Teacher Finds a Master Ch. 03

'Yes, master. No, master, sorry, master. Your slave can't be a teacher now,' she moaned.

'Why not?' he asked, trying to keep the surprise from his voice.

A few days ago she was expecting to escape him by starting back at school. She thought a dose of reality would strike them both, breaking up their game. When had she changed her mind, and why? It didn't suit his plans for her not to go back to school.

'Your slave discovered she is a bad slut, master. Slave has always been a dirty slut, and unfit to teach,' she sobbed.

He wrapped his arms around her, and murmured sweetness into an ear.

'What am I to do, master? I'll have to look for another job, even start a new career,' she sniffed.

'Don't worry, slave, I'll look after you. You can live with me in my apartment. Your master needs a well trained slave to look after his needs,' he reassured her.

'Yes, master, whatever you say master,' she agreed.

She didn't think over what was being agreed to. Giving up a career and an apartment to be this young guys permanent slave, was too big a step to agree to so easily. Her whole life would depend upon his decisions, and she would have to obey his every whim. She calmed down, and took a deep breath. It was true, she was a pathetic tramp, a slut, and he'd known it all along.

He could see on her face the thoughts racing around in her mind. She'd stop and ask him something, yet not wait for an answer. She'd convinced herself she needed controlling, and had to be kept safe. She needed a strong man to master her, and that man was him.

She was sitting on his knee, while he stroked her body, trying to calm her down. She went quiet for awhile, sighed heavily, and buried her head in his chest. His arms were wrapped around her tight, and she didn't move for an age. She looked up at him, then kissed him gently on the lips.

'Thank you, master,' she sighed.

'My slave needs cheering up,' he said. 'Come on, were going out. Get on those new clothes,' he ordered.

She emerged from the bedroom sporting more appropriate make-up for her age. The little black dress was stylish rather than slutty. The black corset pinched her waist tight, and the corset straps held up black stockings.

'Are the seams straight, master?' she asked.

'Come here, slave,' he demanded, and kneeled on the floor to get the stockings right.

She enjoyed her master breathing heavily on her bare thighs and bottom. He adjusted the tiny g-string, giving her a thrill. More than ever she wanted him, yet had to wait yet again.

They arrived at a club, and from seeing the members walking in, she guessed it wasn't a normal club.

'Membership?' a big black man in a tight suit asked.

'OK, you can bring a guest,' he said, and waved them in.

In the entrance lobby her master guided her to a door with a sign marked, 'Slaves'.

'In there, and remove the dress,' Danny said, then added, 'Don't keep me waiting, slave.'

She emerged from the changing room looking sexy and buzzing with life. Having recovered from the earlier pessimism, she was now bouncing with energy.

'This is a BDSM club, master,' she purred.

'Yes, it is. If you don't behave, and do as you are told as an obedient slave should, I'll give you away to a master who can control you,' he warned her.

He'd been here just once before bringing the teacher here, to get a look at what went on. He was nervous and trying not to show it, with the result he looked irritated.

'Sorry, master, I'll be a good slave girl, master,' she declared with enthusiasm.

Mrs Watson looked at him, wondering if he was joking, or just teasing her. Surely he wouldn't give her away, though he did look serious. Maybe he was fed up with her, or disgusted after her abysmal behaviour this afternoon. Had he brought her here in preparation to selling her to another master? Surely not!

Something she read some time ago on a slaves forum came to mind. A submissive wife was warning others about a club, where her husband sold her. After an argument he'd had too much to drink, and in a temper he sold her to another club member.

The buyer didn't consider it a mistake, and kept her. She was caged in the stranger's basement for six weeks, until her husband tracked her down and bought her back. Writing about it on the notice board three months later, she still found the experience affected her. She didn't describe how she was treated by the stranger, so it must have been traumatic.

The experience left her acting very submissive, and ready to obey anyone who was strong and dominating. It could be embarrassing, when someone accidently took control of her by just being firm with her. A stranger might think she was finding them attractive, or coming on to them, when she was treating them like a master. A couple of close encounters in a store meant she could no longer go shopping by herself.

A lot of members sympathised with the woman, though she had thought it a made up story. Now she was less certain. There were some scary men in this club, with some of them gripping leashes attached to very submissive looking slaves.

'Read this, slave,' he told her.

She looked up at a club notice, and a sharp intake of breath was released. The rules for selling a slave to a club member were listed. Would she dare object if he sold her as a slave? Recently her will to object to anything had wilted and died, leaving her vulnerable to mistreatment.

After this afternoon it was obvious she would obey her master however demeaning the order. This evening she could find herself obeying a stranger as her new master. As a thoroughly trained slave there wouldn't be anything that could be denied a master. The thought of joining this new world as a permanent slave, being passed around from master to master, stoked her up to boiling point.

'Master?' she pleaded.

'What is it slave?' he asked.

'Please don't sell your slave. Your slave promises to do whatever her master wishes, without question. Just tell your slave what she must do to please, and it will be done. Anything, master, honest! Please keep your humble slave forever! Please, master,' she sincerely spoke.

'Very well slave, we shall see,' he enigmatically replied.

He wondered where this uncalled for plea came from. It made him smile. A teacher was promising to obey him in all things, and do whatever he wanted. Well, she'd certainly been a good slave girl so far. His expression softened from feeling powerful. He had a teacher in his hand, and in her bed.

He took her to a private room and opened a bag.

'Hold still, slave,' he told her.

She relaxed on finding him calm, and evidently pleased with her.

He clipped two chains to a loop linked to her slave collar. The chains were run through nipple rings, to wrist cuffs. Once secured to her wrists, he threaded the remaining lengths of chain through the piercing rings in her pussy lips. Then onward to her ankle cuffs.

Once more dressed in a Sirik, he led her from the room. She was completely naked, except for a slave collar, cuffs, and chains. Nothing much to cover her nakedness, but what she wore made a definite statement. She was a slave, a well trained slave, deeply committed to her role. A red ball gag hung around her neck, ready to stifle any complaints.

Tittyanna had to move slowly, so as not to pull too sharply on the nipple or clit rings. She learnt that the hard way, and wanted to rub the soreness from a nipple. There would be no running away for this slave.

'What is it slave?' he asked.

'Master, can we go home soon, and fuck slave's cunt, please master,' she begged.

All day she'd been aroused, and not receiving satisfaction was physically hurting. As though she were a drug addict, she needed a fix, which was her masters cock filling her cunt. Even using the gross word, cunt, was heightening her arousal.

'Keep calm, slave. Your master will have one drink then we shall leave,' he firmly told her.

She dropped her head in submission, bowing to his wishes.

Danny looked around at the posers wondering how many of them had a real slave like his. He couldn't help smiling and wondering what they would think if they knew what he was up to. He'd dressed older, and looked the part, but was still much younger looking than his slave.

They didn't know what he knew, and it was difficult not to shout it out. He was a young student, parading a respectable teacher on a leash in a BDSM club, and she was his obedient slave. He felt like broadcasting the news of his success as a slave owner to all and sundry.

It didn't feel as though he were playing a game, it felt real. He had a drink and sat in a booth looking with curiosity at the other members. He looked down at his slave, squatting at his feet and smiled at her. If he'd taken geography, she would have been his teacher and his slave. That would have been wild!

She leant her chin on his knee to look up at him with imploring eyes. He knew what she wanted. It had been an important part of her training, to get her used to lots of highly exciting sex. That had worked, as she was so used to getting it she was becoming demanding. He stroked her hair and cupped her chin.

'Be a good little slave girl, and your master will take you home to fuck,' he smiled.

Damn! Would he ever get used to this wonderful way of living? Why couldn't all things in life be this simple? She wanted to be a slave, and enjoyed him fucking her. He wanted a slave, and enjoyed fucking her. So what was the problem? The school, his parents, and a lot of other people wouldn't understand them, that's for sure.

He watched a new lot walk in, and instinctively ducked his head out of the way. Mister Johnson just walked in with two women on leashes! Well, good for you Mister Johnson, though it caused him a bit of a problem. They were walking away towards the bar, so hadn't spotted him.

The women weren't anywhere near as sexy looking as his slave. If his neighbour saw him here he would guess what had happened, and would probably realise Mrs Watson was originally his. If he saw her, he would surely press the point, especially if he found out how pliable she was.

Damn! He'd trained her and didn't want the man to take her away from him. It would be easy enough, by threatening to tell his parents, or the school board. She wouldn't object as she'd been ground down to complete submission. Damn! All that work wasted, and all those fucks to come, gone!

He would miss her. He was really fond of her. He couldn't be in love with a thirty-eight year old woman, could he? It felt like it, at least more than he had ever felt it before. There had only been Marigold, the girl who lived next door, and they had only kissed. A bit more, but not much more. He'd felt bad for ages when the family moved away. Christie was special, because they'd both lost their virginity together. They'd made sure of it a few times afterwards, before drifting apart.

He looked down at Mrs Watson, and her expression of affection. A deep need got to him. She was even more special than Christie, and perhaps he did feel more than just affection for her.

'Come on, we're going, quickly!' he said.

He shortened the leash, and pulled her up. They exited the main club room before Mister Johnson received his drink, so he had his back to them. No fuss or noise meant they should be safe, and not seen. He admired her figure before patting her ass, and sending her to get changed. It was a pity not to show her off to more club members.

She was voluptuous yet not overweight. She looked superb in a corset with stockings. Her long legs looked dazzling in the right stockings, especially with high heels. Her pert, peachy bottom looked perfect for spanking. Even her pussy was special, as her lips swelled, even dangling when excited, and she was excited all the time recently.

Her large breasts were an extraordinary sight when unleashed. Large nipples developed when cold or aroused. They were luxury pillows to rest his head, or suckle on her nipples at night. They weren't perfectly tight, but stood the test of gravity well.

She almost ran from the slave's changing room, and linked her arm in his. She looked up at him with a big grin on her face.

'Yes, slave, your master is taking you home to fuck,' he laughed.

Walking back to the car she kept glancing at him. It was against the rules at home, but on the street was it acceptable? Other women were looking at her with venom or jealousy in their eyes, and she loved it. Some looked at her master, then at her, and a look of wonder crossed their faces. Was she his slut, or was he her toy-boy? The question was plastered across their faces and she loved it.

What would they think if they found out she was a young boy's slave. He was only eighteen and she was twenty years older. She hadn't felt so old since he'd been injecting her with potent young sperm. He kept her feeling young and vital again, whereas before meeting him, she'd been feeling old before her time.

They were both laughing as they walked into the apartment. He'd caught on to her thoughts, and stopped under a street light to kiss her. They'd spent some long moments deeply kissing and fondling, while strangers passed them on the way to a theatre.

He pulled up the dress by the hem, almost tearing it. She whipped the belt off his trousers, and almost ripped them down to his ankles. He stepped out of them on the way to the bedroom. She was naked first, and he was soon to follow.

They wanted the bedroom as it was going to be a long and passionate night.