Date: Thu, 9 Mar 2006 08:42:51 +0000 (GMT)
From: Josie Crupper <josiecrupper@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: 'A teacher was watching ... '

This is a story of fiction, and is dedicated to my friend Carole.
I hope you like it Carole.
I would love to hear comments from any readers - josiecrupper@yahoo.co.uk
Love n Kisses
JosieXX


A Teacher Was Watching...

I looked at the note again and felt the need o sit down overwhelm me as my
legs went wobbly beneath me.  Stumbling for the chair, I couldn't take my
eyes from the photo I'd just taken out of the envelope a few seconds
before: it was me! But it wasn't the me of now, the one that works in the
bank who everyone sees as prim and proper Josie. No, this was a picture of
me from my school days, from New Hall School for girls in Essex, England.
The schoolgirl me, was standing in my uniform looking very embarrassed as I
held my blue pleated skirt up showing my knickers to the photographer. The
picture brought back memories of when a small group of older girls that
would tease me and force me to do things and ...do things to me.

    As I stared at my former self from fourteen years ago: I could still
remember the confused feelings of embarrassment and shame, mingled with a
lust for the situation that had shocked me at the time and mortified me
now! I would keep away from them for days, but then as the feelings grew
within me, I would deliberately make sure I would bump into them, or hang
around the changing rooms in the sports-block when nobody else was there to
see so, just they could find me and ...

    I put the picture down, realised I was flushed and breathing
hard. Trying to calm down, I read the note that had come with it, but it
only made it worse.

Sweetest Josie,

Do you remember the day they took this photo of you showing off your slutty
little knickers?  They caught you in the grounds and made you pose behind
some bushes for some very dirty pictures.  I know you enjoyed it you
slut. I used to watch you strut your sexy body about, having quiet little
lesbian sessions with your friends and letting the older girls force you
into doing whatever they wanted: you think that we teachers didn't know?

I used to watch you all the time, Josie. I knew what you were doing with
those senior girls. Letting them play with your little pussy, getting you
all wet.  And what they made you do to them, too! I knew about all of
it. Another teacher, Miss Mary and I had peep-holes that spied into your
dorms. Didn't know that, did you?  We would watch you and the other little
lesbians every night. We would masturbate ourselves and each other while we
watched. I would make Miss Mary get down on her hands and knees and suck my
pussy while I watched; you were my favourite.

I even took pictures of you and the other little sluts. It still makes me
hot to look at those pictures.  So Josie, I saw you on the street in
Amsterdam the other day and immediately recognised you. How could I forget
that long chestnut hair and those sexy green eyes! So I followed you to
your office. You're sexier than ever, my dear. Your legs looked wonderful
in those heals and the short red dress you were wearing: I just had to
follow you for a while.

Well now I've decided to have what all those girls at school had. You will
meet me at my hotel and do whatever I say or copies of these photos will go
directly to your boss and that is no idle threat.  You will not be able to
talk your way out of this one, little girl.  You will come to the
Metropolitan Hotel, room 303, at 3pm Saturday. I know you can find a
uniform to wear, I want you to look like the girl you once were.

The skirt will be pleated and short -- I know you're a slut so dress like
one. Remember, you're dressing to excite me. Don't wear any knickers or a
bra. Just the skirt, white shirt, and tie, and those little white socks
with the ruffles you used to wear. They always used to make you look so
sweet and innocent.  Your gorgeous hair must be in ponytails and the only
makeup you can wear is bright red lipstick and nail varnish.

See you Saturday, don't disappoint me Josie. I wouldn't like that.

Miss Carole

    My heart sank. I remembered her -- Miss Carole Molt. She had taught
English literature and would always look at us, we knew she was looking at
our legs and breasts. She had been very friendly with the leader of that
little group of older girls - the prefects that had always sought me out.

    I still remembered them. There had been three of them usually and I had
secretly longed for them to abuse me ... but all that was fourteen years
ago! She can't expect me to dress up in my old uniform and ... and play the
part of dirty schoolgirl-slut for her, could she? I looked at the picture
and j ust knew she could, and really would, get me to do rude, dirty
things.

    But I was different now ... wasn't I? I took a deep breath and looked
in the mirror trying hard to ignore the dampness in my knickers. I knew
that if my boss received those photos, I would be fired, and be a laughing
stock, my friends would never talk to me again -- My nice comfortable world
was falling to bits.

    I started to cry.

The rest of the week went past slowly and I found it hard to concentrate on
my job. I kept looking about at the people around me, the friends who might
see those awful pictures if Miss Carole sent them into the company: I just
couldn't let that happen, I had to get those pictures back.

    On Friday, I called in sick and tried to work out what I was going to
do. There really was nothing I could do except turn up at the Metropolitan
hotel and be humiliated by Miss Carole dressed in my old school uniform. I
had to do it, but would make sure she gave me those awful pictures back so
she couldn't make me do it again.

    I spent the afternoon shopping for a school uniform.

    I was in two minds as I walked the shopping district. One part of me
was terrified and revolted at the idea that I was going to dress-up and be
a play-slut for Miss Carole. However the part of me that had so enjoyed the
feeling of humiliation and embarrassment all those years ago was working
out how high my heals should be and where could I get little white socks
with ruffs at the top in Amsterdam.

    In the end, I bought a crisp white blouse and blue cardigan from one
shop, and then found a pleated hockey skirt in a sports store, blushing
furiously as I paid for it, as I was sure the shop girl knew what I wanted
it for.

    The school-tie was next, and easy enough -- blue and silver diagonal
stripes and I completed the uniform when I found the perfect little lace
socks with ruffles at the tops. They looked like the type of thing a six
year old would wear and I was blushing again as I paid for them.

    While staring at shoes in a shop window, decided I would use a pair of
black three inch heals I already had rather than buy something I would
never wear again. In school, we weren't allowed to wear heals but I was
pretty sure Miss Carole wouldn't be complaining. I felt another wash of
despair as I thought about what I was being blackmailed into doing. What
would she do to me?

    When I got back to my apartment, I hid everything in my wardrobe then
watched television and drank my way through a bottle of wine trying to
forget what the morning would bring.

    I awoke the next morning and groaned. First at my ache in my head, and
then at the realisation that it was Saturday. After crying and feeling
sorry for myself for a while in bed, chastising myself for being such a
slut all those years ago and letting a teacher get hold of dirty pictures
of me, I got up and showered.

    It was a beautiful spring day outside and I watched from my bathroom
window with a towel wrapped round me as people rode past on their bikes or
walked along to the Vondel Park a little further up the road. Last Saturday
I had shopped with friends, had a nice lunch, then went to a film; this
Saturday was going to be different, and it was one o'clock already.

    I sat at my dressing table and stared at myself in the mirror. I stared
at the sorry face in the mirror and asked myself what was I going to do?
And then I started to get cross.

    `You're going to go in that hotel room, do whatever you have to, and
then leave with those photos. And then when you get back here you can burn
them and get very drunk!' I nodded in agreement with myself and with a new
determination, began to do my hair and makeup.

    At New Hall, we were allowed to wear makeup in the fifth year and I
remember we all used to wear bright red lipstick and nail varnish, which
was obviously what Miss Carole remembered in her dirty fantasies. I put on
the lipstick and pouted at my naked reflection. `Slut!' I smiled, and tried
to find the slut I had been in the reflection that stared back at me.

    I spent some time putting in my pigtails and tied them with small blue
ribbons. I used to wear my hair like this at New Hall; it was how it was in
the picture. I glanced down at the fourteen year old me staring back from
the small piece of paper I had set against the mirror, and unconsciously
touched my breasts squeezing my nipples.

    I thought about knickers and bra but Miss Carole's letter had been very
explicit that I shouldn't wear either.  I frowned - my breast are a `C' cup
and I'm used to the support a bra offers; it would feel more strange than
wearing no knickers. I sighed, it was all going to feel strange, but I had
to get those photos.

    I pulled on the little lacy socks -- they really did look sweet. Oh
shit, what was I doing? I sat down and tried not to cry again. This was
ridiculous. Maybe if I went to the police? ... but then I would be laughed
at by a bunch of policemen!

    I blew my nose and took a deep breath, and then, after several
attempts, tied the school tie. It was bigger than the one I used to wear at
school but it looked the part. When I put on the skirt and smoothed it
down, I couldn't believe how short it was. It came to about mid-thigh, and
would never have been allowed at New Hall! Well at least Miss Carole would
like it...and then maybe feel happy enough to hand me the photos...she
better had!

    It was gone two and I started to panic. I put on the cardigan and
fastened the three buttons feeling my breasts sway gently beneath my
shirt. My nipples were rubbing on the thin fabric of my blouse whenever I
moved and I felt them harden. Trying to ignore the sensation, I slipped on
the shoes and gazed at my reflection in the full-length mirror.

    Oh, wow. That refection took me back! I felt a flutter of fear and
excitement then turned my back to the mirror and looked round as I bent
over. The skirt rose up showing my bare bottom and I blushed -- this was
going to be so humiliating. With a sigh of resignation, I put my coat on
and ran down to catch a tram.

    The hotel was set on one of Amsterdam's many squares and was one of the
nicer ones in town. I strode past the reception as if I knew where I was
going, dreading the thought of being stopped and questioned by the hotel
staff in case they thought I was some kind of prostitute. I kept my head
down and glanced about for the lifts. I rode up alone, thank god, and let
out a sigh of relief when I stepped out of the lift on the third floor
without being stopped -- so far so good at least.

    I walked the carpeted hall looking for the signs that indicated where
the various rooms were, and saw suite 303 wasn't far from the lift.

    The door was open slightly when I got there so I knocked. Then, when I
heard the lift arrive and the voices of people coming out, I walked in and
slammed the door behind me lest they caught me in the hallway.

    I don't know what I was expecting, but the room being dark was a
shock. I stood for a moment with my back to the closed door, listening as
my heart beat loud in my ears, and willed my eyes to grow accustomed to the
low light. A small lamp clicked, on and I raised my hands at the sudden
brilliance.

    `Good afternoon, Josie.' The voice was soft, but authoritative, and
came from somewhere in the darkness behind the bright light. I shielded my
eyes trying to see her.'

    `Miss Carole?'

    `Who were you expecting, slut? Don't worry, you got the right room. Oh,
Josie, it's been so long since I've seen you, and it looks like it's been
worth the wait, you're still beautiful.

    `Take your coat off.'

    I stayed as I was, hugging the coat protectively around me. `Miss
Carole, we have to talk first. You can't send those photos to my office;
you'll ruin me ... please, just give them to me. I have to have them.'

    `Then be a good girl and do whatever you're told. You know you're a
little slut, Josie. You used to love the girls groping you; making you
expose yourself to them ... I used to watch you, but I couldn't do anything
while I was a teacher. When they forced you to lick Amanda Lanes ass I was
watching you while Miss Mary licked my pussy. You loved being humiliated
like that didn't you?

    `Yes ... No! No that was then. It was a long time ago, Miss Carole
I... I'm different now.'

    `I don't care what you are now, Josie. You were a slut then, and for
this afternoon you'll be my delicious, little slut again and you know it,
so behave and be a good girl.'

    `Yes, Miss Carole,' I whispered, knowing there was little I could do.

    `Good girl, Josie. Now take off your coat or every person in your
office will get a set of very sexy pictures.  One ....two ...thr...'

    I hurriedly took off my coat and tossed it over a chair close
by. `Please, Miss Carole. What are you going to do?'  I fingered the hem of
my skirt nervously. `Please give me those horrid pictures ...please.'

    `I will ... don't worry. But first we're going to have a little fun,
and then, if you're a good girl, I'll give you the pictures ... negatives
as well. However, you have to do everything I ask, and try very ... very
hard to please me.  Do you understand me, Josie, you naughty little girl?'

    `Do you promise to give me back the pictures if I do as you say?'

    I heard Miss Carole giggle from the darkness knowing she now had
complete control of me. `Yes Josie, I promise, as long as you try very
hard. Now, let's see if you're going to be a good girl shall we?

    The picture I sent you was one of my favourites, so we'll start by
reproducing that shall we? Lift your skirt up and show me if you're wearing
any knickers. I know in the picture you were but I did instruct you to wear
none.'

    `Please Miss Carole. Don't make me do it ... it... it's not
right... please?'

    `Lift your skirt and show me your pussy ... little girl ... that's
right ... oh Josie, a shaven pussy ... beautiful ... good girl. However,
when I give you an instruction, you will acknowledge it by saying, yes Miss
Carole ... do you understand?'

    `Yes, Miss Carole.' My hands kept gripping the hem of my skirt, keeping
it raised and feeling Miss Carole's eyes looking at my pussy ... my long
legs ... oh, god, this was so humiliating. I could feel my face blushing
with the intense embarrassment at being made to expose myself like this. I
wanted to drop my skirt and stop her seeing me so naked and exposed.

    `Open your legs a little further ... that's it. You are being good
aren't you, Josie?'

    `Yes, Miss Carole,' I said, biting my lip but doing as I was told.

    `Good girl Josie.'

    I was starting to experience that feeling from so many years ago. The
feeling of both intense humiliation, that was mixed with a shameful thrill
at the same time; and I knew my pussy was getting wet - oh, god how
shameful....

    `You're such a slut, Josie. How old are you? Twenty-eight, a good
career ahead of you, and look at you. Standing in a hotel room, dressed in
a school uniform, showing your cunt to someone you can't even see. I
remember you had nice little breast back at New Hall, I bet they're bigger
now. Shall we see? Unbutton your blouse.'

    `Yes Miss Carole.' I dropped the hem of my skirt, took of the cardigan
and fumbled at the buttons of my blouse. Once undone, I pulled open the
blouse and pushed my breasts forward letting the school tie lay in between.

    `Mmmm, you have grown into a big girl, haven't you. Pinch your nipples
to make them harder, and then jiggle them a little for me. Let's see them
move shall we.'

    I looked down and although shame and embarrassment had already made my
nipple spring erect, I pinched them and tugged them, lifting up each large
breast by the nipple a few times to please her, and then, blushing
furiously, swung my chest from side to side making them sway and bounce. I
found it hard not to cover my chest and run crying from the room; as it
was, I started to cry and sniffed back a tear.

    `Oh, stop that girl! This is just the start and snivelling won't help
you. Turn around and bend over, keeping your legs straight.'

    `Yes Miss Carole.' I tuned around and took hold of the chair for
support, then bent over making sure my legs were straight, and pushed my
bottom out.

    `Open your legs more.' I felt her walk up behind me, and could sense
her close now. I began to wonder what she looked like after all this time;
I remembered her as being one of the prettier teachers.

    `Here.' I glanced to my side and saw a hand with red painted nail
varnish holding a slim silver vibrator - it was wet and sticky from some
kind of lubrication -- I took it. `Open your legs more, then slide it into
your ass.'

    `Yes Miss Carole.' I felt my skirt flipped up over my back to expose my
bottom fully, and then with the vibrator in my left hand, I took a deep
breath and pulled the cheeks of my bottom apart. I felt the cold metal as I
searched with the tip, ready to slide it into my ass, then she walked up
beside me and cupped my left breast in her hand. I hesitated with the shock
of the contact. Her hand was soft and felt nice as she squeezed and needed
me, her fingers finding my hard nipple, pinching and pulling it.

    Then her other hand came down on my bottom with a loud smack! and I
jerked, more in surprise than any pain.

    `Don't stop, girl! I want that in your ass ... now!'

    `Sorry, Miss Carole,' I mumbled, pushing the tip of the vibrator past
my tight asshole, forcing it further in as I tried to relax the muscles
around it -- I felt so...dirty. She smacked me again, harder this time, but
I gave myself over to the feel of the vibrator in my ass now and just
pushed back so it went further ... I couldn't help myself ... it felt
good. If I wasn't a wanton little slut before this, I was fast turning into
one.

   I heard he laugh as she saw the effect all this was having on me. `Good
girl, you enjoy it you slut. Fuck your ass for me, my pretty little girl,
your wet cunt can wait.'

     As I slid the metal cylinder in and out of myself, she continued to
spank me, then moved behind me presumably to watch the show - I realised I
was enjoying the thought of her watching, and being seen like this.

    The slaps got even harder and moved all over my bottom then down to the
inside of my legs. I was finding it hard to stand but refused to buckle; I
wasn't going to give her any excuse not to hand over the photos. With a
last slap, she stopped me pushing and I felt her fumble with something, and
then something bigger pushed insistently against my vagina and I opened my
legs a little further to accept it. I could feel both vibrators move close
together inside of me and, once again, I fought the impulse to collapse to
the floor. Straightening my legs again, I pushed out my bottom and held
onto the chair.

    Then without warning, the vibrator from my ass was removed and passed
forward to me.

    `Clean it.' The order was impressed upon me with another hard slap to
my bottom making me flinch and draw in a breath.  The vibrator in my pussy
began fucking me rhythmically again.

    I accepted the slim silver vibrator and, without thinking, sucked it
into my mouth as she spanked me. As she did, she reached round and pinched
my right nipple, pain screamed from my breast but I continued sucking - it
tasted good.

    `You dirty little slut, you're really earning those pictures aren't
you? Very well.' The vibrator slide out, leaving me feel empty and still in
need of an orgasm. `Stay as you are until I say you can turn round.'
Breathing hard, I continued to push out my bottom and heard her retreat
back into the darkness.
    `Okay, Josie. Turnaround and tidy yourself up.' I did as I was told;
the damp wetness running down my leg making me blush as I squinted back
into the bright light.

    `Get dressed, then come back this evening wearing a red evening
dress. If you haven't got one, then buy one. If you look good, then we
shall have dinner here this evening and I promise to hand over all the
pictures ... now go. 8pm, don't be late.

    Without even trying to argue, I turned, grabbed my cardigan and coat,
and fled...

To be continued.....


This was a story of fiction, and is dedicated to my friend Carole.
I hope you like it Carole.
I would love to hear comments from any readers - josiecrupper@yahoo.co.uk
Love n Kisses
JosieXX