Class Time

I was burning up with curiosity.

Mistress Polly had given me a sealed envelope that morning. On the outside, she had written: "To be delivered to Amanda privately at the end of the school day." She had given me no idea as to its contents. I admit that I had been somewhat concerned about how the students would react -- how they would treat me -- after the humiliating acts of unbridled submission that I had done during Mistress Polly's recent visit. However, as the days passed, things seem to have settled back to our normal routine, with me lecturing and the students absorbing the information. In fact, if anything they seemed more attentive and their scores on my exams were superb.

Burning a hole in my pocket, that inexplicable envelope altered my perception of this day. My eyes kept wandering over to where Amanda sat. Her blonde hair, as usual, had a wild, lion's mane appearance and cascaded over her shoulders to reach halfway down her back. Her green eyes watched me intently as I lectured, her gaze so piercing that I had flashbacks of kneeling at her feet, looking up her statuesque torso into those greedy eyes as she ground her cunt against my eager mouth. This youthful looking thirty-something woman had started this day wearing a black zippered sweatshirt with a hood, and below that, sleek black slacks. Her feet, shod in elegant black pumps with sensible heels, completed the look. But as the day progressed and the room warmed up, she took off the sweatshirt. Underneath it she wore a thin, sleeveless, scoop necked blouse -- also in that ominous black. The tops of her creamy breasts bulged enticingly through the scooped opening. I was grateful that she was wearing a bra under it, because otherwise I would probably have spent the entire day staring at her nipples; I'm sure they would have been visible tenting the thin fabric.

Normally the school day seemed to fly by. But not today. I had caught Amanda's attention earlier, and quietly indicated to her that I had something to deliver to her at the end of the day. Now time seemed to drag, as I waited for that moment to arrive. Finally the class day ended and as the other students said their goodbyes and shuffled out, Amanda spent more time than usual gathering up her books in preparation of leaving. And then we were alone.

I explained how Mistress Polly wished me to give her this envelope in private, as I handed it to her. With a puzzled expression on her face, she tore it open carefully and began reading. I watched her face carefully. Her expression changed from perplexed to surprised, and then transformed into elation. With a huge grin, she handed me the letter. I read:

"Amanda, I observed how you handled yourself during my visit to the class. I was very impressed by your raw talent in handling my girl molly. Your instincts seemed excellent, but as I am sure you will agree, you need more practice. Consequently, I have decided to lend you my girl molly for this evening, and overnight. If this day is not convenient for you, we can arrange some future date. Practice, but keep in mind that molly always belongs to me -- use her well. I expect her to be returned undamaged."

And it was signed by my devious and amazing Mistress.

I looked up from it, and saw Amanda wearing such a triumphant expression! My heart started racing in my chest, and my knees quivered, threatening to buckle. I was of two minds: part of me hoped that today was not convenient so that I would have time to get used to the idea; the rest of me felt like a moth seeing a flame, drawn irresistibly toward it.

Amanda solved my dilemma very promptly, saying "Tonight is perfect. So, Professor Cactus, as of this moment, do I understand correctly that you are mine?"

I slowly nodded.

"Answer my question!" she snapped.

My mouth going dry at her tone, I managed to choke out "Yes, I am yours."

"You will address me as Miss, or Miss Amanda -- do you understand?"

I lowered my eyes and murmured, "Yes Miss Amanda."

"And you will be addressed as slut, or pet, or girl as the mood strikes me. You are, after all, a slut. A lowly, nasty slut. Correct?"

I kept my eyes downcast, whispering, "Yes Miss Amanda"

"Very well. Go lock the door, and then crawl back here to me." I was startled as to how quickly she shifted into using The Voice. Mind whirling, I hurried to the door and closed the lock. Sinking down onto my hands and knees, I began crawling back to where she stood waiting for me. As I approached her, she slipped off one of her black pumps, and extended her foot to me, saying "I believe you know what I want from my pet." Without replying, I crawled the rest of the way to her foot and began kissing it, signifying my unalloyed submission to her. I must admit that I rather enjoy worshiping feet and I got a bit carried away, kissing and licking. Amanda tolerated it for a while, and then used her damp foot to push me back away. "Not a bad start, slut" was her comment.

"The other day, you were wearing panties that were practically nonexistent. Show me what you are wearing today." Complying, I came upright on my knees, and lifted the hem of my skirt, thankful that these panties were sensible cotton ones. Amanda laughed as they came into view. "Quite a change, Professor" she chortled. "Pull them down as far as your knees." I found that I could not meet her eyes as I slipped them down as commanded, my face heating up. "Back on your hands and knees, slut. I want to see my pet crawling around the room." The panties acted like flexible cuffs, impeding my shuffling crawl. "Stop! Flip your skirt up onto your back and make sure it stays there -- I want a good view of your ass as you move." I reached back and dragged the material up onto the small of my back, mortified at the scandalous show that I was putting on for her benefit. I found that I had to keep my shoulders low as I crawled now, to make my skirt hem stay in place. But once again Amanda's instincts proved correct -- this humbling display caused me to sink into a deeply submissive state.

"I think it's time to take you to my home. Stand up and take off all of your clothes. Place them on your desk."

"But... but... I can't go out the door naked, Miss Amanda," I protested.

Her hand flew up and cracked across my face. "This is not a debate -- do as you are told!" Shocked from the blow and the pain that exploded in my cheek, I hastened to obey, and soon my clothing was piled on my desk, leaving me nude, and feeling very vulnerable. "Let me see," she mused. "I want to secure your hands. I don't suppose you have handcuffs with you, do you?"

It had never occurred to me to lug around a set of handcuffs in my purse, but rather than stating this, I merely replied "No Miss."

Sighing, she picked up my bra. "I guess this will have to do. Turn around, and put your hands behind your back." As I did so, I felt her tying my wrists together with my bra. She picked up the rest of my garments, and placed them in her book bag. "You might want these back tomorrow -- here, carry them." And saying that, she hooked the straps of the bag over my fingers.

"Come on, let's get going." She grabbed my elbow, and started pulling me towards the locked door. My heart surged into my throat. She was going to drag me naked through the hallways and the parking lot to her car! I groaned out loud in dismay. But she was merely tormenting me -- enjoying my discomfort -- playing with her new toy. When she reached the door, she made me wait as she went and fetched a long overcoat. She draped it over my shoulders, and buttoned it closed -- but only a couple of the buttons in front of my belly. She left the top and bottom buttons undone. My breasts, being rather small, did not threaten to spill out of the top opening. But I found that if I lengthened my stride, the bottom parted enough to flash my pussy. So I was forced to walk with mincing steps to keep up with Amanda as we proceeded out of the building and to her car. When we got to her car, she reached under the back of the overcoat to take the book bag from my hands and place it in the backseat. I was very glad that there was no one around in the parking lot to see me attempting to climb into her car, because in doing so I had to splay my legs apart for balance, and I would have put on an X-rated show for any bystanders.

Once Amanda had my seatbelt secured, she undid the overcoat buttons, and parted it enough to make my torso fully available to her hand as she drove. She seemed to delight in causing me pain. Her finger and thumb seized my left nipple in a vice like grip, squeezing the blood out of it and stretching forward. The sharp hiss of painful breath that this caused made her smile. "Oh, I am going to enjoy this evening so much," she said. "I doubt that you will enjoy it very much though."

She ran a sharp fingernail slowly down my torso, making me squirm in my seat. As her hand neared my mound, I shifted my thighs closer together protectively. Her open hand cracked sharply against my naked thigh, leaving a bright red mark. "During the entire time that you are mine, you will not attempt to deny me access to any part of your body," she instructed. "Now get your fucking thighs open!"

Quivering with conflicted emotion, I spread my knees wide apart, feeling my labia partially open as they adhered slightly to my inner thighs. One of my labia became her target as her fingers now seized it and gave it a painful twist. The pain intensified as she kept turning her wrist, millimeter by millimeter. The bra that tied my hands together was not very strong -- I probably could have broken it, and freed my hands -- but I feared what she might do to me if I did. Worse yet was the thought of disappointing Mistress Polly. So instead, I cried out "Please stop Miss. Please -- I beg you -- stop!"

This is apparently what she wanted. She said "Begging is delightful -- I like that." And she let go. My mind reacted strangely: pleased that the intense pain had stopped; saddened at the loss of physical contact, and yes, even the loss of feeling disciplined.

Fortunately for my tormented pussy lip, it was only a short ride to her house. Unfortunately, this was only the beginning of my night as her guinea pig. Normally, I enjoy submission and discipline, as Mistress Polly well knows. But I was sensing a strong streak of sadism in Miss Amanda. I admit this triggered in me a wave of fear. Before having me get out of her car, she unbuttoned the overcoat covering me completely, I had to walk hunched over to prevent it from falling off of my nude body. Entering her house, I found it comfortably warm. This was good because I was naked for the rest of my time there.

Amanda fetched a dog collar, which she buckled tightly in place. The wide band of leather closing on my neck was very evocative; another step in being claimed. Being collared is a very significant act to me. I must admit that my neck feels taller when I am collared, because it gives me a feeling of pride that someone finds me valuable enough to claim, even if they refer to me with derogatory names. Miss Amanda clipped a leash to my collar, adding to her control. She also produced a butt plug with a bushy tail and I flushed with the realization that I was indeed being transformed into her pet. She commanded me to kneel down, lower my shoulders to the floor, and spread my ass cheeks. The burning sensation of her screwing the butt plug into my dry anal opening made me whimper. Pulling on the leash, she made me crawl around her house, wagging my tail as I moved. If I failed to wag it vigorously enough to satisfy her, or if I was unable to grip it firmly enough, and it managed to fall out, she swatted my ass with a flyswatter, striking harder and harder with each infraction.

Tiring of this play, she discarding the butt plug, and led me to her basement. Still crawling, I felt the absence of the butt plug almost as keenly as its presence; my anal opening probably gaped open for quite some time. Crawling down the steps and reaching the basement floor, I knelt on the cold and gritty concrete surface, my head lowered, staring down. Miss Amanda's hand came into view, holding a ballgag, which she shoved roughly into my mouth. Buckling the straps behind my head resulted in some hair being caught and pulled painfully. She now had me stand up -- a relief for my knees -- but tied my wrists tightly together in front of me and lifted my arms to place the loop of the bindings over a hook dangling from a floor joist overhead. This made me stretch up high, standing on my tiptoes, my body completely unprotected. The worst thing about my situation was that Miss Amanda and I had not agreed upon a safeword or gesture. There was no way for me to signal my need for her to stop, if necessary. I tried protesting loudly through the gag, but could only make incoherent sounds.

Miss Amanda picked up a long, thin, supple wooden rod and swished it through the air several times. "Lift your left foot up behind you," she demanded. As I did so, the rod cracked harshly against the tender sole of my foot. "Lower that foot, and raise the other," she directed. I obeyed, and was rewarded with another stinging blow to the sole of that foot. This went on for an indeterminate period of time, until both of my feet ached as I placed my weight on them. My mind was losing its grip on reality, the pain suffusing my entire consciousness. Yet inexplicably and simultaneously, something peaceful possessed me.

My agony increased as she took a handful of clothes pins, clamping their cruel jaws around the periphery of each of my breasts, adding a couple to my labia for good measure. She left me like this for several minutes while she went back upstairs, returning with a nasty looking flogger. She began striking me with its strands, lightly at first. She walked slowly around me, methodically covering my back, belly, ass, and pussy -- apparently not wanting to dislodge the pattern of clothes pins on my tits.

As the pain built, the sounds I was making through the gag began increasing in volume. This seemed to goad her into hitting me harder, until she went into a frenzy -- staring at me with an almost manic expression as I danced and twisted in my suspension, trying desperately to anticipate the blows in an effort to soften them. With my garbled vocalizations, head movements, and pleading expression, I was trying to signal 'red light' (my safeword) to her. But either she did not understand, or she chose to ignore my plea . She had me jerking so hard that the clothes pins fell off -- the now numbed, discolored skin suddenly awoke as the pressure came off of my nerve endings, flooding my nervous system with such a shock that I slumped unconscious. I'm not sure when she finally noticed this, and stopped.

I came to, and found myself laying untied and ungagged on the basement floor, doused with cold water. If I was expecting an apology from her for her excessive behavior, I did not receive one. She did, however, help me get to my feet, and rubbed the dirt and water from my body with a towel. Administering my beating had aroused her so much that she took me immediately to her bed.

She hastily tore off her clothing, and pulled me up onto the soft surface with her. "I need you to make me cum," she said. "Use your mouth and your fingers." I was so angry because of the way she treated me that I refused. But instead of using The Voice and her natural authority to overcome my objections, she began pleading with me, begging me to lick her. Propped on her pillows, her hands playing with her tits, she even offered them to me to suckle, to try to get my mood to change. She adopted a wheedling tone, betraying such a need that my mood began to soften. She groped her pussy with several fingers, and offered me those to taste. At that, something seemed to break loose inside of me. After sucking her fingers clean, I allowed her to position my face where she wanted it. I wanted to please her, it felt right, so I worshiped her pussy and slid my fingers into her cunt, fucking fast and deep. Her sighs let me know it was appreciated.

Her manner changed again after she had several (yes several -- the inner slut in me demands that once I start, I find it difficult to stop) mind-blowing orgasms (giving me none in return). She chained me naked to the floor at the foot of her bed for the rest of the night. So much for the greedy, needy girl that had inhabited her body briefly. The full-fledged Dominant had returned with a vengeance. The house cooled for its night cycle and I shivered on the cold floor. The coolness helped with the burning sensations left from her flogging.

In the morning, I explained to her that I had to pee. She led me on the leash to the bathroom, pulling me past the toilet to the bathtub. She commanded, once again in full control of The Voice, "Climb in, slut. Lay down on your back. Raise your hips. Spread your labia open." Desperate for relief, I assumed this awkward position. "All right, pet. Piss!" I certainly did not want to, but my bursting bladder finally lost its battle. My piss arced up, curving into a yellow fountain, and splashed on my tummy and lower chest, running in a hot stream up to my shoulders and neck. She laughed at my humiliation, of course. When I had finished, she said, "I probably cannot return you to class smelling like a public urinal. Take a shower, slut."

Toweling off, afterwards, I looked in mirror, twisting and turning to examine most of my body. I was horrified to see welts and bruises everywhere! Fortunately, my clothes covered them all, but I winced as I dressed gingerly. On the drive to the school, I learned that I could neither put all my weight onto the seat cushion, nor could I rest my back against the back of the seat. My feet ached in my tight shoes. I was constantly reminded of the brutal and magnificent power that Miss Amanda had displayed.

And I could not help but worry, "What will my Mistress say, when she sees the state I am in, when I return home after school?"