Teacher Is Mistaken Ch. 12

Hollie had already lost the influence of adulthood, and the respect it brought. She felt as though she were small and powerless. She was becoming just a kid, dependant on parents for everything, except it was her master who controlled her.

He bought her clothes, decided what she was to wear, and if she could wear anything at all. She was sitting in a public place without panties, wearing chains because her master had ordained it. Her master decided every detail of her life, when she went to bed, what she ate, how to fix her hair and make-up.

For a moment she couldn't remember her name. She wondered where her Id was, as well as all the other important papers usually carted around. She didn't have a credit card or even a bank account any more. A sense of being nobody, just a slave, took a hold of her. She shook her head and smiled at her master. A sense of freedom washed away the vague anxiety.

That night they had a long, exhausting sexual session, and fell into a deep sleep. Hollie murmured, with eyelids flickering. Her legs kicked out, and caught in the sheets.

***

Applying for a replacement driving licence was necessary for Id. She looked under twenty-one, despite being five years older. The man at the counter asked her name.

"Cindy, Slave," she answered. Before she could stop herself she had blurted it out. She tried to make it into a joke, but what had her name been? It just wouldn't come to mind. She stood there looking sheepish.

The officious man was standing before her looking fierce.

"Are you a runaway slave?" he asked.

Everyone was looking at her. She felt embarrassed, and most of all she felt guilty. Had she tried to get a driving licence to regain her old life? Was she intending to run away from her wonderful master?

"As a runaway slave you will be publicly thrashed, and returned to your master," he intoned.

The well built man had a look of expectation on his face, delighted at the prospect of thrashing her. Why hadn't she stayed by her master's side where she belonged, safe and comfortable? She only wanted some Id so she could buy a drink, and feel like an adult again.

Suddenly she was in the back office naked, turning around, being examined by the strong powerful man and his colleagues. Her arms were tied behind her back, forcing her breasts out.

"Look at those slutty hoop earrings, and all those piercings. What's this? A gaping asshole! You must be a slut slave," he knowingly intoned, bringing forth a round of laughter from the others.

"Yes sir, I'm a dirty slut, sir," Hollie demurely answered.

"Look at how aroused you are slave. Go on, look at your nipples, slut slave," he told her.

Hollie was shocked as they had grown enormous, so the big piercing rings looked small. As she looked down at them they continued to grow like accusing fingers.

"You are a dirty slut. Just look how wet she is," he said, to the crowd of men around her.

In front of everyone he scooped up a dollop of her juices. He held out a wet glistening hand, to show everyone what a bad slut she was. Being naked and humiliated in front of them all, had her juiced up beyond control. It proved she needed her master, and that she needed to be thrashed.

"Lick my fingers clean, you dirty slut slave," the man heavily scorned her.

With whimpers of shame Hollie licked and sucked on his fingers, tasting her bitter sex juices.

"Sorry sir! This slave used to be a teacher, so knows how to behave properly, honest sir. If you would let slave go back to my master, slave will be a good little girl from now on," Hollie pleaded. She felt herself shrinking before them, yet her breasts and the piercing rings remained the same size, seeming to be so big. She had a deep cleavage, with big pillows for breasts, which threatened to topple her over.

"You're trying to wriggle out of your punishment, you naughty little slut slave. It won't work, because you can't pretend to be an innocent little girl. You were a teacher and should know better than to behave like a slut. You are to be punished for trying to run away from your master," the big man told her.

He bent her over a desk and she recognised it as the school principal's desk, complete with name block in gold letters. She looked over her shoulder to see him frowning at her. All the teachers were there looking angry, or was it aroused? Hollie prepared herself for a thorough thrashing.

"I promise not to run away again, sir. Please don't thrash me! I'll try real hard to be a good little slave girl. I'll obey my master, and be his faithful, little slave girl, honest sir," Hollie pathetically promised.

She felt a leather belt strike he bare cheeks. She could feel a broad stripe of pain searing her bottom.

"Please sir, I'll do anything, please don't thrash me," Hollie wailed.

"Perhaps a thrashing could be avoided," he suggested. "I bet you could take us all up that gaping asshole of yours. You need it too, don't you dirty slut?" he laughed.

"Yes, sir," Hollie whimpered.

"Tell us then," he demanded.

"Please sir, slut slave needs all your big cocks up her asshole, to teach slut slave a lesson not to stray from her master. Please fuck this dirty little slave's asshole sir," Hollie whimpered.

She knew it was wrong. Her virgin asshole belonged to her master, but couldn't help giving in to this strong man. She was helpless to avoid anything they decided to do to her. She was ready to submit to them all. Over her shoulder she watched them unzip, and gasped. They had huge cocks, like the guy in fancy dress, at the student party.

She couldn't let them ruin her asshole for her master. She tried to pull away from the desk, but with her little body she couldn't lift the weight of the gigantic breasts. She was stuck bent over, with legs apart, ready for them. She couldn't let them spurt gallons of cum up her bottom. She felt an oversize cock nudge the cleft of her bottom, and screamed. No sound was heard, for she was suddenly wearing a gag.

***

Hollie was thrashing around, and woke up in a sweat. A little bleating noise of fear escaped her throat. She pulled the pillow from her head, and the sheet that had twisted between her legs.

She needed the comfort of her master, yet couldn't bring herself to wake him. Instead she slid down under the covers to his cock. She sucked him into her mouth for comfort.

"Slave will never leave master's side. I'm your slut slave master. Slave promises faithfully to be yours, forever," she murmured from around his comforter, and fell asleep.

A few days went by, making it two weeks since the party. The time spent enabled them to settle into a comfortable routine. It was a honeymoon period, where everything would suddenly come to a halt, for a session of passionate love making, wherever they happened to be.

Hollie was vacuuming the bedroom, as she hadn't entirely become adolescent and irresponsible.

Roger answered the door. "Hello, Sir," Roger said, as the imposing man walked in.

"Your parents wanted me to check up on you. Hope you appreciate my candour, especially as I can see how well you are doing," Nathanial said. He was looking at the history text books open on the table.

"Your results were good, and you haven't been in trouble, or at least you haven't been caught," he smiled.

"Thanks, I appreciate you telling me," Roger said.

"They told me you keep putting off visiting them. I can't understand a young man's reluctance to visit London. You'll find it a lot more liberal than here. You can drink at eighteen, and the young people really know how to have a good time," Nathanial said, with a wistful look in his eyes.

Roger heard the vacuum dying and wondered if he should warn Hollie. It was difficult to move under the man's appraisal. Roger was being judged, and a good report to his parents would solve a big problem, or certainly put it off for awhile.

Hollie walked into the kitchen untying an apron, and draped it over the back of a chair. She poured a cup of coffee, and placed it on a tray to serve her master.

Roger was about to offer him a coffee, so that he could escape to warn Hollie. He hoped she heard they had a visitor, and was lying low.

Hollie walked in, and both men's heads turned in unison. Roger blinked rapidly, wondering how to explain her presence.

Hollie stood still, though the momentum of her entrance took her into the middle of the room. She stood naked, halfway to her master's side. 'Oh! Shit!' she thought.

Nathanial looked at the naked girl, noting she vibrated with hesitation; trying to decide whether to run or brazen it out. He was a diplomat, used to dealing with sudden, unexpected situations, so easily sat without revealing his thoughts. He noted she wore a collar with a name tag.

"Nice collar," Nathanial pointedly commented.

Roger was about to say something, even if it was just an introduction. He could hardly introduce her as his history teacher. The books were open before him, so maybe he should explain he was receiving extra tuition. By the way, had you noticed she's a naturist, so doesn't wear clothes? She's also a member of a strict society, believing men should be deferred to, that's why she brought me a coffee.

"Would you like a coffee, sir," Roger weakly asked. His head inclined toward their visitor, while Hollie stared at him, waiting for instructions.

Hollie could hardly move. Her foot rose off the carpet as though sealed to it with molasses. Concentrating exaggerated effort on the tray, trying not to spill anything, she moved one foot in front of the other. It was difficult, but she blanked her mind, trying to act as though nothing was out of place.

It seemed an age and a half, though she eventually stood before the man, slightly bent with the tray held level, offering him a coffee. Her breasts were caught on its edge, with swollen ripe nipples, looking like a midmorning treat. The stranger didn't comment or leer, he contrived not to notice.

He took the coffee, leaving the special treats untouched on the tray. He watched her straighten and glide to Roger's side, admiring her pert bottom. She stood elegantly poised, with shoulders back, holding her breasts up and out. With legs slightly apart, she stared ahead, waiting for a command.

Her mind was in a whirl with fear. The confusion was best dealt with on automatic, behaving as she had been taught over the last few weeks. She was a slave named Cindy, and retreated into the role. The convenience of being a slave meant leaving her master with the responsibility of explaining everything.

"I must compliment you Roger. Such a well trained slave is a precious object, as I am sure you appreciate," Nathanial said. "You must look after your slave. That is the first rule and most important one. Your father isn't a member of our exclusive club, so where did you learn to be a master?" Nathanial asked.

Hollie sighed quietly upon realising this wasn't his father.

"I picked up a lot of information from the internet, sir. As you can see it has worked well," Roger explained. A certain pride sounded in his voice, and he looked up at Hollie, with a discreet smile.

"I see. You will have to be careful, young man. It is a big responsibility. I have a lot of experience in these matters, so please feel free to call if you need advice. I can introduce you to a private club. It is sometimes good to share experiences with others," Nathanial told him.

"Thank you sir," Roger said.

"I shan't mention this to your parents. I'll leave that to you. Don't worry about your father, as he has dabbled in such arrangements in the past. You will have to ask him about that, as it isn't for me to elaborate. So don't ask. I just want you to feel able to tell him, rather than go behind his back," Nathanial explained.

"Your father and I had a lot of fun together on leaving university. I see you have started early," he smiled. "When you have had your fun, perhaps you would consider getting to know my daughter, not in the same way of course," he quickly added.

Roger looked embarrassed, from knowing what the man meant. "Thank you sir," Roger quietly said. This was all news to him. He was surprised about Nathanial, and the revelation about his father shook him.

"I'll leave you to it, lots of things to do," Nathanial said.

In a daze Roger saw the family friend to the door. A chauffeur was waiting and quickly jumped to open a passenger door.

"Don't put off visiting your parents. They are already wondering what's keeping you here," Nathanial warned him. "By the way, my daughter sends her regards," he said and got in the car.

Roger was rather pleased with himself. It seemed he had joined an exclusive club, among the rich and influential people of the world.

"Well! That went better than expected," Roger announced.

Hollie was still standing where he had left her. Absorbing the information left her feeling afraid. The man was obviously powerful and influential, as well as being a family friend. He had referred to her as an object, not once speaking to her, or even acknowledging her. If this man and her master's father accepted the relationship, she was doomed.

Her master had been right, there wasn't anyone out there waiting for her. No employer expected her to turn up after the school vacation. Neither colleagues, friends or family were waiting for news of her so called travels. She couldn't even rely on his parents to make him see sense. As far as that man was concerned, she was a slave. He even expected her master's father to accept the relationship. It left her with little hope of escaping.

"Everything is working out well, Cindy," Roger laughed.

"Yes master," she automatically replied.

Hollie was quiet for the rest of the day. Roger was looking at a magazine, wondering if they should see a movie, or just go out somewhere. He enjoyed just sitting in a public place, as it felt as though he were showing off his slave to the world. It was mischievous dressing her in discreet chains, yet showing off the slave collar.

He always made sure the slave name tag was on public display. It reinforced her position when strangers called her by her slave name, Cindy. He looked at the attractive woman, thinking it was hard to believe she had been his teacher. She was his obedient slave girl now.

She even looked like a young girl, rather than a mature woman. The way she stood and held her head, marked her as his young girlfriend when they were out. People didn't suspect she had been a responsible woman, teaching history at the local high school. Even if they had known her they wouldn't recognise her. As a teenager she received just a cursory glance.

Roger was excited, yet concerned with how he should approach his father. This preoccupation meant he hadn't noticed his slave's quiet mood. They went to a movie, choosing a romantic comedy on the spur of the moment.

His slave was in a compliant mood, so he decided to confirm their relationship. Pulling into the familiar mall, he noticed she began to get fidgety. She said nothing when they walked into the tattoo parlour. She was probably expecting the unpleasant prospect of another piercing.

He thought about someone's suggestion of having her tongue pierced, though there was something more urgent than that. Sitting in the chair she looked wary, almost rebellious.

"I was thinking of having my slaves tongue pierced," he said.

"Up to you, Roger," Joe commented, looking over what he thought was a young girlfriend.

Hollie was used to being eyed up, while being dressed like a teenager. Most people ignored her, dismissing her as a youngster. Young guys eyed her up, sometimes trying to gain her attention, even though she was with her master. She didn't like this guy, or what he did to her either.

"Please master," she said, looking at him with pleading eyes.

Unlike the big loop earrings, which could be removed, a pierced tongue would be hard to hide. She sighed heavily. All the piercings would heal eventually, if she could somehow remove them. The damn machine sealed the steel loops together, when it pierced her body.

Surely he would eventually grow tired of dragging a slave around all the time. She remembered that his father had, and evidently got married. Once free she could look into having them removed. It gave her some hope to think about it.

"Please, master, not your slaves tongue, please," she whined, hoping to dissuade him.

"You've tamed Cindy a lot since first here," Joe commented.

Hollie knew that was true. She remembered their first time here, when it was all just a game. Before that, being a slave hadn't been contemplated. It had just been a sexy fling, something to wither, leaving pleasant memories.

"Your master wants his slave to be happy. A discreet tattoo then," Roger teased.

This was worse! What was next, breast implants?

"Master, please," she tried to say no, but couldn't use the word to her master.

"A number, that's all. I registered you on-line as my slave, and received your number," he smiled. He stroked her hair, an ear and neck. She nuzzled his hand, trying to win his favour.

She wanted to ask where, but was too frightened to ask. Ever since that powerful man visited she had felt all hope drain away. She felt like a permanent slave, a condition to be endured forever. Could it ever be fun again?

As ordered she lifted the dress up around her hips. The awful guy leered at her naked body, as usual. She hated the sweaty guy looking at her, let alone touching her intimately.

"She's closely shaved, so it'll be easy," Joe conceded.

It tickled at first then became painful. It didn't seem to be just a number, as it went on for too long. She kept her eyes shut the whole time, gripping tightly onto the arms of the chair.

The old leather dentist chair reminded her of innocent times. It was a way of distancing herself from what was going on. She had a crush on the young dentist who fitted her braces. She daringly let her skirt ride up, showing off her slander thighs. She couldn't tell if he noticed, as she also had her eyes tightly closed back then.

With his fingers in her mouth it unaccountably heated her up. It was something to do with a man entering her body. Something naughty was going on in her imagination, though she hadn't known what it was at the time. Her legs fell open and she became sopping wet. Afterwards she hoped he hadn't noticed her bad behaviour, or that musky odour.

She couldn't look at him without brightly blushing.

"It's over, Cindy," Roger announced.

"She's soaking wet as usual," Joe laughed. "Does everything turn the slut on?" Joe asked, not expecting an answer. He assumed she was just another pain slut.

That was her ordeal for the day over and done with. At home she undressed, yet was too nervous to look in a mirror. She squatted at her master's feet, in the usual position. Head up, with a straight back thrusting out her breasts, looking proud to be his slave.

He lent down to peer between her splayed thighs. He was taking a close look at her mons. Across the soft flesh the tattoo still stung and tingled, not letting her forget she had been branded as a slave.

"It's clearer now, he did a good neat job. 'Slave girl # 47249'," he said, reading her sex.

Hollie sighed heavily. It was yet another turn in the ever tightening circle, twisting firmly about her mind. She was deeply ensnared, as a slave chained to her master, in mind and body.

She was an object now. How much was she worth? In Marxist terms it amounted to the labour of those who made her. The Keynesian value was what a balanced market could stand. Otherwise it was what someone was prepared to pay for her in an auction. Would her master put her into a slave auction to find this objects true value?

The helplessness of her position heated her up. The humiliation of being branded a slave aroused her. The branding and the collar were for ever! She wanted to lie prostrate at his feet begging to be taken. She needn't worry; he had a satisfactory looking erection in his jeans.