Confessions Of An Addict Ch 04 Chess Not Checkers

If you have not read the previous chapters this story picks up with a young woman who is undergoing training to be a perfect slut for her new master.

This story is dedicated to a special reader who appreciated a good eye for details. I hope you enjoy it.

Thank you to my editor SlaveGirl70 who takes the time to ensure that you all do not see how bad of a writer I truly am.

Xoxo LC

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That first morning was the hardest to deal with, I woke up wet from a dream about trying anal and by instinct my hand found its way to my clit, ready to begin my morning ritual. When I remembered the previous day's events and Mr. Harris telling me I was no longer allowed to touch my pussy, I curled my fingers up and lay there in thought, unsure of what to do next.

It's not like he would know unless I told him. What if I start after this one? How about I start out with just my nipples, maybe I can come from that.

I ran my hand up my body and began to pinch my nipples-something I enjoyed thoroughly. I wanted to get some nipple clamps, but the best I had now were clothespins. I reached over to my nightstand, grabbed one from the drawer and began to ready my right nipple with a little rubbing. I traced the areola and pinched the erect nipple softly, circled again and pinched more firmly. This is a process I had done many times and it always got me going. I moaned and writhed on the bed when I applied the clip to my nipple, I flicked the top of the exposed nipple sending a jolt of pleasure down my spine, feeding my juices to the sheets.

I reached for the next one and repeated the process. My nipples were on fire and I could only grab my breasts, arch my back and wish a cock was penetrating me. I gyrated a bit and moaned but it wasn't enough, I needed to come! How could I get around Mr. Harris's rule? I let my hands explore my body, sensually touching myself, loving my body, moaning and doing my best to ignore the fire between my legs. I rubbed my hands down my lower back until I was sitting on my hands and I squeezed my ass and that's when it hit me.

I rolled over and put my ass in the air with my face on the pillow. The gravity made my nipples ache as blood was forced back into them. My nipples brushed the sheet, every breath heightening the pleasure and debauchery of this moment. I slipped my hand down the crack of my ass until I found my untouched rosebud already slick with my juices. I had no idea how to go about this the right way so I just stuck my finger in my mouth coating it with saliva and slowly began to add pressure to my backdoor.

I moaned as my pointer finger began its descent into my forbidden hole. It felt so dirty yet so erotic at the same time, pushing deeper and deeper into my own backside. The moment I felt my fingertip slip through my tight sphincter I began to pull it out which in itself was an amazing sensation. I felt like I had to go, but I knew that I didn't so I established a short rhythm back and forth. I felt like such a slut again, I wondered how long it would be until I would be ready for a cock in my ass. I imagined it while I bravely stuck my finger deeper, down to the second knuckle and back out again. I kept pace and my pussy started to spasm, at the time I didn't know if it was from neglect or a pending orgasm but I could not stop, I needed this.

I pushed my finger in as deep as I could get it and tried to pump a bit faster with one hand and release a nipple with the other. With both nipples slowly getting blood circulating back into them they became little fire buttons sending me over the edge forcing me to come. I could not even remove my finger from my hole, I was clenching so tight, coming from both the anal and nipple stimulation. I lay there, finger still buried in my ass, panting, and satisfied knowing today would be a good day.

I got to school early to check in with Mr. Harris, and so I could have some time to play with my ass a little more before class. I walked up to his door, which was always closed, and knocked. Yesterday he made me wait a while before he answered, I wondered if he did this to everyone or if he knew it was me. This morning's wait was not as long as he spoke through the door.

"Come in," his voice was raspy and deep; it had a very unique tone to it that I wasn't sure I would ever get used to.

"Good morning Mr. Harris!" I said, almost skipping in.

He stared at me for a moment before responding, leaving me feeling a bit uneasy.

Calmly he stood up, speaking in a tone reserved for fathers trying not to yell, "Don't even sit you dumb slut. You came and you knew you weren't supposed to. Time to get punished."

I was shocked. How could he have known so quickly? Should I lie or just take the punishment? I decided to just keep my mouth shut as he walked to the closet and retrieved the wooden paddle. It was about a half an inch thick and about a foot long including the handle, with a width of about four inches and holes drilled into it. That paddle had yet to touch me and I knew it would hurt.

"Lower your pants and place your forearms on the desk," he said, pointing at the front of his desk with the paddle.

I said nothing. I didn't know what to say, so I did as I was told, although I could have said this was entirely arousing.

"You don't deny it? Good. The only thing worse than a dumb slut, is a liar. So you obviously did it this morning, how?" he said, sounding like he was pacing behind me.

"Clothespin nipple clamps and fingering my ass," I said, proudly trying to own my rebellion.

"Oooh, so you're a dumb anal slut?" he asked, emphasizing the sarcastic shock and the word anal.

"No, it was my first time!" I blurted, and instantly regretted it. I knew better then to talk out of turn with Mr. Harris.

THWACK!

I yelped a bit as the paddle hit its mark and sent me rocking forward. I learned a few things from that swat. The first was Mr. Harris was not playing and this was going to hurt a lot. Second, I needed to keep my arms stiff to handle the force. Third, I was going to have to learn quickly to not make noise.

"You know what you got that one for, but to begin your punishment let us cover how this works. You will be given a statement and you will count each time you complete it. You will say the statement clearly and distinctly or we will start over. You will not forget or jumble the statement or we will start over. You will not lose count or we will start over. Do you understand, dumb anal slut?" He rattled these rules off as if he had said them a million times before.

"Yes I do." I said nervously, but knowing immediately I had messed up again.

THWACK! "AAh, yes I understand, Mr. Harris," I corrected myself, gripping the edge of the desk.

"From this point on this will be known as the discipline position or position one, do you understand?" he asked, sounding like he was waiting for me to mess it up.

"This is the discipline position or position one, yes I understand, Mr. Harris." I rattled off quickly and correctly, I needed to minimize these swats.

"Good sluts do what they are told, not what they want. That is your statement. Begin."

"Good sluts [THWACK] ahh...do what they are told [THWACK] ahh...not what they want [THWACK] ahhh!" I cried out.

"Start over," he commanded coldly.

I immediately tried to recall what I did wrong, through the pain radiating from my backside. I had to get this right. My brain scrambled and then it hit me, I didn't count!

"Good sluts [THWACK] ugh...do what they are told [THWACK] ahh...not what they want [THWACK] umpf ...ONE."

"Again!" .

The pattern was simple, slaps on the words "sluts', 'told', and 'want', which gave me the benefit of knowing when to brace myself. I fought back tears as my punishment continued relentlessly.

"Good...sluts [THWACK] Ugh, ow...do what they are...told [THWACK] ahh, not what they...want [THWACK] aahh...FIVE!"

"What did we learn, dumb anal slut?" he asked, walking to the closet, presumably to put the paddle away.

"If I want to be a good slut I have to do as I am told," I replied, through tears and still gripping the side of the desk hard.

I felt something cold being put on my very sore ass. It felt like a liquid but it stung a bit.

"Reach back and rub this in. It won't make the pain go away but it will take the edge off and ensure you don't bleed in your panties." He walked around to his chair as I rubbed my very sore ass.

"I am here to teach you self-control and self-discipline. You let yourself slip, don't let it happen again. You belong to me now and only I say when you get to come. Do you understand?"

"Yes Mr. Harris, I understand. I belong to you now." I enjoyed the way it sounded, while still rubbing my ass.

"Who do you belong to, dumb slut?"

"I belong to Mr. Harris." I answered, letting the words roll of my tongue and seep right into my crotch.

"Pull up your pants, get to class and don't forget who you belong to," he said, waving me out of his office.

Pulling up my pants was painful, the friction of my panties on my ass was a reminder, and sitting at my desk was a warning. I paid attention in class, was early to all my classes, surprised some teachers by showing up again, I irritated others and my ass hurt clear through lunch.

Surprisingly, I had not run into Chris or Bryan. I actually hadn't seen them since the day Mr. Harris found me on my knees taking their loads. I wondered if they had gotten suspended or something. Regardless, they made sure to exile me from the popular crews before they disappeared, which left me back to being a nobody. No, I wasn't a nobody I told myself. I belonged to someone, I was going to be a good slut and put all of the others out of my mind.

I watched the clock, waiting for the end of the day, anticipating my next chance to see Mr. Harris. The bell rang and I jumped out of my chair like it was the gun at a track meet and made a beeline straight for his office. The crowds of students impeded my progress, but I was able to make it to his door before completely soaking my panties. I knocked and waited for what seemed like an hour but was actually 15 minutes, before he told me to come in.

I walked in and began to sit down but he held his hand up to stop me. He was on the phone, which made me wonder why he beckoned me in the first place, but that question was soon answered.

"Yes Ma'am, I apologize for bothering you at work but your daughter Amber has been identified as a student that may not be living up to her potential as of late. Here at Lee Holloway High we pride ourselves in the number of graduates we get to attend Ivy League schools and while your daughter has been on the right track thus far, it seems as if she is falling behind during the most crucial part of the year. With that said, I have enrolled her into an academic coaching program that takes place seven days a week. So Amber and several other students will come in for a few hours on the weekend to set themselves up for success. Yes ma'am, yes ma'am, no I will be informing her shortly, thank you for your cooperation and understanding we only want to give her the best chance to succeed. Thank you, goodbye." He hung up the phone and just stared at me.

"Your mother sounds like she is in need of the discipline position herself, very uptight. Now show me position one," he demanded.

I dropped my pants and grabbed the edge of the desk, hoping the pants-dropping was actually necessary.

"Good girl. Now get down on your knees, I'm sure you miss that statement," he said, showing a bit of his humorous side.

I wanted to chuckle or respond but I knew it was not my place , so I bit my lip instead and dropped to my knees with my pants still around my ankles.

"Separate your knees widely and place your arms behind your back, do not sit on your heels." He watched me closely following his directions and completely exposing myself.

"Good, this is position two. You will no longer sit in that chair unless instructed. You will come in and assume position two. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mr. Harris. I do not sit, I come in and assume position two," I replied, enjoying the cool air on my hot pussy.

"As you heard, you will be coming here on the weekends from now on. You will arrive here at 10 am and will be released at 3 pm. During those hours you are not to wear clothing unless instructed, do you understand?" He said these things so naturally, as if I wouldn't have a million questions to ask.

"Yes, Mr. Harris. I will be here on the weekends and will not wear clothing," I said, now looking forward to my weekends.

"Who do you belong to?" he asked.

"I belong to you, Mr. Harris; I will be a good slut for you." I added a bit at the end.

"We will see about that, now go home." He said sending me on my way.

I woke up for my first Saturday 'Academic coaching session' probably more excited then I should have been. I took some time to convince my mother that I promised to get my grades back in line now that I was mandated extra coaching. I had to make her believe I did not want to participate, just to make sure she would ensure I was there. My father, a habitual couch dweller, had a lot less to say. Just a sip from his glass and a short monologue about how getting into college should be my only priority. I consistently wondered what he was like before my mother's religious ideals and nagging drug him into a silent stupor.

I got dressed and prepared to leave, but first I made myself put on a miserable face. Both of my parents made no attempt to cheer me up, content with the idea that I deserved it and did this to myself, which on both accounts was true. I got in my car and sped off, completely ready for what my day would bring, or so I thought.

I arrived at the school at 9:30 and I walked slowly enough to make it to his office door by 9:40. A few key doors had been unlocked and I wondered how he knew which doors I would use to get to him. I knew better than to be early or late Mr. Harris was the type that would expect me to knock at exactly 10:00, so I sat.

I needed to blow twenty minutes without losing my mind so I began to undo my clothes slowly, giving an imaginary person a strip tease without actually removing anything. I looked at my watch, that only killed five minutes and I was beginning to become very horny. I dared not even pinch a nipple without being told, especially right outside his office. I remembered what Mr. Harris said and did my best to calm myself, I had to have self-control.

I re fastened, tied, and zipped my clothes put my hands in my lap and waited. The wait was unexpectedly challenging as I told myself I would not move at all. I would control everything about myself in that moment. I only moved to check the time: 9:50; I inhaled slowly and exhaled with the same pace. At 9:56 I felt my heart beat faster and my mind begin to drift to the possibilities that lay behind that door, but I caught myself and focused on controlling where my mind was. In this moment my mind was only focused on breathing and staying still for the next three minutes. At 9:59 I stood and waited in front of the door, not removing my eyes from my watch; I would not be a second late.

10:00. I knocked and got no response; I wanted to knock again and thought better of it. So the wait began again and my mind began to replay the conversation to ensure I did not miss anything. He said I would arrive at 10 and stay until 3 and during those hours I was not allowed to wear clothes. I looked at my watch. 10:02. Technically, I was now late so I began to strip right there in the hallway making sure to fold my clothing appropriately and stack it all under the seat outside his office.

I felt exposed in the hallway like this, although I knew nobody was at school on a Saturday I was completely naked except for my watch. The floor was cold under my feet and the school was dauntingly empty, everything about this made me feel small and I began to wonder if that was the point. 10:10 not a sound from his office and I had yet to move, I was growing more and more tired by the minute, but I refused to budge. I would show Mr. Harris I could have self-control. I focused on his door as if I could see through it, patiently waiting. I imagined that every second I succeeded in waiting I got that much stronger. I was a good slut and I would prove it.

10:15

"Come in."

His voice made me jump. I half expected him to come walking down the hall before I thought he was in the office. I opened the door and closed it behind me, I turned to him and immediately went to my knees, spread them apart, and put my arms behind my back.

"Good morning, Mr. Harris," I said, hoping that it did not count as speaking out of turn.

He wore his usual sharp suit and tie on a Saturday, which only made him appear stronger to me, more in control, as if he had no casual. He walked around his desk, removing his jacket and placing it on the back of his chair and just looked at me for a moment.

"Today as you may have guessed, or not, since you tend to be a dumb slut at times, is about tests. Passing the tests will grant you a reward, however failing the tests will result in an unfortunate punishment." He paused for a moment to let the words seep in.

"A good slut, and I mean a really good slut, does not just throw her pussy around without gaining anything from it. What, do you think because you came you won? No, a good slut makes sure her pussy takes care of her. A lot of women think it is beneath them to use sex to get what they want and that is fine, not all women are sluts. A select few women embrace their body as an asset, just like confidence. You are going to be the latter." He once again allowed me to absorb his words.

"What did you get by fucking those two knuckleheads in the locker room?" he asked.

"Nothing, Mr. Harris." I responded, feeling cool air passing between my legs, making me aware of just how wet I was.

"Exactly, now let's say you were fucking your teachers what could you get from that?"

"I could get him to give me good grades, Mr. Harris."

"Them is the correct vernacular, and no you have to have enough hustle in you to get your own good grades, but what you do need is glowing recommendation letters for college. Now don't you think making a few lonely, over-worked teachers come could change a standard letter into a personalized call to your desired school?" He left me thinking,

why did he say 'them?"

"Yes, Mr. Harris, I think I understand. A good slut uses what she has to get her the extra mile, even though she is deep in the marathon already." I was aiming for an admission that I had pleased him.

"Mr. Jim Croft, the district superintendent, is in the building today doing some paperwork to decide who get to be the next principal. You are going to fuck him, and you are going to do it so well, you are going to drain his balls as many times as he can handle. However you may not come. Think about that, and tell me if you understand." He stared at me, as if gauging my reaction.

I knew this had to be a test, so I took the time to think about it and formulate the best answer I could.

"Yes, Mr. Harris, I understand. I belong to you and you can use me as you see fit. You own me and say when I can come, and my directions are not to come under any circumstance. I appreciate this opportunity to please you and show my dedication to you. All of this will bring me joy, but may I ask a question?" I asked, hoping I was doing as I was supposed to.

He raised an eyebrow seemingly unfazed by my admission, "Ask your question."

"I love the opportunity to please you, and that alone is reward enough. But I must ask, what else is in it for me?" I questioned, nervously prepared for the worst.