My Fairytale

Mr. Anderson let out a frustrated sigh, "I said hang up your clothes."

"I...I did."

He grabbed the bra strap that went over my right shoulder and jerked it hard. "These are clothes. So when I said hang up your clothes, why would this still be on your body?" I was almost in tears as I went back to the closet. I heard him mumble, "Stupid girl."

I took off my bra and thong and stood in front of Mr. Anderson as naked as the day I was born with one arm draped over my boobs and my other was hiding my womanhood. He was highlighting phrases on a piece of paper that appeared to be a contract.

"It's a little late to be modest."

As I slowly put my arms at my sides, he slammed the highlighter on his desk and looked up at me in irritation. "On your knees."

He watched me carefully as I fell to my knees. My actions weren't good enough. His hands were on my heels, making the tops of my feet flat to the floor. He then forced my butt to touch my heels, putting all my weight on my shins. Lastly, he gripped my head, turned it straight ahead, and then forced it down. He then just went back to working on the contract.

Time passed with me in that position. I heard the chiming of the clock in the living room signaling a new hour go off twice. My legs were getting sore but I feared what might happen if I broke the position. There was no way I could afford the repairs to the car. I was at his mercy.

Mr. Anderson's chair turned towards me. "Let's see what you can do."

It was finally time. I went to get up to move to the couch.

"I don't recall giving you permission to stand."

I immediately went back into my kneeling position. I looked into his eyes. He was waiting. It was unnerving. I flexed my hands before moving them to his crotch. My movements were tentative as I released his belt, unbuttoned his pants, and then unzipped him. His fingers were tapping one by one in a cadence that showed his annoyance with my frigid movements. I grabbed his pants and underwear and he lifted slightly as I pulled them down. I just stared at his penis. I knew what he wanted, but I had no idea how to give it to him.

"Go on." Just like all his words, these were not encouraging; they were commands.

I leaned forward. I held it with one hand, aiming it toward my mouth. When I got close, my lips separated and I tasted my first penis. I licked it as I would have eaten a Popsicle. It was growing erect but his finger tapping became more rapid and I knew I was messing up. I then had a moment of clarity - the frat party. That girl had put it in her mouth. So I did. I started moving my head up and down as that girl had done. I thought I was doing a good job.

Mr. Anderson grabbed my head and pulled it from his lap as he stood. "That was fucking horrible!"

"I, uh..."

I was silenced by him lifting me up and placing two stinging slaps to my butt. "I said don't speak!" As he let me drop back to the floor, he took his penis in his own hands and started pumping. I sat there mesmerized, watching him move my saliva back and forth across his rigid tool. I left the sight of his masturbating and gazed up to his eyes. The man towered over me. His eyes narrowed when our eyes locked. I knew then I shouldn't have looked up and I quickly diverted my attention back to his manhood. I tilted my head, curious to what I was witnessing. It was leaking. Why was it leaking? A few more pumps of his fist and Mr. Anderson exploded. On me. I went to back away, but he grabbed my head and held me in place. His cum was on my face, in my hair, and it was dripping onto my boobs. I needed a shower.

Mr. Anderson pulled up his lower garments and I went to stand. He grabbed me and forced me over his desk. This time, his hands reigned down repeatedly. My butt was really starting to hurt. But why was I getting so wet?

"Damn it, look what you made me do because you went to stand again," he showed me his hand that now had some of his cum on it before wiping it on my arm.

I immediately kneeled down again. Mr. Anderson left, but I dared not move. I looked at myself and felt humiliated. What was going on here? I shook my head and was on the verge of crying when I heard his footsteps approach. I immediately ceased all movement and tightened up my kneeling position.

Mr. Anderson sat down at his desk, opened a file, and began typing. It came as a shock when I heard him say, "Stand up."

I did so immediately and my legs were eternally grateful.

"Sit," and he patted the top of his desk, just to the right of where he was working.

I put my butt to the edge of the desk and used my palms to lift myself up about an inch to be seated firmly on it. His left hand was still deftly typing but his right hand spread open my legs. I was now fully opened to him and if my face wasn't covered in cum, we would have noticed a deep crimson flush my cheeks.

Slowly, he began to rub. He started at me knees, rubbing in small circles, alternating between my legs, each little movement causing his hand to crawl northward. Every inch of my skin between my legs was getting touched. Goosebumps were appearing in anticipation. My eyelids closed so I could focus on the feeling. My body heat was rising. I involuntarily whimpered. What was he doing to me?

"Touch yourself." His voice was soft.

My hands went to my breasts.

He had to have stopped typing as he was still massaging my legs but his other hand wrapped like a feather around my wrist and pulled my hand to my womanhood.

"No. Here." A whisper.

I felt him stand.

"Play with your cunt." A breath in my ear.

I played with myself as I always did. I put two fingers barely inside my folds and moved them in opposite directions. With the way Mr. Anderson had worked me up, I was about to orgasm.

"Let me help you."

Mr. Anderson's hand went from my thighs and brushed away my hand. He stroked gently at the folds before his fingers worked in unison and opened them. First one finger leisurely pushed forward. He then pulled it back just as deliberately. It went a little faster when he again thrust into me and it went deeper. He repeated the motion a few more times and then inserted a second finger. His pace quickened.

My body was on fire. I was already passed what I thought was an orgasm. The little jolts I give myself are nothing compared to the climax I was building up to. I unconsciously started moving my hips in time with his ministrations. And then I felt it. I don't know what Mr. Anderson's thumb touched, but when he did my eyes flew open and my body went into overdrive. What was happening to my body!

"Oh my God."

At my words, all his motions not only ceased, but he removed his hands from my body. "I said no talking." This time when he spanked me, he thumbed that spot and it put me on edge. The pain and pleasure were confusing my senses and I couldn't tell which way was up. When he finished my humiliation, he sat down and started typing again.

With my eyes, I pleaded for him to continue, to touch me anywhere, that spot, a spanking, or anywhere else he so chose but he didn't. How could I be so stupid! I needed what he was about to give me but I had to open my mouth. I started crying.

"Touch yourself." Mr. Anderson's voice wasn't soft anymore, but I didn't care.

I thrust two fingers deep into myself, plunging them in as rapidly as I could. After I developed a rhythm, my hips rocked fiercely against my hand. I quickly built myself back into a frenzy. My other hand went to find that spot. I searched but I couldn't focus on my task - the feelings were too incredible.

"Open your eyes."

My eyes shot open. Anything for that voice. Mr. Anderson was face to face with me. Though it surprised me that he was that close, I didn't stop.

"Keep them open."

I focused intently on his eyes. They almost felt calming as I approached my pinnacle. Then I felt it. Mr. Anderson had put his hand above mine. In two spots, his body connected with mine. Simultaneously, he touched that spot again and delivered a firm slap to my butt. It was insane. I felt as if my body spontaneously combusted but I was still here because my eyes were anchored to his, piercing - captivating - commanding.

Mr. Anderson sat back in his chair and I nearly fell from his desk. I looked at the man in a whole new light. That was amazing.

"Back in your spot, Slut."

I disregarded the degrading name and moved swiftly to my kneeling position. With each panted breath, my mind was becoming less clouded. I again looked at myself. I was naked at the feet of Mr. Anderson. The cum he splattered on my body was now crusted on my face and chest. The cum that flooded out from my body was drying on my thighs. What have I become? Was I a slut? I felt confused.

There was a knock at his office door.

"Come in."

Oh God, what if it's Charlie? What if it's Rochelle? Why was Mr. Anderson not worried?

"Hello Sir."

Crap it was Charlie. Every muscle in my body tensed. I hope he doesn't see me like this. Please God, don't let him see me like this.

"Yes Charles, what is it?" Mr. Anderson didn't even look away from his computer.

"Sir, I assume you saw the car by now and I was coming in to accept my punishment."

"I will tell you when I decide what that is."

"Yes Sir."

I heard the sound of the door begin to shut.

"Oh, and Charles," Now Mr. Anderson did look at Charlie.

"Yes Sir."

"That girl is a stupid slut."

"Yes Sir."

"Do you agree with that statement, Charles?" There was an extended pause. The longer Charlie didn't answer, I knew the angrier Mr. Anderson would get. "I asked if you believe in my assessment of that girl being a stupid slut was an accurate one." His tone was more authoritative this time.

"Yes Sir."

"Yes what?"

"Yes Sir, I believe Andrea is a stupid slut."

"Believe?"

"I apologize Sir, I misspoke. I know Andrea is nothing more than a stupid slut, Sir."

"You may go now."

"Yes Sir," Charlie responded as he shut the door.

Tears started streaming down my face. I wanted to believe that Charlie only said what he did because Mr. Anderson provoked him but as I glanced again at my body, how could I refute that statement?

"I have decided to accept your offer, Slut. You are to accompany me on a business trip I have in New York next week. We leave Sunday morning and will be there a few days. You do that, you and Charles owe me nothing and there will be no punishment. I will also not call the police and press charges for grand theft auto as I originally planned. The choice is yours, Slut." Mr. Anderson paused before adding, "You may speak now."

"But Mr. Anderson..."

He shot me a harsh look at the use of his name.

"Um, I mean Sir, I'm supposed to go see my parents this weekend. My return flight doesn't land until Sunday at six in the evening."

"Not my problem."

"But what about my classes next..."

"I'm tired of talking to a stupid slut." Mr. Anderson stood. "How do you not understand that this is a 'yes' or 'no' answer?"

I sat there mouth agape, not knowing what to do.

"I'm waiting, Slut."

This was supposed to be just sex, how did it come to this? My parents will be disappointed if I don't come to see them, but they would be downright angry if I tell them I was arrested. And Charlie, I told him I'd take care of it - that he wouldn't get in trouble. How could I live myself if I go back on my word, especially since it was all my idea? Mr. Anderson is an animal. I closed my eyes and resigned myself to my fate.

"Yes Sir. I will go to New York with you."

Mr. Anderson walked over to the closet. He pulled the hanger out and undid my clothes from it before walking back in front of me and dropping them on the floor. "You are free to go now but remember the deal is off if I don't enjoy myself." He turned on his heels and left without looking back.

I quickly got dressed. I peeked out of the room and glanced in both directions. I was debating on what I should do; go to the bathroom and chance Charlie seeing me or go out the door and have the world see me.

I choose the world. Charlie, despite us not having anything in common, was my only friend and I didn't want to cement that opinion of me his Father instilled into him. If he thought that, then everyone at school would just pile on again. It would be even worse than before.

I walked with my head down as I followed the white line of the road. There was a fast food place, Burger Hut, near the bus stop, so I used my hair to cover my face and darted in the bathroom, almost knocking over a little girl in the process.

"Are you okay, lady?"

"I'm fine." I brushed back my hair as I turned on the faucet.

"How did you get all covered in glue?"

I started crying which I immediately covered up by dousing my face with handfuls of water. "Long story."

"Here."

I squinted an eye to see that she was handing me some paper towels. I gave a weak smile, "Thanks."

"I'm Lauren and I'm six."

I giggled, "I'm Andrea."

"I once saw Andy Bradford eat glue before. My teacher, Mrs. Mathers, told him to stop but he didn't so she had to run over to him and take it from his hands."

"Is that so?" I continued to scrub my face with the cheap paper towel.

"Yeah, and my Mommy tells me that I shouldn't cry over what other people think of me. She told me to just always be myself - that God made me and that's good enough."

"Lauren?" A woman called from outside the bathroom. "Are you okay in there?"

"That's my Mommy, I gotta go, bye." Lauren struggled with the big door before it finally gave way.

I stared into the mirror. Lauren's words were actually soothing. Be myself, not caring what other people think, I'm good enough... but as I saw the remnants of what I did today, the question remained - Who am I? What am I?

When I made it to my room, I plopped onto my bed. I was tired. I opened the top drawer of my little table and pulled out the airline ticket my parents had sent me. I stared at the words 'NON REFUNDABLE.' My hand was shaky as I pulled up their contact information and pressed the call button.

"Pumpkin!" Dad called out after only one ring. "I can't wait to see you this weekend."

"Hi Dad," I tried to mimic his enthusiasm, but the melancholy in my voice lingered.

"Andrea, what's wrong?"

"Dad, I don't know how to tell you this."

"Andrea, it'll be okay. Whatever it is, you can tell me."

"I can't come up this weekend," my heart fell at the words. "I just got assigned this big team project in biology and we only have this weekend to do it."

There was a pause before he spoke. "It's okay, Pumpkin. Maybe for your spring break you'll be able to visit."

"Definitely Dad. I'll be there."

"I'll let your Mom know," I could hear the sadness in his voice though he was trying to sound upbeat. "Don't worry about us, you work hard and get an A on that big project."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Dad laughed. "It's all a part of life. I love you."

"Love you too."

It was too early for bed and I wasn't really hungry, so I tried to study. The problem was that the day's events were invading my thoughts. Amelia Earhart was a stupid slut. Charles Darwin taught Anne Frank how to masturbate. The words in my textbooks merged with thoughts into one orgy of historical figures. I closed the book with more force than I intended, set it on my little table, and curled up under my comforter.

I tried to sleep. I really did, but I just couldn't get what happened today out of my head. Thinking about Mr. Anderson's hands on my body caused a tingling sensation. I shook my head clear. I shouldn't think about him. But what he did to me was unlike anything I have ever experienced. I glanced at my roommate to note she was already asleep. I doubt that would have mattered, however, as my hand was already inside my pajama pants.

I flicked at my womanhood as I always had done and had to stifle a laugh. That minor sensation was nothing compared to the bliss I wanted. My fingers slid in. I couldn't believe how easily they did. I have never been this wet before. My hips began undulating in motion with my hand. I was already on the cusp of ecstasy. My other hand went to find that spot. It took all of a moment. A gentle touch followed by a surge of pleasure. I did it again and it was even greater. Faster now, my whole body working in unison, striving for that release of euphoria; one hand furiously plunging, the other savagely rubbing, and my hips rocking at a breakneck speed. Suddenly an image appeared of Mr. Anderson spanking me.

"Oh God, Sir!"

I called out his name. I couldn't escape it. I didn't know if I wanted to. Mr. Anderson's eyes, they were once again in front of me and I couldn't look away. The feeling was so wonderfully intense. I lay there panting, feeling divine in my afterglow. Sweat covered my body, my hair was matted, and my body was tingling all over. Is this what sex feels like? Could it be better?

"Could you keep it down, you fucking whore?" My roommate snarled from her bed using the nickname she gave me when she thought I was hitting on her boyfriend but in actuality, he was the one that approached me. "Don't you have a pimp that will sell you out to take care of that for you?"

I just closed my eyes. Her words had their intended effect, as they always did, but instead of feeling angry - I became embarrassed. What was I thinking? She was right there and I couldn't control myself. My whole body flushed as I rolled onto my side, squeezing the comforter for comfort. What is wrong with me? Why can't I control this? Do I want to?

The next day was all about research. Not for my classes - no - I needed to research the finer points of sex. Mr. Anderson... I mean Sir made it very clear he was to enjoy his week with me. As with any subject, I started with terminology: tits instead of boobs, cock versus penis, cunt or pussy substituted my very special place (please don't judge). I found I was very uneducated in the lingo. As with classes, I made flash cards to help me remember.

I also researched positions. I found my mouth, boo... I mean tits, pussy/cunt, and ass were all able to be used for pleasure. My goal was to be Sir's perfect companion so I wouldn't get spanked again. Whom am I kidding? I'm hoping he'd just touch me again, it doesn't matter how.

Next was the lab portion of my learning. I am ashamed to say that this required borrowing my roommate's vibrator. I experimented in a variety of ways. I practiced deep throating- holy crap that took some effort to not throw up - , anal - it's one thing to know you're supposed to relax your ass muscles quite another to actually do it. It felt like Nate all over again, just in a different hole -, and finally , I shoved it in my cunt - oh hell yes! - I am astonished at how many times I came. Is this what sex feels like? The week with Sir is looking better and better. Sorry Dad.

I arrived at the airport with an hour to spare. I stood in the terminal with my big rolling suitcase that carried virtually all my clothes. I just didn't know what to expect so I didn't know what to pack. I was waiting, searching every face for the one I was meeting. I was anxious. The past two days, I gave into my debase desires and dreamt of Mr. Anderson as I masturbated half the time. Now that I am here, I was debating between leaving or staying and being a - what was the word I saw online? - a fucktoy. I shook my head. I don't want to be something so demeaning. Do I? I know I haven't really found what I was looking for when I left my small town as far as what I wanted to do for a career, what I really enjoyed, but I know I can't make my mark on the world as someone's plaything. Can I? I turned around, planning on running for the exit when Mr. Anderson caught my shoulders.

"This way Slut."

"Um, I think I changed my mind Mr. Anderson."

He didn't speak when he let me go and his eyes didn't show anger when he pulled out his phone.