© July 2021 by Blondie. All rights reserved. No reproduction, retransmission, or re-posting is permitted without written consent of the author.
This is a work of fiction and is fantasy only. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
For ages 18 and older only.
Chapter 1: Assuming Ownership
It doesn't matter to me whether my victims are male or female, young or old, gay or straight. If I have them at my disposal, free to do anything I want to them against their will, then I'm in my element. Since my virgin experience as a humiliator with Blondie (I am hoping and assuming that you have read the accounts in my book, "The Felicity Chronicles: My Exploits as a Humiliator"), I've had the pleasure of many such encounters. Most have been with fellow teenagers, but occasionally I've been able to humiliate an adult. I do have the feeling that the humiliation an adult feels at my hands is exacerbated by the fact that they are submitting to a younger person. The fact that I have always looked a lot younger than my actual age is a bonus.
Most of my victims over the last five plus years I have chosen myself, or, as in Blondie's case, were chosen for me. On more than one occasion, through sheer serendipity, my victim has practically fallen into my lap. The following account describes one of those occasions.
* * * * *
I had a high school teacher by the name of Miss Joplin. In my junior year, when I was 16, she taught my high school literature class. She was in her late twenties at the time, with a roundish, moderately attractive face and brownish hair that would be free-flowing if she ever decided to release her locks from their ties. She has a full-figured physique but would not be considered overweight. Her breasts are larger than average, and her hips are filled out, giving her a curvaceous figure.
She wasn't the most popular teacher in the school, and I have to say I never really cared for her. She was overly critical when grading my assignments. I thought I had a pretty good grasp on most of the subject matter, but my grades did not reflect that. She gave me a C+ on an essay that I thought I had practically aced. When I approached her about my grade, she pretty much blew me off.
"You need to try harder, Felicity," she said.
Well, I thought I was trying pretty damned hard, so this was not constructive criticism. "But I am, Miss Joplin," I replied. "Is there something specific that you didn't like? Is there something I can work on?"
"The overall structure wasn’t very good, and there wasn’t much cohesiveness,” she said. I thought that was a vague analysis and I just stood there, hoping for a better explanation. “Maybe literature just isn't your forte," she finally added.
Thanks for the encouragement, bitch.
I was flabbergasted, and more than a little pissed off.
Which made my chance encounter with her a week later all the more gratifying.
* * * * *
I had borrowed my mom's car late one Sunday morning in October to go downtown and do a little shopping. One of my stops was in the local drugstore to pick up a couple of toiletry items. Lo and behold, I spotted Miss Joplin in the back of one of the aisles. I had zero interest in engaging her and made the no-brainer decision to avoid her at all costs. But just as I was about to turn away, I saw her stuffing an item from the shelf into her large purse. And then another. Evidently, she was a kleptomaniac!
Not one to miss out on a golden opportunity, I pulled out my phone and started surreptitiously videoing her in hopes that she would continue her stealing spree. I stayed behind her and followed her to the next aisle, and sure enough, she loaded up her purse with a few more items. She then walked out of the store with her stolen loot. She made one furtive glance backward to make sure she wasn't being followed. She never saw me, and luckily for me I had it all recorded.
I remember standing there, somewhat stunned at what I had just witnessed, mostly because I had already considered the ramifications involved. And those ramifications were 100% positive for little ol' me. I'm not religious, but I looked up to the heavens in thanks for the boon that had just been handed to me.
I anxiously played the video while still standing in the store. It was as good as I thought it would be. "Yes!" I yelled out loud, not caring a bit about the stare I received from a customer at the other end of the aisle.
I didn’t waste much time. While sitting in the car I found the email addresses of the teachers on the school's website and sent an email to the kleptomaniac. It looked like this:
Subject: I Saw You at the Drugstore Today
Dear Miss Joplin,
We need to talk. Call me. My cell is (206) 472-xxxx. I would appreciate hearing from you no later than 4:00 this afternoon.
Make sure to watch the attached video before you call.
I would prefer to keep this strictly between you and me, but that will depend on you.
I look forward to hearing from you.
Love,
Felicity
I pictured her tensing up upon seeing the subject matter, and then being absolutely horrified while viewing the incriminating video. It made me smile with satisfaction.
I received the call just a few minutes before 4:00. She sounded quite distressed. Here's how it went:
"Hello?" I said cheerily.
"Is this....is this Felicity?" she asked, quite nervously.
"Yes, hi, is that you, Miss Joplin?"
"Yes." I don't think she knew quite how to proceed, so I got the ball rolling. "Great, thanks so much for calling me back. I was wondering what you thought of my video."
There was a very long pause before she finally responded. "What is it you want?" I assumed she thought I wanted money. But that's because she didn't know me very well. Not yet.
"Well, that's a fair question, Miss Joplin. I think it would be best if we could discuss this in person. How about we meet in the Food Court at the mall in say, one hour from now?" I probably could have handled my agenda over the phone, but I wanted to meet face to face so she could see my facial expressions and know I meant business. Plus, it would be fun for me to see her squirm.
There was another pause before she said, "Can you just tell me what this is all about?"
"Absolutely," I responded. "We can discuss it at the mall. Don't be late," I said, then immediately terminated the call.
I arrived at the Food Court an hour later. It wasn't crowded, and I spotted Miss Joplin sitting at a small table in the corner, near the Panda Express. She was nervously picking at her fingers. I approached her from behind and softly put my hand on her shoulder. "Miss Joplin!" I said cheerily. She was quite startled and almost sprung out of her chair. "Thanks for coming to meet me," I said, extending my right hand. The gesture was not reciprocated. I sat down across from her.
"Listen," she said...
"No, I think you need to listen to me," I interrupted. I wanted to assume control from the get-go. "I think you should be ashamed of yourself, and you need to be taught a lesson. I've a good mind to take this video straight to the principal."
"Please, no....don't do that, I...I...I'd lose my job, and....I might not be able to teach again."
"You're damn straight," I responded. "And rightly so. I could also take it straight to the police. Some of those items you ripped off were expensive. They'd probably charge you with grand theft. That's a felony, and you'd go away for a long time." I was pretty sure that wouldn't be the case, but she was feeling vulnerable and probably not thinking straight. I could tell I had her right where I wanted her.
"Please, I....I have some money. I have over fifty thousand dollars. I've been saving for a new car and a European vacation, but I can give some of it to you if you just delete the video, and we'll pretend this never happened."
"That's a very nice offer, but I don't think so, Miss Joplin. It's not your money I want."
She furrowed her brow in confusion, wondering what in the world I was looking for. Then she thought she had a revelation. "Oh, now I get it. You want a good grade. Do you want a B? I could even give you an A if that's what you want."
I smiled and said, "Oh, I'm confident you are going to give me an A. But that's just going to be the icing on the cake."
Her face turned white. I think she suddenly had a chilling realization that she was facing something dark, something demonic. She had no idea what it was, but she had a sense that I had something very unpleasant in store for her. She then tried to play a different card.
"Please, Felicity, I know I have a problem. I'll get it fixed. I promise I'll get some help. Please, just let this one thing go."
I was not going to be deterred. "You can get your problem fixed. Hey, I hope you do. But you're still going to have to answer to me."
"What...what in God's name do you want?" she asked with noticeable trepidation.
"It's pretty simple, Miss Joplin. I just want your compliance. If I ask you to do something for me, I expect you to obey." She looked at me wide-eyed. "Do we have a deal?" I asked.
"What....what kinds of things are you talking about?" she asked apprehensively.
"Don't you worry your pretty little head about that right now. You'll find out all in good time." That response, of course, did nothing to mitigate her uneasiness. I'm sure the uncertainty of what I had planned for her in my devious mind had her anxious to the extreme. "In the meantime," I said, "I need to get your credit card number. Could I borrow your card for a minute?"
She looked at me somberly before grudgingly reaching into her purse and handing me her card. I pulled out my phone and began inputting the numbers in the notes section in her contact information. "Ah, I see you have a first name. Is it okay if I call you Marian?"
"You're going to call me whatever you want," she replied.
I pretended I didn't hear her. "No worries, Marian. I'm not going to break you. Your fifty thousand should be more than enough. And this is mainly for you. I'd like to send you some nice gifts on occasion, but I wouldn't be able to afford them, so I'll simply charge them to your card." I glanced up at her and she had a confused look on her face, followed by a look of anxiety.
"I see this is a Citibank card," I continued. "My parents use one of these, and they're always talking about the rewards they receive from their purchases. So in a way I'll be helping you out." The look on Miss Joplin's face indicated that she might not have quite agreed with that assessment.
I turned the card over and added the three-digit security code, then handed her my phone. "Do me a favor and type in your home address. That way I'll know where to send the packages." While she unenthusiastically typed in her address, I continued to engage her. "By the way, was that your cell phone you called me from today?" She nodded sullenly. "Great, then I can text you if I need something. Do me a favor and always keep your phone handy. One of my pet peeves is when I text somebody and don't get an immediate response. Can I count on you to get back to me right away when I text you?" Again, she nodded. "Great. Even if it doesn't seem like it requires a response, I'd appreciate an acknowledgment right away, just so I know you're obeying me by being available at all times."
"Please," she said. "Can you just tell me what....what kind of things you want me...what do you have in mind?" She had a look of desperation on her face, which I found pleasurable.
"Oh," I replied. "I could tell you, but it would be much more enjoyable to surprise you. To tell you the truth, I'm not even sure myself exactly what I have planned for you. It's kind of fun to think on the fly sometimes. I think you'll be very impressed with my spontaneity." I paused and smiled, a smile that was not reciprocated. "I can tell you this: Whatever I make you do will probably be....shall I say, 'embarrassing’ for you—if not downright humiliating—and quite stimulating for me. Let's just say that if you have a sense of foreboding right now, then that it is justified," I said. "I should warn you that I have a very creative mind, and nothing excites me more than a good humiliation session." I looked at her and smiled. The look of distress on her face spoke volumes.
"Oh gosh....please....what kind of hu....humiliating things?" She looked like she might become physically ill.
"Let's not worry about that right now," I responded teasingly.
I took back my phone, and at that point I pretty much had all the information I needed: her email address, her phone number, her home address, and her credit card information. And I was pretty sure I had her compliance, but there were a couple of things I wanted to try out to be sure.
"Well, I think that should do it," I said. "By the way, I really like your shoes. What size do you wear?"
"Eight and a half," she said halfheartedly. I could tell she really wanted to be done with me.
"Shoot, that's too big for me. But my sister Julie wears that size. Mind if I give them to her?" I asked casually, as if I was asking her if she knew what time it was.
"Uh...I...please, don't do this to me...pl..."
"Julie would really appreciate it. And so would I. Let's call it a good faith gesture, just to make sure we're on the same page."
She knew I wasn't going to back down. "Okay, I guess I can....do that. I can send them to you."
"Actually, I'm driving right by her place on my way home. I'd like to just drop them off tonight. So I'll take them off your hands—or I guess off your feet is more appropriate—right now, if you please."
"But I'll be barefoot," she pleaded. She was wearing black flats with no socks. I just smiled at her and shrugged my shoulders.
With hesitation, she leaned over and removed her shoes. I really enjoyed that moment. It wasn't like I was making her expose her breasts or anything, but nonetheless I got her to comply, and the power I felt over her as I watched her bare her feet was stimulating. She handed over the shoes. I thanked her and sent her on her way. Watching her bare feet contacting the cold, dirty floor of the Food Court as she walked away really gave me a rush.
"I'll be in touch!" I hollered before she was out of earshot.
Little did she know how soon that would be. A couple of minutes later I sent her a text. She was probably still walking gingerly to her car.
Just checking in
I'm here.
That's a good girl, Marian.
