Category: NonConsent/Reluctance Stories

Teacher Is Mistaken Ch. 09

by StoryTeller07©

(I've taken a readers comment as a bit of a challenge -- about keeping it real in class, and not dressing her in slutty clothes. Hope this works!)

Last day of school

The class was a little more boisterous than usual, which was understandable as this was the last day of school before the summer break. Hollie hardly had to do much for they busied themselves, over what to wear at the party, thankfully quietly.

The fear of being exposed by Angela had subsided to a tolerable level. Her master said he would deal with Angela, and so her dark secret was covered up. Angela had discovered Hollie wore a slave collar and chains. The student had pulled upon them, stimulating her nipples and pussy. Just thinking about that young girl toying with her body, in the corridor before students, had her feeling disgraced and aroused.

The anguish didn't stop with her pulling the chains, over her tender nipples and bud. The young tormentor forced her to admit to being a slave. She was a teacher caught wearing a slave collar and chains in school, so what could she do? She might have been exposed to students in that corridor, and that would have been fatal; for her career at least.

It was only a couple of days ago, with the episode still vivid in her mind. The fear and humiliation led to a deep arousal, which still affected her. She had admitted to being a slut and worst of all, had admitted to being aroused. She had told the girl she was badly in need of a good fucking. Right there in a school corridor, with students milling around at lunch time.

It was lucky no-one realised what was going on. She was a teacher, and supposed to be a figure of authority, yet this student had put her down then sent her off, patting her bottom as though she were a little girl. The parting words were something about running along to her master, for a good fucking. It was all so demeaning, she felt small and fragile, in need of her master's protection.

At least the class were too busy with their own plans for summer, to take much notice of their teacher having another funny turn.

She was grateful to have a caring master, someone to look after her. She needed to be controlled by him. That episode proved it more than ever. She had been so aroused by the humiliating situation, she acted like a slut. She was a slut, and needed her master's control, to keep her in check.

If he hadn't been waiting for her, ready to calm her down, what would have happened? She wouldn't have been able to go back to class. Not while so obviously aroused, and in such a vulnerable state. When she considered how passive she had been, a shiver ran through her body. What if that young girl had decided to really take charge of her, instead of just playing with her?

Hollie suddenly stood up from the desk. "I'm, err, I'll be back in a minute," she murmured to the class.

Hurrying down the corridor, on the way to a restroom, she collided with a group of guys. They were casually chatting, not bothering to rush to the next class, as this was the last day. With her head down, not looking where she was going, she stumbled into them.

Catching a bag she spun round, and tumbled to the floor, landing on her bottom. It flashed through her mind, that this is how she met her master. Sprawled over a school bag, she quickly pulled her legs together. The expression on their faces revealed what they had seen.

Everything! She desperately hoped they didn't understand what it was. The thong she wore was clear enough. She could feel it pulling between her cheeks, and between her lips. That would have been enough to have her angry from embarrassment a few weeks ago. Right then she wasn't bothered about her sex being on show to a bunch of adolescent guys. Not much anyway.

Partly from all that she had been through recently, she had been desensitised over showing off her body, but it was something else that worried her. She was wearing a thigh restraint. Perhaps they didn't know what it was. They might think it was a medical brace or something.

Holding onto the hem for dear life, she rolled over onto hands and knees. They just watched, without offering a hand. After what happened last time, she would have refused it anyway.

On hands and knees she was looking at someone's crotch, only this time in school. Her face was bright red and she was panting. On her way to relieve the intense arousal, this embarrassing situation stoked her up.

The brace made it difficult to get up off the floor. It seemed as though she were fated to remain on her knees before young men. She watched tents forming in their jeans. She tried to speak, and succeeded on a second attempt.

"Can you help me up," she pleaded. It had been meant to be a more authoritative request. The panting only added to the look of distress. They moved as one, pulling the teacher to her feet. They dusted her down, more vigorously than she would like. One of them was audacious enough to stroke her bottom, pretending to brush her down.

She dare not say anything, not trusting her voice, knowing it would sound weak. Despite being a sensible dress, her nipples were stiff enough to show, emphasising the piercings. Had they seen the ones between her legs? Before they could 'help' further, she scuttled off to the restroom. In a cubicle she brought her breathing under control. She felt sure they hadn't seen her slave name tag. Even if it had fallen out of the blouse, they were too busy eyeing up her nipples to notice a woman's jewellery. It was a good job she hadn't been wearing slave chains, as that would have given them something to grab hold of.

Angela came to mind again for this collision occurred just feet away, from the very spot the girl had humiliated her.


Angela had dominated so effectively, Hollie was obeying the girl, as she would her master. The girl could have done anything with her. What disturbed Hollie, was the thought of that nasty girl taking her away from school, to her home. With the slave chains tightened around her body, she would have been left helpless. A leash attached to her slave collar would have kept her secured, in the girl's bedroom. A gag would keep her quiet.

Or maybe the girl had a pet cage to keep her in. An image of her looking out through a wire door, in a pet cage, looking sorry and pitiable, came to mind. She imagined waiting there, all afternoon, for her mistress to return after school.

She would be thinking of her master, hoping for rescue, sadly aware that he didn't have the slightest idea where she was. Unable to move while tightly bound in chains, would emphasis her helplessness. Being gagged meant she couldn't cry for help.

She would no longer be a willing slave girl, she would be reluctant, forced to submit to a harsh mistress.

Her master had released her submissive personality, and taught her to obey commands. Now this girl was going to reap the benefits of those weeks of preparation. She was a submissive slave girl ready to obey, however reluctant, she would nevertheless have to dutifully serve her mistress.

Hollie knew from teaching that an adolescent girl could be especially cruel. Hollie would be unable to resist her every whim, however pitiless and vindictive she was. It would be especially painful, as a responsible adult, and a teacher, being reduced to that young girls little pet-girl.

On hands and knees she would be licking the girl's pussy, and submitting to the crudest of demands. How could a young girl resist having a teacher as her slave? She would be spanked for every wrong doing, and treated like a pathetic pet-girl. She would certainly learn what being an owned object really meant.

Hollie suppressed a moan as she cum fitfully. It wasn't enough, after the deep orgasms Roger gave her. It would have to do till he took care of her. As quickly as she could the teacher made her way to the classroom.


Hollie shook the fantasy from her thoughts. She had to stop this! It was happening more and more, where she fantasised about being a slave. Roger had released something terrible and dark from her unconscious. She would need the whole of the summer break to get back to normal.

The feeling of arousal was still there, deep and powerful, generated from the fantasy. Right now she needed her master! He would protect her and guide her. She was just a helpless, hot slut without him. She needed to be mastered and controlled by him. Damn! She was starting to fantasise all over again.

"Cindy?" Roger called.

She looked up from her desk, looking totally absorbed in the papers scattered there. She blinked as though wondering where her class had gone. At first the name meant nothing to her then she blushed with embarrassment. Her master had used her slave name! She gave him a big smile, and leapt up from the desk, eager to follow her wonderful master.

In turn he smiled at his slave, and blew her a kiss. Dutifully she followed him, a few paces behind, along the corridor. Hollie was all smiles with the pleasure of following his cute ass, Even if she couldn't openly acknowledge their relationship upon him, she felt happy just knowing he was close.

It was difficult to keep up, as she was forced to take small steps. He bottom wiggled seductively as she tried to keep a few paces behind him. She felt like a naughty little girl trying to keep up with a parent. This time she was careful where not to bump into anyone.

She wore a silk summer dress, with a new set of underwear. As usual her master had chosen everything she wore. That too went toward stripping her of authority, leaving her feeling small and inadequate, like his little girl.

The chains had been removed from her slave collar, so she was more comfortable in class, and more importantly, in less danger. The slave name tag hung safely below the high neckline. The last thing she wanted was for students to call her Cindy, for it sounded so childish. Yet on his lips her new name was golden. It was probably why her master chose it, to keep her in her place, reminding her she was his little slave girl.

What kept her steps short was the thigh brace. Leather straps gripped her thighs tight. Between them was a short, thin chain, restricting her gait. There was no way she could run away, for she was effectively hobbled. Not that she had any intention of running away from anyone, except that malicious girl, Angela.

What she hated, more than anything about Angela, was that she had been flirting with her master. He had reassured her that the horrid thing meant nothing to him, but she was so desperate for his protection, she couldn't help being jealous.

With quick small steps she got to the first-aid room, where her master had already entered.

"Master!" she whispered. "Your slave is here to serve you," she dutifully announced, with a big beaming smile.

She had been allowed to go to school without the butt plug today, so there was no need for that routine. Instead they had more time alone, for something else. Hollie lifted the dress up around her waist, wagging her hips from side to side. She looked up at her master through half closed eyes, willing him to take her.

"You are such a naughty little slut, teacher," he told her.

"Yes, master, your slave teacher is hot for you master," Hollie replied, in a purring husky voice. The smell of her sex was strong in the small room. The waywardness of everyone in school, and her lascivious fantasies in class, had her as horny as hell.

"You're such a slut, slave," Roger smiled.

"My master made me so. You made me into a hot slut, master," Hollie complained, with a pained look creasing her face. It turned to an expression designed for sympathy, for she needed him to take her. Hidden away somewhere was the knowledge that this young man, had indeed turned her into a craven slut, habituated on humiliation and most of all, HIM.

Feeling sympathetic he took his teacher in his arms to caress her face and neck with soft kisses. He hadn't meant this to happen, didn't realise it was possible. It started as an accidental meeting, not knowing she was a teacher. He thought she was a hot looking new student, and was surprised she fell for him in his van. Everything since had been a surprise, though a marvellously wonderful, surprising journey.

He leant back to look at her, with both hands cupping her bottom. There was no need to press her against his body, for she was already crushing her pelvis against his.

"What am I to do with you, Cindy?" he stated.

"Fuck your slave girl, master, please!" Hollie urgently whispered.

There was no one outside in the corridor, but they would have to be quiet. The nurse, who's room this was had probably left already. The teaching staff and students were preparing to leave early. The students were in boisterous moods, making enough noise to cover any indiscreet love noises.

It was hard to imagine this dirty slut was a strict teacher in class. The beautiful woman was panting and squirming for him, needing to be fucked, needing him. She needed him to master her. From the first clues he got, he researched on the internet, discovering a little more about her inner secrets. Every day he pushed her deeper into the slave role, using her inner needs to corrupt his teacher.

Each time he pushed her and she reacted as expected, went to improving his techniques. He found she needed to be controlled, which reinforced his role as her master. Having a master decide her fate, released her moral reticence. This in turn proved how much she needed controlling, and so deeper into the pit of degradation she tumbled.

"Lets get that brace off you, I want to split you in two, Cindy," he told her.

The leather straps were undone, and he dropped them into a bag. He massaged her thighs, attempting to rub away the marks of the tightly fitted straps.

"There, my slave girl can open her legs wide for her master," he laughed.

Roger lifted her up in his strong arms, to perch her on the edge of a table. She reached down with one hand to pull the panty crotch to one side. With the other she kept a firm grip on his shoulder. Manoeuvring carefully, she found what she wanted, and clamped both ankles behind him.

"Oh! Yes! Thank you master," Hollie whispered, as a breathy sigh. She might have added, 'at last', for she had been hot all morning. Feeling his cock sliding into her body was like receiving a long cold drink, after crossing a burning desert. The burning was between her legs, and wouldn't be extinguished until he hosed her with cum.

Hollie dug her heels into his hard bum. He was holding her in place, with strong arms and a firm grip on her bottom. He was dictating the pace, slowly rocking his hips back and forth. She began to kick her heels hard into his bottom, spurring him on.

"Fuck me harder, faster master. I'm your slave slut, fuck your cunt, master," she whispered in his ear. "Fuck your teacher's hot cunt, master," she began to cry out, muffling the plea in his shoulder, just in time.

He jerked once, then halted, stock still.

"No! Please master, please, more!" Hollie pleaded.

Roger had fooled her, but needed to prevent her from yelling out. The last thing he wanted was to be discovered now. "Quiet! Slave! Behave yourself or you get no more," he severely warned her.

Shifting the weight he hefted her up, causing her to gasp on the fall, as her bottom again settled on the table. His cock had touched her deeply, pushing at the far reaches of her vagina. It felt as though he were a bull ramming into her, stretching her, stimulating every nerve ending inside.

The gasp was cut off short, not because she was conscious of keeping quiet, it was the electric shock that hit her brain. The feeling overpowered the pleasure centres, feeding back to her sex, demanding more.

"Please, master, your lowly little slave girl needs to be fucked. Please master, fuck your naughty teacher. Punish her with your hard cock," Hollie pleaded, willing to say anything, do anything, for what she so desperately needed.

A few long hard strokes, with his hips, while gripping her bottom with both hands, had her panting rhythmically. He vigorously pumped away at his teacher's sex, as instructed. From the sound of her ragged, hissing breathing, he thought she might have a heart attack.

Was this a way of keeping her heart pumping? If it was, it would be a good excuse, if the nurse arrived. Hollie arrived sooner than the nurse. His legs were ready to give in. Feeling her inner muscles tighten upon his cock, he began to orgasm too.

Hollie was in a world of her own. Her master was filling her up with wonderful cum. His youthful fertile sperm was jetting into her, in powerful spurts. So sensitive was her vagina she felt the first splash. It was quenching the fiery passion, leaving a deeply satisfying afterglow.

Roger leaned her back on the desk, where she flopped like a rag doll. She reached out to him with both arms, the fingers wriggling, indicating she needed to be held. He gave her a smile, tinged with exhaustion, on a sweaty face. Unable to resist his demanding slave he grabbed her. If they had been naked, they would have stuck together. The heat of their bodies bounced back at them off the walls of the small room.

"A shower and change of clothes," Roger announced, while holding up a backpack. His arm trembled slightly.

They slid into the small emergency shower together. There had been no accident in the laboratory, rather a collision in the first aid room. A heaving collision of two bodies, though no damage. Their coming together was an accident at first, but it was by design now. Who was designing the outcome? Neither was sure enough to claim responsibility. It all seemed to just happen. So far it was a delirious experience.

"Thank you, master. My master is a wonderfully powerful lover. My master filled his cunt with so much of his lovely cum," Hollie purred.

It occurred to her she was being outrageously rude, but revelled in the liberating feeling. She could do or say anything she liked, for her master would chastise her if she stepped out of line, and bring her to heel. She looked down at the clothes he had brought her. They were expensive as usual.

"No! Get dressed beautiful slave," Roger warned her, when she meant to entwine their naked bodies. She no longer worried about the nurse catching them naked for this was her master's responsibility. Everything was his to decide, for she was a mere possession, waiting to obey, waiting to be used.

She slyly glanced at him, while pulling up the nylons. He was measuring her long legs with his clear hazel eyes. Lifting the dress around her thighs, to fasten the stocking tops to straps was a delight. Not the awkward task, but his reaction. He was fascinated. Her bare thighs, with a glimpse of the ridge of white panties at her crotch, had his full attention.

"It's easy for you . . . master," she complained, only just remembering to add the magic word, 'master'. She felt liberated and free, no longer needing a master, though wanting him more than ever. It was the last day of term and the madness was nearly over.

She had a feeling the hold he had over her might evaporate, once school was over. What would she do then? It would leave a great hole in her life, something so very difficult to fill.

"Help me with my hair, please, master," she smiled.

With her hair up, wearing the designer dress, she looked so very beautiful. Her body filled out the figure hugging dress in a delightful suggestion of demure sexuality. In that moment she was transformed from small town teacher, to sophisticated model.

"The dress is lovely," Hollie said, while smoothing it down her slim hips. She reached up on tiptoe to kiss her lover. It was a vote of appreciation, rather than a continuation of their mad affair. She felt refined and strong, ignoring the fact that this young student had dressed her, according to his wishes.

Category: NonConsent/Reluctance Stories