From: evil@bay.com (Marlissa)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: REPOST Child's Play (m/f, nc, mc)
Date: Sun, 24 Nov 1996 15:38:38 GMT
Message-ID: <579q6h$vj6@decius.ultra.net>

Child's Play

by Marlissa

The smile that Mel Taylor gave Terry Owens made her extremely
uncomfortable.  Something about that kid that was no good...

"Hi Terry."

"That's 'Ms. Owens' to you young man."  She sounded liked an affronted
old lady and immediately wished she hadn't responded so peevishly.  At
thirty-five, Terry wasn't exactly ancient.  True she was a single mom
of a seventeen year old, but she kept herself in good shape, working
out at the gym when she could.  Anyway, she certainly didn't think of
herself as old-- even if the student body of Regis Academy might not
agree.

Mel threw her a shrug that said "whatever."  "How's Janine?"  She
didn't like the way his weird light blue eyes danced as he asked about
her daughter, like him a member of the junior class at Regis Academy.

Terry turned and aimed an evil eye at the teenager.  "She better be in
class-- like you, young man.  Now get moving-- before I have Mr.
Donovan the headmaster give you some encouragement!"  She started to
rise and pointed at the closed door of the Headmaster's Office, which
as the School Secretary Terry guarded.

He smiled sidewise, then....

Terry found herself sitting down again.  She was blinking rapidly and
her forehead was humid with persperation.  "Ahhh...you get going to
class now."

The boy drop his gaze and sauntered out of the Administration Office
just as Third Period bell rang.  

She was lightheaded.  Too much coffee?  Too much work.  She HAD thrown
herself into the new job as Donovan's right hand at Regis Academy
completely and was spending long hours trying to make sense of the
filing system that Mrs. Gibbons, the recently retired Regis fixture,
had left her.  Likewise the accounting procedures which she was
revamping and the coursework review required of Donovan. demanded high
concentration.  But it was challenging work, offering the kind of
opportunity few high school graduates ever saw these days.

Probably she was overworking as a way of saying thank-you to Donovan
and Regis Acedemy.  She was determined to prove to them that the
chance that they had taken with an out-of-town single mother down on
her luck and nearly living in her car was a decision they wouldn't
regret.  God knows,  things were better now than they had been in the
months following Jim's exit stage-right from their miserable and often
abusive marraige.  She-- and Janine-- were on their feet now, thanks
to Donovan and Regis Acedemy.

The exhaustion wooried her though.  Maybe she was working out too
much.  Perhaps she was a bit fanatical with her workouts.  At 5" 5'
and 120 pounds, she probably overdid it.  She had never been body
concious during her marraige-- there seemed little need to since Jim
was always running around on the side anyway.  Hell, they would never
had gotten married if his parents hadn't demanded it after she had
gotten prenant.  He had been shocked that his fling under the
bleachers would have had such long reching effects.  But his parents
were dead now and he had never really gotten to know Janine enough to
even like her.  An awful, living hell of a marraige.  

But with the divorce came a need to prove herself.  One of the things
Jim always threw at her were her looks and they were all true.  "Flat
as a board"  True- she wore a 32 A cup that barely broke the plane of
her blouses.  "Fat"  Not really-- working out had trimmed off ten
pounds without too much work and she had would never have gained
weight if Jim had been around more.  "Plain."  She sighed.  Yes, she
was plain.  Not that she could help it.  Cursed with mousy brown hair,
a pale freckled complexion and thin, uninteresting features, Terry had
a waif-like Sissy Spacek look to her that did little to attract male
attention.    

That had changed a little bit with working out though.  If she wasn't
about to become a runway model, at least her trim figure caught some
male glances.  Ten hours a week at Better Bodies had paid off.  She
had caught Donovan taking a sidelong glance at her better "assets" and
even when walking among the blooming teenage beauties of Regis
Academy, she often felt the eyes of some of the boys, not many but
some, on her swaying backside.

But maybe she was overdoing it.  She sat up, shook off the lapse in
control and promptly forgot the incident.  When she looked up, Mel was
gone.

*****************

Mr. Donovan had a strange look on his face when he requested she stay
past five-thirty.  "You can imagine what we need to talk about," he
had winked.  Sure, she replied casually-- then was nervous for the
next two hours till, afer the last of the students an dteachers had
left the administration building, he had called her in.

"Sit down, Terry.  I want to talk to you about your note."

Note?

His eyes narrowed greedily.  "I think we can come to an...arrangement.
Provided you behave yourself.  Which we both know you will."  Again
the sly, dirty wink.

She blushed and looked away.  What was he talking about?

He continued, in comfortable command of the situation.  "You ARE a
homely little piece of ass, but that ass is a tight one.  Ever been
fucked up the ass Terry?"

She shot up like a rocket.  

"Sit down, you stupid little whore.  Don't give me that
holier-than-thou attitude-- you know you're nothing but a hole now--
MY hole."  He chuckled.  "I mean my three holes."

Terry was white as a ghost.  Donovan was insane, he had lost it, he--

---tossed a xeroxed letter in front of her, paperclipped to a manila
folder.  "At least it loked like three holes from the fun in here."

Terry slumped back into the chair.  The xerox shook from her trembling
hand...

"Dear Sir,

I know my six month probation is coming to an end and you will make a
decision whether or not to keep me in my current job as your
secretary.  I have tried very hard to do my job as secretary well and
I hope you will let keep me my job.  Right now my job is everything to
me, not only for the $14,000 salary I am paid, but also because as an
employee of Regis Academy, my daughter Janine is allowed to attend for
free-  so you can see how concerned I am about keeping my job.

I am honest about my situation, Mr. Donovan.  I need this job very
much for the reasons I've stated.  I don't have many options if you
decide not to retain me as your secretary.  I also know that while I
believe I have been an effective secretary for you, I also am aware
that I may be a bit too independent-minded for your taste-and that
this may affect your decision.  

I have put together the attached package for your consideration.  As
you review the enclosures, I hope you will find reasons to retain me
as your secretary.  

Sincerely,

Terry"

"I guess you were busy yesterday afternoon, hmmm Terry?  Now I know
why you wanted to leave so early in the day."  Donovan was leering at
her.

Yesterday afternoon?  Left early?  

Suspiciously she opened the envelope and pulled out some typed
documents.  Test results-negative for HIV, syphillis, and a number of
sexually transmitted diseases.  Dated yesterday with a "RUSH" stamped
on it.  

Had she been to the doctor?  Yesterday?  Unreality flooded her
consciousness.  It looked genuine, but how had it happened without any
memory whatsoever?

She placed the papers on Donovan's desk, too amazed to pay attention
to his hungry stares.  There was another document, one she couldn't
make sense of.  A certificate of some kind-showing that she had
undergone some procedure.  Scanning the document, she learned what the
procedure had involved.  Norplant.  "For prevention of pregnancy for
the period of no less than five years."  

Norplant?  Wasn't that what they gave girls in the ghetto so they
wouldn't conceive illegitimate children?  Why would she have had this
done-and not remember it?

Terry nearly dropped the manila envelope as she pulled the stack of
glossies out.  She didn't need to examine each and every one-- there
was a contact sheet on top for easy reference.  Nor did she need to
guess who the subject was.  It was herself.

In the first frame, she was looking at the camera, clearly posing in a
skimpy half-cut tee shirt and red bikini panties (HER red bikini
panties, her 'date' panties as she thought of them) for the shooter.
No nudity though.  It could be seen as innocent-couldn't it.  Next she
was wearing the peach strapless bikini, with one cup pulled down to
coyly show off her embarrassingly small left breast.  She could feel
Donovan's eyes on her and her cheeks blossomed crimson.  The photos
were getting much worse.

In the next there was no pretense at what she was offering Donovan.
She stood staring at the camera barechested with a slightly
embarrassed come-hither smile as she pulled off her red bikini
date-panties.  The next was mercifully a top shot.  She was displaying
her small chest for him in full light, a sad defeated smile on her
face as she presented herself for male inspection.

Her boss was focusing on her chest now.  Before this, she had caught
him ogling her in the office but a quick stare would send him
scurrying.  Not now.  His stare was confident, cruel and possessive.

She shivered, trying to ignore the boring eyes.  Now she was on her
bed in her white gauzy nighty-top and the matching near-nothing
see-through panties.  She was turned on her side with a mischievous
smile on her face, her fingers toying with the elastic of the panty.
But the coyness didn't hold long, because then she was on her side,
nighty-top untied leaving her small pointy breasts poking out and
panties long gone.  Displaying her neatly trimmed narrow-furred bush
(it was an exclamation mark now, not a bush--- when had she done
that?) between spread legs with an expectant, "ready for you"
expression.    

"Never took you for a model, Terry.  But you certainly put your all
into your little photo shoot for me."  Donovan's raspy chuckle was
dirty and dismissive.  It said he now had the right to speak to her
this way.

Terry's eyes blurred, but she forced herself to focus on the remaining
shots.  She wished she hadn't.  In the earlier shots, there was some
element of playfulness, but in the remaining frames, that was gone.
It was replaced by a pathetic sluttishness, as if the viewer was
growing bored with the antics of the plain, flat-chested
thirty-something.  Now she was leering back at the camera, nude and
toying with her breasts, then spending her time with even more
intimate parts of her body---  

She slammed the photos on the desk, too stunned to speak.

"It was kind of you to include the negatives-"

NEGATIVES

The word triggered a sudden comprehension of her situation.  Yesterday
afternoon.  Leaving the office early with this whole idea, her
thoughts static with fear that her job might be in jeopardy.  The trip
to the clinic, buying the camera and film.  Writing the letter and
then...posing.  NEGATIVES.  The word squirmed, an electric eel in her
brain.  Now she remembered it all.  Why had she been so oblivious to
his behavior toward her all that day?  Naturally he looked at her
differently now.    

"-and you'll be happy to know that I've put them in a safe place
should you decide to be, say...less than cooperative with our new
arrangement?"  Donovan smiled over the tips of his fingers, which were
pressed together under his chin.  He looked like a spectator at a
fight going his way.

"If I'm not cooperative?" Terry responded slowly.  Half a question,
half a statement.

"Then I'll turn over the photos to social workers who I imagine would
remand your daughter Janine to some Youth Center while it gets sorted
out.  Public morals and all.  And the photos would probably get
distributed publically, oh say over the internet or something.  Then
everyone would get an idea of what a horny little piece of ass you
really are."  He wagged his head in pleasant surprise.  "Must say I
was surprised that the ever-so-efficient Ms. Terry Owens was really
such a bimbo."

Terry looked down and away, wishing she wasn't there, that there was
another way.  She flushed, face hot with shame, humiliated that, as if
on cue, her body was responding to her boss'es humiliating treatment.
There was no mistaking the quickening between her legs.  At the word
'bimbo' she had become terribly excited.

"Well let's begin-why don't you do some of those sexy poses in person
for me-as a warm up."

Avoiding his eyes, she began undressing.  In a few seconds she stood
in her underwear.  She wasn't surprised to find herself in her sexy
red 'date' panties-hadn't she known this was going to happen?  Words
were no longer necessary, as she could read what he wanted next.  As
she knelt to service him, a last vague thought occurred to her.

If she had been posing for the photos, the ones that would keep her
chained to Donovan for who knew how long, who had been taking them?
Then, as quickly as it had appeared to her, it vanished like a dry
leaf in the Fall wind.  There were other more urgent duties to
concentrate on.
 
*****************

"Meldar, eat your asparagus!"

The teen stared sullenly at the Earth vegetables as he consumed them.
His parental units were talking about their work.  By Gritza, how
boring was that!

"So, Keldar, how was your day today?" his mother asked his father.

"Ahhh!  What marvel is this pot roast Dovar!  How this nutritional
treasure would be revered on Homeworld!"  He consumed another forkful
of the smoking meat.  "My day was most successful.  A gunman who
occupied a daycare center in Montana used his weapon upon himself
before harming the children.  A serial killer was found asleep at a
bus stop in Topeka and apprehended without incident.  And a gang
leader in Los Angeles gave himself up to police."  Keldar enjoyed
another biteful.  "He was implicated in a drive-by shooting!  And
you?"

"May I be excused?" demanded Meldar rudely.

Dovar wagged a finger at him.  "Quiet!  Behave yourself and sit and
converse with us, Meldar, for a few minutes more."  She turned back to
her marraige partner.  "My day was a busy one Keldar.  Negotiations on
the West Bank were successfully concluded to the satisfaction of all.
A coup by Ukrainian colonels was prevented in time by democratic
elements.  And an Iranian terrorist group was apprehended in Orly
atempting to smuggle a portion of plutonium!"  

"Ahh most gratifying!  Homeworld will be most pleased with our
tranmissions today!  And your day Meldar?  Did you absorb much
education and learn from your classmates?"

It was hard for Meldar to keep from snickering a little, quickly
picked up by his parental units.

"Meldar!  What have you done?" demanded his father.

"Meldar!  What have you done?" demanded his mother.

Each remembered the recent (and highly) embarrasing incident with the
cheerleader squad at Meldar's last school.

"Do you forget that the Homeworld has sent us here as
Protector-Monitors of this System?  Have you again altered one of your
human peers?" demanded Keldar.  

Dovar shook her head in anxiety.  Porterville High School was STILL
reeling over the lesbian cheerleader scandal of last Fall!  She had
hoped the relocation to the new educational site would curb Meldar's
mischeivous nature, but it was ever a battle, especially in this
turbulent chrono-period of sexual tensions.  On Homeworld, he would
have had no power over his peers.  But these humans were so malleable,
so easy to manipulate and control-- exactly why she and Keldar had
been dispatched here.  Teenagers-- so infuriating!

But Meldar shook his head with the innocence of a Three-winged Kaylok.
"Oh no, parentals!  I have not altered a human peer!  I swear!"

Keldar nodded with relief.  Obviously he had misinterpreted his son's
expression and felt guilty.  "Accept my apologies Meldar.  Your
parentals have experienced fatiguing workspans."

Meldar grudgingly took the apology, though retained a grimace.  He
wished to experience programming on the visual reception device later
that nocturnal period and this policy would aid when he made this
request in three hour's time.

Wishing to break the impasse, Dovar smiled.  "You may leave the table
Meldar."

After their son had left the living room table, both parents expressed
relief that Meldar was behaving himself afterall.  It made Dovar's
next comment easier to make.

"Bosnia?  Of course I'll accompany you, if you believe the situation
requires both our presences,"  Keldar replied.  "And after all, it
would seem Meldar can be trusted by himself to be left alone for a few
days."  

**************

Terry slapped down the twenty dollar bill without looking at the
clerk.  She recoiled as he slipped the bill into the cash register and
aimed an indecent leer her way.  With a quick grab, she snatched the
keys made filthy by his touch from the No-Tell Motel's check-in
counter and spun out of the office towards the room.  All the way out,
she could feel his bug green colored eyes on her ass.  Terry Owens
shuddered, grateful to turn the corner and remove herself from his
sight.  She didn't bother to check the room number-- it was always the
same.  

As she opened the door and flipped on the light, the only thought on
her mind was how she would buy groceries.  The twenty dollar bill had
been her last, leaving a mere $11.12 in her pocketbook and less than
$50 in her checkbook.  Damn-- payday was a week away!  But if she
hadn't come to an 'arrangement' with the clerk some weeks ago, it
would have been $40 for afternoon use of the room.  God, if Mr.
Donovan ever found out she was giving blowjobs for $20 to cover half
the room tab, he'd be furious!  But she had to cover it some way-- Mr.
Donovan told her that she was responsible for paying for the room.
That way if it ever came public, she was the one that would look bad
and not him.  Her name on the registry-- not his.  Oh well-- as long
as she gave the blowjob AFTER servicing The Boss, he'd never find out.
She had to remember to please ask Vinnie if he could try and not cum
on her clothes.  Last week the clerk had shot globs all over her new
tank top, the one The Boss loved.  It had taken a while to get the
stains out.

She sighed and quickly and efficiently stripped off her knit top and
miniskirt, leaving her only in her black fishnets, high heels, black
lace garter belt, black panties and bra.  She slipped into her purse
and pulled out a black velvet choker, hooking it snugly around her
pale neck.  The Boss liked her in chokers.  Then she slipped  to her
knees directly in front of the door and waited for him.  

******************

"I'll be working late tonight, so here's five dollars for some
dinner-o.k.?"  

"Terry!  Get in here-NOW!  This coffee is COLD dammit!"  It was Mr.
Donovan's voice, booming from inside his office.  Her mother looked
instinctively at the door.

"Be right there, Sir!"  Nervously, she palmed the five into her hand.
"I've got to go, honey.  See you later."

Janine turned to go, then remembered she needed to tell her mother Mr.
Jackson had asked about the overdue rent again.  She regretted turning
back though.  From the corner of the doorframe, she watched her mother
hurriedly concentrate on her reflection in the small compact that
always seemed to be in her hand now.  She was expertly applying a
fresh coat of fire engine red lipstick on her pursed lips.  Putting
the compact away, she tousled her long long red curly hair sexily.
She looked around furtively and Janine ducked back.  Then, certain no
one was coming, she cupped her breasts together and up.

"Get in here NOW Terry!  Don't make me call you again!" the voice
commanded ominously.

"Just freshening up, Sir!"  Janine flushed in shame as she watched her
mother deftly unbutton the top three buttons on her red knit
form-fitting blouse with those long polished red nails.  Assuming a
naughty, kittenish smile, her mother wiggled her way into the
Headmaster's Office, closing the door behind her.  Janine stood in
shock, horrified.  A few seconds later, her mother's voice-not the
normal, everyday voice of a few weeks ago but a new squeaky little
girl voice--  escaped from behind the office door.

"Oh, Mr. Donovan, Sir-I'm a GOOD girl!  Please!"  Then her giggle-a
vacuous bimbo giggle-and silence punctuated by soft feminine sighs and
the occaisional male grunt.

With a face as red as a tomato, Janine Owens spun away from the
Administration Office as quickly as her legs could take her.  

Her mother was a slut.  And everyone in the school knew it.

She hadn't believed in the beginning.  She chalked up the new
'after-hours' schedule to a hectic workload.  Then the fashion
changes-her mother dumping out all her pantsuits and replacing them
with spandex miniskirts that some of the most daring female students
wouldn't be caught dead in.  Her flats suffered the same fate, all
being replaced by high heels-and nothing under three inchs.  And
garter belts and seamed stockings did the work of pantyhose now.  Her
mother had never been big into makeup but she was now.  Not tasteful
stuff either-more the cheap Teen Spirit stuff than Chanel.  The weekly
visits to the hairdresser and the large amount of hair spray which
helped maintain the new big hair mallrat look her mother had assumed
were impossible to ignore.  Still, maybe she was just opening up a
little-having fun.  Janine could have rationalized any number of
ways-trying to regain her youth by having fun with her appearence,
etc.

But there was the dirty laundry.  With her new "busy" schedule, her
mother had no time to handle housecleaning around the apartment and
Janine was happy to help out-at first.  But as she hauled the hamper
down to the apartment's basement where the washing machines and dryers
lived, she was embarrassed at the items she found within it.  Push-up
bras, g-strings, bustieres-her mother dressed more like a stripper
than a secretary.  It was doubly embarrassing when Mr. Jackson the
building super watched her, giving her knowing leers that made her
hate her mother even more.  His beady eyes said it all-"Your momma's a
whore."

And he was right. Because it wasn't simply that her mother wore such
wanton underthings.  That was bad enough.  But she knew, if not from
personal experience, what was so often smeared crustily over the
dainty lace and silk of the lingerie.

It was cum.

Mr. Donovan's cum.

She quickly stifled the humiliating knowledge within as her classmate
approached her.  The smile that Mel Taylor gave Janine Owens made her
extremely uncomfortable.  Something about him was real weird.  And
what was he doing walking around with that polaroid camera?

"Hi Janine.  Take your picture?  It is for the yearbook," he explained
wryly.  "Come on-- follow me."

She blinked and Meldar smiled.  With the parent units out of the
house, it was going to be a nice long weekend.

THE END


