A Teacher's Sin Uncovered Ch. 01

* * * *

Andy was standing by my classroom holding a small book bag. He checked his watch. "You're late."

Trying to signal my contempt, I spat out, "Is that going to affect your little game?"

His response was even-toned. "No, I built in some dead time. How was Bruce's performance last night?"

"What are you talking about?"

"When you and your boyfriend got home, how'd he do? Did he satisfy you in the sack?"

"What happens between Bruce and I is none of your business."

"I didn't think so, you looked hot-to-trot, he didn't look up to it."

I glared at him. He walked into my classroom, I followed. He sat in my office, in the chair facing my desk, ensuring he'd be fully visible to anyone walking by. I sat behind my desk trying to assert some authority. Andrew pulled a jewelry box and thermal bag from his pack.

"Andrew, what are you after?"

"That's not the right question, Ms. Kaminska. I'm interested in the journey, we'll see where it takes us."

"What kind of zen bullshit is that?"

He didn't seem bothered. "Put these on." He slid the jewelry box across my desk. I opened it. Inside were two small gold metal objects.

"What are these?"

"Nipple clamps, Ms. Kaminska, for your breasts."

"You're insane. I will not let you do this."

"I'm not going to do it, you are. I'll stay right here."

I considered proclaiming the game over. He could tell whomever he wanted, I'd live with the consequences. But I thought about Bruce, my parents, the effect on them.

I said, "You stay right there and no pictures." Nodding, he turned off his cell phone and placed it on my desk. I unbuttoned my blouse and unsnapped my bra; my hands were steadier than yesterday. I picked up a clamp. I'd heard of them, but had never seen one. There was a small screw in the middle and the part that fit over the nipple was covered with a pad. I touched it, the material was surprisingly soft.

"Before you put them on, its best that your nipples be hard and erect. Get them ready."

I looked at him for the first time since I'd bared my breasts. "You must be out of your mind."

"Don't think so, but if you're not up to it I can help."

"No!" I covered my breasts with my hands. Shit, they were already warming up. I ran a thumb over a nipple. It sprang to attention. I suppressed a moan; I didn't want Andrew to know what I was feeling. He noticed anyway.

"Ms. Kaminska, you lucky girl, lovely breasts and sensitive nipples. Keep going."

I thumbed my nipples. My breasts swelled, glowing a sweet pink; my small nipples and areolas grew stiff with blood. My mouth slightly ajar, I was breathing more deeply.

"The problem with most nipple clamps is that they cut off the blood flow, rendering the nipples numb. These are state of the art; they solve the problem. They have an internal spring. Every fifteen minutes or so they recalibrate. It takes about a minute and during that time the pressure on your nipple decreases, ensuring the flow of blood."

He was unemotional, analytical. I felt like an experiment. I had to get us back to reality. I looked at the clamp, then glared at him. "This is insane. You'll never get away with it."

He went on. "Think about it. Standing in front of your students with your nipples bound. Only you'll know what's happening, that the breasts of the cool professional woman entrusted with the care of America's youth are bound. You've been good for so long, it will feel good to be a little bit bad."

His words bore into my skull. He was right, part of me was tired of playing goody two shoes. Fuck, what was I thinking. I re-booted, I had to get a grasp on myself. He was trying to manipulate me. There was real anger in my voice when I said, "Just tell me how to put these fucking things on you bastard."

He didn't blink. "Place it over the nipple."

I did.

"Turn the screw, a quarter way around."

I twisted the screw with a fingernail; the clamp grabbed my nipple. The pain was sharp, but not overwhelming. I put the second one on. Same thing. I would survive. Then they started to move. He had said they'd recalibrate, loosen, then tighten. What exactly did that mean?

I found out. The clamps moved, then squeezed down hard. My first urge was to scream, my second to tear the things from my breasts. The former would bring unwanted attention; the latter might damage my nipples. Instead, my eyes shut and gulping in air I hissed, "What the fuck. Are you out of your fucking mind? I can't stand in front of a classroom like this."

He was absolutely calm. "You'll do fine Helga. Give it a few seconds, you'll adjust."

He drew a Starbucks' Caramel Machiatto from the thermal bag and handed it to me. "I know you like to grab a cup of coffee in the teachers' lounge before class, but that's ill-advised today. You'll need a few minutes. I believe this is your favorite."

He was right. Had I mentioned it in class?

Andrew leaned back, began a discussion of the day's lesson: the opening of Japan to trade by Matthew Perry. It was designed to distract me, but I offered no resistance. I needed to be distracted. The pain in my breasts receded; it would be manageable.

There were sounds in the hallway. Kids were filtering into school.

Andrew said, "Button up. Be careful, the pressure of your bra on the clamps will intensify the sensations. Avoid sudden movements. You're giving your first class a test, that will give you time to accustom yourself. Before saying anything think it through, then focus. It will help get you through the morning."

I wanted to scream, but I listened. I needed help and Andrew seemed to know what he was talking about. I re-snapped by bra, re-buttoned my bouse. When the material moved against my breasts, ripples of pain washed though me. He was right, I'd need to move carefully.

Andrew studied my chest. "Excellent, they don't show at all. I'll see you in third period."

The first class ushered in. After handing out the tests, I took Andrew's advice, delivering the instructions in short, succinct, well-thought out paragraphs, then sat behind my desk, grading homework. About ten minutes into the class the pain in my breasts abruptly decreased. I closed my eyes, hoping the clamps had slipped off. Then they tightened, biting into my nipples. It was what Andy had warned me about, the springs had recalibrated. I crumpled the paper in my hand, gave out a low short moan. Kids in the first couple of rows looked up. One of them, Patricia, stylish as always and wearing granny glasses, said, "You okay Ms. Kaminska?"

"Yes, back spasm."

Over the course of the hour I learned that Andrew was right, I gradually accommodated myself to the pain, found I could function despite the intense sensations buzzing in my brain and chest.

I steered the second class into a discussion, prompting the students to talk and lessening the burden on me. Christie, the principal's daughter and captain of the cheerleading squad, was saying something. Fred, a football player, had his hand up. I didn't like the kid, he was far more interested in my breasts than anything I had to say. Even now his eyes kept slipping to my chest. When Christie was done I pointed to him.

The clamps began recalibrating.

"Fred, what do you ..."

I sucked my upper lip into my mouth.

"... think about ..."

The clamps tightened, sending waves of pain though me. I grabbed the back of my chair and stopped talking. Freddie, confused, raised an eyebrow. I took a deep breath and finished.

"... about Christie's point."

He started talking. I sat down, the pain slowly receded, then I felt it. It was tiny, dwarfed by the discomfort, but it was there. A small happy buzz in my cunt, a flutter deep in my vagina. I was getting turned on.

Freddie finished, someone else followed up, the bell rang, the kids filed out, Andrew's class entered. He fixed his eyes on me; I nodded, showing him I'd make it. I began my lecture on Matthew Perry, trying to foment a class discussion so I could focus on the pulsating sensations in my chest, which were now feeding directly into my cunt.

Andrew understood. He raised his hand, made an open-ended point, one that invited a response. Another hand went up, I called on her, a third student joined in. Andrew caught my eye, smiled, taking obvious delight in the dirty secret we shared. I'd look away, but my eyes always drifted back to him.

The class discussion went on; I barely listened, thinking about my tits and swollen pussy. There was a lull, everyone was looking at me. Somebody must have asked a question. I hadn't heard it. I stared dumbly into space, then Andrew made a point, something about the roles of the Shogun and Emperor in Perry's efforts, not a topic covered in the day's reading. He'd been studying on the side. Someone responded, the class discussion took off again.

That left me free to think about my tits and cunt, about how I shouldn't be getting turned on, about how damn turned on I was. With about fifteen minutes left in class the clamps began to recalibrate. I steadied myself, looking forward to the moment they bit down. When they did I closed my eyes; a shiver ran through my body. I opened my eyes, Andrew was staring at me. He knew exactly what had happened. He brushed his hand against his chest, looked at me, nodded.

I shook my head slightly, no.

He nodded yes.

Hands shaking, I reached to adjust my glasses, dragging my forearm across my breasts in the process. An explosion, terminating at my sex, rumbled through me. I pressed my thighs together, prolonging the sensation.

Andy smiled and brushed his hand over his chest. I couldn't even pretend to refuse him this time. I ran my forearm across my chest. My nipples tingled, my pussy erupted. I gasped, several students turned towards me. Andrew addressed some point made by some student - I no longer cared who - and drew everyone's attention back to him.

The bell went off. The class left. Andrew approached. He handed me a small tube.

"Go to your office, masturbate. I'll make sure you're not disturbed. When done, take off the clamps. When you do so make sure to take a deep breath and slowly exhale. Your nipples will be sore. Lick them, then use this cream."

I knew I should object, but I was helpless before my rampaging desire. I muttered thanks, disappeared into my office, brought myself off, quick and hard. I removed the clamps, licked my inflamed nipples, applied the lotion. They felt better.

My libido satiated, I put on my game face and returned to the classroom, faced Andrew. I said that this was insanity, it had to stop, but I sounded weak. I was asking, not telling.

Andrew was non-plussed. "It will Ms. Kaminska, soon, but not yet. We're still on our journey."

"And if I refuse to co-operate, tell the world about Hunter, resign, you'll have no power over me. What then?"

"Helga, I don't want that, neither do you. It will be over soon."

I glared at him. It made no difference.

He continued, "Tomorrow wear panties and your Nine West purple dress."

I knew the one he wanted. It was modest, sleeveless, hung loosely past my knees.

* * * *

During the course of the afternoon I couldn't stop thinking about my breasts and the pleasure they could bring me. My tortured nipples tingled when they rubbed against my bra, sending jolts of pleasure to my damp pussy. Before the last class I ducked into my office, squeezed my breasts, considered dismissing the kids and masturbating, but how to explain it? Andy would also hear about it, figure out what happened. I couldn't give him the satisfaction.

So I soldiered through the class. On the way home I reached inside my shirt and played with my breasts. My reverie was interrupted by a car horn. I was at a stoplight. An attractive young couple, sitting in the car next to mine, gave me the thumbs up.

Once home I hurried to the bedroom, stripped, pulled on my nipples, loving the sensation - equal parts pleasure and pain - and frigged my clit. The orgasm was like a run away freight train, on me almost immediately. Then, the urgent need between my legs addressed, I lay there, looking at the sky outside my window. What the fuck was wrong with me? How could I get out of this? I decided to go for a run. It would refresh me, help me devise a plan to escape Andy.

It didn't. Instead, I thought about sex. I figured Bruce, after falling asleep last night, owed me a good fuck. I showered, did my hair, put on a yellow tank top and a short skirt. Attractive, but not over-the-top, the way Bruce liked it. I went to the supermarket.

* * * *

Bruce dragged in, looking tired.

"Hey baby, hard day?"

"Brutal, had to skip lunch, big rush to finish the Johnson returns. We signed them while the Federal Express guy was waiting in the lobby."

"Well then, I have some good news. I'm making your favorite tonight, steaks, asparagus, new potatoes. Want something to drink?"

"A Coke would be great."

I brought him his drink. He settled in front of the television, becoming engrossed in Wheel of Fortune. I set the table, lit some candles, cooked, shouted some comments from the kitchen, trying, unsuccessfully, to get him to engage. The show ended. Bruce walked in, said, "I figured we'd eat in front of the television." Then he paused, as if seeing me for the first time, and said, "You're all dressed up. What's the occasion?"

"Do I need an occasion to dress up for my man?"

Over dinner he recounted his day. I had a little trouble empathizing - it consisted of sitting in an air conditioned office for eight hours and eating lunch at his desk. He asked about mine. I decided to leave out the part where I wore nipple clamps and a student guarded my office door while I jerked off. I smiled, ran my foot up his leg, and said, "My day was a bit dull baby, I'm sorry you had such a hard time."

He smiled, taking pleasure in my concern.

By the time I returned from the kitchen with dessert - chocolate chip ice cream - he was back in front of the television. I joined him, leaned against him, touched him; he was oblivious. I stuffed my anger; I did not want to fight and end up like last night, playing with my vibrator. I tried the direct method.

"Hey baby, I thought you and I could go to bed early tonight, get some cuddling in."

He looked at me. "You've been in a mood lately."

Shit, his girlfriend's a hot bitch who wants to fuck and that's what he says, "You're in a mood."

"Well, baby, you put me there."

He looked at the television, noted it was a re-run, flipped off the set. In the bedroom he went to the window, pulled down the shade, started stripping. He looked at me, waiting for me to do the same. Wishing he'd rip the clothes off me, I undressed.

We lay down.I kissed him. Bruce licked my breasts, smooched on my neck; his hands roved over my skin. It felt good, it was nice, but I needed something more. I considered asking him to go down on me, but he was never an eager pussy eater and I didn't need an argument over lackluster cunninglingus. He rolled me onto my back, ready to enter me, but I was barely wet. I needed to draw out the action.

"No baby, get on your back, I want to be on top."

He was mostly a missionary man, but he shrugged and rolled over.

I straddled his thighs, moistened my lips, looked into his eyes, moved slowly forward on my knees, showing off my body. I dropped down, trapping Bruce's balls between my pussy lips, rubbing against him. He sighed. I raised myself, took hold of his dick, dragged it over the folds of my cunt. I was getting wetter. I flicked the cock-head against my clit.

"Bruce, that feels so nice."

I lay his dick down, scooted forward, sandwiched his penis between my pussy and his stomach. I reached back, placed my hands on his legs, and thrust my hips back and forth, jacking Bruce off with my pussy lips. I was getting wetter. I took hold of his cock, rolled the head over and around my sex, pushed the tip into my hole, scooped out some liquid, used the lubrication to slide his cock over my clit.

I was enjoying myself, putting on a little show. I coated his cock-head with my juice and dragged it along my perineum. I'd never been ass-fucked; how would he feel about being the first?

"Baby, have you ever done it in a girl's behind?"

"No, I mean, it's dirty back there."

I angled forward, catching his cock between my ass cheeks, and teased, "I don't know, I've heard guys really dig it, some girls too."

Using three fingers, I transferred pussy juice to the valley of my ass, then slid back and forth, fucking Bruce with my ass checks.

He remained unconvinced. "I'm not sure it's natural."

"Shame." I rotated forward, my ass hovered over his balls. I lowered myself, trapping his shaft between my pussy lips and slid my clit down his cock, closing my eyes, focusing on the feeling. I thought about the old joke: that women were merely life support systems for pussies. Maybe men were life support systems for cocks. I smirked, then moaned. It felt good.

I slid back, dragged his cock-head over the entrance to my pussy. I was finally wet enough. I took hold of his cock, pointed it skywards, took him inside me. When I reached bottom I ground my groin against Bruce, spreading my lubrication around. When Bruce tried to thrust into me I lay an open hand on his chest. "Give me a second baby, I need a second."

I continued grinding into him; it was working; my juices were flowing. I looked at the mirror, admired my sleek body, dark brown eyes, thick black hair, lips painted red. I was hot, sexy. I understood why Andy targeted me.

I nodded my head, let Bruce know I was ready. He pushed into me. We soon found a steady enjoyable rhythm, but something was still missing. I was digging it, but I didn't feel that surge, that drive towards a climax. I looked at my boyfriend, his jaw was beginning to lock into place, a sure sign he'd soon empty himself inside me. I needed a boost. I thought about my breasts, how incredibly sensitive they'd been all day.

I planted my hands besides Bruce's head, my tits slapping against his face, and said, "Suck my tits baby." Bruce's eyes popped open, he was not much on dirty talk, but he saw the look of determination on my face. His tongue came out, he licked a nipple. Electricity shot through me; I needed more.

"That's it baby, suck, suck them hard."

He wrapped his lips around an areola, sucked and licked my nipple. It was sore, the sensations sharp, jagged, intense. My pussy juiced up, my clit throbbed. This was more like it.

"That's what I need, harder, baby suck my tits."

Bruce complied. Bolts of pleasure and pain shot through me, my pussy quivered, I needed more.

"Bite my nipples, chew on them."

He sucked harder, but no chewing, no biting. I flashed anger. Couldn't he just do what he was told?

"Come on baby, bite them."

Bruce opened his eyes, my breast fell from his mouth. He looked confused. In retrospect, the entire evening must have seemed odd to him. He was not used to me being the sexual aggressor, not used to changing our sexual routine, not used to me taking control.

"Honey, I can't do that, I might hurt you."

He was a sweet boy and I did need him to stay focused, his dick to stay hard. I backed off.

"You're right, it's just that you've got me so hot tonight."

I sat up, flexed my cunt muscles, lifted myself on my knees. He groaned, his eyes drifted shut, his mind returned to his penis, where I wanted it.

I caught my nipples between my index fingers and the back of the knuckles of my thumb and pressed hard. Raw from the day's events, they sent sharp stings of pain through my body. My cunt spasmed.

"Unnnhhhh."

My moan was harsh, guttural. Bruce, who rarely opened his eyes during sex, did so now.

"Am I doing good honey?"

"Oh yes baby, you're so good."

He closed his eyes. I twisted my nipples.