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My Bully, His Slut

"Dominated by my High School Bully"

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Famous Story

School wasn’t easy for me. I grew up in a rural area before moving to a rough part of the inner city for my final High School year. Being a 'posh white girl' in a predominantly Asian/black school was bad enough. But, add my tiny frame, huge bum, glasses, and acne, and you’ll see that I really struggled. Also, I was socially awkward and only felt comfortable when I was at my dance class. Dance was my life — but my commitment also distanced me from the rest of my peers.

About three months into the school year, things got even worse when someone tossed my bag into the boys changing room. I went to retrieve my belongings and saw Jameel, the most popular guy in the school and the boy responsible for most of my misery, smoking weed. I grabbed my bag and scurried out as fast as possible. 

But that didn’t stop Jameel telling everyone that I’d followed him into the changing rooms and offered him a blowjob. Great! So, all the girls then hated me because they thought I was a slut and the boys hated me simply because the girls hated me. Oh, the joys of High School.

Fast forward four years… 

My High School experience behind me, the shortcomings of those times had turned into my strengths. My awkward dancer’s body had developed into a powerful frame fit for a goddess. Shapely legs led up to a gorgeous bum that had men falling to their knees. I had a flat stomach, perfect boobs, and my acne had cleared, leaving behind a beautiful fresh complexion. With deep blue eyes, plump lips, and golden hair, I was a knockout — and I knew it. 

Men hit on me constantly but I rarely entertained them. I had a few boyfriends, but I was still committed to my dance, trying to make it onto the big stage. I was always short of money, slipping months behind on my rent, and I needed my dancing to kick off soon or I’d be forced to get a regular job. Or be evicted.

My story really begins from the day I ran into Jameel again. 

It was a cold Wednesday in November and I’d just finished my early morning workout at the gym. Having changed into a tight pair of yoga pants and a thin cotton top, I was dashing to my car when, from behind me, I heard a voice calling, “Excuse me… excuse me.”

I hurried on, ignoring the voice. “Katey," came the next shout but I still ignored it, thinking it was much too cold to stop for a conversation.

“White girl.” 

I froze in my tracks. I’m not sure whether it was the voice I recognised or the fact that I hadn’t been called that since my dark High School days, but I turned around. I immediately recognized Jameel.

"I thought that would get your attention,” he said. “Look at you now, white girl — ugly duckling to gorgeous swan, it seems.” 

"What do you want?” I wasn’t prepared to give my school bully the time of day but it didn’t escape my notice that he’d become quite a man: big and muscular, rough beard, and fade haircut. 

He reached out a hand toward me and said something completely unexpected. "Katey, I’m really sorry about High School. I was a total dick to you and must have made your life miserable. I really am sorry.”

I was shocked. I couldn’t believe that my biggest tormentor had reached out and apologised. I briefly took his hand, mumbled some acceptance of his apology, and quickly continued walking to my beat-up old Ford Fiesta. I climbed in and was about to drive off when Jameel sped past in a sparkling new Porsche.

Over the next few weeks, we chatted most days at the gym. Conversations even became a little flirtatious and I learned he owned a nightclub. Occasionally, I caught him staring at my body as I worked out and I admit I was distracted by his huge muscular frame and the way the light would dance off his dark skin. If I was lucky, I’d catch an outline of his meat and then I’d be close to soaking my yoga pants with lust. But nothing sexual was going to happen. This man had bullied me mercilessly at school and, no matter how nice he was to me now, I could never forget that.

“Katey," I heard him shout one morning and I stopped, prepared for our usual chat. Jameel seemed panicked. "I desperately need your help,” he said. 

“You do? In what way?”

“Yes, I really do. I’m hosting a party tonight at the club and a dancer has let me down.” He took a deep breath, staring into my eyes. “Look, I’ll pay you three-thousand pounds if you help me out.”

It didn’t take much thinking about. I needed money, I was on the verge of eviction, and three-thousand would get me a stay of execution. I agreed and he thanked me, saying he’d send a car. Then he shot off as quickly as he’d arrived.

At eight that night, the car arrived and within thirty minutes I was walking into Jameel’s nightclub. It was dingy, but I’ve yet to see an empty club that looks good. So I thought nothing of it and proceeded to go up to his office as instructed. Jameel was there to greet me.

“Hey, Katey, thank you so much again for doing this. The outfit choices are over there.” He pointed toward a rack of clothes.

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“My personal suggestion would be the schoolgirl outfit. When you’re ready, if you go through the door over there, you’ll be in the private room.”

"Schoolgirl outfit? Private room?” I said, eyebrows raised. “You know I’m a dancer, not a stripper, right?"

“You're gorgeous,” he said. “You have a killer body and how else are you going to make three-thousand pounds in a night. If you don't want the money, that’s fine.”

Jameel started to walk away as I computed all the information. “Okay, okay… I’ll do it. But I’m not taking my underwear off.”

“Okay then, it doesn’t matter if you don’t want the job.” He shrugged. “It’s late but I’m sure I’ll be able to find someone to take off their bra for three-grand. No problem.”

“Okay, I’ll do it,” I said quickly. He knew I needed the money.

Jameel smiled. ”Do a good job and I’ll throw in an extra five-hundred. Call it a performance bonus,” he said, grinning. “Make sure you sign on the dotted line before you come out,” he added, leaving me alone to chose an outfit.

I dressed in the schoolgirl gear as he’d suggested. It was my old school uniform — with a few alterations, of course. I slipped a scanty red thong between my bum cheeks, squeezed into the tiny, incredibly short skirt, pulled on the white shirt complete with our school crest, and stepped into the heels. At his desk, I signed the contract before I strode, hips swaying, into the middle of the dimly-lit private room. 

I’d resolved to put on the ultimate show. I saw five guys waiting in the shadows, so I got to work. I twerked, strutted, and stripped, and it wasn't long before I was wearing only the red thong, my whole body on display for complete strangers. 

Then I felt it.

A man had left his seat and he cupped my most intimate area in his hand. “Damn, Jameel, this one really is a slut. Her pussy’s soaking,” I heard him say as I tried to squirm away. 

I cried out for Jameel as the stranger held me in place. “What’s happening, Jameel?” I yelled.

Jameel strutted over and I was shocked to see that he wore only boxers. His huge dick was clearly erect.

“So, all that time I was calling you white girl, it seems I should have been calling you white slut,” he said in a stern tone. “Let me tell you, Katey, the contract you’ve signed and the money you’ve accepted allow me to use the video of your strip on my website, Your little show was streamed to forty-thousand horny guys who love little sluts like you. Now they want to see you fucked. There’s another five-thousand cash to let each of us have you. We’ve blurred your face on the website so far. If you go ahead and let us fuck you, we’ll continue to blur your face. If you refuse… well, the world will see your face.”

I realised he’d taken advantage of me and I knew there was little I could do now but earn the money and keep my privacy. It was a lot of money.

“I’ll do it,” I said tersely.

“Beg me,” Jameel bellowed. “Beg to be my little white slut, beg me to fuck you like the little whore you are.”

Kneeling on the dirty floor of his strip club in just a little red thong, I began to beg my High School bully, the man who had taken advantage of me, to finally make me his whore.

Within seconds, hands were all over me, exploring my body, and, to my amazement, I was thrilled. My pussy was soon dripping wet as I immediately warmed to the role of a whore. It wasn't long before I was gagging on their fat cocks as they took turns fucking my mouth — and pussy.

My initial reluctance and resentment had not only been replaced by my eagerness for sex but I also begged for Jameel’s approval. I slammed my soaking wet pussy onto a hard cock fucking me from behind and makeup ran down my face while I was being throat-fucked. When the cock was withdrawn from my mouth, I instantly craved more.

“Fuck me like the whore I am,” I screamed to Jameel’s obvious amusement. Something had awoken inside me and I so wanted to please this powerful man.

One by one, the guys dumped their loads into my hungry mouth. I swallowed most of the cum but some dribbled down my chin and onto my panting chest. Finished, the men dressed and left, leaving me alone with Jameel. On my knees, sweaty, used, and trembling with lust, I must have looked a complete mess. But I wanted him, I needed his big cock, and I implored my old High School bully to fuck me. He looked at me, slowly shook his head, and laughed.

“I knew you were a white slut all along. You really want my cock right now, don't you, slut?”

“Yes please, daddy, I want your cock right now. I need it.”

“Well, I’m not fucking you while you look like that. If you want to fuck me, you'll be back here tomorrow when I arrive at eight-fifty. You’ll be cleaned up and wearing something sexy. And you’ll be kneeling on the floor at my desk, waiting, and wearing this.”

He threw a black collar at me. The words White Slut were embroidered in crystals. Then, Jameel left, leaving me fingering the collar. We both knew I’d be back tomorrow…

 

Thanks to Jwren

 

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Written by Slut_Viki
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