'm taking courses in college. All grown up. Nothing helps
better than being treated as an adult and leaving behind that
'little girl' stigma, and all my teachers tell me I'm really
starting to blossom as a woman.

All except for one,

My Philosophy teacher, Mrs. Trice.

The first time I saw her, I noted how she's actually kinda short.
She didn't look imposing, yet her face was serenely compelling,
with her even short black hair long lashes of her liquid brown
eyes. She is definitely attractive, but she sure can be mean and
merciless sometimes to the other students who goofed up. I
started her class soon after, and totally my eyes sitting there,
panicked she'd call on me to answer questions or read, yet my
eyes pleading for it also.

"Miss Trent, Can you please read from the bottom of page 138? "
She coolly asked.

" Yes miss Trice I.I mean, remI.138?" I squeeked.

"Yes Annie. Last paragraph.." She said,

her burning eyes held me there, my insides starting.

"Oooh, last - okay, got it -- uhI.in addition to his
accomplishments as a philosopherIoh, okay. De- Descartes was an
outstaaaaaanding mathematicianI" I tried, all eyes in class
rivited to me, feeling my cheeks ablaze, SURE all the girls
smirking arrogence washing over me.


Inventing analytic anyIliticalI" I stammered, anger bulding. I
knew this, KNEW it - had read it last night, alone, in the safety
of my room. Now, here, before all these snotty beautiful girls
and Miss Trice, I crumbled, My professor's eyes filled with
contempt. I was embarrassing her, AND myself. I didn't even
finish, I just sat down.

"Why are you sitting Miss Trent? " Her voice full of ice. It
*did* seem stupid now, and I cringed over my disrespect, my legs
squeezing together as I needed to pee suddenly.

"I didn't mean... I" I stammered again lamely, and stood back up,
which brought a round of chuckles from the class, Miss Trice's
unspeaking eyes prolonging the sweet humiliating moment.

"Miss Harris?" I head Miss trice say, and I looked up to see
Julie Harris already reading --

" Iand attempting to devise the simple universal laws that
governed all physical change." She read rather put out, sitting
down and leaving me standing there like an idiot, desperate to
piddle myself, face scarlet.

I sat down, bringing MORE chuckles, and Miss Trice's piercing
glare to ME for causing it all. I sulked in in my seat for the
rest of the class, mortified by my arousal, hiding behind my
book. I ran to my dorm, locked myself in and masturbated, my mind
exploding with horrible taunts of mommy, Jenny and licking my
lover to orgasm. She'd almost never licked me, and I never asked.
Why not? why didn't I ask? Why didn't I straighten this out -- go
to Miss Trice? I resolved I would try and repair the damage next
class, then finished my orgasm.

So, next class, my philosophy teacher Miss Trice asked me a long
complicated question about my opinion on Decartes. I knew knew
KNEW the answer, but was shy and tongue tied to cough up a good
enough answer, so she once again got angry, scolded me and moved
on. I wondered if I was crazy for my disappointment at NOT
getting that amused, humored, bright merriment in her eyes she'd
given me yesterday.

After class Miss Trice kept me after. I waited till we were
alone, trembling over what she'd say.  Her expression was hard,
flat, passionless. Yet her warm hand touched mine as she asked to
see my book. she leafed through it, smiling at my silly doodles
in the margins.

Miss Trice then lost her smile, and when she came to a heart I'd
drawn. She then slapped the book shut, and her expression
smoldered with fire as she said I'd have to 'shape up' and work
harder both inside and outside her class if I want to pass.

I nodded, scurried out, checked my philosophy book she'd scowled
at. why? Did I doodle too much? Then the the color drained from
my face when I saw what I'd forgotten I'd doodled. a 'heart' with
Annie and Isabella in it.

 Isabella was Miss Trice's first name.

Ohhhhh great!!!! how could I BE so stupid??? now she'd think - oh
now she'd be pissed for SURE!!!


And the next few classes brought it all home as my role took
shape, my goofing up. Miss Trice refused me even her amused look
now, and when she'd call on me, everyone knew I would screw up,
and it got me more wet than anyone knew, every time!!!! But,
inside, my heart ached that Miss Trice was hurt and lashing out.
I'd repulsed her by daring to show my affection, a worthless dumb
dyke like me, how DARE I??? Everyone relished in it just to be
cruel, and I always got beet red, had to pee, and Miss Trice had
that lethal calmness in her eyes, a fierce expectation that I'd
goof up, which always ensured I DID, even if I KNEW the answer!

But soon Miss Trice eased up, went back to 'amused', and my heart
soared inside. I felt soooo loved, even when she scolded me. It's
like my teacher's gaze of disapproval and disgust completed me
somehow. Warmed me. Feed me. And there was always eagerness in
her eyes for me to goof, and I felt like it was almost intimate,
loving, tender, the hatred that blazed in her warm brown eyes.
She hated weaklings, fools and cry-babies,

and I was the 'class baby'.

in every OTHER class I was so normal, so together. It was only in
my philosophy class that my true self was exposed. Today she made
sure to ask me a whole bunch of questions, the whole hour. She
pelted me with them like bullets, and my body was on fire with
tingly desire, her eyes swept over my face with approval as I
goofed, and I knew it was coming and that's what ate me up
inside. I almost wanted to drift my hand into my jeans right
there before the whole class, and our words were like we 'made
love' before all the other students.

I was near a breaking point and wanted Miss Trice so badly my
privates were sore from rubbing my clitoris so much after
philosophy class! I had fantasies about her and mooned for her in
the worst way, for her brown eyes, piercing the distance between
us, her icy contempt drawing us closer, closer.

Then during break , I felt the warmth of her touch on my arm
again, like that first day, and she pulled me aside and was
wondering

"Miss Trent"

"Annie, please ma'am? if it's okay?" I added timidly. She paused,
then added;

"Alright Annie, I was just noticing your grades, and though I
have a full plate with my classes, I was wondering if you needed
any help studying?"

Can you believe it? I get A's on all her tests and she has the
nerve to ask if I need help. Thoughts of what she must think of
me, how quickly her impression of me had dropped. Sure, I was
class clown, but my grades delivered. This was too much, and I
felt personally stung, hurt, fighting a lump in my throat. Didn't
she know I KNEW these answer? Know WHY I was goofing up so much?
Hadn't she saw my doodle in my book?

"Do *you* think I need it Miss Trice?"  I asked, more pointedly
than I intended, eyes quickly flashing down when she peered at my
question.

"That's not what I asked 'Annie'." She scolded, saying my name so
coldly, bitchily, I wish I'd never asked, yet also wishing I'd
peed before class, and now needing whishing I'd gone earlier! Why
does my going pee pee and being embarrassed so mixed up?

I smiled weakly at my teacher, but inwardly I hated her more at
that moment than ever, for making me 'stay after', ignoring all
my hard work, long hours! I squeezed my legs together, trying to
block out my betraying pussy doing flip flops inside, soaking up
my teacher's frown, standing, judging, devouring me with her
wonderful wave of silence, arms crossed breasts heaving.

An almost hopeful glint in her eyes urged me on as I lied

"Yes, I do Miss Trice, need it that is..." I stammered, even more
angry at myself than i was her.

"Miss Trent, why do you keep coming to class?"

"Well, to learn philos--"

"No, that's not the reason. You think if you slide by with 'A's
and 'B's, you can just parrot what I teach and forget it all the
second you graduate, don't you?"


"No Miss Trice -- honest I --"

Suddenly Miss Trice held up her hand for me to stop.

I did, transfixed.

"Do you use the ladies room before my class?"

"huh?"

"It's a simple question Miss Trent. Do you or do you not relieve
your bladder in the ladies rest room before you come to study
with my class?"

"sometimes."

"Your lying again. People died for their beliefs throughout
history and your afraid to admit you hold your urine cause you're
so afraid of authority, isn't that so Miss Trent??? Your
squirming, fidgeting is distracting. But, that's the point, isn't
it? "

She stared me down, then she grabbed my arm her touch warm.

"You *like* the attention, don't you Miss Trent?"

my face was scarlet now, and I was insanely aroused, and wanted
to piddle myself before her, right there, regress before her
eyes!!!!!

"no ma'am." I whispered.

She paused, holding me there, wrote out the days I was to meet
her and stuffed it into my hand, THEN let go.

MY mind was burning with what she'd said, and I was in a fog
after that. Had my teacher said that about my needing to pee? How
did she know? Just another way to demean me? Or was she saying I
need to stand up to her? So confusing!!!

So, I stayed behind, like the 'dunce' everyone assumed, and I was
the ONLY ONE, apparently, and the girls giggled, and I saw stars
and now always made sure I DIDN'T go to the bathroom and enjoyed
my 'full feeling', wondering if she'd ask again, but she was all
business!

each visit alone with her, I'd soak up her lectures, secretly
becoming so damned sticky and moist with each bitchy comment. The
anticipation of her coming that close, cornering me, my almost,
ALMOST admitting how much I liked it, the humiliation, drove me
to tears!

MY whole life was spent looking for word to our 'after class
humiliations', and soon I could barely keep from melting my mouth
into hers as she spat or chastised my fuck-ups, which I'd gladly
supply, desperately holding my piss in and rushing and exploding
into the toilet after class! When we were alone I was the weakest
of all, pining for one more chance, for her to accuse me of
lying, or defying her with my 'pissy' antics, the faint glimmer
of humor, dirression, in her eyes set off an unquenchable thirst
in me.

One day, I could take it no longer and blurted out these words:

"Miss Trice, I... I Think I..."

"Yes Miss Trent?"

"I... I can't do this anymore I... I have to tell you"

"Tell me what?"

"I I... think I... well I... love you."

"Love?"

She paused, and her face softened, looking at me, brow sweating,
almost doubled over, trying to hold in my bladder and my
feelings, both poorly.

"Well, there it is" she said, taking off her glasses, a deep
breath as she closed the door, then walked up to me, still
doubled over in my seat.

Miss Trice guided me up from my seat with her finger under my
chin, and over to her desk. She then sat at her desk, and guided
me onto her right knee, my back to her, her arms stroking my
tummy, holding me there. She was wearing slacks, and I felt
self-conscious even with the door closed, astride my Philosophy
Professor's thigh, keeping erect and *very* still, every nerve of
my body and pubes alive, screaming for release, the need to pee
temporarily replaced by her close presence as she nearly
whispered from behind into my ear:

"Annie, if you were me, and had a student who stalled and ignored
you in class, wouldn't you consider this disrespectful? Hostile
even?"

"Miss Trice I...I... I... I don't mean.."

"Shhhh... yes, you DO dear. I'd say such a student, you, are
testing my authority, Openly. I know you love playing the
'victim', but I am willing to bet, all your life, you've milked
such antics for your own thrills, huh?" She asked.

I fought the resurfacing urge to relieve myself as my thighs
squeezed her leg, embarrassed and biting my lower lip, still in a
surreal fog of lust as she lectured me. I mean, had she even
HEARD my confession of my deepest feelings for her? That I loved
her? Or was she toying with me?

"Miss Trice I... uh... I ...am I in trouble?" I blinked, feeling
her beginning to shake her knee, and I started to unconsciously
'ride' it, matching her rhythm, still totally clothed. SO weird.

"You're in trouble for more than being openly hostile to your
teacher, and for nearly urinating in your school desk's seat
little one. Let me ask you something Miss Annie Trent, why do you
say you 'love' me?"

"cause, I dunno..." I said, humping her warm firm thigh as I
stared away, cheeks scarlet, blazing at the fear someone would
walk in.

"Don't hedge. You always play dumb, and we both know your not.
Don't lie to me little girl. I know why you keep challenging me
Annie! MY little baby girl keeps making such a fuss because you
wanna...

...fuck mommy. Have your 'mommy' treat you like the spoiled
little girl you are, isn't that right my little princess, my cute
little baby girl, isn't it?" She urged, as I nodded my head,
angry how easily I agreed...

but it WAS true.

" Look baby, in class teacher is always 'mommy', and your 'big
sister' too. Yes, I know about them, your sister jenny AND your
mother came by and told me all about you before your first class,
bless their hearts. And they told me everything, all your
secrets, your desperate needs, desires.

"what?" my eyes flew open, as my Professor's deft warm hand
unsnapped my jeans, smoothly slid down into my panties, as I
eagerly humped her thigh faster as images of her 'giving me a
ride', filled my head, like one of those ponies little girls drop
a quarter in. I was riding my professor for all I was worth, and
caught myself unconsciously almost sucking my thumb!

"What does a mommy like your Miss Trice do with such a spoiled
little thing, huh little one?" She asked, as I teethed my thumb
and felt my bladder about to explode, riding her, grinding my
cunny against both her fingers and the smooth fabric of her
slacks shamelessly, eyelashes fluttering, sweating, lost,
moaning...

"what do you do with her Miss Trice?" I whispered breathlessly,
as her other hand played across my face and cheeks, guiding my
thumb deeper into my mouth as she played her fingers in rapid
circles across my clitty.

"Well... you obviously Cute Miss Annie is being such a passive
aggressive little thing, much like a spoiled tot, and what symbol
of regression would our philosopher friends say is a perfect
symbol of a child's 'gift' to their parents Annie? huh?

"She'd want to... want to pee in her panties." I gurgled,
sickened I 'd said it, but grinding into her palm all the more
now.

"You really are a spoiled little princess aren't you Annie? Think
your pee pee is good enough for your teacher do you? Well go
ahead then let it GO you sordid girl. Pee pee on your professor,
go on, let's have it..." She said as I climaxed and exploded hot
steaming fluid which warmly hugged into her lap and down my pants
legs to my utter shame and humiliating as we kept out rhythm, her
next words sing songly as she spoke, almost sung as if to a small
child:

"MY, my, you really think your piss IS special, don't you golden
girl? Well, well, you vain little piss princess -- guess I'll
just have to call you 'CuteMissAnnie', since you think your so
darned 'cute' and since your apparently entitled to urinate on my
lap during my lectures, huh?" She asked, and suddenly pulled my
head around and sunk her tongue warmly into my waiting melting
mouth,

Then she suddenly broke the kiss, and pulled me around so I STILL
was riding her leg, only now facing her. She stared into my face,
a cruel hatred burning in her eyes, but also a warmth for me, all
mixed together. She slapped my face, and I drew in a surprised
breath, my eyes sparkling with anger.

As that moment I WAS glad I'd peed on her, yet also was aroused
at my own defiance, however childish!!! She was right, I WAS
hostile and challenging her, yet also loved her madly!!!

She saw my lost look, and slapped me again, bringing my angry
fiery look back, her other hand still working my clit mercilessly
as I blushed, cheeks stinging, hurt and pissed. I looked away,
but she kept whispering to me, mocking me;

"oooowww... poor little pout girl gonna cry? can't HACK the big
girl stuff?

"...did ums professor make her face all does nasty things she
likes to avoid?"

" Poor little pouty puss, do ahead, pee AND cry, mommy
understands..."

" Isn't it easier, huh? Does mommy's 'Cute little fuck up' like
pissing herself on the big ladies leg MUCH better than, like,
speaking the fuck UP for herself in class? I think mommy's girl
gets OFF on failure, on clamming up! Hearing all those giggles
and playing such a pouty little girl gets my spoiled little brat
all most and HOT doesn't it???

"iiithat isII meanI"

"...answer me you snippy little bitch!!!"

SLAP!

and then my eyes focused on someone standing there, in the
doorway, not knowing how long they'd been there. Mother, and
Jennifer, watching, smirking.

and I came, bucking and crying in shame and arousal, as I heard
Miss Trice say:

"Ooops, mommy and Jenny saw your accident in class, didn't they?
Such a shame. Well, no secrets now. Perhaps your Miss Trice
should decide that 'CuteMissAnnie' should work on THAT problem as
well as her studies, right?" She asked as I slid to the floor to
avoid Jen and mom staring in shock at me, and landed face down in
my own waste, as my teacher kept her foot on my pubes as I
writhed in pleasure like a squirming animal on the floor, her
words carring me on, desperately praying she wouldn't mean it,

COULDN'T I no, not what she said,


" I think Ms. Trice should assign a project that involves a
presentation in front of the WHOLE class, and the students
working in groups, all studying why my cutie pie here needs to be
treated like such a naughty little girl! Since everyone will be
'older' than you know, we can all take turns holding your hand
and explaining things, and  we'll assign specifically puts YOU in
a group with the girls who are always seem to find you so
amusing, Miss Harris, et al.

...won't that be special?"




End _________________



Special thanks to my good friend MAC, tirelssly correcting my
poopy spelling! Thanks Mac!!!! :-)

Cowgirl, Aka; Jennifer can be reached at: cowgirl_dumb@yahoo.com

Read all of cowgirl's humiliation stories here:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Cowgirl/



This work is copyright (c) 2000 by cowgirl. You may  download and
keep copies for your personal use as long  as the author's byline
and e-mail address and this paragraph remain on the copies.
Please do not post this story to any web site without permission
from the  author. All other rights reserved. No alteration of the
contents is permitted. 

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