Faculty Play

Therese stood at the backstage entrance of the theatre on the campus of Hyacinth Academy for Young Ladies, feeling her nerve seeping away from her with each second that passed. She had gotten herself into something that she didn't know how to get out of. What had seemed a necessity, and then a personal dare, had turned into something that truly frightened her. What was she doing here? What was she thinking?

She took a cigarette out of her purse and lit it. Until yesterday she'd not had a cigarette in three years. But the thought of putting herself in the hands of Dr. Sloane and Dr. Peterson filled her with panic. To be sure, Dr. Peterson had been an amazing fuck; the best. And, given the chance, she would gladly go to him again for a bit of "casting". But they had been alone in his office on Wednesday evening. Tonight was something entirely different. Tonight she, Therese Feloni, was playing the lead role in the faculty play, in which anything went…and always did. What was more, tonight there would be people watching.

Watching!

And she didn't even know yet what it was she was supposed to do.

Therese sucked anxiously on the cigarette. Her ass hurt. That was another thing. She'd gone with her friend and colleague Allison Brown to a little out-of-the-way sex shop and bought the dildo Dr. Peterson had advised her to use before tonight's performance. It was a "beginner" model, and even with the lube it had burned like hell in her virgin ass. Still, she couldn't complain about the orgasm she'd gotten out of it last night…and this morning. But the thought of someone's cock in her ass—and isn't that what Dr. Peterson had intimated would happen?—was beyond her wildest fantasies. Of course, before yesterday, having a

dildo

in her ass had been beyond her wildest fantasies, too. Things were changing in her life more rapidly than she could grasp.

The backstage door opened promptly at 6:30 and Leon Galbraith, Dr. Peterson's chubby, red-headed teaching assistant, nodded for her to come in. She ground out her cigarette and followed him inside the theatre. The backstage was eerily quiet. She tried to peer past him to see what was on the actual stage, but the curtains were drawn tight.

"This way," Leon said, gesturing down the hall. She followed him to the dressing rooms, to a door with a little star on it. "Your costume is inside," he said in a condescending way that always grated her nerves. "Put on everything that you see. Don't leave on any of your personal garments."

"What about my hair and makeup?" she asked.

"Someone will be by later."

The door closed and Therese turned to look at what she was supposed to wear. It was a schoolgirl outfit, with an amazingly short pleated skirt and a very tight, low-cut blouse. There were white leggings that came up her thighs and stopped, and oxfords in her size. And nothing else. No bra. No panties.

"Don't leave on any of your personal garments," Leon had told her.

Therese sat down heavily in the chair. She was crazy to do this. Crazy. Okay, she would wear the costume. But she was going to wear her panties. No way was she going bottomless in front of her colleagues and a theatre full of strangers.

The door opened and Leon looked inside. "Are you ready for hair?" he asked.

"Yes," Therese answered.

He frowned at her, stepped into the room, and closed the door. He was taller than her by a foot, and in the flat oxfords she was quite short. Getting down on one knee, he flipped up the hem of the pleated skirt to look at her panties.

"What is this?" he demanded. "Do you know Dr. Peterson would fire me if I let you go out like that?"

He reached up and tugged the panties off her hips and tossed them aside. But his left hand still held up the hem of her skirt, and he was mesmerized by the sight of her freshly-shaven pussy.

"My God, that's beautiful," he said, lifting his hand to stroke the clean surface between her legs.

"You shouldn't do that," Therese remarked, wiggling away from him. She wondered how he knew about her panties. Had he been watching her through a peep hole?

He stood up, his pants bulging noticeably with a hard-on. "Oh, I assure you, you'll be getting a lot more of that before the night's over."

He whirled out of the room, clearly angry that she'd repelled him. Therese sat down nervously in the chair, a deep frown between her eyes. She really ought not to be here. She'd already signed her teaching contract for next year. Even if she chickened out of the play now, there was no way Dr. Sloane, the school's headmistress, could fire her.

And yet a part of Therese wanted to go through with it. She'd lived a sheltered life until college, and even then she'd only managed to make a couple of fuck buddies who had been disappointing in the sack. She dreamed of passion and romance, but somehow the stars had conspired against her and given her only dashed hopes. Well, if she couldn't have a true love of her own, she did at least hope to cultivate a diverse sex life. And this play was the first step.

The door opened and a blithe young creature with a butterfly tattoo on her bare arm swept in. "Hi, I'm Sherry," the white-blonde fairy in pink chiffon said as she floated across the room to the dressing table. "I'll be doing your hair for the show tonight. I have a few products," she went on, drawing out tubes and cans from her bag, "that are completely washable, so there won't be any permanent color."

"Great," Therese murmured. She watched the young woman take out combs and brushes and picks. "How old are you, Sherry?"

"I'm twenty-four. Why do you ask?"

"You just look so young."

Sherry positioned the chair back from the mirror. "Okay, if you'll sit here for me. Now it's really important that you sit up nice and straight."

"It's kind of hard," Therese said, "considering how short this skirt is."

"Don't you have on panties?" Sherry asked.

"No, Leon made me take them off."

"Oh, that Leon. He's such a pervert. Put your panties back on, girl. But while you're up I would like you to take off your blouse while I do your hair. I wouldn't want to get any of this dye on it."

"What would you like me to put on in the interim?" Therese asked as she stepped back into her panties.

"Nothing, sweetie. Don't worry about me, titties don't bother me in the least. Now come on back over here and sit down."

Therese sat down in the chair, crossing her arms in front of her bare chest.

"Now we can't have that," Sherry said, pushing Therese's arms to her sides. As she did her fingers brushed Therese's twin brown nipples. Despite herself, Therese sucked in a surprised—and stimulated—breath. Sherry looked intently down at her, then did it again.

"Please stop that," Therese said firmly.

"But…but I like them," Sherry whispered, looking confused.

Therese folded her arms in front of her chest. "Please just get my hair done. The curtain goes up in fifteen minutes and I want to be ready."

Pouting a little, Sherry applied some streaks of red and purple gel to Therese's hair, giving her a punk rocker look. She teased and puffed the back so that it stood up high, then lifted her scissors and cut the edges in jagged angles. Finally she ended with hairspray. Lots of hairspray.

Therese could tell the girl was a true hairstylist just in the way she moved. Her creation was pretty wild, and just the thing a bad schoolgirl would wear.

Pulling on her blouse, Therese was stunned when Sherry's arms came around her waist and drew her back. "You really turn me on," Sherry whispered in her ear. "I would so love to go down on you right now."

"That's not going to happen," Therese murmured as she pulled away from the young woman and continued buttoning her blouse.

"What…don't you like me?" Sherry asked coyly.

Therese hesitated. As a matter of fact, she did like Sherry. They were about the same size, very petite; but where one was dark, the other was pale and blonde. What was more, Sherry possessed an unearthly essence about her that Therese found irresistible.

But the timing was all wrong. "Look, I'm doing this play tonight," Therese said. "Maybe later…next week. I don't know. Maybe we could talk."

Sherry stepped encouragingly towards her. "Will you at least give me a little kiss?"

Therese looked into the soft, sweet face, the crystalline blue eyes, and melted. "Sure," she whispered, feeling far less certain of herself than she sounded. She put her hands on Sherry's narrow hips and leaned forwards. Sherry stood very still, waiting to be kissed. Therese leaned closer still, and grazed the young woman's lips with her own. It was hardly a kiss at all, but it was the first time she'd initiated romantic content with another woman. And it felt delicious. She pulled back from Sherry feeling very much aroused. Any other time she would have definitely pursued the invitation.

"I'll be in touch," Sherry said, and floated back out of the room as lightly as she had entered.

Therese sat down at the dressing table, impressed by how her bad girl image was turning out. She was definitely feeling like a bad girl after meeting Sherry. And she was feeling a little more confident about her ability to make something like that happen in her life. Of course, that was her entire reason to go through with the faculty play: to face her fears and force herself to become more sexually adventuresome.

The door opened again and Connor Jackson, one of the math teachers, looked in on her. "Everything okay in here?" he asked.

Therese smiled dryly at him through the mirror. "You got roped into this too?"

"I'm part of the bukkake scene," he said.

"Bukkake," she repeated. "What's that?"

"Well, basically, a bunch of guys stand around you and jerk off in your face," Connor replied.

Therese stared at him, horrified. "I hope you're joking," she said.

"Afraid not. Think you're up to it?"

Therese stood up and whirled to face him. "No!" she screeched. "Of course I'm not up to that. I don't want guys jacking off in my face."

"Well, I'm sorry, but that's what happens."

"I don't like this," she said, feeling close to tears. "This is just not right."

"You knew what you were up against beforehand," Connor reminded her. "You can't back out now. The theatre is full of people."

She put her face in her hands. She was trapped. She had to perform, but the idea of being exposed that way was beyond anything she'd imagined.

Connor put his hand on her shoulder. "Look, it'll all be over in an hour and a half. Just muddle your way through and take it. I did. And I actually grew from the experience."

He bent and gave her a kiss on the cheek, then left. Again Therese sank to the chair. She was feeling more confused and lost than ever. The door swung open one more time and Allison Brown came in to visit.

"I was worried about you," she said, seeing Therese's anxious face.

"I've made a big mistake," Therese replied. "I shouldn't have done this, Allison. I'm just not all that liberated."

"Don't worry, Therese. No one is going to actually hurt you. Well…not much at least. And when it's over it's like you're some kind of fucking celebrity." She put her arms around Therese, drawing her against her tall frame. "In the end, it will all work out. And speaking of ends, how's yours?"

"A little sore," Therese admitted.

"Does it look different?"

"What? I don't know."

"Turn around and let me look," Allison ordered. When Therese hesitated, the other woman's blue eyes widened indignantly. "I helped you shave around your asshole yesterday. Now turn around and let me look."

Therese complied reluctantly. Allison lifted up the hem of Therese's skirt. Seeing the panties she said, "Hey, you better lose these if they aren't part of the costume. Now bend over and let me see your pooper."

Therese bent over. Cold air blew across her anus, making her shiver. "Does everything back there look good to you, Miss Brown?" she asked sarcastically.

"Well, you could definitely use a tattoo, but otherwise the pooper is looking pretty relaxed."

Therese stood up straight. "Glad to hear it."

Another figure stood at the door, watching them with wide-eyed curiosity. This one was a tall, slender young man of about twenty-eight or thirty, with close-cropped curly blonde hair and brown eyes, gorgeous muscles bulging from his tight t-shirt and jeans, and a handsome, shaven face of vivid expressions.

"Oh my gosh!" he gushed, flouncing into the room with a pink makeup carrier in his very big hands. "I am so pissed. I got the worse directions. I got totally turned around. I didn't know where the fuck I was. I ended up at this farm. I think they were Amish or something. They were the freakiest bunch I'd ever seen. Or—no, I bet it was incest. That's gotta be it because they were all, like, bug-eyed with webbed fingers. Like, people who crawled out of the lagoon. And I asked them, 'Excuse me, where is Hyacinth Academy?' And they were, like, 'You mean that devil school? That school with that demon-possessed Dr. Sloane?' And I—" He started giggling, and touching Therese and Allison on the arm, "—I said, 'Uh-huh, that's the one.' And they asked me, 'Why are you going there, son?' And I said, 'Well, I'm doing the makeup for their orgy play tonight.' And they were, like, 'Orgy play? Is that like a musical?' And by now I was in absolute stitches. And I was, like, 'Oh yeah. Everyone just sings, and sings, and sings.' It was great. I have no idea where I was, though." He glanced over the two women in front of him. "So, which one of you is Therese?"

"I am," Therese said.

He glanced over Allison's perfect features and murmured, "Figures."

He made quick work of her makeup, giving Therese a strong Goth-girl-on-meth look. Her face was corpse white, her eyes black, and her mouth maroon. When he was done he left as quickly as he'd arrived, except without the incessant chatter.

Allison looked at her. "Well, your character is definitely emerging. Are you feeling it yet?"

"A little. I could use another cigarette."

"Go ahead. The play doesn't start for another five minutes. I'm sure when they want you they'll call you."

Therese snuck out of the dressing room and crept down the hall. She could hear people laughing and a voice that was familiar. Dr. Sloane. Clutching her cigarette and lighter, she dove out the backstage door into the lingering light of late evening. She immediately noticed two things: that the parking lot was filled to capacity; and that the makeup man was standing there, smoking his own cigarette. He gave her a curious glance and watched silently as she lit her cigarette and took a deep drag.

"That's right, sugar," he smiled at her. "Get used to sucking deep."

She chortled at him. "You're sick," she accused playfully.

He leaned into her. "Still got those panties on?" he whispered in her ear.

"What do you care?" she returned. "I hardly think you swing my way."

"Didn't you learn your lesson from Peterson?" he asked. "Some of us boys like to roam the whole jungle."

Therese made a face, angry that Dr. Peterson had shared his tryst with her with a complete stranger. "What's your name, anyway?" she asked.

"Joey," he said. "Joey Ramsbottom."

Therese laughed. "Wow, what a name," she remarked. But she did recall Dr. Peterson making a comment about wanting a sweet young thing named Joey, and Therese supposed this was him. "Well, Joey," she said, laying a finger on the surface of his t-shirt where his six-pack rippled invitingly, "if you ever decide to swing over this way again, let me know. Maybe you could give me lessons on how to suck it in—"she took a final drag off her cigarette, "—really deep."

Grinding the butt under her heel, she whirled around, making sure that the tiny skirt rose enough to expose her very naked ass. He gave a chuckle and followed her in, walking closely behind her. She wasn't sure what she was feeling but something was pressing against her ass crack.

The backstage was dark compared to outside, but in the low light she could make out different people wandering around with scripts in their hands. She thought she saw Sherry, the hairstylist, dressed as a schoolgirl—a prim and proper one—but she wasn't sure. Then, suddenly, someone grabbed her—it was Leon Galbraith, Dr. Peterson's teaching assistant—and shoved her towards a part in the curtain. Allison was there holding the curtain back, smiling at her. "Break a leg," she whispered, and then Therese tripped onto the stage and a roar of applause rose up from the crowd, deafening her.

Therese stood frozen, trying to get her bearings. Stage. Audience. Bright, blinding lights. Things on the stage. The set. A winged chair—the one Dr. Sloane kept in her office—on a slightly raised platform near the front of the stage. A white straight back chair in the center of the stage. A bar with manacles hanging near the chair. A huge screen at the other end of the stage facing the audience. And in front of her, wearing a kind of headmistress costume with dominatrix boots, was Dr. Sloane, standing with one black-leather-gloved hand on her hip and another holding a leather riding crop.

"Well, here you are," Dr. Sloane said, the wireless mike she wore amplifying her voice. "I've been telling my friends from the community about our new slutty little student who's been stirring up trouble here at Hyacinth and causing all kinds of immorality. Don't even try to come to your own defense, bitch," she went on, circling Therese menacingly. "The evidence is apparent."

With that, pulsating rock and roll music screamed out of speakers as the big screen came alive to show images of Therese in her own sleeping quarters, masturbating. It wasn't just one clip, but clip after clip after clip after clip, obviously taken throughout the previous school year. Therese was appalled that her room contained a hidden camera, and humiliated to be exposed this way in front of strangers. The audience was booing and jeering at her and she desperately wanted to run. This wasn't what she had bought in to.

"I am shocked!" Dr. Sloane declared as the music faded. "There's only one hope for you, Miss Feloni, and that's a good whipping."

At this the audience cheered. Sloane turned the white straight back chair sideways to the audience and indicated where Therese was to put her hands. Tears stung Therese's eyes as she realized what was coming. She's never been whipped in her life. Sloane stood behind her and raised the hem of her skirt to expose her bare ass. Again the audience cheered.

Woosh-splat!

The leather end of the riding crop struck her smooth white flesh, making her flinch. The audience clapped approvingly.

Woosh-splat!

Tears trembled in the rims of Therese's big brown eyes. Oh God, that hurt!

Woosh-splat!

She gasped and the tears spilled out of her eyes. The heavy black makeup ran down her face, making ugly streaks on her white-washed skin.

Woosh-splat!

Therese screamed and jerked her hands over her bottom.

"Please, no more!" she cried as she whirled to face Dr. Sloane. But her voice was just a little peep without a microphone on, swallowed up by the lofty space of the theatre.

The audience booed at her break in character. Dr. Sloane made a mocking expression of disappointment.

"Miss Feloni, you've been a very bad girl. Sherry!" she called, and a moment later, the tiny blonde hairdresser, wearing a schoolgirl costume, stepped out of the curtains. The audience clapped. "Sherry," Dr. Sloane went on, "you wanted to tell me something about this little slut. What is it, you darling little girl?"

"Well," Sherry said, her sweet, soft voice also amplified for the audience. "I was just there talking to her and all of a sudden—"