Date: Sun, 17 Apr 2005 21:31:43 +0100
From: kitty h <kittyh55@hotmail.com>
Subject: training_the-prof_19

Any comments (welcomed) to kittyh55@hotmail.com with `Harte' in the
message head.

Julian Harte is a lecturer at a provincial University in England who
has been taken over by Maria, one of his students, and exposed
to a series of increasingly humiliating exposures before Maria's
lesbian lover Sam, Mrs Bowen owner of a second-hand ladies
clothes shop, and the rugby club under John Roberts who also
owns a sub-student called Andy.

TRAINING THE PROF

Part 19

Julian showered and showered to cleanse his body from the excesses of
the day.  With a sigh he put on his pink panties and went to bed.

He woke with a start.  He glanced at his bedside clock-radio.  It was
2.35 am.  What had woken him?  He strained to listen.  The house was
silent.  Then he heard it.  The front-door bell was ringing.  With a sigh
he got up, pulled on a skimpy robe and went downstairs.

He peered through the spy-hole.  Nothing.  The bell rang again.
Cautiously he peered through the spy-hole once more.  It was Roberts.
With a sinking heart Julian opened the door.

'Hi big-boy' the lad called, pushing past him into the hall.  He was drunk,
very drunk.  He stank of beer and sweat; his t-shirt was stained, his
jeans dirty.  'Gotta crash big-boy.  Been to a do at the uni.  Fuckin
knackered.  Need to crash' and as if to prove it he collapsed on the hall
carpet.

Julian shut the door before, half lifting half dragging him, conveyed him
into the sitting-room and rolled him onto the sofa.  The lad farted and
opened his eyes.

'Come here big-boy, I wanna feel your cock.'  And with that he thrust
his hand up Julian's shorty robe.  'Mmmm, still wearing your sissy
panties I see.'  He squeezed Julian's bollocks hard.

Julian moved back out of the reach of his tormentor.

'Where you going big-boy?  Just remember I got those pics of you and
andy pansy.  So fuckin get back here or else.'

There was nothing Julian could do but obey.

Once more Roberts felt his tutor's cock and balls, squeezing them hard,
watching for the tale-tale signs of the man's erection.  It came soon
enough.

'You are dirty little cock-sucking perv aren't you.'
'Yes sir' responded a despondent yet excited Julian.
'Say it then.'
'I am a dirty little cock-sucking perv.'

The lad farted again.  'When you last suck a cock, wanker?'
'Tonight sir' Julian admitted.
'Whose?'
'A stranger.  A dirty old man in a public toilet.'
'Why?'
'Maria made me.'
'Miss Maria you mean.'
'Yes sir, sorry.  Miss Maria.'
'Did his cock stink?'
'Yes.'
'And you sucked him off?'
'Yes.'
'You dirty fucker!'

The lad sat up and stared at the man cringing before him.  His cock
part-stiffened.  'Take your robe off!'

Julian obeyed.

'I need a piss, big-boy.  Now!  So if you don't want your carpet soaked
you had better fetch me a bowl or piss-pot quick.'

Julian took one look at the arrogant youngster and then fled to fetch him
a bowl from the kitchen sink.  He returned to find Roberts, cock out,
pissing over his robe and the carpet in front of him.  Julian rushed
forward and placed the bowl under him.  The stream of piss splattered
into the bowl as the lad completed emptying his bladder.  With a sigh of
relief he shook the last few drops from his rod.

'Clean me up big-boy.  No, with your mouth you fuckin perv.'

Julian obeyed.  Then he picked up the soaking robe and carried it and
the steaming bowl into the kitchen where he chucked the dripping robe
onto the floor and emptied the bowl down the sink.  He poured a bowl
of clean water and took a clean cloth before returning to the sitting-room
to try and clean up his soaking carpet.

The lad watched with amused contempt whilst Julian tried to save his
carpet.  With a stir of his lithe body he curled up onto the sofa and fell
asleep.

Julian stared down at him.  The lad hadn't bothered to do up his zip; his
cock lay like a curled snake outside his jeans, his face beatific in its
repose.  Should he go to his bed?  He daren't.  He sat in the arm chair
opposite and fell into a fitful sleep.


Julian woke early but not early enough.  His unwelcome visitor had gone.
With a sigh of relief Julian went into the kitchen to make a coffee.  Back
in the sitting-room, he inspected the carpet; at least that wasn't
permanently stained.

It was more than an hour later that he went up to his bedroom to dress
only to discover that Roberts had not left!  There he was stretched out,
still-clothed under the duvet.  He was snoring quietly, his drunkard's
face still flushed from the previous night's excesses.  Was Julian never
to be free of the lout?  And what should he do?  Waken him, or leave
him there to sleep it off?  He opted for the latter.  Quietly he gathered
his
clothes and left the sleeping youth.

The morning passed slowly.  Every hour or so Julian went up to inspect
his "guest".  Each time he found him in the same state.

It was passed mid-day when the youth emerged just as Julian was
washing out his panties in the kitchen sink.

'Hey big-boy, where's my coffee?' he asked as he slapped Julian
playfully on the bum.  'Come on cock-sucker, hurry up; I am late for the
pub!'

Julian hastened to obey, anything to get rid of him.

The lad sprawled at the kitchen table, his legs wide apart, his zip still
undone from the night before.

'Guess what big-boy, I've got a morning woody' and he pulled out his
cock which quickly rose to its priapic limits.  'Well don't just stand there
looking at it, get down here and suck me off.'

Julian knelt, before him, staring at the youth's pride and joy.
'Suck it, bitch!'
He did.

With a sigh of relief the lad exploded into his tutor's mouth.  'That's
better' he murmured.  'You're almost as good a cock-sucker as andy
pandy.'

At last Robert's left with a mock wave of thanks.  With a sigh of relief
Julian closed the front door; at last he was free, his home safe once
more.  But for how long?

*****

The next week nothing!  Maria was too busy schooling her new cunt-
slave to bother with a mere sub-male, and Roberts made do with
Andrew.  Each day Julian checked his email.  Each evening he waited
for a call.  Silence.  And to his own astonishment, he felt bereft.  Had
She forgotten him?  Did Roberts not want his cock sucked?  What was
happening to Andrew?  In the end it was Mrs Bowen who rang him up
on Friday evening.

At first he didn't recognise her when she called and asked for Dr Harte
until she asked after "his lady" Maria.

'I haven't heard from her' he responded, his cock stiffening despite his
immediate misgivings.

'That is probably because she has got better things to do than deal with
you, cunt-licker.'

'Yes Miss.'

'That means you are free tomorrow.'

'Sorry, but I don't know.'

'Yes you do.  You are just trying to pretend you aren't free to serve at
the shop.'  There was a pause whilst she let the message sink in and then
she added.  'I expect you at nine-thirty on the dot, and don't be late,
wanker.'  And with that she hung up.

What should he do?  In the end he decided to email his Mistress and
ask her permission.

When he got home from the pub, he checked his email.  A message
from Maria!  With trembling hands he opened her message.

"I am too busy to deal with u this w/e, slut; Sam is so much more
interesting and satisfying than u can ever be!  So yes u will go and serve
Mrs B.  And make sure u r dressed rt.  Pink trakkies, pink top, white bra
and the white panties with pink flowers, white socks and trainers.  u will
do exactly as required by Her.  I hope I have made myself clear!"

She had!

****

Getting ready for his day at the shop was awful.  The clothes Maria had
insisted he wear were so faggy, so effeminate.  What if his neighbours
saw?  He felt (and was) so vulnerable.  Somehow he had lost control,
and all thanks to Maria.


He checked his watch; it was exactly 9.30.  He pushed open the door
and went in.  Mrs Bowen greeted him with a leer.

'So you came' she mocked.

'Yes Miss.  Maria said I had to.'

'And very right too.  We women can't have you hanging around doing
nothing when there is work to do.'  She paused to grope him.  'And you
had better control that' she commanded, as she felt him rise.  'We don't
want an accident in your panties, do we!'

She felt his bum.  Yes that was good; she would cane him later, make
the slut realise who was Mistress.  But for now she set him to sweep the
floor then polish it on his hands and knees.  That way she could keep
and eye on his shapely bum.  Yes, she loved his bum, so ripe for the
cane!

It was so embarrassing.  There he was on hands and knees polishing the
wooden shop-floor, his pink-clad buttocks poised upwards for
common view.  It took over an hour.  And all the time shoppers, mainly
older ladies, came and left.  Most ignored him, but not all.  One even
asked him if he was available to do her place.

With relief he finished his task and reported back to Mrs Bowen.  She
gave him a cursory nod.

'What should I do now, Miss?'

'Ring this number' she ordered.  'You remember the old lady?  The one
who asked if you were free?  Well I have told her she can have you for
two hours at 5 pounds an hour.  So ring her and see when she wants
you.'

Julian took the number, scribbled on a scrap of paper, and picked up
the phone on Mrs Bowen's counter.  The phone rang and rang.

'No answer Miss' Julian reported.

'Try her in half an hour, wimp.  Meanwhile you can sort the bras and
panties.'

They were at the back of the shop in two huge boxes.  Julian went over.
How to do it?  He had no table to lay then out.  He decided to start on
the bras, sorting them first into sizes and then into colours, piling the
bras on top of other garments laid out for customers to peruse.  Mrs
Bowen came over and gave him some plastic hangers to display the
bras and soon all were hanging sized and sorted on a rail.  Julian
surveyed his work with satisfaction, pleased that at least he had done
that correctly.

Did he really feel that?  Yes.  Fuck he thought, I am becoming more and
more  ...  More what?  More sub!  And his cock stiffened

He checked his watch.  The thirty minutes were up.  He went back to
the counter and rang the lady's number again.  This time she was in and
before he knew what was happening he was on his way to her place with
strict instructions to return by two at the latest.

He was greeted with a smirk.  'Come in dearie.'

He entered a gloomy hallway before being led into the kitchen at the
back of the house.  She sat him down opposite her at the kitchen table.

'How long have you been working at the shop, dearie?' she asked.

'I don't work there.  I just help out from to time to time' Julian
prevaricated.

'So you are not a cleaning-lady then.'

'No.'  He blushed.

'So why have you come to clean for me?'

'Mrs Bowen thought it would help you out' he lied.

'Mrs Bowen?'

'The lady who owns the shop.'

'And you do whatever she tells to do, do you dearie?'  He nodded, not
trusting himself to speak.  'Does that include wearing a bra?'  This time
he really did blush.  How had she noticed that?  'Don't worry dearie, I
wont tell anyone' and she grinned.  'Well, I had better get my money's
worth out of you' and set him on scrubbing the kitchen floor, solely so
she could enjoy the sight of his bum bobbing up and down as he
scrubbed and then wiped the tiles.

Task completed Julian rose and stood awaiting her next instructions.
She kept him waiting, enjoying his embarrassment.  She beckined him
closer.

'Are you wearing panties?'

'Yes Miss.'

She reached out and ran a hand over his bulge.  'Show me' she
commanded.

With trembling hands Julian lowered his pink joggers revealing his white
panties with pink flowers beneath.  The lady sighed with satisfaction.
'Did you choose those she asked?'

'No, Miss.'

'Who did then?'

'My mistress.'

Is that Mrs Bowen?'

'No.'

And she made him explain about Maria.  By the end, Julian was blushing
the colour of his joggers.  And all the while the old lady fixed him with a
steely eye of contempt.

'Can you guess your next task?' she asked when he had finished.

'No Miss.'

'Come to my bedroom and I will show you.'

And that was how Julian came to receive a fierce hair-brush spanking
before he was allowed to redress and dust and polish all the furniture in
the lady's bedroom.

Later Julian checked his watch.  The two hours were up.  With
apologies he explained he had to return to the shop.  With a whimsical
smile the lady went to her purse.  Julian waited to be paid.  What a fool
he was, for the lady announced in no uncertain terms that he had to pay
her for the privilege.  Anything to get away!  He pulled out a ten pound
note and paid her before fleeing back to the shop.