Mic Britton: Third Lesson

Here is a third installment in my Mick and Missy's story. I wrote this as a gift for a special person. All characters in this story are fictional.

I have had fun writing this story about a student that deliberately mocks and humiliates his teacher using her own language to subjugate and dominate her. This is a very special education.

Enjoy,

xantu

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Mick Britton: Third Lesson, Home Tutoring

Miss Seybold paused and looked out at the parking lot. Her classroom was in a locked and deserted part of the school. But now the most dangerous portion of her journey stood before her. Her car was parked in the parking lot adjacent to the gym. There were always people around from the high school athletic department during this time of evening. Extracurricular activities brought a parade of people coming and going from the gym doors, especially on a Friday night.

If she was seen in this outfit at work, in this state she could kiss her job good bye. But letting a nineteen year old boy tie her down to her desk, in her classroom, whip her and fuck her was lethally dangerous as well and she had not even taken the time to consider the risks. The screaming insane need had erased all caution in her mind and she was drunk with the freedom.

There were several dozen cars still parked in the lot. Her mouth was dry with fear and she made a resolution to start parking closer to the building in the future, preferably in a darker corner of the lot. At this particular moment she couldn't see anyone in the parking lot. It was now or never. She got her remote door lock key fob and pointed it at her car and unlocked the doors. Running her fingers through her hair, she pulled a concealing curtain over her face and began to walk quickly toward her car. She told herself that even if someone saw her that there was no way they would recognize her with her hair down and in this outfit, they would be looking everywhere except her face.

She was halfway car when a group of boys burst out of the gym doors. She kept her face averted and concentrated on walking but she heard a loud whistle and another boy yelled something about her legs. She quickly got into her car and pulled out the far exit of the parking lot. As she stopped at the stop sign she looked in her rear view mirror and caught sight of her face. Her eyes were still red and swollen and the red lipstick smeared around her mouth made her look cheap and slutty yet somehow vulnerable as well.

She deliberately chose a drug store that she had only been to once before. It did not even occur to her once to disobey him, to comb her tousled hair or button up her blouse. She could feel the eyes of the clerks and the few customers on her as she stood in line at the pharmacy. The face of the pharmacist was curious and somewhat concerned, as he filled the morning after prescription.

As he handed her the medication in a bag, he asked, "Are you doing all right tonight ma'am?"

Miss Seybold grinned boldly and leaned forward, well aware she was showing her whole ass, still bright red and welted from this evenings lesson, to the people in line behind her and in a deliberately loud stage whisper, she confided. "I just got fucked." She dropped some cash on the counter and walked out.

He called after her. "Ma'am don't you want a receipt?"

Miss Seybold did not answer.

She lived in the house she grew up in. It was a quiet neighborhood, most of the residents who lived there were older retired people who did not come out at night. Her mother had passed away and left the house to her. It was too big for her alone but it meant no rent payments. She pushed the automatic garage door opener and drove her little car into the neat garage.

She looked at her watch. She had about twenty minutes to shower, take the medication and be kneeling by the door. She quickly looked around the house. It still looked like her mother's house. Crocheted doilies sat on the arms of the furniture, dozens of little knickknacks littered the surfaces of the tables and shelves, the accumulation of a lifetime of children and grandchildren. A deep layer of dust covered it all. She could not bear to look at it much less touch it, clean it.

Miss Seybold was the spinster daughter and her brother and twin sisters had all agreed she should have the house. She could not help but think they had burdened her with all this stuff of her mother's because they had not wanted to deal with it themselves.

A shiver of dread shook her. How could she have agreed to let that boy come here? She looked at her watch and cursed, "Shit." She had been standing there ten minutes. She sped into the bathroom and tore off the costume and got into the shower before the water even got hot.

She was on her knees by the unlocked front door rubbing a towel across her dripping body when he walked in. He was carrying the same duffle bag and a large tool box. He dropped them beside her and walked past her like she wasn't even there.

Miss Seybold jumped up to follow him into her house. He stopped and spoke without turning. "Missy, I did not give you permission to stand. You will stay where you are and not speak until spoken to." She quickly returned back to her place and knelt at facing the door.

She could not help turning to look at what he was doing. He stood for a minute turning and then headed into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. His voice carried from the kitchen. "In the future I expect to find some beer in here, something imported." He came out with a diet Coke in his hand. "You will stay here. I want to look around." He wandered into the living room and looked toward her with a pained look on his face. "This ain't you." He leaned down and ran his finger through the dust on the trinket covered coffee table. "You don't even come in here."

He was right. She really only used the kitchen, the bathroom and her bedroom. He walked past her and for the first time stopped and turned looking down at her. For the first time his eyes seeming to take in the fact she was naked. She could feel his gaze examining her. She shivered as he ran a finger down the length of her spine. He grinned, "You have a pretty back." He turned and walked up the stairs.

She visualized him looking through the three bedrooms and the bathroom that was up there. Her room was the only one that she had really taken possession of. She had taken all the crap from her childhood and boxed it up and put it in the attic. She had put a computer and a television in her room and a comfortable recliner, that and her bed was all she needed. She ate standing in the kitchen or at a coffee table in front of her TV in her room.

The other two bedrooms were exactly like her mother had left them. Her mother's room still held her clothing and smelled like lavender and mothballs. The other room had been the twins' and was like a time capsule from the ninety's, when they had both left for college, married and never really looked back.

He came back down the stairs and looked at her strangely. He started to say something and then stopped himself. Then he looked thoughtful. "You got a basement?"

"Yes Mick Sir." She pointed at a door. "That is to the stairs down."

He nodded and headed down. She found herself following along with him in her mind. Seeing the big open room with the ping pong table and old TV and couch that had been the called the play room when she was growing up. A wide archway with curtains provided some privacy to her brother's room. Her brother had taken most of his belongings and had either sold them or given them away. The only things left in what had been his room were a twin bed, a scarred metal desk and an old office chair. The only other room was a laundry room with a big shower and toilet in one corner.

His feet were loud and heavy as he came back up the stairs. He came to stand in front behind her. "This ain't your house. Nothing in this house is yours. What the fuck you doing here?"

Her voice sounded trapped and sad. "What have I been doing here? ...not much... no, that is not true... I have been doing nothing!" Her voice got louder and took on a tone of hysteria. "Yes, a whole lot of doing fucking nothing! ...unless you count getting old and waiting to die!"

He grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet, giving her a shake. "Missy shut up."

She stood looking at him, her face wet with tears, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Her lips were pressed together; she was clearly struggling to control herself. Suddenly she yanked her arm from his grasp and gave him a sharp shove in the chest. "My name is not missy! My fucking name is Sarah, Sarah Seybold. And this is my house, and every stupid dusty meaningless bullshit piece of shit in this horrible house is mine!" Turning abruptly she wildly knocked a group of fragile porcelain figurines off a decorative shelf, smashing them to the floor.

Mick grabbed her arm and pulled her to his chest. "Missy, stop." His voice was quieter but seemed to get her attention this time. She collapsed against him sobbing. Deep gut wrenching sobs, tearing up from the depths of her soul, shook her. She would have collapsed to the floor if he had not held her tightly.

He did not speak or stroke her hair. He just stood statue still holding her in his iron strong arms. She clung to him like he was the only thing that could save her life.

She had never been able to face this grief and horror before. If she had she would have never had survived. Only now with the strength and stringent demands that Mick had placed on her did she dare to even glimpse the hopeless barrenness of her existence. Now in his arms she knew that he would never let her go and never let her die this slow suffocating death.

Gradually her sobs subsided, calming to the soft gasping hiccups of a child's grief. He pushed her away and looked down at her. "You finished with that?"

Mutely she nodded. Her voice was raw, "Yes Mick Sir."

"Good." He leaned down and picked up the duffle bag and shoved it into her arms. "You carry this." He picked up the heavy tool box. "Come." And he turned to go down the stairs.

He put the tool box down in the larger play room and gestured for her to follow him into the room that had been her brother's room. He pointed at the bare mattress on the twin bed. "Sit." Once she was seated, he opened the tool box and got out a screw driver. "We will use this space for our classroom."

He began to remove the curtain rod from the wide archway that separated the bedroom area from the larger play room. "We won't need these curtains." He carefully looked at the heavy brass curtain rod and looked thoughtful and carefully leaned it up in a corner.

As she sat still holding the duffle bag in her lap, she watched him and thought about how empty she felt right at that moment. The experiences of the last two days had somehow transformed her and the tears seemed to have drained her of the last vestiges of her old cautious, sensible personality. She was intensely aware that she was changing into something, someone different. Her little antic in the pharmacy was alien and exciting. Sarah Seybold would never have been able to walk into that pharmacy dressed like that and would never ever have said something about being fucked to a complete stranger. Sarah would never have even said the word fuck. That was all missy.

Mick got out a drill and bored some holes in the corners of the wide archway, one in each upper corner and one near the floor on either side. He also added one more in the very center. He took a handful of heavy eye bolts and screwed them into the holes he had drilled. "Get the ropes out of the duffle bag and come here."

As she opened the bag she saw her dress and the cat of nine tails on the top and she felt a rush of fear and excitement. She pulled the white ropes out and saw that that under them were a number of objects. There was a phallic object with a flaring base that she decided must have been the thing he had put up her bottom, the thing he had called a butt plug. Her anus contracted at the thought. It had hurt and she hated the idea, but still once he had turned on the buzzing vibrations it had tormented her relentlessly. After a while all she could think of was how she needed to come. There were other things in the bag with it. The ball gag and a blindfold lay next to a frighteningly large penis shaped dildo.

Mick's voice was sharp and impatient, "Missy!"

She dropped the bag and hurried to him. He took the ropes from her hands and stood looking at her frowning. "Got a little distracted by my toy collection?"

"Yes Mick Sir." Her voice was a little tense.

"That reminds me." He nodded at the desk. "Lean over the desk. We should put that plug back up your ass."

Her eyes shot to his face, a tiny protest escaped her, "Now?"

He looked at her, his head tipped to one side. "Missy, remember your first two lessons. Number one was to shut up and listen and the second was to obey. You are not showing me either. I think you are forgetting who the teacher is and who the student here is. I urge you to focus on that." His voice cracked, "Now fucking lean over that desk before I lose my patience."

She jumped and hurried over and laid her face down on the surface. "I am not going to tie you for this Missy. I will expect you to not only accept this assignment; I demand you cooperate. Reach back with your hands Missy and spread your cheeks and hold them apart for me."

As she reached back and put her hands on her the cheeks of her ass and pulled them apart, she could feel the cool air on her damp crotch. A wave of shame and excitement rolled over her. She felt her cunt spasm and a warm drop of fluid spilled out and started to trickle down her thigh.

"Do not let go of your ass and keep it spread wide." She felt the same cold lube on her crack and his fingers sliding down the valley between her legs. He would start at the very top of her ass and slide down over her tensely closed anus and then down to toy with her clitoris and massage her labia and even taking the time to work his way around her lower belly. A soft moan of happiness shook her and she spread her legs wider and arched her back.

Mick reversed the direction of his travel and moved back taking his time, touching and massaging every part of her slowly and sensually until he was back at her brown star. This time he slowly ran his finger around and around the small star of her anus. She stood very still, her fingers tensing and quivering. When he moved down away from her ass toward her softer more welcoming folds, she moaned again, her legs starting to sag and tremble.

He chuckled, "My little student has no objections to learning about her cunt." As he began to work her clitoris, he began to rub at her anus with his other hand. As she flinched and moaned, her whole pelvis was pitching and rocking. When he slowly pushed his fingers into her ass, opening and spreading her small brown opening, Missy groaned and pushed against him. Mick praised her, "Yes that is the enthusiastic attitude I was looking for."

Missy felt the harder deeper intrusion of the butt plug, but it was not so frightening this time. His touches on her clitoris were overwhelming her senses and all the other sensations were just adding to her soaring excitement. As he slid the butt plug in and out of her throbbing ass, he turned on the vibrations and she lost her grasp on her cheeks. She vainly, mindlessly reached to touch him and then froze her whole body seized, going rigid with the huge orgasm that had taken control of her. Finally a deep primal groan ripped from her and she began to convulse under his hands. He laughed and called to her, "Yes missy, that's the attitude," and pushed the plug deeply into her, letting her pulsing anus close around the narrow neck, locking it deep inside her. As she slowly calmed he turned off the vibrations and softened his touches on her wet and swollen folds.

Missy lay limp and boneless over the desk, her eyes were closed, breathing softly out of her open mouth. Occasionally a tiny tremor of remembered passion would quiver through her.

Mick gave her a soft swat on her still red and welted ass and spoke sharply, "Missy, go lie down for a while."

She raised her head and blinked, her expression confused and disoriented, "Sir?"

He looked over at the mattress. "Lie down on the bed, rest a little while."

"Yes Mick Sir." She pushed herself up off the desk. He smirked as he watched her adjust herself to the large plug in her ass and the totter toward the bed. A soft sigh shook her as she lowered herself to the bare mattress and curled up on her side, her eyes open, looking at him with a dazed and awed expression.

Mick looked down at her with an amused expression and chuckled slowly shaking his head. "You are getting to like this, little missy."

Sarah was completely gone, she was all missy, as she watched him moving around the larger room moving the couch to one side and taking the legs off the ping pong table and measuring along the length of it and making marks here and there. He returned to his tool box and took out a small portable circular saw and carefully cut a couple of feet off one end. He looked at her and grinned. "I doubt you were playing much ping pong lately."

He leaned the shortened table top up, and taking a power drill, screwed it flush to the wall. He turned to her, "Missy come here I want to measure something and I need your help." Again he smirked she winced and adjusted to the intruder in her bottom. Once she got to him he pulled her to him and kissed her for the first time since he had arrived at her house. She melted into his arms and let him take her mouth, humming soft happy sighs.

When he released her, he pushed her back and looked at her nude form, taking in her figure. His eyes followed her shape. She had narrow shoulders, small breasts, and a very narrow waist. The exaggerated slimness of her upper body emphasized the wide curve of her hips and ass. She had a thick triangle of dark brown pubic hair and long shapely legs, making her look slightly taller than her 5'6".

"I find you very pleasing missy." He ran his fingers through the thick thatch hiding her sex, "But we might need to trim this up. You are hiding something from me. I don't want you to ever hide anything from me." Her eyes were locked on his face mesmerized, nodding in response to each of his statements. He pulled her to him one more time and as their mouths met he reached down and turned on the vibrator in her ass, laughing into her mouth as she gasped and jerked.

"OK let's get this measuring done." Like a dancer, he spun around and taking her hands he raised them up and pinned her against the green plywood surface of the former ping pong table. "Hold your hands up like that." As she stayed frozen against the wall he reached down and pushed at her legs. "Spread out for me missy, wide as you can." When the insides of her thighs were taut and quivering he murmured, "Good job missy. Stay there like that for me." He began to make marks all around her body from her ankles to her wrists, up around her head and back down the other side. "OK you can move away now."

Mick looked at her thoughtfully and then spoke, "Missy do you have any belts in the house? Leather belts?"

"Yes Mick Sir. I am sure I can find some."

"Good go up and bring me every leather belt you can find, the more the better." He gave her a quick swat on the bottom as she headed up the stairs. "And hurry up about it."

She found herself feverishly digging through her dresser and then she went into her mother's room and found a treasure trove of about a dozen leather belts each one a different color. She grimaced as she remembered her mother's carefully matched shoes, belts and purses. A tiny rebellious giggle bubbled up. She wondered what her mother would think about Mick and better yet, what she would think about missy.