The Blackmailed Graduates Ch 03

"What do you want to be when you grow up?" This is a question that we've all been asked at some point in our youth, but even as adults, some of us never figure out the answer.

Until the recent events in my life, I had serious thoughts about becoming a K-12 school teacher. But now, I just want run to the other side of the world in order to escape Ms. Wescott's influence, and to get out from under her evil thumb. Releasing her grip on me is my only goal right now, and I need to make it happen soon, or else I'm going to go crazy.

Upon returning from the camp, I immediately considered joining a voluntary, non-profit organization and traveling abroad to do some humanitarian work. "Perhaps helping others," I thought, "would somehow make up for my wrongdoings. Maybe Jessica could even join me?" I tried to remain optimistic for the future.

Only two days back from the retreat, and first thing in the morning, I received a group text message, sent by Ms. Wescott and including Jessica. When I saw who it was from, and before reading anything, I already had a chill running down my spine.

The message from her read: "Hi, girls! I know that you must be looking for more work after graduating, so I just wanted to let you know that the school is now hiring TWO full-time Instructional Assistants! I've pulled some strings, and I have a feeling that you'll both get the jobs, if you apply."

I dropped my phone and crumbled to the ground upon reading her words. Would Jessica or I ever be rid of this woman? Now even our career paths are being dictated by her.

I then took a moment to look for the silver lining in this situation. First, I was interested in being a part of education, so this job would be a step forward in that direction. Second, I would be making money and saving up, which is always great. And third, by working directly with Ms. Wescott, I could keep a closer eye on her, not only around the other girls, but also around my sisters, who were also students there. "Maybe it won't be so bad?" I said to myself, trying to minimize the gravity of the situation.

Doing what was expected of us, Jessica and I applied for the positions, and were eventually called to come in for an interview. Despite us both trying to mess up our interviews in subtle ways, we miraculously got hired. How Ms. Wescott held this much power in the school was a mystery to me. Either she was paying somebody off, blackmailing the people who were on the interview panel, or the school's officials were also a part of her demonic cult, which I shudder to even consider as a possibility.

In the following few months since our start date, both Jessica and I worked closely under Ms. Wescott, as well as several other teachers at the school. We were good, professional employees, who had an excellent rapport with all of the staff and students. During this time, I never witnessed Ms. Wescott do anything indecent with any of the girls; however, she is a master of subterfuge, so it's not hard to imagine that she is always up to something. She was also careful to not do anything that would seem out of place with either Jessica or I, and always maintained a courteous and professional demeanor when interacting with us.

One day, after school, Ms. Wescott invited Jessica and I over to her house. We never knew what to expect when going there, but it was an invitation that we were unable to refuse, as usual. Upon our arrival, she greeted us warmly and escorted us into her living room.

"Girls, thank you for coming," she said. "We've been through a lot in just a short amount of time... Or, I mean, I've put you through a lot!" she said with a slight giggle. Jessica and I were not amused, but we both gave a short, nervous laugh in order to humor her.

"Anyway," she continued, "you two have become my favorite girls, and I feel like we share a special bond. I'd like to take our relationship to the next level."

Ms. Wescott then got down on one knee, and produced two small boxes, one in each hand, from her jacket pockets. Opening them up simultaneously, they each revealed extremely small, platinum rings encrusted with diamonds.

"Will you both marry me?" Ms. Wescott asked in complete sincerity.

Not wanting to offend her, and perhaps hoping that this was just a sick joke, I gave a slight smile and asked, "How's that going to fit on my finger? It's so tiny."

"Oh, it doesn't go on your finger, sweetie," Ms. Wescott replied. "This is a clit ring, and it gets pierced through the hood of your clit."

Despite Jessica and I being largely desensitized by sexual subjects at this point, this information, as well as the proposal, still took us back. Even still, I inquired further. "So, you want to walk down the isle with us and have a reception with a wedding cake?" I asked in a sarcastic, yet light-hearted tone of voice.

Ms. Wescott laughed, and then said gently, "Of course not, my love. We would be betrothed, one to another, for this life and the next, in secret. We each have public images to maintain, and they are a vital part of our happiness and success on this earth. I would never do anything to jeopardize that for any of us."

"But, if we're married," I said, "even in secret, then how am I going to have any sort of normal life? What if I meet a guy that I like?"

"You can still see other people," Ms. Wescott replied. "You can even marry a man and start a family if you want! When you make this vow, it means that our hearts, minds, and bodies truly belong to each other, even if we're with other people. As such, we should never live far apart, and we should always work to further each other's best interests and opportunities. Also, above all, we must always serve our Dark Lord."

"I'm sorry, I can't do this," Jessica said abruptly as she stood up and started dashing towards the front door. I sat frozen in my seat for a moment, having to make a split-second decision between supporting my friend and risk offending Ms. Wescott, or staying. I chose to run after Jessica, as even I wanted to leave. On my way out, I peeked back at Ms. Wescott; she was still on her knee, holding the boxes, with a look of utter disappointment on her face.

The following day, Jessica and I went into work, not knowing what to expect. Predictably, Ms. Wescott called us into her classroom at the end of one of the classes, after everybody had left.

"Sit down, ladies," she said firmly. Without saying another word, she calmly pulled out her cellphone, and started playing a video in it. To our horror, it was a compilation video of the time that we had spent in her bedroom, as well as at the cabin. The clips were also edited in such a way so as to not show Ms. Wescott's face. Jessica and I felt so ashamed, and so powerless. It was a sad reminder to the both of us of exactly what it was that we were trying so desperately to hide.

Ms. Wescott then produced the boxes with the clit rings in them, placed them on the table, and asked us both, "Do you, Samantha and Jessica, take me, Ms. Wescott, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health?" After spending a few moments, Jessica grabbed the box in front of her, and tearfully said, "I do." Seconds later, I also grabbed my box. "I do," I said in despair.

"Fantastic! You two have made me the happiest woman on earth!" Ms. Wescott said with abounding joy. "I'll hang on to the wedding rings for now. We'll set a day in the future to get you girls pierced," she said eagerly as we handed our boxes back to her.

"By the way, as happy as I am, I cannot let you two go unpunished for standing me up yesterday," Ms. Wescott said in a most stern tone of voice. She then unlocked her desk drawer and handed each of us an unmarked plastic package. "Tonight, as you both know, there is going to be an open house event at the school, and a meeting before that," she continued. "I want you two to go into a restroom, open your packages, and use what's inside before things get started."

"Also, Samantha, I've written up a short, 10-minute-long homily for you to read at the meeting," Ms. Wescott said as she handed me a few pages with words written on them. She then excused herself from the room, as Jessica and I were left to sit and contemplate the ramifications of all of our most recent decisions.

As the evening approached, and before the school gathered for the first meeting, Jessica and I followed Ms. Wescott's instructions. Once inside of the restroom, we opened our packages to find that they each contained a pair of vibrating panties, a butt plug, and a packet of lubricant.

"This is our punishment?" I thought to myself. It seemed like it would be uncomfortable, but not completely unbearable. My attitude towards these sex toys, which was rather indifferent, surprised even myself, and showed how much I had changed since first suffering at the hands of Ms. Wescott.

We continued to study the package's contents. There was a silver vibrator that fit inside of a special pocket in the underwear, and when we put them on, we could feel it pressing against our clits. It felt strange at first, but we quickly got used to it. The butt plug, on the other hand, wasn't so easy to dismiss, even despite its easy insertion with the help of the lubricant.

As the sun started to set, the meeting began, and the time finally came for me to read what Ms. Wescott had prepared. My name was announced, I stepped up to the podium, and I looked out over all of the staff, students, and parents in attendance. I had given many speeches during my time in school, so I knew that this was something that I could easily handle. I was also able to read over and practice the speech several times, which gave me added confidence.

I was only a minute in when I spotted Ms. Wescott in the front row. She was looking straight at me while her hand reached into her purse and pulled out her phone. She started touching her phone's screen when, all of a sudden, the two sex toys between my legs started vibrating. It was then that I realized that they were controlled remotely, and that Ms. Wescott was using an application to send the signals.

I flinched at the initial surprise, but collected myself and did my best to stay on track with the homily; however, about every 30 seconds, Ms. Wescott turned up the intensity another notch, and before long, I was starting to stutter and make long pauses in the speech. The sensations and emotions that I felt were mixed, but pleasurable nonetheless.

As I neared the end of my prepared talk, both toys were now vibrating at full speed, and I couldn't resist them any longer. I gripped both sides of the podium with my hands as I braced for a climax. "God exists, he loves us, and he hears our prayers," I said into the microphone with a red face and tears in my eyes, hoping to mask the signs of my orgasm with an emotional testimony. As my orgasm hit me, I saw an assortment of colors burst through my mind, and I bit my lower lip in an attempt to avoid either impulsively screaming out some profain word, or moan, whichever would come first. My knees went weak, and I had to use the podium to stay upright.

Looking out over the crowd, I could tell that my ploy had worked. Some people weren't even paying attention, some were staring ahead blankly, and others had a look of approval and understanding for what I had said.

I then scanned over to Ms. Wescott, who I could tell was doing everything in her power to hold back her laughter. This evil woman was reveling in my humiliation, and in the uneasy position that she had placed me in. I was climaxing hard, and she was the only person in the room, besides perhaps Jessica, who was privy to it. My orgasm was on full display in front of the entire school, and Ms. Wescott was absolutely basking in the spectacle.

Just when I thought I was about to break, Ms. Wescott touched her finger to her phone again, and the vibrations stopped. I was then able to compose myself, and end my talk and exit with some degree of dignity, thankfully.

Later, as expected, Ms. Wescott humiliated Jessica in much the same way. During the open house portion of the night, while Jessica was meeting with the parents of one of the students who she tutors, Ms. Wescott activated her toys at the most inconvenient time.

Jessica didn't have a podium to hide behind like I did, and so it was more difficult for her to conceal what was going on. After holding out for as long as she could, and acting as normally as possible, she quickly excused herself from the conversation with the parents.

Jessica then sat down at the teacher's desk at the front of the room, trying not to draw any more attention to herself. Still, she squirmed uncontrollably as the fully charged sex toys mercilessly worked on her ass and clit. Ms. Wescott, who was keeping an eye on Jessica, pulled up a chair next to her, and started rubbing her back. "Hey, sweetie, what's going in? Does your stomach hurt?" Ms. Wescott asked with feigned compassion.

Ms. Wescott then reached into her purse, pulled out her phone, and displayed to Jessica the application used to control the toys. Right in front of Jessica's eyes, Ms. Wescott increased the intensity to the maximum level. Jessica looked at Ms. Wescott for a moment, closed her eyes, and let out a long sigh as she leaned forward onto the desk that she was sitting at, coming to rest in the crook of her elbow. An orgasm washed over her as a handful of concerned onlookers watched from afar.

"Have you had enough, Jessica?" asked Ms. Wescott. "Yes... Oh God..." Jessica replied under her breath. Still not stopping the devices, Ms. Wescott then asked, "Do you submit?"

Jessica then raised her head up off of the table. She looked at Ms. Wescott and said loudly, "Yes, I submit!" At least half of the room stopped their conversations and looked over at the two of them. "It's OK, everybody, she's just not feeling well," Ms. Wescott said with a smile.

Ms. Wescott then stopped the vibrations, leaned in next to Jessica's ear and said, "Good. Now never defy me again." It was a lesson that we both took to heart.

The day after the open house, Ms. Wescott contacted Jessica and I to set a date for us all to go out together and get our so-called "wedding rings" put into place.

A week later, on a Friday after work, Ms. Wescott drove Jessica and I about three full hours to an area that we had never been to before.

Stopping outside of a small tattoo parlor on a deserted street, Ms. Wescott gave us each the boxes containing our wedding rings, and we went inside, despite the sign on the front entrance saying that the business was closed.

"Vixen!" Ms. Wescott said to the lady at the front counter as we walked in. Ms. Wescott then gave her a big hug, and it looked like that they were the best of friends.

Vixen then turned towards us and said, "This must be Samantha and Jessica. It's so nice to meet you two! I've heard so many good things about you both." She then walked up and gave us each a polite hug, and genuinely seemed like a nice, welcoming person. Despite this appearance, Jessica and I remained apprehensive around this stranger.

"It's OK, girls, Vixen is one of us," Ms. Wescott said, noticing our uncomfortable body language. Knowing that this woman was also an evil, sexual deviant, actually set our minds at ease, in a strange and very backwards way. Also, hearing Ms. Wescott refer to this woman as "one of us" made me sick to my stomach, even if it was true and that we did indeed share an unsavory connection.

We then went into the back of the building, and Vixen prepared us for our piercings. With our naked legs spread, and with Ms. Wescott looking on with joy, we went through with the procedure. As a surprise, Ms. Wescott also brought a clit ring for herself to get put in as well; however, hers was gold instead of platinum, and it was set with rubies instead of diamonds, which she said distinguished her as the "head of the household."

To Jessica and I, this ceremony meant nothing, as it is God who we truly serve; but to Ms. Wescott, there's no doubt in my mind that she believes that this act has actually binded us in some sort of unholy matrimony.

We were then instructed on the care of our piercings, and sent on our way.

On the ride back, Ms. Wescott explained some stipulations of our bond. "I only have a few expectations," she said. "The first is that you will remain cleanly shaven from the neck down at all times. Second, as I mentioned back at my house, I always want the two of you to live close to me; I would say no further than a one hour drive. And third, just like in any marriage, I expect you both to pull your weight, which is why I'm going to periodically give you tasks to be completed."

Hearing her say this, it really started to dawn on me that I really would never be able to get away from her, and that I may never have a normal life, even if it looked perfect on the surface.

"I already have my first task for you both," Ms. Wescott continued. "In three months from now, well after we've all healed, I want to christen and consummate our marriage in a special way. I want you to blackmail a sexually pure teenage girl, and bring her over to my house for us to play with."

I didn't want to believe what I was hearing, that Ms. Wescott wanted us to get our hands as just as dirty as hers. Jessica and I both looked at each other in disgust upon hearing the request, completely rejecting the idea that we could never do something like that to another person. Ms. Wescott then dropped us off to our homes after giving us much to think and worry about.

As the days rolled on, and the deadline for this vile job loomed only a week away, Jessica and I fully accepted that we would have to endure another one of Ms. Wescott's humiliating punishments for failing her.

And then, as if by some sort of foul miracle, an opportunity to blackmail one of the girls presented itself while at work, much to my astonishment.

I had arrived early to one of the classrooms to help prepare for a lesson, when through a cracked door I overheard Mr. Thompson, one of the teachers, and Megan Coen, one of his students, in a very flirtatious conversation. I listened for long enough to know that something serious was going on between them, but now I needed proof. Before I could pull out my phone to record anything, the bell rang, and I lost my opportunity to do anything before the students started flooding in.

I let Jessica know of this, and we immediately hatched a plan. Jessica would distract Mr. Thompson, and I would search his computer for any evidence of wrongdoing.

At the end of class, with Mr. Thompson still logged into his computer at the front of the classroom, Jessica stepped in and said that she was having problems using the laminating machine, and asked Mr. Thompson if he could help her for a moment. He readily agreed, and left the room with her.

With him now temporarily gone, I quickly moved to his computer. With sweat dripping out of every pour, and with trembling hands, I clumsily started clicking through the open tabs in his Internet browser.

I came to a tab that had his personal e- mail account open on it. Nervously, I scrolled through, searching for anything that might seem salacious. My eyes frantically scanned each subject line.

Then I found one. "Just for you," it read. Opening it revealed a rather pornographic series of conversations between Mr. Thompson and an unknown sender. As I scrolled to the bottom, my eyes fell upon a picture of Megan. She was fully clothed, but in a rather provocative pose. Looking at what was on the screen, and thinking about what I was doing, I could feel a knot develope in my throat.

I quickly printed out the e-mails, including the picture, and returned the desk and the computer to the way that I had found it. Upon Mr. Thompson's return, he sat down at the computer for a few minutes, logged off, gave his salutations, and then left, seeming none the wiser. With my heart racing, I gave a sigh of relief that our plan had worked.