"Stop playing with yourself, Cindy. You're such a slut, you can't leave it alone," Roger complained.
"Sorry master," Hollie sheepishly replied.
She looked around realising they hadn't arrived at his apartment, it was a gas station. The naughty fantasy had been so intense she hadn't noticed where they were going. She had better get a hold of herself, yet it was difficult after being so deeply aroused in class. She was still buzzing, desperately needing his cock to pacify the constant ache.
"OK! Fill her up. I guess you want filling up too, but it's the van's turn," he laughed.
Hollie pouted her lips at him, showing a lack of amusement. "Oh! Master, I'm not dressed," she began, then realised it wouldn't make any difference. There was nothing else to wear, except a pair of flat shoes. He intended her to be embarrassed, and after the dire humiliation in class this was nothing.
She was used to him dressing her like a slut. This time he used her students to dress her, which had been terribly humiliating. Hollie knew she had lost her authority and dignity as an adult, as he now controlled everything in her life. It seemed perfectly natural when this young man told her not to play with herself, despite being a mature woman and his teacher.
Thinking of needing his cock would have been outrageous a few weeks ago. Yet she needed it more and more, as she sank further into a condition of disgrace.
She slowly clambered out of the van. Through the thin flats, she felt the rough tarmac underfoot. She was grateful to wear them as the high heels had fallen off somewhere in her classroom. What she didn't like was the feeling of being so small, though worst of all was the skimpy top and short skirt.
Walking in to pay was an ordeal, as she had to pass a group of young Hispanic lads. They made comments about her being a slut and a whore, under their breaths, which she pretended not to hear. In the past they wouldn't have dared, though the way she was dressed would of course invite lewd remarks.
She couldn't even hold her head up as she was thinking of herself as a bad slave girl. On the walk to the counter, the guy was eyeing her up and down with a knowing look. She lifted her head and straightened her back. She was determined to walk out of there with some dignity.
"I'm a proud, attractive slave-girl, looked after by a wonderful master," she whispered to herself. The sensible teachers clothing had been stripped away, together with all her respect and authority. She could at least take some pride in being a dutiful and accomplished slave.
"Hi Cindy, how much?" the guy asked. He leaned his elbows on the counter taking a close look at her cleavage.
Hollie wondered if this was another humiliating test organised by her master, then realised he was looking at the tag on her slave collar, as well as starring down her cleavage. She hated that name, or at least its connotations, especially when dressed like a stupid slut.
"Haven't I seen you somewhere before?" he asked.
"No!" she responded, feeling cross at the obvious line. She was twenty-six and usually dressed her age, or tried to look older in school. This young guy wouldn't have dared to look and speak to her like that, if she had been dressed sensibly as a teacher. He was probably a dropout, doomed to a life of dead-end jobs.
She looked him full in the face, daring him to look down her cleavage, while holding his stare so he couldn't. Being short with a baby-smooth complexion, everyone assumed she was around eighteen. Dressed like a little slut, empowered men with an inflated sense of power over her, as though they had a right to hit on her. Even this big stupid guy thought he had a chance.
"Ten!" she said, with an imperious tone of voice. It was the voice her students dreaded, when they had been making too much noise. She thrust a twenty in his face, with a grimace, almost growling with anger.
"What? Oh, yea," he said, looking flustered. He hadn't been prepared for the almost physical assault. The light tinkle of sound from setting the pump and tilling the cash sounded like a sixties tune.
He turned to her, having had time to recover during the often repeated routine. "Was ten the answer to my question?" he asked, giving her a knowing look.
It was her turn to be confused. She looked at him, easier to read his expression now his face was shaded from the sun. The original cheeky grin creased his face, tinged with a look of smarmy interest. It was the way he held his chin up, that made it a question.
"What?" she asked impatiently, giving him a well practised teacher's glare.
"How much . . . do you charge, Cindy?" he asked. The grin turned to a lusty expression, though underlying it was a boyish hesitancy. He wasn't the man of the world he thought he was.
His words faded into the background noise, melding with the gable of young guys hanging around outside. She recognised him. He was one of her students. Oh shit! Her face dropped the superior seriousness, showing shame and alarm. He hadn't recognised her dressed like a slut, and the name tag put him off too.
"It's OK Cindy! No need to be frightened, I won't tell anyone. I could tell as soon as you walked in," he smirked, looking well satisfied with his street cred.
She willed her body to turn and run. "I, err, just give me ten," Hollie stammered. She held out a shaking hand for the change. She needed to flee, only to be stuck with the automatic routine of waiting for change. She had to get out of there as quickly as possible, before he recognised her.
He walked round the counter with a ten in his hand. There was no cash-cage to unlock, to keep him safely away from her. She just stood there with her hand out for the note. If she ran he would think it unusual, drawing attention to herself, and he might try harder to think where he had seen her.
She was drawing enough attention to herself dressed like a slut. Hollie nearly laughed out loud, stifling the hysterical sound with a fist stuffed in her mouth. What did he say? His words tumbled through her head not making sense. She latched upon a phrase, 'as soon as you walked in'.
He had recognised her! He said he would keep her secret! But at what cost, men always wanted something, and she looked so damnably available. From her hoop earrings down to her stocking toes, she was dressed as an available slut.
He teased her with the note, pulling it back when she reached for it.
"What do I get for this?" he smiled, only it was an unpleasant mixture of lust and meanness. He was too inexperienced to be cool about it. Maybe street walkers worked this area and called in. Damn! He must think she had a part time job as a hooker! She was in enough trouble as it was, without this.
"You've got fresh smooth skin, not like the others. Not on drugs then?" he asked.
Hollie shook her head. Her worst fears had been confirmed. It was a terrible thing having to explain to someone, and far worse having to explain to one of her students, that she wasn't a prostitute. The words wouldn't form in her mouth, as they died in her throat, blocking it with their jagged harsh edges. Instead, she denied she was on drugs, and through silence confirmed she was a hooker.
"I want your ass for a ten," he demanded, gaining courage when she was too frightened to answer. "I've seen you somewhere before, though you must be a new girl working around here," he thought out loud.
