By Zen Mackie
When Carol told me that she was going to have to make a presentation on Parent’s Night at her school I knew I’d have to do something to make it memorable for her. I didn’t tell her I was planning to attend; I simply arrived at her room about half an hour before the meeting was supposed to begin.
She answered my knock on the door in a dress of dark maroon silk—or some fabric that looked like silk. It was very conservative in cut and came down past her knees. It buttoned down the front and was cinched with a thin black leather belt with a gold buckle. She had on simple gold earrings and was wearing more make-up than usual. She was surprised to see me, and became a little flustered when I kissed her on the cheek and made my way into her room
“Hi, Jonathan,” she said. “I can’t...I have a...”
“I know,” I replied. “I’m coming along to lend moral support...” Her eyes widened at this. “...And I brought something for you to wear. Lift up your dress.”
She was by now so habituated to doing what I told her that she automatically reached for the hem of her dress. Then she hesitated, caught between two self-images: the elegantly dressed future teacher who would soon be addressing an audience of parents of the grade-school children she saw every day, and the sexual submissive who thought of herself as my property and deliberately sought humiliation at my hands.
She had so far been able to keep the two separate in her mind, seemingly, and was reluctant to let the line be blurred. She remained frozen, slightly bent, her hands extended toward her knees, for several seconds, looking at me and several times starting to speak. Each time she faltered. Finally she said, “I’m wearing pantyhose. I’m sorry.”
I smiled. “Oh, that’s all right. I’ll forgive you this time.”
Still looking at me, she lifted her skirt, holding it delicately so that it wouldn’t wrinkle, and stood with her feet apart. I knelt down in front of her and quickly pulled her pantyhose down to her thighs, not noticing until I’d done so what she was wearing underneath: a pair of the ‘little girl’ panties she’d bought when we were downtown; pink cotton with big yellow, red and green lollipops. I looked up at her, grinning, and she blushed deeply. So she wasn’t keeping her lives as separate as I’d thought!
“You told me I had to...that I couldn’t wear, you know, grown-up ones,” she said, not looking at me.
I leaned forwarded and nuzzled her gently between her legs for a moment. I couldn’t see her face above her skirt, but I heard her draw a quavering breath. I nuzzled her some more and kissed her there, gradually adding my tongue. She started to moan and press herself against me, then caught herself. “Jonathan, I—I have to...oh jeez...I have to...please, I...”
I stopped. “All right. Close your eyes.”
She couldn’t see me over her skirt anyway but I wanted to be sure. After a moment I reached into the bag I’d brought, pulled out something made of soft plastic and fastened its straps around her waist and between her legs so that it nestled right against the now moist crotch of her panties. Then I pulled her pantyhose back up, stood and gently pulled the skirt out of her hands and let it fall back into place.
She opened her eyes and touched the place where the strap circled her waist under her dress. “What is it?”
“Time to go,” I said, pulling open the door.
I behaved myself all through her presentation, sitting a few rows back so she wouldn’t be distracted by my presence, though her glance sought me out a few times. She did very well, even if she was a little nervous. And she only stumbled slightly when she saw my camera as I took a couple of shots of her while she spoke.
I waited until she was done, and most of the parents had left.
She was sitting down at the teacher’s desk, checking something for one of the parents but at that moment not actually speaking with them, when I reached into my pocket for the remote control and switched it on.
With all the usual background noise—ventilation, a few people still talking—I was the only one who noticed the sudden low-level hum, and that’s because I was listening for it. I would have known that the vibrator was working anyway, of course, by the way she suddenly sat bolt upright, looked down at her lap and then just as suddenly darted a panic-stricken look at me. Just at that point the mother of one of the children leaned down to ask Carol a question, and I switched off the power.
Her relief was obvious as she looked quickly down at her lap again before turning to answer the woman who’d asked the question. Which apparently had to do with her child’s artwork, as Carol rose from her desk and led her over to a wall, which was covered with drawings in crayon. After pointing out the drawing in question and making a few polite remarks Carol turned and began walking back towards the desk. At which point I turned the vibrator back on.
She stopped in mid-stride and began to bend over as if she had a sudden stomach cramp. She looked up at me just in time to see me take her picture like that, then forced herself to straighten up and continued to her desk on somewhat shaky legs. There she allowed herself to bend over, placing her hands on the desk and looking down as if studying something there, but I could see that she was biting her lip and that she was breathing unsteadily. She glanced up at me, her eyes pleading, but I simply took another picture of her and left the power on until someone, a woman who was possibly her teaching mentor, came over and spoke to her.
And so it went for the next twenty minutes or so: when she needed to focus I left her undisturbed; as soon as she was unattended the vibrator was switched back on. By the end of the evening she was regularly dabbing at her brow and upper lip with tissues and I had captured some of her more interesting facial expressions with my camera.
Finally there were only a few stragglers left. I switched off the vibrator, put the camera away and gave her a friendly wave before making my way out of the room. I’m sure she thought I was planning to meet her outside or back at her room. In fact, I simply waited outside the main door until I’d seen all the other visitors leave, then hurried back to the classroom, making sure the school doors were locked behind me.
I did a quick check to make sure the halls and bathrooms were empty, then made my way back to the classroom. Through the glass in the door I saw Carol. She had her back to me and was bent over one of the school desks at the far end of the room, apparently arranging papers of some kind. I switched on the vibrator for the fun of seeing her suddenly straighten and whirl around. Then I opened the door and stepped into the classroom.
Carol said nothing, just leaned her hands back onto the desk as if for support. I pulled the remote out of my pocket and showed it to her before moving the control up to the next highest setting. Her eyes closed and her mouth fell open, and she now half-leaned against, half-sat on the desk. She remained like that even when she saw me take out my camera again to capture her in that pose.
After taking the shot I hung the camera around my neck, then said, “Take off your shoes and your pantyhose.”
She quickly checked to see that we were alone and that the blinds were down then did as she was told, kicking off her shoes then reaching under her dress to remove her pantyhose. She held them out to me, and I took a picture of her doing so. After draping her pantyhose over a nearby desk I took her by the hand and helped her to climb, first up onto the chair by the desk she’d been leaning on, then onto the desk itself. It was small, designed for grade-school children, so there wasn’t much room for her to stand, but she did. She stood unsteadily, nervously biting her lip and rubbing her palms on her thighs and looking anxiously down at me as I took another picture. The hum of the vibrator was much more obvious in the empty room, as was its effect on her now that she didn’t have to conceal it. Her expression seemed almost pained, and she stared into my eyes as I reached up and removed her belt, then, beginning at the bottom, slowly began to open the buttons of her dress.
When I’d unfastened the top one and her dress was hanging open I slipped my hands inside and fondled her breasts through her brassiere for a while, molding them and gently pinching her nipples, already upright beneath the fabric. At first she murmured faint protests, afraid that we would be caught and her career ruined. My reply was to flick her dress off her shoulders so that it fell whispering into a shiny puddle around her feet. She gasped, but made no further protest, even when I reached behind her, unfastened her bra and allowed it to fall to the desk as well, leaving her wearing only her pink lollipop panties and the vibrator strapped over them.
I told her to put her hands behind her head and she did so, though the vibrator’s effects made her continue to try to press her thighs together as if to dampen the sensation, and her face contorted with the effort to remain upright. I took several pictures of her like that. Her breathing was very ragged and I saw a large semi-circle of dampness in the crotch of her panties extending well beyond the vibrator. I took a couple of close-ups then reached up and traced the stain’s edge with a fingertip. Though the room was warm she shivered under my touch.
She was facing away from the blind-covered windows, and I slowly walked behind her to have a look at them. They were the old-fashioned kind that were raised and lowered by a cord. I took the end of the cord in my hand and told her to turn around. She did so, balancing precariously on top of the desk. She stared at the cord in my hand, and gasped in horror when I gave it a small pull, raising the blinds enough so that anyone outside the window, if they were crouched to the right height, could see in, although they wouldn’t be able to see much more than her bare feet.
“No!” she cried out. But she stayed put, her arms behind her head.
“No...what?” I asked innocently, raising the blind a few more inches.
“Please don’t!” Her voice was an urgent whisper.
“Don’t...what?” A few more inches.
“Don’t open the blind!”
“Oh.” I stopped. “Why not?”
“I-I don’t want anyone to see me!”
“Why not?’
“Ohhhh...you know...”
“Tell me. Why don’t you want anyone to see you?”
A tear rolled down her face and her lip began to quiver “I...because I’m...s-standing on a desk in...in just my panties with a...with a...” She took one hand down and gestured at the humming object in her crotch and looked at me desperately.
“Vibrator,” I told her.
“V-vibrator between m-my legs.”
“And that’s why you don’t want me to open the blind?”
“Yes...yes.”
I took her hand, the one she’d gestured with, and placed the end of the cord in it. She looked down at it and then at me in confusion. I said, “All right then. You do it.”
I knew, and she must have known, that this side of the school building was at the back and faced nothing more than a swampy wooded area that was actually fenced off from the rest of the school grounds. The odds against anyone being there were infinitesimal.
But Carol didn’t care. She looked at me with horror and whispered, “No!”
I looked calmly back at her and asked, “What are you?”
She was so distracted by her panic and by the vibrations between her legs that she stared blankly at me for several seconds, before being able to marshal her thoughts –and when she did they brought her little hope of escape: “I-I’m your, your p-property,” she finally stammered, “b-but Jonathan...”
“That’s right.