What Am I Doing Here Ch 15

Although this chapter of "What Am I Doing Here" can be read as a stand-alone story, a bit more nuance, humor and understanding of situations is available for those readers who have read the earlier chapters.

1. Ms. Huffman Is Reluctant. Well, she is at first. But, Submissive????

Ms. Huffman's lament: "If only he didn't have that cock. He was a jerk, but that dick of his did get her off!"

"Look, Harold, you have got to tell me! You can't just do this."

Actually, this was a conversation she should have had an hour ago, before she had finally succumbed to his blandishments and agreed to take him to wherever they were now going.

MaryJane Huffman looked over at her former student. She was driving her car, taking him to some unknown destination. He just stared straight ahead. She wanted to slap him. She hated him. No, there was more. She really hated him. Hated him a lot. What bothered her now was the hard-on that tented his pants and that he was making no attempt to hide. That hard-on that should have been bringing her off.

"Are you listening to me?" she asked.

Harold showed no sign that he was paying her any attention. His lips were set in their customary smirk. His eyes met hers. He was well aware that she was unable to ignore the prominent evidence of his cock pressing up against his trousers.

How did he do it? He showed up every time her cunt got hungry for cock!

Any time, it seemed, her slut mode took over her cunt, Harold would show up at her door. She'd be horny and walking around her apartment wondering which she would be using to get herself off, a dildo or vibrator? Which vibrator? In bed or in her living room? She'd be in the process of deciding, when, invariably, Harold would call. She would be watching one of her pornos, five fingers deep in her pussy and Harold would be ringing her house phone from downstairs. She would be thinking about getting dressed and visiting the airport hotel bar, and, what do you know, Harold's ring tone would sound from her cell phone.

Of course, He would end up in her apartment or she would end up as his chauffeur taking him to a fuck session he had devised for her.

Her hard clit made her do it! He was good for not much. But taking care of her wet cunt, that he could do. So she had let him into her apartment. He had buzzed from downstairs at her condo.

But that was a couple of hours ago. Now was now and she was in her car taking Harold who knew where. And, shit's sake, her needy cunt still had not been satisfied.

"Damn it," she said, "You can't just come to my apartment and demand that I take you somewhere. And then you say that I don't have to know where I am taking you. You cannot do that! You didn't even need my car. Your own car was right downstairs."

Harold spelled the word "ignore" with a half hooded droop of an eyelash, a deadpan expression and, a refusal to even look her way. He stuck his pinky in his ear, dug in, pulled the pinkie out and inspected it. MaryJane absolutely, without any reservation at all, not only hated Harold McCarthy, she disliked him too.

.

"Harold! Answer me!" MaryJane shouted.

He didn't react except to dig his hand deep into his pant's pocket. The fucking stupid son of a bitch was fondling his pecker. He wasn't trying to hide what he was doing. She was clearly able to see the outline of his fist encircling his cock and gently massaging the tool. He was fucking a lot more tender with that cock than he ever was with her cunt.

MaryJane slammed her hand against the steering wheel. "Answer me!" she repeated.

Harold was pissed. He was only trying to help her out, but she wouldn't cooperate. Always complaining, always arguing. I mean, he thought, he was trying to teach her about being submissive. And submissives don't argue.

"Hang a right here," he commanded. .

"What?" MaryJane shouted, only narrowly avoiding a collision with another car as she turned into the side street he had indicated. "You didn't even give me the chance to flip on my turn signal."

"Fuck your flippin' signal," Harold said. "Turnin' into this street when I said to was the first thing you done right. You are one big pain in the ass. You don't do nothing but complain. You don't want to go where I tell you, just don't go. Park the car."

She signaled and turned the car into a grocery parking lot. I guess, that's the second thing I did right, she thought. "Just tell me. All you have got to do is tell me where we are going to. Shit, I could program the GPS that way. That's all. You have me transporting you in my car, but you don't tell me anything about where I am going."

"I told you that you don't got to know. You gotta just do what I tell you to do."

"But I want to know!"

"You don't know what you need. What you need is a cock in your cunt, but you ain't getting it. Not yet, anyways." Until this moment, Harold had been watching the shoppers entering and leaving the grocery. Finally, he looked over at MaryJane Huffman and made eye contact. "The whole reason we are here in this car and you are driving me somewhere is for you to learn that you should do what I tell you to do. But, no, you got to argue and ask questions. You don't know how to take orders."

MaryJane Huffman continued to lock stares with Harold. "Does that mean you are going to tell me where this is that you're having me drive to? Or aren't you going to tell me?"

Harold remembered when Ms. Huffman was his teacher at Holy Mother of God. She was always asking questions, "Mr. McCarthy, what do you think she meant when she said that 'Hope is a thing with feathers.'" Who cared what some dame from over a hundred years ago, Emma Dick or something, meant when she wrote a poem? Fuck that. 'You know what Mrs. Huffman,' Harold had wanted to say, 'I hope I can feather your cunt with my man-tool.'

She wasn't his teacher now; so he wasn't going to answer her now. She was a slut. He didn't owe her nothing but a good fucking. He looked straight ahead.

The sneer on his lips was the exact same sneer she had seen the very first time MaryJane had spotted him in her class. MaryJane Huffman couldn't remember a time the sneer wasn't the most prominent aspect of Harold's physiognomy. It had been there when she had first seen his pimpled face in the back of the room, a student years ago in the English class she taught at Holy Mother of God High. The sneer was there then, and it had remained a feature of his face in his every interaction with her since. It was there when he told her that she was a slut and ought to face up to it. The sneer was there when she did 'face up to it.' It was there when they fucked and wherever they fucked... The sneer was there when she blew him and swallowed his cum, when they argued, when they agreed, even now, still.

He was looking at her with a sideways glance. She was beneath responding to

"Why am I doing this?" MaryJane Huffman demanded of herself. Why she had come so far with this unpleasant character was beyond any logical apprehension. Wanting her pussy filled wasn't a logical proposition.

Less than two hours ago he had appeared at her building, ringing the buzzer and asking her to let him in. And now here she was in a grocery store parking lot, him sitting next to her fondling that cock she couldn't stop staring at, and she still had no idea of where she was going and why.

"Turn around," he said finally. "Go back. This ain't going to work."

"What isn't going to work?" she asked.

"It don't matter. Just go home." He was too nice, that was the problem. He had come into her apartment, pushed her against the wall, pressed his body against hers, let her feel his hard-on pushing against her cunt and told her that they had to go, leave right then. He hadn't even given her time to get dressed properly. She had taken off her underwear, panties and bra before letting him into the apartment. She was so horny and the button-up-the-front summer weight dress that she could pull over her head in a second was all she was wearing. Her slutty, stupid cunt, just like it always did when Harold touched her, began to gush its lubricating juice as soon as he had pushed her against the wall and pressed his cock against her.. Her pussy lips had separated, open and wet. Harold was able to smell sex as it radiated from her cunt...

But he hadn't even tried to take care of the itch. He just told her that she had to come with him. She tried to argue, but he refused to listen, and she, stupidly, had followed. It was her cunt that made her do it.

And now they were here in a grocery parking lot and he was telling her never to mind, that they should go back to her place. If she wouldn't listen, they wouldn't go. Fuck her.

He was trying to learn her how to be a good slut. She didn't want to learn, fuck her.

As she retraced the drive back to her place, neither spoke. She turned on the radio, he turned it off. She cleared her throat. He sat in silence. When the car was safely in its parking place, neither made a move to get out.

Finally she turned towards her door as if to open it. But he put his hand on her thigh. Fuck, her pussy began lubricating itself again.

His big hand was under the hem of her dress. He was running his hand along the bare skin of her thigh slowly, smoothly. Her cunt was all wet again. She hated this, that this miserable former student could, just by touching her, get her fluids gushing, her heart beating, her tits electric and her clit pulsing. She needed to be fucked. She needed a cock in her cunt! But all he was doing was talking about her following orders.

Without conscious thought, MaryJane Huffman moved her knees, parting her legs a bit more than they had been parted, giving Harold more room to move his hand up closer to her needy cunt.

So, he moved his hand up to where it was maybe an inch, maybe less than an inch from her cunt. His pinky touched the loose, hanging open fold of her labia. "You are such a cunt, such a slut," he said.

She said nothing. What could she say? He was right. She was a slut. She had confirmed that over and over again to him and to herself when she had sucked him off behind a dumpster, fucked him in the back of her car, in her own bed and in his college dorm. She had confirmed her slutiness when she had allowed him to put her into the middle of a gang bang, not once but three times, maybe four. Hell, why was she sitting here in her car with him if she wasn't a slut?

She got so wet. She felt his hand tighten its grip on her thigh.

"Ok, Harold. That's enough. Let me go. I'm getting out of this car and going to my apartment." After a second, she added, "You can come up too if you want."

She felt him slip a finger into her wet hole.

"Harold, what do you think you're doing? We are in a public place. Stop it."

"Jaysus....you are nuthin but a cruddy cock tease," Harold McCarthy said. He pulled his finger out of her sopping hole. He put the finger to his nose, inhaling deeply. "You smell like a total slut."

"Thank you Harold. Let's get out now and I'll go home and you can come up with your slut or you can go home. It was nice seeing you again," she said.

She unbuckled her seat belt. He made no move to either remove his seat belt or even shift in his seat to prepare for leaving the car. She waited for him to indicate in some way that he was going to begin to leave. He didn't do anything.

She glared at him. .

He still didn't do anything.

"Harold, get out of my car," she said finally.

"You was a teacher. But you are a stupid bitch."

"Get out."

"You don't even know where I was taking you."

"You wouldn't tell me, goddamn it."

"You wanna know?" he asked.

"Why, are you going to tell?" she countered.

She could take the keys, get out and go up to her apartment, leaving Harold to his own devices. She didn't need him. She had her battery powered friends and long, thin, fat and skinny dildos. She put her hand on the key in the transmission, ready to pull the key out.

Harold's voice interrupted before she took the key out.

"All I am doing is trying to get you off, trying to get you your best fucking ever. But you keep on just asking questions." He sounded truly aggrieved.

Mrs. Huffman started to open her mouth to ask him what he was talking about, but stifled the question. It would be easier, she decided, to hear whatever it was that he wanted to complain to her. And the honest to god truth was that Harold did deliver the orgasms she craved. Most of the time.

She shut her mouth. She would hear him out. It couldn't hurt, could it?

Harold looked over at her. Waddaya know, she wasn't getting out of the car. She was starting to get smart. He turned towards her. He reached over and pulled her seat belt over her body and buckled it back up again.. "You look like you're getting ready to jump away from me with the belt off."

MaryJane knew that she should be unbuckling the seat belt but decided to wait.

"You gotta be a better slut. A slut has gotta want a cock. You don't got to argue when someone tells you something. Just do it. Like in the army, just follow orders. You want to get fucked and cum? You wanna be a real slut, a good slut, just do what I tell you."

MaryJane Huffman did not know what his explanation meant. But he was trying, which was more than he had done before. Not so much by his argument, but heavily influenced by the heat of his hand that was back fondling her thigh, the memory of his brush against her breasts, and the recollection of an orgasmic fuck sessions she had enjoyed with his friends, she made her decision.: Ms. Huffman reasoned this way: She was a slut. Her dealings with Harold McCarthy on an interpersonal relationship, sucked. But her dealings with Harold when it came to sex and getting her off were very good. Hell, if she graded him on sex alone, and if she could disregard his smirk and his odor, she would, in truth, have to give him an A. Actually, an A+.

She looked over at Harold and nodded her head. She was a slut. She loved to fuck. Sometimes she needed to be fucked. It was Harold who had helped her come to terms with her sluthood and helped her fulfill her sluthood.

MaryJane listened carefully as Harold responded to her nod.

His voice was its whinney self, but she put that behind her and listened, as he spoke. "From now on, you don't even think about deciding anything anymore. You don't got to decide even yes or no about anything. And you only can even say anything if I ask you or say it's okay for you to ask."

She thought she could deal with his rules. Well, she could deal with it at least just long enough to see what would happen. She needed to be fucked. So bad!

Instead of taking the key from the transmission, MaryJane turned the engine on. She started to back out of her parking spot.

"A slut can't just do whatever she wants," Harold said, "She's gotta be like subordi///suber, Submissive. Yeah, submissive, that's what. All I am trying to get you to do is be more submissive. It's like when you was a teacher."

"I still am."

"Yeah, yeah, at a fuckin' all girl's sissy school, whatever. You still a teacher, ok, but like the students in your class, if they're submissive and listen to you then they learn good. So, if you listen to me, the same way with you. I'm trying to help you become a better slut. Play the game. Just listen to me. Don't I do you right always"

Ms. Huffman stayed silent.

She drove the car back the same way she had been driving earlier when they had turned away for her to go home. She would try. She would see what Harold had prepared. Fuck it, she was a slut. She was horny. To do anything else but follow through with what Harold McCarthy was proposing would be a contradiction to the concept of her being a slut! Shit, it would get in the way of her getting his hard cock in her needy cunt.

She would see what would happen. She had known Harold McCarthy for a long time. How bad could it be?

3. Ms. Huffman Learns Submissive. What's It All About??

The room wasn't hot, but she was sweating. She could feel droplets of sweat beading on her chest just below her neck.

She couldn't see anything but vague shapes in the darkness all around her. A spotlight was situated so that it shone from above her head to illuminate just the place where she was sitting. Two other lights were shining straight at her. The rest of the room was dark, making it impossible for her to see anything but her own body and the floor beneath her feet.

She was able to hear breathing, an occasional whispered conversation and some shuffling of feet, but, mostly, the room she was in was quiet. Harold. And, obviously, some other people were there in the room with her, but she was alone in the spotlight.

She was beginning to think that agreeing to this was crazy. If it wasn't for the fact that her pussy was soaked, her clit excited and the skin of her body from her thighs to her chest electric, she would have said her safeword, fled the room, left Harold and whoever else was there and gone home. Except, her cunt was betraying her.

Harold had given her a "safeword." If she said it, this was over and, he swore, she would go home. He explained that there was some law that said you had to have a safeword.

He was a pain in the ass and totally uncouth. But she trusted him to keep his promise to stop whatever was going on the instant she used the safeword. She repeated the safe word in her mind to make sure she remembered it, "Oxymoron," was the word. "Oxymoron." All she had to do was say it out loud and whatever was going on would end. Harold had promised.

She was sitting in a pool of light at the edge of a bed, her dress buttoned, both feet on the floor. So far nothing had happened. She just sat there and waited. She had no idea of what was going to occur from here on in. The only thing she had agreed to do was to obey Harold's commands, one by one, one at a time. And, if she didn't want to continue, she could say the secret word and the game would be over. But until she said the safeword she had to follow his orders without delay, without question. That was what she had agreed to, well, what her rummy cunt had made her agree to.

He just wanted to give her a taste of what being submissive would be like. She was a slut, wasn't she?

She had never before thought that Harold's presence in the room with her would be a comfort. He had brought her into this dark room and told her where to sit. She wondered for the fiftieth time in the last silent ten minutes whether she had made a right decision. She felt sweat gathering above her breasts. Her chest lifted and sank with each breath she took. Her nipples were hard. Her clit was tingling. Her pussy was wet. The inside of her thighs were screaming to be touched. Mrs.Huffman realized that this thing that Harold had set up was, so far, doing its job, pushing her libido to the edge of a great orgasm.

"Separate your knees a bit more," Harold's voice brought her attention back to the present situation.

She hadn't realized that her knees were pressed together, not out of any sense of modesty, but to add just a little bit of extra pleasure pressure on her pussy lips. . She moved her knees further apart.

.

"Stand up," Harold's voice came to her from somewhere in the surrounding dark

Without arguing or even thinking about it, she stood up.

"Tell the people here who you are," was his next command.

She tried once again to see who the people in the room were, how many there were, what they looked like. But that was impossible. "My name is MaryJane Huffman," she said.

"Tell them who you are," Harold's voice was more forceful.

"I am a teacher. I was Harold McCarthy's English teacher when he was a student at Holy Mother of God High School in Dover Falls. Last year, I switched schools and began to teach at Our Lady of Sweet Tidings at Beaver Hills." She wondered why she had agreed to go along with this, why she didn't end this game. She would have, except her heart was beating wildl, blood was engorging her pubes..