Teacher Next Door, 8
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Teacher Next Door, part eight
Disclaimer: This story is intended only for mature open-minded adults who
will not be easily offended. It is a sexual story about the humiliation of
an adult by a minor and is intended only as a fantasy. No portions of this
story may be reprinted without permission of the author with the exception
of reposting it to the alt.sex.stories and alt.sex.stories.moderated
newsgroup. Permission will definitely not be granted to post this story
onto any website that charges for access in any way, including paid adult
verification services.
Please excuse any errors. I wrote this using new voice recognition software
and since it is new, there were several mistakes. I tried to correct those
that I could find in editing.
Teacher Next Door, part eight
By Celia Garr,
I kissed the parking brake that had been in my pussy… my cunt… earlier, and
climbed out of the car. Mark was already waiting for me. There were no
cars in the parking lot, it still being over two weeks before the school
year began. Tomorrow, being Monday, the first of the administrative staff
would begin showing up to prepare for the upcoming school year. My first
meeting would be on Wednesday.
I was thankful that no one was there, as with all the buttons missing from
my blouse, the only thing that kept my breasts…my tits…from falling out was
the knot I had tied. As it was, anyone standing in front of me or to the
side would get a pretty good view.
As I walked up to the door, clicking along in the high heels which did not
fit at all with the extremely short denim skirt, I could feel my…tits
jiggling and bouncing the entire way. It made me think of the term that was
used for one of the television networks in the late ‘70s. Jiggle
television.
My series had been on in the early eighties and my dress reminded me of
those episodes when my character had worked undercover as a whore. But even
that was not as revealing as this.
As I started to unlock the door, Mark reached into his backpack and pulled
out a camera.
“Push your tits together so the nipples show and smile for me as you unlock
the door,” he said.
I looked at him for a moment.
“Photo opportunity,” he said jokingly.
“Don’t you already have enough on videotape?” I asked.
“Plenty,” he said, “but it seems only fitting that if I have a teacher who
is a slut, then I should have some slutty pictures at school, right? That’s
what we’re here for.”
There was no sense in arguing, so I arranged my…tits…so that the nipples
showed and faked a big smile for the camera. I knew the photo could be used
against me, but the tape he had on me was so much worse I did not give it
much thought.
“One more, lifting your skirt,” he said, and I did that, too.
Once we got inside, he directed me to lead him to my classroom. Once there,
he posed me in several provocative positions, including sitting on my desk
facing the emptied desks of the classroom, then sitting in one of the
student desks. In each photo I had to spread my legs far enough so my
pussy…cunt …would show up in the photographs. He called those “Sharon
Stone” poses.
Then I removed all my clothes and was directed to other poses. Poses of me
pushing things up my cunt, a photo of me bent over my desk with a pencil
sticking out of my rear, and others. Each time I put something inside me, I
had to put it in my mouth to lick it clean. Then he began with the sexual
photos. Some with me on my knees and his cock in my mouth, using the
automatic timer on the camera. Some with him fucking me. He snapped one
photo looking down at me kneeling in front of him just as his cock exploded
in my face. Then a close-up of my face with his come all over it. This
continued for some time.
Next, he had me stand next to the chalkboard while he outlined my figure in
chalk. He told me what dirty words to write along the outline. They
included words like slut, cunt, whore, stupid, cocksucker, and more, all of
them spreading out like a halo around the chalked figure. Then I stood back
in front of the chalked outline while he snapped more photos.
He handed me a felt-tipped pen and said, “follow me.”
Walking naked down the school corridor made me feel even more naked. I
imagined the hallway full of high school kids scurrying to class while I
walked naked down the hallway. Being naked in a public place, even though
no one was around, made me feel more naked than I had ever felt before.
“What do your students call you?” Mark asked.
The question came out of left field so it took me a moment to answer. “Ms.
Costain,” I finally replied.
He walked into one of the boys’ restrooms. Hesitating at the door, I
followed him in. “Get on the floor like a dog,” he said, so I got down on
all fours. I was beyond disobeying him by now. It had been too long a day
and I had no idea what might happen if I resisted again.
“Play with your cunt,” he said.
To do that, I lowered myself onto my left elbow and reached back with my
right hand to touch myself. Mark walked behind me and kicked my knees
further apart, then snapped another picture of me playing with myself on the
bathroom floor. It made me feel nasty to be doing this in the boys’
bathroom, a place I had never been. I felt…humiliated.
“Lick the floor while I look around,” he added.
I groaned.
Then I began licking the floor. The floor of a bathroom. Luckily, since
the school year had not yet started, it was fairly clean. Meanwhile, Mark
was walking in and out of the stalls, taking some time in each. Doing what,
I did not know.
I was getting extremely turned on in spite of myself. I was finding out
that any time Mark treated me nastily, I got excited. Being very oral, just
licking the floor, as nasty as that was, got me excited. Masturbating upon
command got me excited. Yet I felt so ashamed of what I was doing and did
not even like what I was doing. It confused me, but excited me too. Just
as I was having an orgasm I saw the flash of another picture being taken.
I was so ashamed.
“Come here, dummy,” he said. “I can’t believe you just had an orgasm! Have
you no pride at all?” He laughed.
That made me feel even more ashamed.
I got up and went into the stall where he was standing. On the walls of the
stall were written all kinds of things, from comments on the cafeteria to
comments about some of the girls. He pointed to a spot on the wall and
said, “this is a good place.”
He handed me the felt-tipped pen and said, “I want you to write ‘Ms. Costain
doesn’t wear panties.’”
“What?” I said. “I can’t do that!”
“Why not?” He said.
“Be… because!”
“Because why?” He asked with a smirk.
“Because then…everyone who reads it will be trying to look up my skirt!”
“You’re too modest,” he said. “Don’t they do that anyway? When you’re
sitting up on your desk lecturing the class?”
“Well… yes… but… this is different!”
“The only difference is that before you did wear panties and now you don’t.
Did you ever purposely show your panties to anyone?”
“Well…no…”
“To your knowledge, did anyone ever get a glimpse of your panties?”
“No…but…”
“So what is the difference? Only you will know what is different.”
“Yes, but…this is almost like advertising it!”
“Ah,” began Mark, “that will just make it more exciting for you. Surely a
slut who has an orgasm licking the bathroom floor gets turned on by having
adolescent high school boys trying to look up her skirt! Tell me you weren’
t doing just a little bit of a tease all these years in your classroom?
Tell me it didn’t turn you on? Am I wrong?”
My chest was heaving. I did not want to do this.
“You’re not wrong,” I admitted.
“Then write your little advertisement.”
“Please?” I pleaded.
“Please what?”
“Please don’t make need to this,” I cried.
“You stupid slut,” he snapped and slapped my right breast! Hard! “Right
now! Feel your pussy! Feel your cunt!”
Crying, I reached down and touched myself.
I was soaked.
“I don’t even have to ask how wet you are, cunt,” he said. “I can smell you
from here. You want to do this! You want adolescent boys staring up your
dress! You probably even hope they see your trashy smelly old cunt so they
can talk about what a slut you are to their friends! Doesn’t that turn you
on, slut? Doesn’t it?”
I was crying by this time. I wiped away a tear and nodded my head. “Yes,”
I admitted.
“Then write.”
Naked, I got down on my knees and wrote with the black felt-tipped pen, “Ms.
Costain doesn’t wear panties.”
“For trying my patience, I think we should add something more, don’t you?
As a sort of punishment?”
I was too beaten down to argue.
“Y…. yes,” I struggled to get out.
“Then add this,” he said. “Write, ‘she must be begging for teenage dick.’”
Oh god, I thought.
Then I wrote it, hoping that janitor might paint the walls before the school
year started. I wrote, “she must be begging for teenage dick,” on the boys’
bathroom wall.
“You want me to fuck you again now, don’t you?” Mark asked.
I was still crying, still on my knees. I nodded.
“Too bad,” he said, laughing, and he walked out of the bathroom. After a
moment, I followed.
When we got back to my classroom he allowed me to get dressed, such as it
was. Back in the white blouse with no buttons, tied below my breasts.
Extremely short faded red denim skirt. And heels. I know I looked like
some kind of cheap whore.
When we got in the car, he made me kiss the hand brake again. He said he
wanted me to do that whenever I got in or out of the car so I would be
constantly reminded of how low I was.
I couldn’t stop crying.
“It’s good for you to cry,” he said. “I imagine a slut like you must get
pretty ashamed of herself. That’s why you’re crying, isn’t it? You’re
ashamed you’re such a low life slut?”
“Yes,” was all I could say.
The end, part eight, the teacher next door.
By Seegar, Celia Garr,
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