(I've taken a readers comment as a bit of a challenge -- about keeping it real in class, and not dressing her in slutty clothes. Hope this works!)
Last day of school
The class was a little more boisterous than usual, which was understandable as this was the last day of school before the summer break. Hollie hardly had to do much for they busied themselves, over what to wear at the party, thankfully quietly.
The fear of being exposed by Angela had subsided to a tolerable level. Her master said he would deal with Angela, and so her dark secret was covered up. Angela had discovered Hollie wore a slave collar and chains. The student had pulled upon them, stimulating her nipples and pussy. Just thinking about that young girl toying with her body, in the corridor before students, had her feeling disgraced and aroused.
The anguish didn't stop with her pulling the chains, over her tender nipples and bud. The young tormentor forced her to admit to being a slave. She was a teacher caught wearing a slave collar and chains in school, so what could she do? She might have been exposed to students in that corridor, and that would have been fatal; for her career at least.
It was only a couple of days ago, with the episode still vivid in her mind. The fear and humiliation led to a deep arousal, which still affected her. She had admitted to being a slut and worst of all, had admitted to being aroused. She had told the girl she was badly in need of a good fucking. Right there in a school corridor, with students milling around at lunch time.
It was lucky no-one realised what was going on. She was a teacher, and supposed to be a figure of authority, yet this student had put her down then sent her off, patting her bottom as though she were a little girl. The parting words were something about running along to her master, for a good fucking. It was all so demeaning, she felt small and fragile, in need of her master's protection.
At least the class were too busy with their own plans for summer, to take much notice of their teacher having another funny turn.
She was grateful to have a caring master, someone to look after her. She needed to be controlled by him. That episode proved it more than ever. She had been so aroused by the humiliating situation, she acted like a slut. She was a slut, and needed her master's control, to keep her in check.
If he hadn't been waiting for her, ready to calm her down, what would have happened? She wouldn't have been able to go back to class. Not while so obviously aroused, and in such a vulnerable state. When she considered how passive she had been, a shiver ran through her body. What if that young girl had decided to really take charge of her, instead of just playing with her?
Hollie suddenly stood up from the desk. "I'm, err, I'll be back in a minute," she murmured to the class.
Hurrying down the corridor, on the way to a restroom, she collided with a group of guys. They were casually chatting, not bothering to rush to the next class, as this was the last day. With her head down, not looking where she was going, she stumbled into them.
Catching a bag she spun round, and tumbled to the floor, landing on her bottom. It flashed through her mind, that this is how she met her master. Sprawled over a school bag, she quickly pulled her legs together. The expression on their faces revealed what they had seen.
Everything! She desperately hoped they didn't understand what it was. The thong she wore was clear enough. She could feel it pulling between her cheeks, and between her lips. That would have been enough to have her angry from embarrassment a few weeks ago. Right then she wasn't bothered about her sex being on show to a bunch of adolescent guys. Not much anyway.
Partly from all that she had been through recently, she had been desensitised over showing off her body, but it was something else that worried her. She was wearing a thigh restraint. Perhaps they didn't know what it was. They might think it was a medical brace or something.
Holding onto the hem for dear life, she rolled over onto hands and knees. They just watched, without offering a hand. After what happened last time, she would have refused it anyway.
On hands and knees she was looking at someone's crotch, only this time in school. Her face was bright red and she was panting. On her way to relieve the intense arousal, this embarrassing situation stoked her up.
The brace made it difficult to get up off the floor. It seemed as though she were fated to remain on her knees before young men. She watched tents forming in their jeans. She tried to speak, and succeeded on a second attempt.
"Can you help me up," she pleaded. It had been meant to be a more authoritative request. The panting only added to the look of distress. They moved as one, pulling the teacher to her feet. They dusted her down, more vigorously than she would like. One of them was audacious enough to stroke her bottom, pretending to brush her down.
She dare not say anything, not trusting her voice, knowing it would sound weak. Despite being a sensible dress, her nipples were stiff enough to show, emphasising the piercings. Had they seen the ones between her legs? Before they could 'help' further, she scuttled off to the restroom. In a cubicle she brought her breathing under control. She felt sure they hadn't seen her slave name tag. Even if it had fallen out of the blouse, they were too busy eyeing up her nipples to notice a woman's jewellery. It was a good job she hadn't been wearing slave chains, as that would have given them something to grab hold of.
Angela came to mind again for this collision occurred just feet away, from the very spot the girl had humiliated her.
***
Angela had dominated so effectively, Hollie was obeying the girl, as she would her master. The girl could have done anything with her. What disturbed Hollie, was the thought of that nasty girl taking her away from school, to her home. With the slave chains tightened around her body, she would have been left helpless. A leash attached to her slave collar would have kept her secured, in the girl's bedroom. A gag would keep her quiet.
Or maybe the girl had a pet cage to keep her in. An image of her looking out through a wire door, in a pet cage, looking sorry and pitiable, came to mind. She imagined waiting there, all afternoon, for her mistress to return after school.
She would be thinking of her master, hoping for rescue, sadly aware that he didn't have the slightest idea where she was. Unable to move while tightly bound in chains, would emphasis her helplessness. Being gagged meant she couldn't cry for help.
She would no longer be a willing slave girl, she would be reluctant, forced to submit to a harsh mistress.
Her master had released her submissive personality, and taught her to obey commands. Now this girl was going to reap the benefits of those weeks of preparation. She was a submissive slave girl ready to obey, however reluctant, she would nevertheless have to dutifully serve her mistress.
