Grace:
Grace McCarthy had it all. She had been raised the daughter of wealth in China, and been granted the opportunity to study abroad. At University in Canada she earned her Bachelors in Education and discovered a world that offered more opportunity and less restrictions than she had dreamed of. The ticket to it was not hard to find. She met Vincent McCarthy, a redheaded Canadian geek who thought her cold Chinese perfection was the ultimate altar to worship from afar, or as near as possible. Making him her husband seemed the easiest path to what she desired, and honestly his skill with women was so limited as his physical demands that it was less of a burden than Party membership had been in the People's Republic of China for people in the monied class.
Teaching in Canada was less easy than she expected, the children didn't simply accept what they were told, and some had the temerity to point out when she was wrong in one of the parts of the material, she was less than strong on, and less inclined to improve her knowledge than simply bluff past the weakness. This did not matter. Grace had her path to the Administration mapped out. She required the honours program as her own, because with such students being overwhelmingly self motivating and self directing, all she had to do was play them off against each other and they would drive themselves to success, or she could turn them against each other if one seemed too weak to succeed without aid until the offending student withdrew from the program to deposit their less inspiring numbers on another teacher. Of such tactics were perfect records made in China, and if the west was too weak to learn them, well that is why the few rule and the many serve.
The call to meet with the Principal about the new year was perfectly according to plan. She had been called in with the expectation to hear about the honours program assignment but was surprised to see not just Mr Xiang but that stuck up red headed cow Jan Thomas there as well. Jan was everything she hated about Canada. She was a flaming liberal, determined to see that every child, no matter how poorly suited to it, was prepared to reach for the highest honours and highest stations. The fact that only the wealthiest could ever make anything of those opportunities was apparently lost on her, and the fact that those disadvantaged children, once raised to the elites in her meritocracy fantasy would have zero loyalty to the system itself and be more of a threat than a boon was totally lost on her. It also irked her to no end that the long red hair, bosoms out of some bad Anime and bright blue eyes caught every male eye to the point that her own classical and cold beauty was no longer the weapon she needed it to be to control the social situations that determined real power in the workplace.
Mr Xiang was smiling at both of them when she came in. Grace was raised in the Middle Kingdom, she read what Jan missed. His smile on Jan was paternal and proud, his smile on her was polite and measured. Her blood ran cold. This was not to script.
"Ladies, I am glad to have this private moment to address a concern before it became a matter of public embarrassment that could lead to misunderstandings between valued educators" Jan's face went through a visible series of shock, then concern, followed by almost dogged determination. She had zero control over her facial expressions and showed her mood like no well brought up child would dream of, let alone a grown woman in a competitive society. She had no idea who was being called on the carpet, but with growing fear Grace did.
Mr Xiang continued. "As you know, our graduating class is under tremendous pressure to succeed. The opportunity for scholarship and placement in the right schools determines what doors will open, and what doors will close for the rest of their lives. The right educator can make a real difference in outcome for those students with great potential who have not yet developed all the skills and discipline required to bring those potentials to reality. Two of my parents have expressed a fear that of children who have gone through each of your classes, one showed real improvement in both outcome and attitude, and the other a growing frustration and dwindling effort. To put it bluntly, Grace, they have asked that their children be removed from your class, and placed in Jan's."
Jan looked embarrassed, The flash of pride had been impossible to conceal and Grace's hatred had burned hot and bright for one shining instant it reached her face in a sneer that Mr Xiang caught.
Looking at her sternly, Mr Xiang gave his correction. "Grace, you are an intelligent capable educator, but you have not put the effort into continuous improvement. You have been focused on advancing your position not your abilities, where Jan has been continually upgrading her skills and working to find new ways of engaging with students whose learning styles do not respond to the techniques that we are all taught to reach the majority of students. That is why she will be running the Honours Program here in the school. I suggest you learn from her example, and in a few years when she is ready to move up to Vice Principal you might be ready to take over for her."
There it was, Grace's dream being taken away and offered to that big titted goody two shoes as a prize for being too stupid to realize that the children were product not people, and wasting her time pretending the lower orders actually mattered. Hatred flowered in her then. She would see this bitch broken if it was the last thing she ever did.
Jan:
It was difficult to balance two lives. On the one hand I was a wife and mother, a teacher and community volunteer. I was that good girl every mother wanted, or wanted their son to bring home. Sure I looked more like Jessica Rabbit than Scarlet Johansen, but I still made my husband the trophy wife he liked to show off to his executive rivals at company functions, it just took a lot of gym time and track time to keep my figure trim as my curves sought to turn every spare calorie into a little extra padding on what was lush to start with.
The second side of me would shock husband, daughters, and coworkers alike. I was My Lady's adoring slave. To call me her dog would be better. I crawled at her feet, I begged for her discipline. I had been violated in every hole, served her in every way imaginable, been whipped, clamped, and even peed on by her and begged for more. She had trained me to exist only to serve her, then she had proven that mastery by having me sell my mouth, and then my ass for her amusement. I found myself crawling to her, money in my teeth, hoping that she would take the cash from my lips and allow me to place those lips upon her perfect pussy and receive the reward for whoring myself for her.
I had achieved something of a balance I thought. My Lady had been striving to improve my life by dealing with my pride where it was not helping me, but hurting me. I had a less than satisfactory relationship with my daughters prior to My Lady's intervention. Does it sound stupid? We could not break the old routines, the old fights until My Lady ordered me to. Learning that being submissive to My Lady and actually listening to my daughters needs, rather than fixing their problems, lessened the strife and deepened the relationship. It was unfortunate for me that my pride leaked out when I spoke of my appointment to be the new Honours teacher.
My Lady mused "I don't think it was a good idea to dress Grace down in front of you. I agree the students need you as the better teacher, but dressing her down in front of you must have been deeply humiliating for her."
I snapped without thinking "That flat chested, skinny assed smirking little rich girl Chinese princess got away with pretending to do her job for far too long. She deserved to be put in her place, and I absolutely adored watching." I know that sounded unprofessional, and catty, but I can't stand people who half ass their jobs.
People who are so very good at playing political games to rise in the workplace without ever doing the job they are there for have always pissed me off. I am no good at political games, and honestly think if you don't like your job you should find another one, not dump the work on the rest of us.
My Lady smiled. How did I not see the danger?
You know Jan, I think you have been building up a lot of stress lately. I think it's time you burned a little off. I think if you please me very well tonight, I might just find it in my heart to set up an extra special session where I share you with another, particularly demanding Mistress or two.
She dressed me. I had wrist cuffs and ankle cuffs of leather, with clips to attach to each other or external apparatus. I had stockings and garter set in black, as My Lady thought it set off my very pale skin and red hair nicely, black leather collar with four steel rings set in front, sides and rear over the buckle. I had also a blindfold, and my earpods in. The slut tape was playing.
I was being transported to a house to be given to "A couple of stern Mistresses who know how to adjust my attitude", but I would not know where I was, or who I was being given to ahead of time. It could be anyone. It could be someone I know, or a complete stranger. Part of what was being done to me was reminding me I was My Lady's property and not a person with any say in what happens to me. I had been, difficult. This was to remind me.
The slut tape was working. My ear buds carried a loop of the many confessions My Lady has torn out of me. Begging to whore for her, begging to be pissed on, begging to kiss her feet, her ass, her pussy. Begging to be used in every hole, begging to be whipped, begging to be displayed, begging to be sold. My voice, my confessions, reminders that I was not a proud independent woman for My Lady, I was a whore, a slave, an animal. Like any livestock I could be sold, or bred at my owners discretion.
I was otherwise naked in the car, and for all I knew being paraded before half the town. Not that it is much of a town, but that only increases the odds of anyone seeing me knowing who I am. There are not so many 48G redheads running loose in the wild after all. I was aroused. My Lady occasionally flicked a nipple with her fingers to keep me anxious, or stroked my stocking clad thigh to make me whimper in helpless lust. She played me like a musical instrument, and knew my helplessness was a part of what I needed to feel in her presence.
