The Blacmailed Graduates

"No man can serve two masters: for either he will hate the one, and love the other; or else he will hold to the one, and despise the other..." -Matthew 6:24

This has become my favorite Bible verse, as it has come to exemplify my very existence. I love God, and I despise Ms. Wescott; and yet, I faithfully serve them both to the best of my abilities.

Two weeks have passed since Stacey's wedding. During that time, Ms. Wescott has remained distant to both Jessica and I, both emotionally and physically, which has worried me tremendously. She hasn't even summoned us to her home for any more of our usual activities. If we are no longer of interest to her, then what fate awaits us? Will our secrets remain safe? Will we be exposed and discarded? These are questions that I dare not ask her. Like the submissive, broken slut that Ms. Wescott has turned me into, I now only live to follow her cruel commands, whenever they may come.

Regardless of how little interaction I have with Ms. Wescott, her evil influence over me is inescapable. The diamond-studded clit ring between my legs serves as a constant reminder of my dark pact with her; whenever I see or feel it, I am saddened by how far from grace I have fallen.

Nevertheless, life continues on. I go about my daily life, and do my absolute best to maintain and strengthen my relationships with my friends and family.

"Samantha, Ms. Wescott needs you in her classroom," said Ms. Bernadette, our school's secretary, after hanging up the phone. In the days leading up to the start of a new semester, I would sometimes be assigned to clerical work at the school's front office. Not working directly with Ms. Wescott has been another way in which she has remained out-of-touch.

"On my way, Ms. Bernadette," I said. Knowing who I was soon to be in the presence of, I felt the usual churning in my stomach, and flush feeling throughout my body. Was this going to be the meeting that I've been dreading?

As I walked into Ms. Wescott's classroom, I saw Jessica already sitting down, facing Ms. Wescott at her teacher's desk.

Ms. Wescott gave a half-smile as I entered. "Hi, Samantha, come in and have a seat," she said with a calm voice.

"I've been giving a lot of thought and prayer to what happened," Ms. Wescott said. She was, of course, alluding to the betrayal by Jessica and I, when we tried to help Stacey escape. This was the first formal discussion that the three of us have had since then about it. "And after much consideration," she continued, "Lilith and I have decided that you two need to be under much stricter supervision."

Her words came as a shock to me, and I pensively listened to see what she had in mind.

"That's why," Ms. Wescot said, "I'm going to have each of you install webcams in your bedrooms. They are to be constantly running. You are also to install the accompanying video and chat software."

The thought of this terrified me. My bedroom is the last bastion of privacy and seclusion that I have. It seems like whenever I leave it, I'm on somebody else's time.

"Also," Ms. Wescott continued, "I've procured some custom-made pieces of jewelry for the both of you, which will help aid in your discipline. I've packed together everything that you need, along with instructions; please collect your belongings, and I'll talk to you both later tonight," she said firmly, directing our attention towards two gift bags near room's exit.

Both Jessica and I were too afraid to say anything, lest we rouse her ire, and incure additional punishments. Once Ms. Wescott makes up her mind on something, she's almost never swayed; even less so when it's by supposed to be by way of sympathy or compassion.

Upon arriving home, I ran directly to my room, doing my best to avoid my family, and any questions that they might have as to what I have in the bag. If opened, I doubt that I'd be able to explain its contents.

Upon opening my bag, I found a webcam, microphone, software installation instructions, and a small jewelry box.

I opened the box, and inside it was a small, cylindrical, glossy, black, plastic object that that was covered in strange, ornate symbols that were crimson red in color. It had a small clip on the end of it so that could attach to something, as well as a screw in the back of it, indicating that it can be opened, and that it may contain electronic components. "Is this a tracking device? Will she know my exact location at all times now?" I nervously wondered.

Inside the box was also a note that read:

"

Please attach this to your wedding ring, and never take it off unless instructed. After that, set up your new equipment, and add the following user to your friends: AngelOfGrace. You are to check in at least once a night from now on, at 12:00 AM sharp.

"

I folded up the note, and placed it in my purse, so as to be disposed of outside of my house. I can't be too careful.

As I looked back to the jewellery, I said to myself, "I'm supposed to clip THIS thing to my clit ring?!" I felt sick at the very thought. As if the clit ring wasn't already enough of a nuisance.

As I attached the object and let go, I could feel it's weight pull downward ever so slightly. I then put on my panties and, thankfully, found that they held the object in place nicely.

Next, after setting up my new equipment and software, I sat in my room with the door locked, about to add this so-called "AngelOfGrace."

I searched for the name, and found one user. The avatar, predictably, was that of an angel. I rolled my eyes, knowing full well the type of devil who used that account.

Just a few moments after adding her to my friends list, she messaged me, and I accepted a prompt to start my webcam.

"Hi, sweetie! Good to see that you're all set up. Are you wearing my gift?" Ms. Wescott asked in the chat window. She did not have audio or video enabled, and so she could hear and see me, but not the other way around.

"Yes, Ms. Wescott," I said aloud, timidly giving her a slight nod.

"Excellent! Show me," she demanded.

After briefly and reflexively glancing back at my bedroom door, which I was sure was locked, I quickly stood up, dropped my pajamas bottoms, and pulled my panties to the side, thus exposing my new, evil fashion accessory. Despite all that I've gone through, this act made me blush; something about exposing myself directly to a camera felt strange.

"Excellent! That looks amazing! I can't wait to see it in person," Ms. Wescott said. "I would love to talk some more, but I must attend to some other business. But before I go, let's meet online again tomorrow at 5:30 PM sharp. Be sure to wear a dress. Oh, and honey, never use my name out loud when addressing me on the webcam. Talk to you tomorrow!"

And with that, Ms. Wescott was off. Her chat log deleted itself instantly, erasing all trace of what she had said. What remained, however, was a brighter-than-normal, red light that estimated from the webcam, signaling that it was on, and still recording. That night, as I laid down to rest, that same light bathed my room in its glow, acting as a reminder of Ms. Wescott's ever watchful eye over me. It felt as if a demon's eye was casting its oppressive gaze upon me, unblinking and ever vigilant.

After a restless night, the morning came, and I determined to make the best of my Saturday. I got my sisters together, and we visited the park; we fed the ducks, enjoyed each other's company, played volleyball, and breathed in the fresh air. It was the reprieve that I desperately needed.

As the evening started to approach, I entered my room and prepared myself for my second session with Ms. Wescott. As I logged on, I was again instantly messaged by my tormentor.

"Hi, Samantha! Show me that pretty pussy of yours, and play with it for me. But don't cum... Not yet, anyway," she said.

After triple-checking that my door was locked, I hiked up my dress, laid back on my bed, slipped off my panties, and spread my legs in front of the webcam. Again, this act made me brush, as I wasn't used to being an online exhibitionist.

After about 15 minutes of gently pleasuring myself, I received another message. "Your friends have arrived for the prayer group," Ms. Wescott said. Seconds later, the doorbell rang, and I could hear my siblings running to answer the front door.

I immediately jumped up, unlocked my door, and made my way to the top if the stairs, just a few steps outside of my room. "Oh great, what now?" I said to myself, a mild panic starting to set in.

As I watched the door open, I looked to see both Megan and Stacey standing at the entrance. A chill ran through my body as I instantly recognized that they were here for a nefarious reason.

Seeing Megan came as little surprise to me; however, I was shocked to see Stacey, as I thought that being married to a man would have released her from Ms. Wescott's grip, or at least make Ms. Wescott lose interest. It seems, though, that nothing is off limits for somebody as vile and wretched as our satanic mistress, and that to her, even the bonds of holy matrimony merely serve as a leverage with which to further her own evil ends.

"Samantha!" Megan said, calling up to me after briefly being greeted by a few of my sisters who had opened the door. Just then, my mom started walking by.

"Oh, hi Megan. How are you doing today?" My mom asked politely, only having briefly met Megan a few times in the past.

"I'm good, thank you. This is my friend, Stacey. We're here to do a scripture study and prayer group with Samantha," Megan replied.

"That's nice. If you're free after, I'd love to have you both stay for dinner. We'll have plenty to eat," my mom said. I shuddered at the thought of sitting down with Megan for a family dinner.

"We'd love to! But unfortunately, we have another appointment after this one," Megan said, while Stacey shyly looked on, trying to avoid any eye contact with anyone.

"You guys, come up and let's get started!" I said, doing my best to hide my fear and surprise, and to stop and further conversation between Megan and my family.

As Megan and Stacey entered my room, I immediately closed and locked the door.

"What are you two doing here?" I said in a trembling, yet hushed voice.

"What are you talking about? We're here to study the scriptures and pray with you. Have you not accepted Jesus Christ as your lord and savior?" Megan said playfully with a smile.

I grit my teeth, and gave an intense stare. "Drop the act, Megan," I said sternly. Sensing that I was losing patience, and that I didn't appreciate the mocking of my faith, Megan relented.

"OK, Samantha. The truth is that we've been sent to fuck your brains out," Megan said in a rather matter-of-fact kind of way, and also in a soft level of voice that matched my own.

"What?! Here?! I don't think so. No. There's no way. It's too risky. I'm not doing it," I said, trying to put up as much resistance to this insanity as possible.

Megan folded her arms, glanced towards the webcam and said, "That's fine, but I'm not the one who you need to tell that to."

I looked over to the webcam, and then hesitantly back to Megan. After a brief pause, I realized that it wouldn't be any use fighting this, and as usual, consigned myself to my fate.

"I can't believe this. OK, fine. But you two need to be VERY quiet," I said. If my family ever found out about my misdeeds, this is obviously not how I wanted it to happen!

"Don't worry, Samantha, we won't make a sound," Megan said sincerely while looking into my eyes. I was relieved to know that she respected the gravity of the situation... Or at least appeared to. Still, if I'm found out, then so is she, and so her vow of discreteness may have been real, and simply for self preservation, and not out of any real care or consideration for me. Stacey, on the other hand, I knew that I wouldn't have to worry about. After all, her marriage is on the line.

"Ms. Wescott gave us specific instructions," Megan said. She then reached into her bag and withdrew from it a small speaker, which she then plugged into her phone. She set it by the door, and it started to play church hymns. This was obviously a way to mask any noise that we would be making.

Next, Megan reached back into her bag and produced from it a sealed container which had in it two 9" dildos. Both Megan and Stacey lifted up their skirts to reveal that they were wearing strap-on harnesses, which they then attached the dildos to.

Megan then turned to me and said, "Now get on the bed, on all fours, facing the pillows."

The bed where my parents used to tuck me in at night was going to be desdecrated. My nighttime place of safety and solitude was about to be completely taken from me. I felt sick at the thought.

We all remained dressed, so as to be ready to react at a moment's notice to any interruption, should we need to.

With a mind weighed down with worry, and a knot in my stomach, I slowly made my way over, and got into position.

Stacey moved behind me and started lifting my skirt up around my waist, revealing my nakedness. She then gently placed her hand on my exposed pussy, which was already wet from my warmup with Ms. Wescott. Seeing that I was ready, she then draped her own dress over the top of me and pressed her dildo to my pussy, slowly guiding it in, one inch at a time.

Megan, meanwhile, got on her knees in front of me. With a clump of a hair bundled up in her hand, she gently forced my mouth onto her phallic toy. In no time flat, I was being spit roasted by my two so-called "friends."

I have a small, twin sized, box spring bed that could barely fit all three of us on it. It's very soft, and is covered by a white quilt. Each movement on my bed caused a creek or squeak to eliminate from it, adding to my worry of getting caught.

It took Stacey a minute to find her rhythm, but eventually, she started making deeper and more consistent thrusts. I hate to admit it, but I was used to a certain level of technique when getting fucked with a strap-on, and she was still quite new to this experience. Still, she was putting in effort, and I would occasionally let slip a soft moan that was not of my own volition. Almost all of my focus was on trying to listen to my surroundings, ever fearful of getting caught by somebody listening from just outside my bedroom door.

"Good job, Stacy! Is that how your husband fucks you?" Megan said suddenly, at a volume level that was way too high.

"Megan, shut up, please," Stacey quickly replied with a rather irritated tone of voice. That was exactly what I had wanted to say, but my mouth was otherwise occupied at that moment.

Stacey then quickly and unexpectedly placed her hand on top of Megan's, which was gripping my hair, and forced me even further onto Megan's toy. I didn't know if she did this by command of Ms. Wescott, or if she harbored ill will towards me, and was doing this with mal intent. Either way, several months worth of training with Ms. Wescott had taught me how to suppress my gag reflex, and so this act wasn't nearly as harsh as it would have been back when I was pure.

After several minutes of getting drilled from both ends, I heard Megan say, "OK, switch. Samantha, you stay right there."

Stacey and Megan then withdrew, and traded places; Stacy was now at my head, and Megan was behind me.

"Oh my God, is that the jewelry that she gave you as part of your punishment?" Megan asked curiously, gently taking the new object between my legs onto her fingertips in order to better observe it. "How does it feel?" She asked.

"It's annoying. Now can you be quiet, and can we please get this over with?" I said, snapping at Megan while looking over my shoulder at her.

"Alright, fine," Megan said while she simultaneously grasped her dildo and guided it into my already wet, stretched cunt. The action caught me off guard, and I let out a grunt that was louder than intended. My face instantly went flush at the thought that one of my family members could have heard that from outside the door.

Megan wasted no time, and within a few seconds, her thrusts were fully ramped up to full speed and depth. She grabbed firmly onto my hips, her dildo furiously sliding in and out of me from behind, while the incessant, constant noises from my bed threatened to give us away.

Stacy placed her hand gently upon on my head, as I sucked on the tip of the strap-on that had just ravaged me. I could taste myself on the toy as it entered my mouth.

Between Megan's dirty talking, my moans and groans, and my boisterous bed, I had decided early on that I would fake my orgasm, just so that this would all be over sooner; the prospect of getting caught was far too great. I would never dare to try faking anything with Ms. Wescott in person, but I could probably get away with it over video. Still, I had to let it continue, as I needed to put on a believable show for her.

After letting Megan have her way with me for several minutes on end, and for what seemed like an eternity, I finally thought to myself, "Another minute longer, and I'm done."

Just as that thought crossed my mind, I felt a sudden, warm feeling inside of me. It was the start of an actual orgasm, and it was rapidly approaching! I couldn't believe it. I didn't want it to be true.

Megan continued to relentlessly pump in and out of me, never slowing for even a moment. Her hips started to slap against my ass with each inward thrust, causing the room to fill with an unmistakable sound. My mind was once again briefly overtaken by thoughts of getting caught; after all, the spiritual background music that was playing and a thin, locked door were the only barriers to a life of utter shame becoming a reality. It took mere seconds, however, before my attention was redirected back to the feeling that was growing between my legs.

As Megan pushed me to the point of no return, I reached up with one hand and removed Stacey's drool-covered cock from my mouth. I then rested my face on her pale outer thigh as I braced myself for the impending climax.

"Oh God, I'm going to cum, right here in my own bed, with my entire family just outside!" I cried out in my mind. As my orgasm arrived, I did everything I could not to announce it to the entire house. I didn't want to make a sound, but despite my best efforts, I let out the most reserved moan that I could, as my drenched pussy strongly spasmed on Megan's ample toy.

"That's it, Samantha!" I heard Megan say from behind me, never missing a beat with her strokes. I again wanted to tell her to be quite, but all of my energy and focus was in fighting a monstrous orgasm that was surging through my entire body.

Just as my orgasm reached the end of its crescendo, I heard a soft knock and voice at my door: "Sam, dinners' ready." It was my dad!

I was frozen in fear, and impaled and pinned between two women. My parents always told me that I wasn't allowed to have boys in my room with the door closed; but little did they know that it wasn't the boys who they had to worry about!

Panicked and still in the throes of a crippling climax, I did my best to steady my voice, and I gave the first response that crossed my mine. "I'm coming!" I said, my face bright red with fear, shame, and lust.

"OK, we're waiting for you," I heard my dad reply, his voice fading as he walked away.

"Please, oh PLEASE God, don't let him find out. I hope he didn't hear anything," I thought to myself.

Once we were in the clear, Megan then slowly withdrew from me, and made her way over to her bag. Pulling out her phone, she took one look at it and said, "OK, she says that we're done here."

"Thank God this is over," I thought to myself. But just then, I remembered that Megan said that they had "another appointment." Was she talking about Jessica?!

"Who are you seeing next?" I asked rather timidly, still breathless and panting.