Blackmailing Miss Fortescue Ch 01

Chapter One:

At 25 and one of only four female teachers at prestigious Westbury School, I was very aware of classrooms of hormonally challenged young men fantasising about me, but Tom Jeffers was different somehow.

He was more devious, creepy even, often trying to catch an eyeful when I walked upstairs or looking under my table in the seniors English class to see if I ever let my guard down or my legs uncrossed. I'd also exchanged notes about Jeffers with the only other of our ladies in the same, young age-group as me, Miss Hutton, who taught French, she kept in great shape like me and had much the same view of Jeffers having twice confiscated his phone, suspecting that he'd been taking unauthorised photographs of her.

On the positive side, Jeffers had won school prizes for Information Technology and Science but was surprisingly poor in the arts. That Tuesday afternoon, Jeffers was in my last class and I held him back when the others had gone home to discuss his latest essay. The story line, about a blackmailer, was quite inventive but the grammar was absolutely appalling and I'd had to fail him.

"Jeffers, what are we going to do with you? You just won't listen. Years ago you would have had your backside spanked to focus your attention," I said in desperation, "but with that option long from the agenda, could you please try to listen better in class instead of being distracted..."

"...distracted, Miss?"

I thought this may be the time to confront Miss Hutton's and my problem head on.

"Yes, Jeffers, distracted," I continued, " you see Miss Hutton and I have both noticed the way you look at us," I began.

"Miss?"

"We fully understand that it's not entirely your fault," I continued, "and that testosterone seems to rage far harder in some boys than others but you really do need to try harder to focus harder on the subject matter being taught, not...." I paused.

"... not, Miss?"

"Not, Jeffers, trying to get glimpses up our skirts or 'admiring' our bodies during class. There's a time and place for everything and English class is neither. The other boys seem to manage quite well," I reprimanded as sternly as I could muster.

"Really, Miss! I'm not a boy, I turned 18 in September, so legally and physically, I'm a man."

I looked at him. There was no denying that Jeffers looked well beyond his years and could easily pass for my age and, for all his creepiness he was tall, dark and I could imagine many girls would see him as quite handsome in many ways.

"Alright, Jeffers, as I was saying, there really is nothing else for it but for you to work harder and all I can do is keep asking you as I have no other tools at my disposal. Can you please get the message and at least try harder?"

"Of course I shall, Miss... and it's also very interesting that you mention spanking, as there is something that I've been meaning to discuss with you," and with that, he pulled a large manilla jiffy-bag with a smaller, white envelope stuck on the front, from his belongings. If his intention was to surprise, he had completely succeeded.

"Well, carry on, Jeffers," I replied, admittedly somewhat quizzical and composing myself having been somewhat taken aback.

"You see, Miss," said Jeffers, "teachers can't spank pupils but that doesn't necessarily mean pupils can't spank teachers..."

"...except that would amount to common assault, Jeffers," I countered sharply.

"But would that be the case if you were to enjoy it, Miss? I think you enjoy all manner of things"

"What are you driving at, Jeffers? -And I'd be very careful with your answer, if I were you, as you're on very thin ice, my boy."

"Oh, how I would love to be 'your boy', Miss, just as much as I would like you to be 'my girl' and, as for being careful, believe me, Miss, I have thought this through very carefully."

I raised a questioning, indignant eyebrow.

"What is your point, exactly, Jeffers?" I was intrigued.

"Well, let's say, for example, Miss," he continued, "that you were to be bent right over one of these desks with your wrists secured to its rear legs and your ankles tied nicely apart to the bottom of its front legs with your cute little bare arse stuck pertly and invitingly up in the air?"

"What?!" I half screeched at the impudence.

"You'd be completely naked, of course, except I'd like your little panties tugged nicely down to your knees so that they're stretched and straining to breaking point."

"Jeffers, you'll stop this right now, if you know what's good for you."

"And of course the Camera Club would be on hand to light, film and photograph the entire event while I take the leading role in spanking your heavenly backside with my hand, perhaps a paddle, perhaps a cane, if you'd prefer?"

Had he taken leave of his senses, speaking to a teacher like this? However, I had no witnesses.

"Get out!"

"Certainly, Miss," said the confounded boy, as cool as a cucumber. "But I can hardly wait: imagine your nice, firm, parted buttocks jiggling, jumping and reddening under my attention with you squealing with the pain and pleasure of each stinging slap," as he casually tossed the joined envelopes across the table towards me.

"OUT!" Damn this boy's cheek, I thought.

"Just wear lots of sexy little thongs and remember plenty of butt exercise in the gym from now on because you don't know yet when it's going to happen, but it will happen very soon, Miss, and you'll want to look your best undressed for us when the Camera Club and I are taking a good look at your tight little bottom..."

"For the last time, Jeffers, I said GET OUT you filthy young man!" I shouted, scarlet with anger.

"Or lace panties... Thwack, thwack, thwack, Miss," the young bastard laughed while he smacked the back of his hand with the palm of the other to simulate spanking me as he closed the door behind him.

Immediately that he had left the room I hastily ripped open the white envelope addressed simply to 'Miss Fortescue'. What the Hell did he think he had on me?

Inside was a note and a flash drive. The note read:

'Dear Susie,

Please review the contents of the enclosed memory stick. When you have done so, please call me on (number given) so that we can set our appointment. It will have to be either this or next Wednesday at 5pm as that is when the Camera Club meets.

Sincerely, Jeffers.'

My heart raced as I shoved the drive into a USB port on my still-open laptop. My confidence was a little rattled because he had sounded so very cock-sure of himself.

I opened the video icon on the drive which started with professional-looking opening credits 'Tom Jeffers Casting Presents:' and then I froze as it continued:

'SUSIE FORTESCUE!'

My heart almost pounded out of my chest as the first scene to come up was all too familiar.

It was true that as a gullible, lovestruck student I had been stupidly caught up with someone who had turned out to be an absolute cad of a boyfriend. He had slipped something into my drink one evening and had filmed us having sex for what he said would be for our own future entertainment but he had lied and then posted it on the internet for financial gain.

That was fully five years ago, when I was just 19, the one and only time I had been conned into doing any such thing and I had believed it all to be behind me now with all copies of the video having been removed after a huge effort when my ex-boyfriend had been threatened with legal action by my furious father who couldn't even bring himself to speak to me again until very recently, such had been his pain. I had regretted the incident to the depths of my soul and had been hugely relieved when it had been confined to history so that I could get on with my life again.

But now here it all was, back again to haunt me. Almost an hour of me, in high definition, doing a slow, sexy striptease, me posing naked or rather, being posed naked, by that scumbag, me spread-bottomed on my hands and widely-parted knees, back arched, looking backwards over my shoulder smiling while showing all I was born with to the camera, then me masturbating, first with fingers and then a toy, me giving the scumbag a blow job, then 69 with me moaning wildly, influenced by the drugs, as he enthusiastically licked my pussy that I kept, and still keep, beautifully manicured, followed by him obviously relishing giving me the hardest and roughest seeing-to of my life first in a missionary position, then doggie-style and next, yes, me taking the scumbag's considerable shaft anally, balls-deep, for the first and only time I have ever indulged anal sex to date, and finally him splashing what seemed to be an interminable torrent of his juice all over my erect-nippled 34B's and face, wrecking my make-up and matting my blonde hair that I had had specially done for I had thought at the time was to be a nice an evening out.

And now that young bastard Jeffers had somehow got hold of the footage and therefore had me precisely where he wanted me. In the blink of an eye, I would undoubtedly lose my career, find myself all over the internet and lose my father again if I didn't co-operate.

I clenched my fists and pounded the table in frustration.

"Bastard," I cried. After the video's final scene of splash and degradation, there were some more titles.

'A Jeffers Production for the Exclusive Entertainment of Westbury School Board of Governors, Westbury School 6th Form and Susie Fortescue's Family and Friends.

Scheduled Release Date October 26t (unless, of course, Susie wishes to phone Jeffers in advance to arrange a meeting, as discussed)'

It was October 11th, the threat obvious. Numb, I turned my attention to the Manilla jiffy-bag and held it upside down, the contents tumbled onto the table.

There was a squeezy-bottle of fake tan, what took me a while to fathom out was a painfully large-looking black butt-plug, a lingerie catalogue apparently from a sex shop, with some red-circled items, including some ridiculously high-heeled red shoes, four lengths of rope and a dozen screenshots from the video.

Clearly the young bastard was intent on carrying out his plan and I couldn't see any way out of it.

I packed up the things, cleared my table and set off for the car park. In my car, I tapped in Jeffers's number.

======================================

On the drive home, confident that no-one would overhear the conversation, I phoned Jeffers.

"Hello," came the reply.

"Now listen here, Jeffers," I began, "you cannot possibly do this to a member of staff."

"But I can and I am going to, Susie"

"That's 'Miss Fortescue' to you. Listen I made a mistake five years ago, I beg you..."

"That's better, Susie," ignoring me, "begging is better. It didn't look like a mistake, you seemed to be thoroughly enjoying yourself..."

"...listen, I had been drugged as a young woman by the biggest scumbag I've ever met, surely you don't want to get that reputation as well?"

"As you wish, Susie," he continued, "Forget the deal, I'll just publish as planned..."

"...n-no, please don't do that. Could we meet somewhere?"

"For a practice run? Great idea!"

"NO! Just to talk."

"Okay. Shall we say 8 o'clock in the lounge bar at the Gresham Hotel?"

"Y-yes, OK."

"Oh, and Susie?"

"Yes?"

"Get rid of that frumpy school gear you're wearing."

"What?"

"Yes, let's start the way we mean to go on and all that," said Jeffers, laconically, "wear the shortest mini you have, a red or black thong, stockings and suspenders and come nicely made up."

"I will not!"

"You will too, otherwise I'll edit out the striptease part of the video and just post that part on the internet for starters. You can take it as an obedience check." He laughed and hung up.

Frantically, I tried to call him back but it went straight to voice mail. My hear sank, but I had no option.

I got back to my flat and ran a hot bath with oil, intending to wash away this filthy day. I tried to relax as the water and steam bathed my body. My body, I reflected. Possibly if I didn't spend so much time and effort keeping my 5'6", 34B-22-34 body in such lithe and firm shape, Jeffers wouldn't have been so determined to go through with his little plan but there was little I could do about that now.

I must have dozed a little as the hot, swirling waters become distinctly cooler and a glance at the clock told me it was seven already. I got out of the bath, towelled down, and sat at the dressing table to do my make-up and then, so as not to anger the despicable Jeffers, I picked a red satin G-string and matching bra from my undie-drawer, along with sheer stockings and a suspender belt, then chose my black mini cocktail dress and matching heels from my wardrobe. Surveying myself in the mirror, I could just about get away with the mini: if I stood erect, you couldn't see my stocking-tops, however bending proved to be problematical. Over this ensemble, I put on a three-quarter length mackintosh to eliminate the problem and set off for the Gresham Hotel.

======================================

The Gresham Hotel had seen better days and as I climbed the steps to the main doors, there were three or four men smoking on either side about half way up the flight, seven or eight in all. There were a couple of uncalled-for, bawdy comments as I made my way through the gang of reprobates.

The smell of alcohol intermingled with stale smoke was quite heavy in the air and I tried to make light of the situation by smiling as I tried to pick my way up the steps in my stilettoes, hoping against hope that my coat, secured by only a waist cord, stayed in place. Suddenly, I felt a horny hand dart up under my coat and, alarmingly, further on to my thinly clothed bottom.

"Ow!" I squealed, "kindly take your hands off me!" Realising that my coat had been pulled open and my dress had ridden up to reveal far too much leg, my stocking tops and my red panties that stuck out like a bright red beacon.

"Doesn't look like you have very much to take off, Missy!" He slurred as his groping fingers wasted no time in finding the crotch of my little G-string. I remember wondering what on Earth he meant.

His 'mates' closed ranks blocking me from being able to step either backwards or forwards which allowed him to cop a long, leisurely grope under my dress. I squealed with alarm as I felt him roughly trying to tug my panties aside while another couple of hands joined the party grabbing my bum cheeks on either side as I tried to wriggle away from their attentions.

I tried helplessly to wriggle away from his damned fingers which he was now trying to push inside me and he had all but succeeded when I was rescued by Jeffers's timely arrival. He may have been young but he grabbed me strongly away and whisked me up the steps while they 'jokingly' enquired as to whether I fancied a gangbang.

At the top of the steps, I composed myself and followed Jeffers in.

"Is this place always like this?" I asked.

"Tuesday evenings they put on a few strippers to boost trade. After a few drinks some guys can't tell the difference. They must have gone out for a smoke in the interval between acts and mistaken you for one of the strippers arriving."

"What? Well, I think it's disgusting, they practically raped me," amazed at the fact that I could have been mistaken for a common stripper.

"I can identify with them, Susie, you look ballistic tonight! Let me go and hang your coat, take it off." Just then, a huge cheer went up in the next room. "Ah, the next act is on."

It looked as though Jeffers was right as the men on the steps rushed past us to where the action was.

"My coat stays firmly on, thank you very much," I said, taking a seat in an armchair next to a coffee table in an alcove.

"Then your own striptease on that flash drive goes firmly onto the internet," replied Jeffers.

Head hung down I took off my coat and passed it to him. I raised my head to find him practically salivating.

"Much, much better, Susie," observed Jeffers, taking his seat opposite me having returned from the cloakroom. I wished he wouldn't call me that but was pleased he'd returned in one sense, having been brazenly accosted by two young lads undressing me with their eyes, asking whether I was next on, next door..

We were in a deserted area of the bar as all the men had left to watch the show next door. I hadn't see any other women since I arrived.

"Alright," said Jeffers, "now let's see how obedient you have been."

"How do you mean?" I enquired.

"Well I can see you're wearing the mini I told you to, but what about the rest?"

"Believe me, I have done exactly as you asked, Jeffers," I replied indignantly.

"So pull up your dress. I want to see your suspender belt and thong."

"I can't do that for one of my students in the middle of the bloody bar," I hissed.

"You can and you will. Right now or else...."

"Alright, alright, I get it."

I looked around furtively and, with no-one looking, I reluctantly pulled the dress up to my waist.

"Wow! Fantastic, Susie, you 're certainly in great shape....But, er..., I can't quite see your G-string properly, if you wouldn't mind spreading your legs."

"Mind? Now look..."

"...yep, that's the plan, to take a look, now open please. Wide."

It was becoming obvious that Jeffers spent an unhealthy amount of time watching porn on the internet, obvious, I suppose, because that's where he had found my own damned video.

With no alternative, I parted my legs to reveal the red satin crotch. Jeffers made a low guttural noise, delighting in seeing his English teacher in such a predicament, with my dress up to my waist and legs akimbo allowing him an uninterrupted view of my stockings, suspenders and panties.

"Top girl," he said. "Now to our discussion. Do you want to make it this Wednesday which is tomorrow, or would you prefer next Wednesday?"

I replaced my dress and pulled my legs together just in the nick of time as a waiter passed our table.

"I don't want to make it at all."

"That's not an option."

"Very well, then next week" I heard myself saying, "but what guarantee do I have that that is the end of it?"

"You'll just have to trust me. Now make sure you have an all over tan, bring the ropes, the butt plug and buy all the things I circled from the sex shop"

"So that's the end of the conversation? If I'd known I wouldn't have bothered coming, you're a bastard with no intention of changing your mind or seeing reason."

"Correct, Susie, you cotton on quickly, I must say."

"In that case," I seethed, "I'll get my coat."

"Where are you going?"

"Well, home..."

"...oh, no, we're going next door to watch the final two acts."

"WHAT?"

"And now so that you get the idea about obedience, you can pass me that naughty little G-string."

It felt absolutely surreal as he made me tug down it down and slip it off over my legs and shoes, with as much decorum as I could muster as it entangled itself on one of my heels. I submissively handed it over to him.

He held it up and twirled it triumphantly, "Ooh, I've got Miss Fortescue's panties! What would my mates say if they could see my now?" He gazed at it appreciatively for a few seconds, slipped it into his pocket and fairly yanked me out of my chair saying "Come on, it'll be fun!"

"Fun?" I pondered, incredulously.

=======================================

The air in the room was thick with the stench of sweat and alcohol and the small room was crammed with perverts shouting crude instructions to the poor girl on the stage while the music boomed away.

It was a case of déjà vu as Jeffers dragged me through the crowd to the rear of the room and, as we worked our way through the throng, I found myself swaying my hips away from many groping hands. Jeffers was probably right, the difference between decent women and strippers had become blurred to these guys.