The Serengeti Yeti

Pet Teacher

by Parker

Parker 06

WARNING: This story contains more or less non-consensual sex, blackmail, nudity and all manner of overall unpleasantness. If you are offended by such things, READ NO FURTHER! That's all the warning you're going to get.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story was originally posted a number of years ago under the title "Depravities". In that posting, the author invited the reader to "complete" the story. This represents my completion of that story, albeit perhaps not in the way in which the original author intended. I have not been in touch with the author; if that person reads this and takes offence, let me know and I will abjectly apologize.

 

It was late in the day - a typical southern-California hot Friday afternoon in late August - and I was straightening out my desk at the end of a long, tedious summer-school term. Teaching math to senior high school students was both trying and tiring. Teaching was, however, my profession of choice, so I really couldn't complain. And the extra money earned by 'volunteering' - I was the new teacher at Greenwood High, and as such was 'encouraged' to so volunteer - to teach in the summer term was more or less irresistible. Still, here I was, 34 years old, with few prospects and no love life to speak of, spending my summer at work with a classroom of kids who would rather be anywhere but here.

Just like me, I suppose.

The classroom door opened quietly and Maggie Moore, one of my eighteen year-old students, came in and walked to the desk. Maggie was a pretty girl, tall and graceful, with a slender body, long legs, and a nice puffy chest that made all of the boy's eyes open. With her long blonde hair and dark tan, she was a typical California girl.

Needless to say, I'd kept my eye on her all year. Having her in my summer-school class had been a happy surprise. Almost made the whole job worthwhile. It was a shame I'd had to fail her - she was bright, but just wouldn't apply herself. It was going to cost her an extra year at school.

"Miss Brown, I have to talk to you," she began, shaking back her thick blonde hair as she strolled around to my side of the desk.

"Of course," I replied, looking up at her as I sat in my chair. I was taller than her when I was standing, but right now she towered over me.

I shivered. She was so beautiful.

"I'm tired of it," she said.

"Tired?" I didn't know what she meant. "Tired of what?"

"Of everything." She gestured to the empty classroom; the school; the world. "Tired of being bossed around by adults who think they know all about what's best for me. Tired of being told what to do." She suddenly turned and slapped the palm of her hand down on my desk, making me jump. "Tired of being forced to go to fucking summer-school just because I can't multiply fractions or some stupid fucking thing like that."

She paused in her tirade to look down on me as I sat there silently, frozen with surprise. "But mostly," she said, lowering her voice, "I'm tired of being pushed around by a bitch like you."

That was quite enough!

I started to stand up, but she grabbed my shoulder and pushed me back into the chair. She seemed to be much stronger than me, despite my extra size and weight; I was completely unable to resist. Stunned at being touched like this by a mere student, I just sat there and listened to her. There were other teachers in the building. I was sure one of them would wander by and help.

"I know about you," she said, as if pronouncing sentence, "and I'm going to do something about it."

"You know about... what?"

She couldn't...

But she did.

Smirking, she leaned over and shoved her tanned face in mine. "I was up in LA last weekend visiting my old man."

She *was* pronouncing sentence.

"I know all about that store you like to visit; the stuff you like to read." My stomach churned as I watched my career - my life - go up in smoke. "I even know what books and magazines you bought on your last trip." Oh god! "Quite the little collector, aren't we?"

"Maggie..."

"Turns out the guy who works the counter is a friend of my dad's. I hear tell you're their best customer."

I had to get out of there! No one had ever found out about my 'shopping trips'; about my secret fantasies. And now... a student!!! Panicking, I started to get out of my seat, pushing her away, but before I could break free, I felt a hard slap across my face. Despite my fear, I was infuriated - how dare this youngster strike me!

"I've been waiting for this chance for weeks," Maggie went on with authority, "Waiting for a chance to 'discuss' this with you, you bitch."

I started to fight; to say something at least, but then I slumped back down. What could I do? She had the power to destroy my career, maybe even get me charged with some kind of crime or something. I felt the resistance seep out of me.

"That's better," she smirked, straightening up as it became apparent that I was going to stay put. "Now, was there something you wanted to say?"

Numbly, I shook my head. No.

"Well I do." She sat down on the corner of my desk. "You're mine now. Thanks to you and those other asshole teachers, I have to spend an extra year here. You're going to make that year a hell of a lot more fun for me."

I sat stiffly, listening as this young girl's words made my spirit weaker and weaker. I knew what she was talking about. A couple of years ago, a young girl named Stacy Richards at Greenwood had been the victim of some sort of blackmail; nothing that had been officially admitted of course, but everyone knew about it just the same. Rumour even had it that Dr. Grossman had been involved. At least before his heart attack. I didn't know too much about it, really. I hadn't been teaching here at the time, but the stories had a way of spreading.

And I had thought about them a lot.

Usually late at night.

By myself.

"I know what you are," Maggie continued strongly, breaking me away from my musings. "Don't try to tell me you're not going to like it."

She knew.

Just like that.

I couldn't believe this was happening; that the truth was finally 'out', so to speak. All those years of traveling away from home to find my material. All those years of locking the stuff away, terrified that a friend or - the ultimate disaster - my mother would find it. And such a young girl; I was dumb with fear and anticipation. My deepest fears and most intense fantasies were coming true all at once. All the times I had dreamed of Stacy Richards... of *being* a Stacy Richards...

"Pamela," she ordered quietly, now confident of being obeyed. "Stand up."

What else could I do? I rose slowly, turning away from her as a deep flush of... of something spreading across my face and neck. I tried to hide my face behind my thick brown hair. My slavery - there was no other word for it; she *owned* me now - had begun.

"I mean stand and face me," repeated Maggie, irritated. "Keep your shoulders back, arms at your side, palms forward, and your feet together."

I turned towards her and thrust out my ample breasts, rotated my soft palmed hands so the palms were forward, and locked my toes and heels.

Maggie smiled at my attempts to obey. "That's satisfactory for the moment, but we will be doing something about your posture soon, won't we?"

I mutely nodded my head as she inspected my rigid body. I assumed she liked what she saw - at 34, I still had a trim, fit body, with large well-formed breasts.

"When I speak to you, Pamela, you will answer me as Miss Moore. Do you understand?" I felt my heart sink, but I had to obey. This eighteen year-old female had me and there was nothing I could do about it.

"Yes, Miss Moore," I replied meekly, as a swell of sensation rose in my loins. Could she tell? I could feel myself flushing again.

"I'm glad you're wearing this today," continued Maggie, indicating my white button-down blouse and blue flared mid-length skirt. "From now on it will be only skirts and dresses for you, with heels and stockings. No slacks and no pantyhose. Is that clear?"

Once again I nodded my submission.

She smirked. "Now that we have that clear Pamela, I want you to show me your pretty tits."

I was undone. Here in the middle of my classroom, where anyone - teachers, students, even janitors - might see, ordered by a teenage martinet to display my breasts. My hands went unsteadily about the task.

"Hurry," she gloated. "Are your tits as pretty as they look through your blouse Pamela?"

"Yes, Miss Moore," I croaked. My hands began working faster.

"Answer completely Pamela," she demanded.

I was being taught the game well. "Yes, my breasts are pretty Miss Moore." I pulled my blouse free, unhooked my bra, and stood as I had been ordered, my firm, bouncing, hard-nippled breasts hanging free.

Aching for attention.

"Shoulders back, Pamela."

Back they went and, of course, out they came.

She ran her smooth hands under and around, squeezing and lifting, massaging the hardening, heaving mounds. I squirmed, but dared not break position.

"Time to nip these nipples," she whispered in my ear, her breath warm on my skin. "First a little tease." She closed her thumb and forefinger on the flinty projections. "Then a very big tweeze." Her sharp fingernails bit in, causing a wave of pain to wash over me, closely followed by lust.

God... please let no one see this.

"Does that feel nice, Pammy?"

"Yes, it feels nice Miss Moore." What could I say? It was the truth.

"Are you wet, Pammy?"

No! "Yes, I'm wet Miss Moore." The truth again.

"But are your panties wet, Pammy?"

"They feel wet, Miss Moore."

"Slide them off, quickly Pammy."

I almost died at the thought of standing half-naked in my own classroom, on display for anyone to see! But I obeyed, slipping out of my pink nylon briefs and holding them obediently in my hand. The crotch area was damp with aromatic juices.

Maggie took them from me. Like the good little slave I had to be, I returned to my rigid, bare-breasted pose.

"Very wet, Pammy. That's nice but very naughty and you will be spanked a bit... well, rather a lot. Later on."

The word 'Spanked' shot through me like a jolt of electricity and I moaned just a little, my thighs moist.

"For now, hold up your chin... higher."

I raised my chin to the ceiling knowing for all the world what I must look like with my long neck stretched and my big tits, as Maggie would say, arching at attention. A trickle of sweat ran down the back of my neck under my hair as I held the position.

"Open," she ordered. She reached up and her fingers worked their way between my pink lips, sliding across the gums and teeth of my widely opened mouth.

"More," she insisted and caressed with thumb and forefinger both the front and back of my teeth, gums and tongue. Especially the tongue...

slippery tongue...

squirmy tongue...

gripping it with those nails and pulling it all the way out.

"Keep your mouth wide, Pammy. Wide... and when you are told to show your tongue, this is the pose you will assume. You will do quite a bit of tongue training over the next little while. Now, chin up... tongue out... further... straight, no curl... very cute."

Maggie then laid the wet crotch of my panties over my tongue covering it from front to rear. Thinking that I knew my lessons well, I stood bare-chested and bare-bottomed, waiting. Maggie pressed my tongue and pants back into my mouth.

"In. Close. Suck. Harder. Swallow your juices. Obey."

I knew full well that I was being trained to obey. Hadn't I been reading about this sort of stuff all my life? Overwhelmed by humiliation, I began giving up my power - myself - feeling no loss. After five minutes of tasting and swallowing my essence for the first time, reality returned.

"Put on your blouse Pamela, but just leave your bra and panties into your desk. We have this whole, wonderful last week of summer holiday left, and your lovely apartment in which to continue your obedience training. I want you completely trained by the time school starts. Come along now."

I followed behind my young controller, very aware that my breasts were jiggling saucily, clearly visible under my half-buttoned blouse. (Another of Maggie's demands: "either half-buttoned, Pammy, or not buttoned at all".) I prayed no one would stop us in the hall or the parking lot. What could I say to anyone? That I was being taken in hand by a girl half my age to be taught total obedience? And more; was it happening willingly?

I wasn't even sure if it was happening willingly. All I knew was that I had no choice.

Fortunately we reached my car without incident. She indicated that I was to drive, but before I started, Maggie opened the remaining buttons of my blouse, folded it back, and pushed my skirt back to my hips. This assured anyone with the proper vantage point a clear view - according to Maggie - of my 'hot tits' and 'slit'.

That ride home was more than I care to remember. Once out of the parking lot my young mistress proceeded with her program of training and humiliation. Reaching down and adjusting my thighs so that they were well spread, she took a firm grip on my clit.

"I'm just getting a quick measure of your little boy part. Do you love this, little Pamscunt? Hmmmm?" As she maneuvered her fingers the little boy part really did begin to stiffen to the occasion. What could I say? Only the truth.

"Yes, I love it Miss Moore."

"And so erect, so stalky, so rooty. Sit erect!"

Sit erect - tits erect - nips erect - stalk erect - root erect - clit...

Oh, Maggie!

Whizzing down the street in a pool of my own making, waiting for more. What was I? And what was I becoming?

Inevitably, the ride ended, and we arrived at my place. I lived in a ground floor apartment with a separate entrance. It was fairly private, but not so private that the walk from the car to the front door didn't seem to take forever. Standing before my apartment door, still half-undressed and trembling with lust, I turned my keys over to Maggie and realized that my life as I knew it until then was over. Things would never be the same. Maggie would effectively control me for this entire year, and after that... well, I doubted that she would give me up. And would I be able to give her up? A part of me felt like this was something I had been waiting for all my life. Another part was screaming in pain and humiliation.

Not that it mattered what I thought. More of my power flowed from me as I handed over those keys. We entered my comfortable space, the door closing silently behind us.

"Stand still."

Good little submissives quickly learn to obey, and, of course, I was becoming a good little submissive. Perhaps I had been learning all my life. My feet came together, palms forward and shoulders back. Maggie pulled off my blouse and unzipped my skirt, which promptly fell down to my ankles. I stood for the first time completely nude in the presence of a mistress... my mistress... THE MISTRESS.

More power loss.

"Stand in that corner," she ordered, pointing to a nearby wall. Stepping out of the pile of clothes, I approached the appointed spot. "Press your nose into the corner. Hands on top of your head, tits forward, elbows back."

Once I was in position, she turned her attention to the - my? - apartment. As I stared at the wall a few inches from my face, I got dizzy listening to Maggie move about from room to room, opening drawers and doors. Going through my possessions. Another form of violation.

Finally she returned to the room.

"Pamela," she ordered, "turn and come here."

Obediently, I turned around and walked to the centre of the room, hands still on top of my head. I flushed with humiliation as I noticed how my breasts bounced as I walked. I wondered how I could still be embarrassed. Maybe I still had some sense of myself.

No matter. Maggie would soon take care of that.

"Stand properly and show me your tongue."

Chin up, tongue out, shoulders back... I remembered.

"More."

I stuck it out as far as I could, straight, pink and moist. My 'girl's prick' as I soon was to hear it described by Maggie. Now she stood in front of me, ovaled her carmined lips and slid my stiff tongue into her warm mouth. She leaked her juiced into my mouth for long moments and then pulled away.

"Swallow."

My now lipstick-red tongue slipped back into my mouth. Swallowing - obeying; my remaining power disappeared. Forever?

I was hers.

"You are mine."

The truth was out. There was no denying it. There was no resisting it.

"I am yours, Miss Moore," I agreed, submissively and obediently, to this girl half my age. She raised a hand and gripped my hair, holding me fiercely. Another hand crushed a breast, pinching a nipple.

"You are completely mine," she hissed. "Body... soul... mind. You have no will but my will." I trembled in her hands. It was just like in the stories.

"Kiss me now," she hissed. "Passionately."

I knew very little about kissing in general, less about kissing another woman, and even less about kissing a girl. I did my best, though. I presented myself like the good little submissive I was being trained to be, soft, timid and obedient, waiting only to be devoured by her open lips. Wilting, eyes closed, I surrendered myself to her probing tongue and rampant power.

A series of sharp slaps across my burning cheeks brought me to a renewed sense of my position in this relationship.

"Not much passion there," she sneered. "You'll have to learn to do better than that, little one. You have to be trained to give a lot more head if you want to play kissy face with me, Pammy."

All I could do was stand there totally naked, trembling and panting, frustrated at my inability to please my young mistress. What did she want? This was so hard!

Had it been like this for Stacy?

Maggie knew what to do. "I am going to start teaching you how to be responsive now, little Pammy. First, I am going to subdue some of that cute body to put you in the proper frame of mind. Won't you like that, little girl?"

"Yes, I will like what you do." She glared at me. "Miss Moore," I added quickly.

"Sweet."

She removed, from what I had assumed was an overnight bag, a pair of shiny steel handcuffs, and fixed them to my wrists. The steel felt cold and hard against my skin, and it pinched as she clicked it shut. "Oww..."

The pain cut through the haze of erotic feeling in which I had been wrapped. I didn't like it.

She grinned as I winced. "We are going to clean that little body of yours right now," she continued. "I like my submissives spotless, smooth and shiny from head to toe, squeaky clean everywhere - every nook and cranny. And once you're as I want you, that's how you stay." She smirked. "Spotless inside and out."

Her words sent another shiver through my body. Pain forgotten, I submissively followed her into the bathroom, where she began work in earnest. "Into the shower now, little cunt. You are my little cunt, aren't you? Even if I can't see it very clearly through that forest." She tugged at my cunt hair. "Oh well, we'll fix that in a moment."

Then she paused, as if remembering something. "Well... aren't you my little cunt?"

Through my confusion and humiliation I murmured "Yes Miss Moore, I am your little c-cunt". I flushed at having to say the 'C-word'.

"Again... just the end."

"Little cunt?"

"Again."

"Little cunt."

Satisfied - for the moment at least - she began running the water in the shower. "Now, into the shower. But first I want you in these nice heels." I was forced into some silly shoes I had purchased years before - all bright red plastic, with ridiculously high heels and tight, thin traps. In these shoes, I towered over Maggie as I stepped into the shower stall.

"Why, what a big little girl you are in your red shoes," she laughed as the lukewarm water soaked my body. "And you won't be taking those lovelies off for a long time... if ever."

I swayed back and forth in the shower stall, afraid I'd slip and fall off those stilts. My hands were raised and hooked over the shower nozzle by way of the handcuffs. I sputtered as the water slapped into my face and ran down my body. I could easily have pulled the handcuffs off at any time, but I knew that I would be severely punished for this. I twisted under the spray as the water gradually became hotter.

There was a sudden flash. I tried to turn, but the water was in my eyes. By the time I shook it out, Maggie - Miss Moore - had disrobed and was joining me in the shower, enjoying my consternation at my first sight of her naked body. She was even more beautiful than I had imagined. Water poured down over us as she began to scrub me clean. She ran a sponge down my back, over my buttocks, into my 'tight little ass crack', down my legs...

It felt so good! I was beginning to relax and enjoy things. I turned to face her, planning to tell her so, when she suddenly slapped my face.

"Eyes closed," she ordered. "No looking. From now on you may no longer touch or look without my permission." I froze in position, eyes held tightly closed. Once again, the sexuality of the situation had been dispelled by the sudden pain.

I was so confused. Isn't this what I had been dreaming about all these years?

"Now lets work on your sex flesh." Miss Moore - Maggie - was all business. "Underarms, too much stubble... tsk, tsk. But these big girl tits are something, Pammy. Pinchable... nippable... scrunchable... and more."

The demonstration on my breasts left me once again breathless and trembling, a condition Maggie did not fail to notice.

"What do we have here, Pamsy? Stiffy nips?"

"Yes, Miss Moore, I have erect nipples." My eyes were still closed as I spoke. My mistress had not given me permission to open them.

"Not right, Pamsy. You are Pamsy, my little stiffy nips cunt. Say it."

"I am Pamsy, your little stiffy nips cunt."

"Five time nicely and with feeling."

I obeyed. By the last repetition, I was on the verge of an orgasm.

"Very nice, Pamstits, and remember these lessons forever."

Dripping wet (in more ways than one), I was led out of the shower, not too unpleasantly I might say, by those erect... those 'stiffy nips' and was told to sit on a stool. My eyes were open now, but I kept them cast downwards, anxious to avoid my mistress's anger.

"This is too much hair," she announced, running her fingers through my thick, shoulder-length hair. "It will have to go from head to toe."

She walked into the kitchen and returned with a pair of scissors. "Now, this stringy shit-brown stuff is first. Too warm for the summer really and I may want you as my boyfriend sometime. Could you be a boy, Pansy? Let's see..." She cupped one of my large breasts, teasing... weighing. "Guess not... but that's all right too."

Hair began to fall everywhere. My hair! Tears gushed out of my closed eyes but to no avail. Soon she was done, standing back to admire her work. "Now isn't that sweet... put you into a shirt and tie, flatten those big girl udders and you make a smooth cheeked young boy. Well, I am getting ahead of myself. There's plenty of time for that, isn't there?"

She moved in to continue her work. "This curly stuff goes next. Lay back, raise your arms, and spread your legs. Wider. You certainly know how to spread, don't you, Pammy... hmmmm... that's much better." She began to cut. "This is the last time that I will be doing this for you, bitch. From now on you will keep yourself as I make you today. Do you understand?"

Eyes squeezed tearfully shut, I nodded. I was unable to speak.

"Zip-zip, under the arms - no young man here anymore. And what do we have down here? Are you hiding a little tennis ball, Pamsy? There... why, Pamslit, you have hardly any lips on that little big girl cunt. Just a lovely crack running all the way around. And speaking of around, roll over on the seat... bottom way up."

There I was, laying over a stool in my own bathroom, shaved everywhere, legs apart, bottom high in the air. The last of my womanness gone... Except for my large breasts hanging free over the edge of the stool, I was a little girl again.

I thought she had finished, but the cleaning was only about to begin again, this time in earnest.

"My, this pink, wrinkly bud looks as if it needs attention." She fingered my exposed anus as I squirmed on the stool. "Now, Pamsy, you know that I want you clean. I'm going to make you slippery right here - doesn't that feel good? Of course it does. Are you wet, bitch? Of course you are. Now, this is going to clean you out - squeaky clean. Relax."

Relax!

This was the first time that... the first thing... the first nozzle ever to enter my anus (my 'tight little girlie bung', according to Maggie). So slippery and slidey and foreign and stiff and smooth and hot and annoying and persistent and HOT, oh, so HOT!

My perception of what was happening around me began to get hazy. A swish of warm syrupy water... wiggle it around, "bitch... more." My belly is full, liquidly pregnant, release... release... "no, no, Pammy." Nozzle out... some kind of plug in and I'm wild with the sensation, twisting and squirming... Flash! who would have thought... down there. Stand up? Impossible... "not impossible for a good girl..." nothing's impossible for a good girl. Sit on the pottie... Flash! finally... not yet... the plug holds fast. Another nozzle. More squeaky clean... up front... up... up. Swish and swish... and I am wild. The plug is pulled and there I was, Pamela Brown, lying back, eyes shut, hands cuffed above my head, legs spread wide... Flash! screaming out a magnificent orgasm... having my first asshole cum!

When I regained control of my senses, Maggie was standing over me with a large grin on her face. "That looked like fun," she smirked. I looked up at her and started to say something, but she slapped me across the face before I could speak.

"You bitch!" she almost screamed. "I've told you: don't look at me without permission." Her face was red with anger. "I'm going to have to teach you a lesson you'll never forget."

I cast my eyes downward and tried to babble out an apology, but it was too late for that. She grabbed me by what was left of my hair, dragged me through the bedroom and into the kitchen.

Oh god! People could see in the kitchen window.

I tried to say something, but just then, Maggie yanked open my jaw and shoved an apple hard into my mouth. I automatically bit into it, leaving my mouth trapped open, like some sort of stuck pig.

"Get over there," she screamed, slamming me into the kitchen table. The breath was knocked from my body as I doubled over in pain. The bitch grabbed the handcuffs and hooked them over a bolt underneath the table on the other side from me. I was now bent over my own kitchen table, hands fastened securely, struggling to catch my breath against the pain in my stomach.

That was nothing.

Maggie left the room and came back a few seconds later with her overnight bag. I struggled to see what was happening, but couldn't get my face around.

"Here's another little visitor for your ass, Pam-hole," she said. I squirmed as I felt the head of something at my anus, but it was no use. With one quick shove, the dildo - I assume it was a dildo; it felt like a baseball bat - was reamed into me up to the hilt.

The pain was unbelievable! I would have shattered the windows with my screams if not for the apple in my mouth. I bucked and moaned on the table, but couldn't get loose.

Maggie just laughed, running her hands up and down my body. "Feels good, doesn't it little Pamscunt?" I shook my head, eyes wide with pain. It didn't feel good. There was no eroticism; none of the delicious thrill of submission I had felt earlier - nothing of my fantasies here.

This was torture, pure and simple.

And it got worse.

She pulled something else from her bag. Once again, I was unable to see what it was, but it didn't matter. I soon felt it: it was some kind of large paddle. With a laugh of pure malice, she began to administer a vigorous thrashing up and down my ass and lower legs. I wouldn't have believed it, but the pain got worse. The thing in my ass felt like it was about the burst while the beating left my ass on fire with pain. I don't know how long she kept it up, but when she was done I was limp and sweat-soaked with pain.

Eventually, she pulled the dildo out of my ass with a loud popping sound and unfastened the handcuffs. I slumped to the floor, trembling and panting. The bitch reached down - a big smile on her ugly face - and patted me on the head.

"There now," she cooed, "You'll get used to it in a while."

No.

I shook my head. "Enough."

"What?"

She looked amused.

"Enough." I struggled to my feet. Despite the pain, I could feel my power slowly coming back to me. "You can't do this to me anymore. Your blackmail about the books doesn't matter. No one will believe you. And if they do, I'll just tell them about how you used the information to torture me." I looked her in the eye. I would never have imagined how much power there was in the simple ability to look at someone. "You'll be the one in trouble, not me."

"But Pammy," she countered in mock surprise. "I thought you liked it."

"Maybe parts of it," I answered truthfully, "but no one will believe that." I gestured to my ass and upper legs. They were black and blue from the thrashing. "Especially when I get a doctor to look at these." I was beginning to feel better already. "Maybe I'll just press charges anyway."

She didn't seem worried.

"Before you do anything stupid," she said, "take a look at these." She pulled some photographs from her pocket, holding them up so I could see, but not handing them over.

I felt the confidence - the power - rush from my body. It was all there: me in the shower, eyes closed and lips parted; me bent over a stool with the nozzle in my ass; me reaching down to massage my pussy, obviously enjoying myself; me on the toilet, obviously in the throes of lust; me on the toilet...

There is was. No one seeing those pictures would ever believe that my participation hadn't been willing. There was nothing I could do. She owned me. I cast my eyes downward, contemplating the school year that yawned ahead of my like a chasm.

Had it been like this for Stacy?

"There there, little Pammy," she mocked me. "It's not so bad. You'll get used to it." She brought her bare hand down hard on my bruised ass.

"In time."

The worst thing about it was that she was right. I already liked being dominated by her: the shame and humiliation. By the end of the year, I'd be nothing but a slut - a lust-bitch - craving pain and humiliation.

And I'd get it too.

A couple hours later.

I was dressed again, this time in clothing that Miss Moore had pulled from her bag. I'm wearing a tight, black leather mini- skirt that barely hides the bruises from my spanking and a cut- off shirt that leaves my midriff bare. The red shoes are still on. She has combed back my newly-shortened hair, and I look years younger.

My mistress is waiting at the door as I walk over, eyes cast downward. Already, I am getting more used to walking on the high heels.

"Come along little Pamscunt." She gestures for me to precede her out the door.

She's taking me out to show me to a few of her friends. Apparently, I'm going to be meeting some of my students a bit early this year. And, inevitably - against my will - a small shiver of pleasure emanates out from my... my cunt.

I'll get used to it.

THE END

The Serengeti Yeti

• Yeti's home

• Return to menu

• Previous part

• Next part

• Email Yeti