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From: StoryMaster <storymaster@mindspring.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} NEW: "The Obligation 2.1" [M~Teen f, nc, blackmail]
Date: Tue,  3 Jul 2001 02:10:04 -0400
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The following story is a work of fiction.  Its contents are of a
graphically sexual nature and may involve non-consensual sexual acts
between underage partners. Any resemblance to persons either alive or
dead is purely coincidental. This story is intended for ADULTS only.
If you are under the legal age of consent in your local jurisdiction,
or if you are easily offended, kindly STOP READING NOW.

The Obligation - Part 2.1 - by - The StoryMaster

"Is that you, dear?" Melissa's mother called from the pantry.

"Yes, Mom," the pretty teenager replied.  She winced slightly when she
turned a little too quickly to shut the kitchen door behind herself.
She had to move fast though, if she wanted to make it through the
kitchen and into the relative safety of the hallway before her mom
emerged from the pantry.  She much preferred not to have to face her
mother just now.  Melissa breathed a sigh of relief when after three
or four rather ungraceful waddling steps she made it into the hall and
proceeded in the direction of her room.

"Trevor called.  He wanted you to call him back as soon as you got
home," Melissa heard her mother say as she reached her bedroom door.

"O.. OK, Mom," Melissa answered, opening the door and disappearing
inside.  Stepping gingerly she crossed the room and fell face down
into the pile of stuffed animals atop the fluffy comforter on her bed.
"How could she talk to Trevor?  How could she talk to Trevor ever
again?" she thought miserably.  Then after a good cry, Melissa fell
into a fitful sleep.

Her dreams were dark and filled with disturbing images and confusing,
helter-skelter, scenes in which, incredible as it may seem, she was
having sex with Mr. Johnson, her American History teacher, but that
simply couldn't be!  In her dream the man's hands were everywhere, and
then suddenly he was making love to her.  

"No, that wasn't exactly correct, was it?"  

As her nightmare progressed, Melissa slowly came to the realization
that it was she who was in motion.  As though she were having an out
of body experience she saw herself standing with her hands braced
against a table or a desk of some sort, and in horror she looked on as
her other self rocked back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

"Oh, no!  God, no!" Melissa cried in her subconscious mind, for
suddenly it became abundantly clear to the beautiful fifteen year old
that it was she who was doing all the love making and not her shadowy
lover.  It was she who was fucking him!

In her slumbering state, Melissa groaned softly.  Unconsciously one
hand crept down to her lower abdomen, while the other moved to her
breast.  

"Ohhh," she groaned aloud.  He was so big!  And he was hurting her.
Her tummy ached terribly with a deep, throbbing...what?  Desire?
Mindlessly Melissa rolled from side to side on her bed, while in her
dreams the pain in her abdomen intensified.  Then as will often happen
in a dreamscape, the scene changed.  Suddenly Trevor was there, seated
cross-legged on the desk right in front of her.  He was watching her,
studying her actually, while she made love.

"Oh, Trev," Melissa whimpered.  Then she gasped abruptly when her
lover's huge engine invaded her once again.  "I'm ss..sorry, Trev,"
Melissa said dejectedly.  

Her handsome beau looked so very sad.   Then Trevor was speaking to
her, but Melissa couldn't understand him, and suddenly he didn't seem
at all upset about the situation.

"Why doesn't he help me?" she thought angrily.  "Doesn't he care that
another man is having his way with me?" Melissa thought indignantly.

Then once again the dreamscape shifted, and Melissa found herself
seated beside Trevor on the tabletop, facing herself and her older
lover.  She watched as the man who looked a lot like Mr. Johnson used
one hand to press downward on the small of her back, forcing her to
arch for him.  It was utterly mortifying, and when Melissa looked
toward Trevor to see what his reaction would be to the way she was
being treated, she was astounded to see that her beau gave no sign
that he objected in the least to what was being done to her.  Melissa
heard herself groan loudly, and turned to see that her lover had
reached up under her torso and was squeezing and kneading her tender
breasts as the hazy ordeal continued.  It was then that Melissa's
attention was drawn to her facial expression as she watched herself
writhe wantonly in the older man's hands.  She fully expecting to see
distress and anguish etched upon her face, so you can imagine her
shock when what Melissa saw was anything but a look of pain or
suffering.  

As she looked on with growing horror, Melissa perceived her facial
expressions changing much like a slide presentation.  Seated beside
her silent boyfriend, Melissa watched her clear blue eyes open wide
with wonder, then slowly they became hazy and distant.  Her cheeks
were flushed, and a sheen of perspiration glowed upon her forehead and
upper lip.  She was breathing heavily, her ribs plainly visible
beneath her flawless skin with each gasping breath.  Melissa watched
herself slowly lower her head between her arms, allowing her soft
blond locks to sway freely to the timing of her lover's cadence.
Dream time passed.  It could have been minutes... or hours... or even
days that she rocked to and fro in the hands of her phantom lover.
Melissa raised her head and looked to her left to where Trevor was
seated, and was startled to discover that she was now witnessing the
scene through his eyes.  The real shock came, however, when she
realized that what she saw through Trevor's eyes was her dream self
becoming aroused and even passionate.

"No!" Melissa cried and awoke with a start.  At first she was
disoriented and shaken, but gradually her breathing slowed as she
realized that she was lying in her own bed in her own room.  For a few
seconds the pretty teen lay bathed in blessed relief, believing that
it had all been a ghastly dream.  She glanced at the digital alarm
clock on her bedside table.  It was almost eight-thirty.  She'd missed
dinner, but perhaps there were some leftovers in the fridge that she
could use to whip together a quick meal for herself.  "I'm starving,"
she thought to herself as she raised up and rolled onto her side.

No sooner did Melissa swing her legs over the edge of her bed and
shift her weight forward in an effort to stand, than she received a
sharp reminder of the reality of the afternoon she'd spent with Mr.
Benjamin Johnson.  "Ugghh," the pretty teen grunted then jumped to her
feet to relieve the sudden pain and pressure in her nether region.
She reached back and touched the hard plastic flange.  The feel of it,
and its foreignness made her cringe as slowly memories and images
began to form in her mind.

Melissa recalled how her history teacher, had initially inserted the
despicable device into her vagina in order to lubricate it, then after
removing it from there, he'd proceeded to push the small torpedo
shaped appliance up into her rear end.  Then to add to her
humiliation, Mr. Johnson had informed her that he wanted her to leave
the hideous object in place until the next day.  Naturally, Melissa
had argued the point, but Mr. Johnson wasn't about to capitulate.  In
the end, Melissa had left his office and the scene of her first sexual
undoing, pantyless and bearing a small memento of her newly
established relationship with her history teacher. 

The thought of it made her skin crawl.  At first it had hurt like
hell, but in a surprisingly short time, her body had adjusted to the
foreign object, leaving Melissa with a dull sensation of fullness back
there, kinda like she needed to use the toilet.  It hadn't taken long
for her to figure out that if she moved slowly, the dull pain the
thing produced in her belly was at least tolerable.

Melissa wanted nothing more than to take a nice hot bath.  She felt
dirty all over, and when she took a moment to inspect herself, she
found a sticky mess between her legs. Her soft pubic curls were all
matted together, and there was a viscous, musky odor which hung about
her like a shroud.  She felt disgusting.  In addition, Melissa
remembered that she'd been rather short with her Mom earlier that
afternoon.  Melissa was never rude to her mother and felt badly about
it.  It wasn't quite nine o'clock, and she knew she had time before
the rest of the family turned in for the night.  She would apologize
to her Mom right after her bath.

Melissa waddled toward the bathroom, shedding her clothing along the
way.  Pausing briefly, she studied her reflection in the full length
mirror on the back of the bathroom door.  She didn't look that much
worse for wear, actually.  Her breasts were a little red and sore, as
Mr. Johnson had taken great pleasure in mauling those smallish cones
with his big hands.  Other than that there were no visible signs what
so ever of Melissa's afternoon engagement with her history teacher.  

The real effects of her first coupling were internal, and to Melissa,
they were very noticeable.  She'd never experienced that particular
kind of soreness before.  It was a dull, penetrating sort of ache that
Melissa found to be not altogether unpleasant in spite of the
circumstances of her liaison with Mr. Johnson.  Although she hated the
man for what he'd done to her, subconsciously Melissa felt a peculiar
sense of completeness, and this presented a new and thoroughly
confusing emotional conflict for her.

She turned to the side to view her profile, and there it was.  The
flange of the anal plug that Melissa bore was in the shape of a
rounded rectangle about two inches by one inch, and was nestled snugly
between her buttocks such that her soft flesh was indented around it.
Melissa frowned and touched the thing again.  The idea that she could
be forced at the whim of a total stranger to endure having a foreign
object placed into her body was utterly abhorrent to her, but if the
truth be known, deep down in her subconscious where her "inner female"
resided, Melissa felt mild excitement at the site of the hard plastic
pressed between her fleshy globes. 

The barrel of device lay completely hidden from view, occupying the
first three inches of Melissa's rectal passage.  It was rounded at the
tip and approximately three quarters of an inch in diameter except
where it narrowed at its neck.  The design caused the appliance to
interact with the first anal sphincter, allowing the rubbery toroidal
muscle to actually draw the device inward, holding it firmly in place.

For those of you who have joined our story late, Melissa Carpenter,
age fifteen, has just recently entered into an obligatory relationship
with her American History teacher, Mr. Benjamin Johnson.  Ben Johnson
had been admiring Melissa from afar for quite some time and recently
was fortunate enough to have discovered the means by which he could
convince the vivacious little blond to spend some quality time with
him.  

At the time Melissa was dating a very popular student by the name of
Trevor Williams, and the young couple were always together.  Trevor
was a fine young man, the son any father could be proud of.  He was a
talented athlete, an exceptional student, and he was totally devoted
to Melissa Carpenter.  

Trevor Williams also had the reputation of being impeccably honest.
So when Melissa came to him, begging him to help her pass her mid-term
exams by supplying her with the answers to her American History test,
Trevor was, needless to say, torn between his strong morals and his
desire to please Melissa.

In the end Melissa was able to win the young man over, but in Trevor's
defense you will wish to note that she was and is an exquisitely
lovely young lady.  And at the tender age of sixteen, Trevor Williams
was ill equipped to resist the kind of allure and enchantment that the
beautiful Melissa Carpenter brought to bear upon him.

Melissa Carpenter was 5'-5" tall and weighed approximately 116 pounds.
She had strawberry blond hair that she was in the habit of wearing up
with straight bangs and a short pony-tail.  The immaculate shape of
her nubile young body was the stuff that wars are fought over.  At age
twelve Melissa began turning heads, and by the time of this writing
she occupied the secret dreams and desires of virtually every male she
encountered, young and old alike.  With square shoulders, broad hips
and a slender waist, Melissa was perfectly proportioned for her height
and weight.  Her breasts, although a little on the small side, were
none the less delicately shaped cones of flawless flesh, firm and
every so slightly pointed at the tips.  And her derriere, now there
was a dream maker.  When Melissa Carpenter strode the hallways of her
school there were always numerous collisions between distracted males
in her wake, turning their heads to get a better look.

In addition, Melissa had a face that Michael Angelo would kill for.
At a fairly young age, she discovered "the power of pretty", and in
relatively short period of time she'd developed it into an art form.
Melissa knew exactly how to glance at a boy in order to bend him to
her will.  Her lips were full and her mouth slightly pouty and
extremely expressive.  Melissa knew precisely how to flash her big
blue eyes in order to get her way.  On the other hand those same
sensual blue pools could instantly turn the grey-green color of a
storm swept sea if she was displeased.   

In short, Melissa Carpenter was, in the minds of many, an absolute
work of art.

Ironically, it was her ability to sway the hearts and minds of men
that landed Melissa in her current predicament.  She managed without a
great deal of difficulty to convince her boyfriend, Trevor, that the
rewards at which she hinted would be well worth the sacrifice of his
honor and integrity, and that's how Melissa came by the answers to the
exam.  As it turned out, her tactics were sound, but her strategy
wasn't well thought out at all.

Melissa wasn't a stupid child by any stretch of the imagination, but
she tended to be somewhat impulsive.  For example, she'd been turning
in barely passing grades the entire semester, then suddenly she
practically aces the mid-term.  Highly suspicious, I'd say, and so
said Benjamin Johnson, her teacher.  After confronting Melissa with
what amounted to irrefutable evidence of cheating, Benjamin devised a
method by which she could make restitution for her wrong doings.  The
plan naturally involved Melissa consenting to have sex with him which
understandably was not at all popular with the pretty teenager.
Fortunately though, Mr. Johnson had a little extra leverage in the
form of Trevor's involvement in Melissa's transgressions, which he
used to encourage her to cooperate.

Melissa was still exhausted, and as she slid into the warm water, she
found that she needed to turn slightly to one side, reclining on one
hip lest she bring pressure to bear against the exposed end of the
device buried in her rectum.  But the bath water was so wonderfully
soothing that after thirty minutes she began to feel almost human
again. .  

More than once Melissa toyed with the idea of removing the repulsive
device.  "How would he ever know?" she reasoned.  One time she even
reached back, and with some difficulty grasped the flange of the
imbedded anal appliance and gave it a gentle tug.  Melissa quickly
discovered that the thing was in there pretty tight.  She found she
could twist the device one way or the other without causing herself
too much discomfort, but when she tried to pull on it, she instantly
got this really "yucky" feeling in her belly.  It wasn't painful
exactly, just "yucky".  Melissa decided to leave it alone for the time
being, discovering that unless she messed with it or sat on it, the
thing really wasn't all that noticeable anymore.

"Are you alright, Melissa?" her mother asked when the pretty teenager
wandered into the kitchen.  The older woman's concern for her daughter
was obvious in both her voice and her expression.  "I looked in on you
last night, but you were sleeping so soundly that I didn't want to
wake you."

Melissa gave her mother a puzzled look?  "Wha.. What do you mean, Mom?
It's only nine o'clock."

Melissa's mother stopped what she was doing and turned to face her
lovely teenage daughter.  She looked very worried now.  "It's nine
o'clock in the morning, Melissa," she said.  "Are you sure you're
feeling OK, dear?" her mom asked as she dried her hands on a dish
towel then went to her young daughter.  

"Yeah, Mom, really," Melissa insisted as her mother took her by the
shoulders.

"You don't look sick," the older woman said, placing her hand on
Melissa's forehead.  "And you don't appear to have a fever."
Melissa's mother put her fingers under her daughter's chin and made
her look up at her.  Then gazing into the pretty teenager's eyes, she
asked in a sterner voice, "You haven't been drinking or anything have
you young lady?"

Melissa squirmed and turned away.  She didn't appreciate being
scrutinized in such a manner, even though she knew that her mother was
genuinely concerned for her well being.  "Noo, Mother!" she huffed in
a decidedly exasperated tone of voice.  "You know I wouldn't do that,"
she said, acting insulted that her mom would suggest such a thing.

Melissa had never touched alcohol or drugs, or even tobacco, and she
took great pride in the way she conducted her personal affairs.  She
thought of herself as a good, wholesome, American teenager.  "Why I've
never even had sex," she thought to herself.  Then with a start, she
brought a hand to her mouth, and her eyes stared unseeing.  

Her mother noticed her pretty daughter's face grow paler, and her
expression become dark and distant.  "What is it, Melissa?  Tell me,
dear," the older woman insisted and shook her daughter gently.  

For at least a minute Melissa remained lost in sullen thought.  Then
eventually she snapped out of it and tried to put on a brave face for
her mother's benefit, but only after concluding that from this moment
on, she would have to adopt a new self-image.

"I'm alright, Mom, really," she said and tried to smile, even though
that was the last thing on Earth Melissa felt like doing.  "I just
have a little headache, that's all, and yesterday, I was feeling kinda
nauseous.  Maybe I had a twenty-four hour flu bug or something," she
offered, praying her mother would cease and desist with her
interrogation, well intentioned as it might have been.  "Can you make
me something to eat.  I'm really starved," the pretty teen said in an
effort to change the subject once and for all.

Her mother continued to stare at her for several rather uncomfortable
seconds before at last she said, "Well, alright then.  If you're sure
you're OK."

"I'm alright, Mother.  I promise," Melissa insisted with just a hint
of impatience.  "But I'm really famished."

"I guess you are," her mom said in a little bit brighter tone of
voice.  "You missed dinner last night, you know," she scolded as she
turned toward the refrigerator.  "That's just not like you, dear."

"Don't start again, please, Mom," Melissa pleaded as she went to the
kitchen table and plopped down into a chair.  

The pretty teenager was barely able to suppress an audible groan when
the disgusting thing that Mr. Johnson had placed into her rear end
jabbed upward into some very tender tissues, and practically knocked
the wind out of her.  Melissa shot a quick glance in her mother's
direction, and thankfully her back was turned, or she most certainly
would have noticed the color drain from her young daughter's face and
a distinct line of perspiration spring to her forehead.

"A Mr. Johnson called for you about thirty minutes ago, dear,"
Melissa's mother said, as she rummaged about in the refrigerator.  "He
said he's your history teacher.  Is that right?"

Melissa's blood ran cold, and she had to concentrate to keep her voice
steady.  "Y...yeah, Mom, he's my teacher.  W..what did he want?  Did
he say?" the teenager asked, fearing the worst.

"Well, he said that he'll be tutoring you each week, something about
advanced social studies or the like," her mother prattled on as she
set a Tupperware container on the counter.  "Anyway, he said that
Trevor's involved too, and that he wants the two of you to come to his
home this evening to begin your studies," the older woman went on, not
noticing the expression of growing alarm on her pretty daughter's
face.  "He said you can stay for dinner, and that you might be quite
late getting home, which is fine with me, dear, since your father and
I have plans anyway."

Melissa's heart was going ninety miles an hour, and she tried
desperately to appear calm as her mother turned and set a bowl of
cantaloupe wedges in front of her.  Melissa couldn't think of anything
to say, so she sat staring at the bowl of fruit while her thoughts
raced.  

"What wickedness does he have planned?" the distressed teenager
wondered.  "And why involve Trevor?"

"Anyway, dear, Mr. Johnson said to be at his home at around five and
to come as you are, whatever that means."

Melissa almost choked on a piece of cantaloupe.  She knew exactly what
her history teacher meant, as her mind's eye was tugged inward to the
dull throbbing presence in her backside.  "O..OK, Mom," Melissa
managed after regaining her composure.

The ride to the home of Mr. Benjamin Johnson was one of the most
uncomfortable experiences Melissa had ever been through to date,
barring one, of course.  Trevor's Jeep Wrangler had an extra heavy
duty suspension, and the custom bucket seats just happened to be
shaped such that every little bump or dip in the road caused shock
waves to be transmitted from the Jeep's big knobby tires directly into
Melissa's lower abdomen by way of the hard rubber device secreted away
inside of her.  To Melissa, it felt as though she were being kicked in
the belly from the inside every few minutes or so.  The knuckles of
her right hand were white where she clung to the side roll cage bar
above the passenger door in an effort to raise her shapely bottom up
off the hard seat and attenuate at least a few of the blows.

"Ugghh, God!" Melissa groaned under her breath when Trevor, in his
usual driving fashion, brought the vehicle to an abrupt stop at a
traffic light, causing Melissa to rock suddenly forward then back and
down onto the hateful anal plug.  Beads of perspiration adorned her
forehead and her mood was anything but cordial as the pretty teen
turned to her boyfriend and hissed, "Can't you take it easy, please!"

Trevor didn't know what to make of Melissa's attitude recently.
"Hell, he'd done what she'd asked and gotten her the test questions.
She'd passed her exams with flying colors, and she ought to be happy,"
the perplexed young man thought to himself.  "Then she goes and breaks
our date yesterday with no explanation or anything, and tonight she's
acting like she doesn't want me around even though Mr. Johnson invited
us both over for dinner.  Probably to celebrate Melissa passing his
mid-term," Trevor surmised.  "If he only knew," the young man muttered
to himself, referring to his theft of the history exam questions.
Trevor liked Mr. Johnson, both as a teacher and a person, and he felt
badly about what he'd done, but that was all water under the bridge
now.  Melissa had passed the mid-terms, and that was that, as they
say.  "Now if only she'd be a little nicer to me, like she promised,"
Trevor thought, glancing surreptitiously over at his pretty
girlfriend.  Melissa stared straight ahead, ignoring him entirely.
She looked upset and even angry, Trevor noted.  "Hell, it's probably
just that time of the month," the trusting teenager concluded.  

For the past couple of years, Trevor Williams, like the rest of us,
had been forced to learn about the vagarities of the emotional female
during menstrual cycles, and his pretty girlfriend had introduced him
first hand to the joys of PMS.  Trevor caught on quickly, discovering
that once every month there would come a time where nothing he could
say or do that would count for anything, and once every month he
learned to keep his distance.  "But this is different, somehow,"
Trevor reflected and was about to turn his attention back to his
driving, when just then the Wrangler hit a fairly deep pothole in the
road.  Trevor couldn't remember ever having seen the kind of
expression that appeared on Melissa's face.  "Are you OK, Mel?" he
asked when he saw her eyes grow suddenly wide and staring.  He thought
also that he'd heard her make a grunting noise of some sort.

Melissa wouldn't look at him.  She didn't care about what Trevor
thought right now.  For a second or two all she could think about was
catching her breath which had been temporarily knocked out of her as
though she'd been punched in the gut.  Then as she struggled to
maintain at least some semblance of composure, Melissa's thoughts were
occupied with trying to figure out a way that she could gracefully
exit the Jeep and make it into her history teacher's house when they
arrived without Trevor noticing the growing wet spot on the back of
her dress.  You see, just before the Jeep hit that last big pothole,
Melissa's bladder had been relatively full.  It no longer was.  

Melissa knew that her panties were soaked, and she prayed that she
wouldn't leave a puddle in the seat as Trevor pulled up in front of
the home of Benjamin Johnson.  At the last minute, a thought occurred
to her, and Melissa asked Trevor if she might borrow his letter
sweater that was in the back seat, claiming that it might be cold in
the house.  Stealthily the pretty teenager tied the arms of the
sweater around her waist so that it covered the back of her dress to
her knees as she slid from the Jeep.  Glancing back as the door
closed, Melissa noticed the distinct sheen of moisture on the car seat
she'd just exited but didn't think that Trevor had seen it.  "Thank
God they're vinyl!" she thought as she began the uncomfortable walk to
the front door.

"Well, well, well!" Ben Johnson said in a very congenial tone of voice
to the two young people standing on his front steps.  "How nice it is
to see you both.  Do come right in," he added sticking out his hand to
Trevor, but all the while he had his eye on the young man's pretty
girlfriend.  When Trevor took his offered hand, Johnson practically
drug the him through the front door and into the foyer, before the
polite high school student could step aside and allow his girlfriend
to precede him.  "And good evening to you, Miss Carpenter," Johnson
said, turning to Melissa.  "You do look lovely tonight, my dear," he
said reaching for her and placing a hand onto her shoulder.  Melissa
refused to look the man in the eye, averting her gaze as she allowed
him to draw her into his residence. 

Feeling it was one of the least provocative things she owned, Melissa
had chosen to wear a simple cotton, sleeveless sun dress, knee length
and teal in color.  Besides, summer was almost here, and the nights
were getting warmer.  And although she strongly suspected from his
message that Mr. Johnson preferred that she not wear panties, Melissa
had worn a pair anyway, and right now she was very glad she had.  The
absorbent cotton had helped to trap at least a part of the flood
resulting from the pothole incident, and in addition Melissa had
included a panty liner due to the persistent vaginal oozing she was
experiencing.  She was sure that her dress was spotted in spite of the
added protection, and she only hoped that Trevor's sweater would
conceal it.

Benjamin Johnson noted the sweater right away, thinking it a little
incongruous with the rest of her ensemble, and as he guided Melissa
into the foyer, he glanced down at her pretty little rear end which he
enjoyed looking at but which was obscured by the heavy sweater.
Johnson thought about the anal appliance that he'd placed into the
lovely girl many hours ago, and hoped that she'd obeyed him and left
it in place.  He imagined the dark rubber torpedo shaped plug
surrounded by moist and tender tissues which shifted around it as she
walked past him.  Lost in this pleasant daydream, Ben Johnson almost
missed it, but at the last second before she turned, his sharp eyes
spotted the darker color of Melissa's dress where it peaked out from
under her boyfriend's letter sweater.  

"Her dress is wet," he correctly deduced.  Then glancing quickly in
Trevor's direction, Ben Johnson concluded from the young man's good
natured expression that he was clueless.  Looking then at Melissa as
she sought to maneuver herself nearer the wall, Johnson raised an
eyebrow and smiled when at last he caught her eye.  "We've had a
little accident, haven't we," the older man mused when Melissa blushed
hotly, thereby confirming his suspicions.  "And we haven't told Trevor
about it," he reasoned, winking covertly at the obviously
uncomfortable young lady.

Then with a gracious flare, Ben Johnson held out a hand, indicating
the way and saying, "Let's retire to the library for awhile until
dinner's ready, shall we."  Moving to Trevor's side, Mr. Johnson
placed his hand onto the shoulder of his former student, urging him
forward.  Then unexpectedly he turned to Melissa at the last moment
and asked, "May I take your sweater, my dear?"

"N..no thank you," Melissa responded a little too quickly and looking
decidedly uncomfortable as she stared at her history teacher.  She
quickly averted her gaze when he grinned at her.

"Wow, you've got a lot of books!" Trevor marveled, turning in a circle
and gazing at the ceiling high walnut book cases filled with rare
volumes.  Melissa remained silent.  Her panties were cold and clammy
and very uncomfortable.  

"Yes, well.  I've been collecting them since my college days,"
Benjamin Johnson stated proudly.  "And speaking of college, I suppose
you'll be leaving us pretty soon, young man," he said to Trevor.  Out
of the corner of his eye, he saw Melissa look his way.  

"Yes, sir, Mr. Johnson," Trevor replied.

"And have you decided which scholarship you're going to take advantage
of, Mr. Williams?"  Johnson shot a glance at Melissa before
continuing.  "I understand you did very well at the mid-term exams,
but of course you always do, my boy.  And I was so pleased to see how
well Miss Carpenter fared this year."

"Y... yes, sir," Trevor answered modestly, totally missing the thinly
veiled innuendo.  "I..I think my Dad and I have decided on Dartsmouth,
sir."

"Ah, yes, Dartsmouth is a fine institution," Mr. Johnson said,
casually looking in Melissa's direction.  Her eyes were wide and
pleading.  "Aren't you proud of your young man, Miss Carpenter?" he
asked.

He'd caught the lovely teenager completely off guard, and Johnson
relished the sight of her attempt to "shift gears" and smile for her
boyfriend.

"Y...yes, sir, Mr. Johnson," Melissa stammered in reply.

Ben Johnson wondered if anyone besides himself thought it rather odd
that she didn't move to her boyfriend's side and congratulate him.
Instead, Melissa remained in the same spot she'd occupied since she
entered the library, close to one of the tall book cases with her back
to the wall.  

After a brief but uncomfortable silence, the high school teacher spoke
up.  "Where are my manners," he said.  "I haven't offered anyone a
drink.  What'll you have, Trevor?" Ben Johnson asked the honor roll
student.

"I...I..." Trevor stuttered, thinking at first that he was being
offered alcohol.  Trevor Williams had never touched a drop.

Benjamin Johnson smiled at the naivete of the young man and offered,
"Coke?  Ginger Ale?"

"C..coke will be fine, sir," Trevor replied sheepishly.

"And for you, my dear?" Johnson asked, turning toward Melissa.

"N..nothing, thanks," Melissa said, trying to be polite.

"Noting at all?" Johnson pressed, raising his eyebrows.

Melissa shook her head, saying, "I'm not thirsty right now."  Then she
added, "Do you have a bathroom I can use, Mr. Johnson?"

Smiling broadly, Ben Johnson walked to the lovely teen and placed an
arm around her, feigning affection.  He felt her cringe beneath the
weight of his arm as he said, "Why of course, my child.  You should
have said something earlier.  No sense waiting until it becomes an
emergency," he added with a wry smile.  Then turning Melissa toward
the door, Ben Johnson looked back at Trevor and said, "You wait right
here, young man, while I show your pretty girl to the powder room, and
then I'll be back with your drink in a jiffy."

No sooner than the two of them were alone in the front hall, Mr.
Johnson dropped his hand from Melissa's shoulder as they walked and
placed it onto her shapely rear end.  Melissa tried to escape by
pretending not to notice and then walking a little faster, but to no
avail.

"Not so fast, young lady," Johnson said, taking her by her shoulder
with his free hand and stopping her in her tracks.  Meanwhile with his
other hand, he brushed the sweater aside and spread his fingers and
palm out onto the firm surface of Melissa's left buttock.  Her cotton
dress was still slightly damp to the touch as he kneaded her supple
flesh for a moment, before removing his hand.

Melissa kept her eyes on the floor and said a silent prayer that
maybe, just maybe her history teacher wouldn't notice anything
unusual.  

"It appears that we've had a little accident, Miss Carpenter," Mr.
Johnson said after a moment, shattering her hopes.  "I hope that
you'll tell me all about it later," he murmured to the distraught
teenager.  "But first we have a more important matter to attend to,"
he added.  "Come with me, please, my dear," her history teacher said,
taking Melissa by the hand and leading her farther down the hall and
around a corner.

"This'll be fine," Ben Johnson said, stopping the lovely girl outside
of the door to the downstairs bath.  

"But Mr. Johnson, wait, I..." she pleaded as he turned her to face the
wall.

"Now be still, Miss Carpenter.  We wouldn't want young Trevor to hear,
now would we," he cautioned as he reached around her slender waist and
untied the sleeves of her boyfriend's letter sweater.  After
unwrapping the sweater from around her, Johnson hung it over his right
shoulder for the time being.  

`Please, don't, Mr. Johnson," the exquisite young girl whimpered,
looking back at him over her shoulder while he deftly hoisted the hem
of her dress up to mid-thigh.

"Hush, my child," Benjamin said a little gruffly as he reached up
under Melissa's dress and between her legs.  "Were we a good girl?"
the older man murmured from close behind her right ear as he ran the
palm of his hand up the satin smooth skin of Melissa's inner thigh.
Then just as he felt the swelling of her magnificent derriere the edge
of his hand bumped into something hard and artificial.

Melissa shuddered when she felt her history teacher start to finger
the object imbedded in her rear end.  "I'm happy to see that you
followed my instructions, my dear," he whispered as he pressed his
body against hers, pushing her against the wall.  "But I do insist
that you not wear underwear in the future when you come to visit."
Through her damp cotton panties, Ben Johnson grasped the sides of the
rectangular flange that represented the external portion of the
imbedded device.  After kissing the lovely girl on the side of her
slender neck, Ben murmured with his lips still pressed against her
fragrant skin, "Do you need to use the bathroom, sweetheart?"  He felt
her body stiffen when he twisted the end of the anal plug a little.
"Tell me you need to go, and I'll take it out for awhile, baby," he
said then nibbled at her ear lobe, causing her to shiver.

"Mr. Johnson.  Oh please, Mr. Johnson," the lovely blond cried a
little too loudly when he tugged teasingly at the end of her plug.

"Not so loud, sweetheart," he whispered.  "I don't think Trevor would
understand or approve," he added with a little chuckle.  "Last chance,
baby girl.  Tell me that you need to go, and I'll take it out.  I
promise."

"I...I..," Melissa began and then nodded her head reluctantly.  

`No, Melissa.  I want you to tell me," her teacher corrected her.

Melissa couldn't remember having been this embarrassed in a long, long
time.  It was like some kind of a nightmare she thought as she felt
her history teacher twist the wicked thing inside of her once again.
Until now, Melissa hadn't realized just how badly she really did need
to use the bathroom, since the anal appliance made her feel kind of
that way all the time.  But now that Mr. Johnson had altered its
placement ever so slightly, Melissa felt the telltale cramping begin
farther up her rectal track.

"Tell me that you have to go to the bathroom, Melissa," her teacher
prompted.  "Tell me, sweetheart.  Tell me, Melissa."

With his finger tips, Ben could feel through the external flange of
the device when the young girl clamped down on the embedded portion.
"It won't be long now.  She definitely has to go," Ben concluded from
the increase in her muscle activity.

"Tell me you have to go, Melissa," he said more forcefully.

"I...I...I need," she began and then hesitated.

Reaching over her shoulder, Mr. Johnson took the girl gently by the
chin and turned her face more toward his.  Locking eyes with her he
then mouthed the words, "Tell me."

Her expression was a symphony of anguish and humiliation when at last
Miss Melissa Carpenter said to her American History teacher, "I.. I
need to use the b...bathroom, Mr. Johnson."  Her eyes were wide and
pleading, and the way that she bit her lower lip was priceless.  Ben
Johnson fell in love all over again as he placed the palm of his hand
against her cheek and caressed her soft skin with his thumb.  "OK,
sweetheart," he said with a warm smile, then looked on in wonder as
her big blue eyes glazed over and stared inward as he swiftly
extracted the anal plug from her supple interior.

"There we are, my child," Ben Johnson said as he fumbled briefly
inside Melissa's panties to retrieve the little torpedo.  At last he
held it up to her shoulder so she could get a good look at it, before
he dropped it into the pocket of his trousers.  "You can go ahead and
use the bathroom now, Melissa, and when you're finished, please leave
the panties in the hamper beside the tub.  I'll take care of them
later," he said with a wink.  "I've got to go and fetch a drink for
your beau," the man added casually then turned and walked away as
though nothing at all had happened.

More to follow.. SM

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