Miss Joplin: A Tale of Enforced Servitude

[Blondie]

The following is applicable to all chapters of “Miss Joplin: A Tale of Enforced Servitude:”

© 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 pure fantasy. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

For ages 18 and older only.

Chapter 1: Assuming Ownership
Chapter 2: Risqué Picture Secured
Chapter 3: Miss Joplin's New Wardrobe
Chapter 4: Naked on the Desk
Chapter 5: A Humiliating Texting Session
Chapter 6: An Unwelcome Makeover
Chapter 7: Naked for the Pizza Boys
Chapter 8: Ownership of Miss Joplin Escalated
Chapter 9: A Naked Session
Chapter 10: Cameras, Cameras Everywhere, Part 1
Chapter 11: Cameras, Cameras Everywhere, Part 2
Chapter 12: Cameras, Cameras Everywhere, Part 3




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 taken great pleasure in countless 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 intensified 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 targets over the last five-plus years were ones I chose 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, I was 16, and she taught literature. 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 strong handle on the material, but my grades suggested otherwise. 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. "Was there something specific that you didn't like? Something I could work on?"

She barely glanced at me. “The overall structure wasn’t very good, and there wasn’t much cohesiveness.” That was almost laughably vague, so I waited, hoping she’d say more. “Maybe literature just isn’t your forte,” she finally added, as if that settled things.

Thanks for the encouragement, bitch.

I walked away flabbergasted, and more than a little pissed off.

Which made my chance encounter with her a week later all the more gratifying.

* * * * *

I borrowed my mom's car late that Sunday morning in October to do some shopping downtown. I hit the drugstore for a couple of essentials and, lucky me, I spotted Miss Joplin in the back aisle. I had zero interest in engaging her—my plan was to slip away unseen. 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!

Never one to miss out on a golden opportunity, I pulled out my phone and started surreptitiously videoing her while she continued her 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 boldly strode right out of the store with her stolen loot. She made one furtive glance over her shoulder to make sure she wasn't being followed. She never saw me, and luckily for me, my phone caught everything.

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 right there by the toothpaste. It was perfect. "Yes!" I yelled out loud, not caring a bit about the stare I received from an old lady at the other end of the aisle.

I wasted no time. Still in the car, I looked up her school email and sent her this note:

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.

Her call came just before 4:00. She sounded quite distressed.

"Hello?" I answered cheerfully.

"Is this... is this Felicity?" Her voice trembled.

"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 how serious I was. Plus, it would be fun 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 was nearly empty, and I spotted Miss Joplin hunched at a small table in the corner, near the Panda Express, nervously picking at her fingers. I approached her from behind and softly put my hand on her shoulder.

"Miss Joplin!" I said. 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 started.

"No, I think you need to listen to me," I cut in. 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’m tempted to take this video straight to the principal."

She went pale. "Please, no... don't do that—I... I... I'd lose my job, maybe never 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.

She was nearly hyperventilating. "Please, I... I have money. Over fifty thousand dollars saved. 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."

I smiled. "That's a very tempting 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, you’ll be giving me an A, no doubt. 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 diabolical. 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 help, by all means. Hey, I hope you do. But you're still going to have to answer to me."

She stared. "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.

I grinned. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about that right now. You'll find out soon enough." That response, of course, did nothing to mitigate her uneasiness. She looked like she might faint. I pressed on. "In the meantime, I'll 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 took my phone, snapped a photo of the numbers, and entered them into her contact details. "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. That fifty grand 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—her expression shifted from confusion to dread, then to outright fear.

"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.

I flipped the card, took down the security code, and 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 anything. 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."

She swallowed. "Please... can you just tell me what... what kind of things you want me... what do you want from me?" She had a look of desperation on her face, which I found pleasurable.

“Oh, I could tell you, but it’ll be much more entertaining to surprise you. Truth is, I’m not even sure myself what I’ll come up with—it’s fun to think on the fly. I think you’ll be impressed with my imagination.” I paused and smiled, a smile that was not reciprocated. “I can tell you this much: Whatever I make you do will almost certainly be embarrassing for you—if not downright humiliating—and quite stimulating for me. So if you’re feeling a sense of foreboding right now, I’d say it’s justified.” I smiled again.

She looked like she might throw up. "Oh gosh... please... what kind of hu... embarrassing things?"

"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, phone number, address, and 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. It was obvious 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, like it was the most ordinary request in the world.

"Uh... I... please, don't do this... pl—"

“Julie will appreciate it. So will I. Let’s call it a good-faith gesture, just to make sure we understand each other."

She knew I wouldn’t back down. "Okay, I guess I can... do that. I can send them to you."

I shook my head. "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 protested. She was wearing black flats with no socks. I just smiled at her and shrugged my shoulders.

With visible hesitation, she leaned over and slipped off her shoes. I really enjoyed that moment. It wasn't like I was making her expose anything intimate, but nonetheless I got her to comply, and the power I felt over her as I watched her bare her feet was surprisingly stimulating.

She handed over the shoes. I thanked her and sent her on her way. I watched her walk away, barefoot and humiliated. The sight of her stepping onto the cold, grimy Food Court floor sent a sharp, undeniable thrill through me.

"I'll be in touch!" I called cheerfully. She didn’t look back.

Two 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.

[mikewozere]

Nice setup. Can't wait to read more

[Blondie]

Chapter 2: Risqué Picture Secured

As I walked out of the Food Court, I chucked Miss Joplin’s shoes into the nearest trash bin. No way Julie would wear those things. Of course, it was never really about the shoes—it was about establishing control. And right then, I felt pretty damn pleased with myself. I thought the meeting went rather well. I got the strong impression that Miss Joplin would not agree with that assessment. (giggle)

When I got home I was anxious to have a little fun with my newfound victim. I punched her name into my phone and fired off a text, already confident she’d respond immediately. Sure enough, she didn’t make me wait.

Thank you for meeting with me tonight.

Okay

I thought it went rather well.

ok

What is your bra size?

(After a pause) Why do you ask?

What is your bra size?

38DDD. Why are you asking me this?

Just my way of getting familiar. That’s a good size. I'm guessing you are a size 14?

Yes. It depends. Sometimes a 16.

How long have you been teaching?

7 yrs

What kind of car do you drive?

Honda

What size panties do you wear?

(Pause) 8

Do you live alone?

yes

Boyfriend?

No

Girlfriend?

No

What's your favorite movie?

Gone With the Wind

Favorite food?

Italian

How often do you masturbate?

(Pause) Please, that's personal

How often do you masturbate?

Occasionally

More than twice a week?

Maybe

Oh, you little hussy, you!

No response.

Do you use a vibrator or just finger yourself?

Please. Can we stop now?

Soon. But I'm curious how you get yourself off.

I just use my hands.

Ooh, "hands." As in plural. You really get busy.

No response.

Do you caress your breasts with one hand or do you use both hands to play with your pussy?

Again, no response, which didn't surprise me.

I asked you a question, Marian.

Sometimes I touch my breasts. Please, let me go.

I ignored her plea.

Of course you do. Hey, maybe I'll use your credit card and send you a nice vibrator. Then while you're using it you will think of me. Would you like that, Marian?

No, that won't be necessary.

Oh, no worries. Consider it done. Who is your favorite author?

Hemingway. Please, I'd like to go to bed.

Ok, fair enough. But I'd like you to do something for me before you go to bed.

(Pause) What?

I'd like you to get naked from the waist up and send me a nice selfie of your titties.

(Long pause) Please. I can't do that.

It wasn't a request, Marian.

Please don't do this. I'm begging you.

Don't make me pull out the video, Marian. You have exactly five minutes, and not a second more. And I want your pretty face in the picture so I know the tits belong to you.

This was the moment of truth. Up until that point I still felt like she could pull out of this whole deal. I mean, if I were in her shoes I would have taken my chances, even confess to the police before submitting to someone like me. But at that juncture I figured if she actually sent me a topless selfie, then there would be no turning back. She would be mine.

Exactly four and a half minutes went by. Then—ping! There it was. A distraught-looking Marian Joplin in her bare-breasted glory. "Yes!" I said out loud, grinning like I’d just won the lottery.

Here is the picture she sent. I cropped her face out to protect the innocent.



Good girl, Marian. You have nothing to be ashamed of. Your breasts are voluptuous.

No response

You can thank me, Marian.

Thank you

You're quite welcome, Miss Joplin. The pleasure was all mine. Now you're free to go to bed. Nighty-night.

No response

I said nighty-night.

Good night

I put down my phone and leaned back, letting the euphoria settle over me. Part of me wondered how she was coping, if she was sobbing into her pillow or just lying in the dark, waiting for my next text. Either way, I knew I was in her head now—and I had no intention of leaving anytime soon.

I smiled, considering what I might do next. The possibilities were endless, and Miss Joplin's humiliation had only just begun.

[Blondie]

Chapter 3: Miss Joplin’s New Wardrobe

Three weeks had gone by since I received that delightful selfie of Miss Joplin, topless and mortified. In that time, I have gradually escalated my control over her. Up to that point I hadn't achieved quite the sexual thrill from my dealings with Miss Joplin as I did with Blondie and the others—what I had with Miss Joplin was subtler, but delicious in its own way. I did not set any limits as to how far I would go, right down to controlling what she wore every day to, at times, what she ate for dinner. I think it got to the point where everything she did, and ultimately every thought she had, I would be in her head. Having that kind of control over someone's life was downright intoxicating for me.

And, thanks to an impromptu adventure with Miss Joplin, the sexual thrill I just alluded to was about to be fulfilled.

A couple of days after receiving the picture I went shopping online for clothing. She always dressed very conservatively, usually wearing dark pants and a loose-fitting sweater. I think she has a nice body, and in my opinion she should be showing it off a little more. And in this arrangement, my opinion was the only one that mattered.

Since I was using her credit card, I didn't hold back. I bought several very nice short skirts, along with about a dozen different types of tops, most of them form-fitting to highlight her breasts. I didn't want her to get in trouble at school, so, though some of the tops were low-cut, only a very small amount of cleavage would show. In any case, they were considerably more provocative than what she had been used to wearing.

I tossed in two dozen pairs of sheer nylons, a few sets of black stockings, including a handful of thongs. I pictured her thinking of me every morning while she was naked and pulling open her underwear drawer. That notion brought a huge smile to my face.

To top it off I purchased several pairs of shoes. Her days of wearing flats to school were numbered, since all the shoes had a minimum of two-and one-half inch heels, most three or four. The five-inch black patent stilettos were my favorite.

The total bill came to over $2500, but the good news for her was that she was all set for clothes for a while.

I had everything sent to her house. I went the extra mile and shelled out for next-day delivery so I wouldn't have to wait.

* * * * *

The next morning, after literature class, I made a point of stopping by Miss Joplin’s desk as everyone filed out. "I bought you some nice gifts, Marian," I said in a soft voice so no one else would hear. “They’ll be arriving today. I hope you like them.” She was too dumbfounded to respond, so I just smiled and sauntered out the door.

That evening I was sitting on my bed, finishing a reading assignment. Needing a break, I thought it would be a good time to check in on the benefactor of my thoughtful gifts. I picked up my phone and sent her a text.

Did you get my gifts?

She obediently responded right away.

Yes

Great! I'm excited to see you wearing them. Have you tried them on yet?

No

I know your size, so I think everything should fit. If anything is too big let me know and I'll buy you another one in a smaller size. If anything is a little small I'm okay with that.

There was no response.

I've told you before that I expect a response from you no matter what.

Ok.

Starting tomorrow I would like you to discard any clothing you used to wear to Roosevelt. You're to wear only the clothes I bought for you. That includes the underwear.

Ok

Good girl, Marian. I look forward to seeing you in your new wardrobe tomorrow.

The skirts look quite short. I have some in my closet that go to my knees. May I wear those instead?

I luxuriated in the fact that she was asking my permission as to what she could wear. I really did own her now.

Hmm, maybe. It depends on what your legs look like. I've never seen them. Could you send me a selfie of your legs? Then I'll decide.

There wasn't an immediate response, so I impatiently typed another text.

I NEED YOU TO RESPOND RIGHT AWAY!

Okay. I'm taking a picture now.

A couple of minutes later I received a picture of her calves. It looked like she had rolled her pants up to her knees. That wouldn't do.

I need to see your thighs, Marian. You'll have to take your pants off.

Ok

Good girl, I thought as I smiled to myself.

Minutes later, I received a picture of her bare legs, thighs exposed. She had decent enough legs, nothing special. Of course, I was going to make her wear the short skirt regardless.

Here's a copy of the selfie she sent:



You have nice legs, Marian. A little on the pale side, but that’s okay. You don't need to be shy about showing them off. One of the new skirts I bought for you will be just fine.

Ok

And one of the pairs of the new high heels I bought you should complement your pretty legs rather nicely.

Ok

You can wear any of the sweaters tomorrow. No bra when you wear a sweater, though.

Gosh. I really should wear a bra. Please?

No, the sweaters are tight enough to keep things in place. I don't think your titties will be flopping around too much.

I've never gone out in public without a bra. Can we think about this?

I've already thought about it. I've decided that you don't need a bra with those sweaters.

Ok

It will be adventurous for you, Marian, to experience something you've never tried before. Now that we have our new arrangement, there will be many things that you'll be experiencing for the first time. Exciting times ahead for both of us!

There was no response, so I continued.

I'd like you to wear the sheer nylons every day, unless I tell you otherwise.

Ok

You haven't thanked me yet, Marian.

Thank you

For what, Marian?

The clothes

I'm beginning to lose patience with you. Trust me, you don't want me to lose patience with you, Marian.

Thank you very much for the nice clothes.

You're welcome! I'm so glad you like them!

Yes

See you tomorrow, Marian.

Goodbye

* * * * *

The next morning, walking into class, I was quite pleased to see the "transformed" Miss Joplin. I stopped and admired her for a moment. She chose a short-sleeved, tight-fitting sweater—probably the tamest thing I’d bought for her, but it still showed off her breasts. Upon close inspection I could just make out the outline of her nipples. The black skirt hugged her hips, hem just above mid-thigh. Her three-inch heels accentuated her legs. I glanced up at her. She was blushing furiously, clearly miserable.

"Beautiful ensemble, Miss Joplin," I said, loud enough for the students already in the room to hear. I looked her up and down, then leaned in and whispered, "Quite sexy, Marian. I'm sure the boys are loving it." I took my seat, pleased beyond measure.

For the next few days, I gave her no new instructions, but she dutifully wore the clothes I’d chosen. Then, Thursday night, I shot her a text.

I want to compliment you on your new wardrobe, Marian. You've looked absolutely dazzling this week.

ty

No abbreviations, please.

Thank you

You are welcome. BTW I'm a little disappointed you haven't worn the white blouse I bought for you. You know, the low-cut one with the fluffy collar and the black buttons?

Yes

Will you wear it for me tomorrow?

Ok

That's an abbreviation.

Okay

Since it's low-cut and you don't want your bra showing, you should wear the black demi bra.

Okay

I haven't seen you in the black flounce skirt that I got for you. Can you debut that for me tomorrow?"

Okay

I think that should be a pretty flirtatious look for you.

Okay

I'd appreciate a little more conversation from you, Marian. These one-word answers are a bit unsatisfying.

I agree. The flounce skirt is quite flirtatious.

New rule: complete sentences only, and no short, one or two-word answers.

Okay I will do that from now on.

Good. Also, I want to see the thigh-high stockings tomorrow.

There was a short pause while Miss Joplin mulled that over. She apparently wasn't thrilled about the thigh-highs.

Would it be okay if I wore the full black stockings instead? I'm afraid the skirt is rather short and the lace on the thigh-highs might show.

I did buy the extra-long thigh-highs. Keep them pulled up and you should be fine. The lace might peek out if you bend over. You just need to be careful. Then again, a little hint of lace might actually add to the flirtatious effect.

Okay I'll be careful. I'll wear them and I'll be careful.

Excellent. Have you worn any of the thongs yet?

No, I've never worn a thong before.

Oh goodie! Another first! Tomorrow would be a good time. One of the black ones.

Okay. Black thong tomorrow

One-word sentence, Marian, and not complete. Sentences need verbs. And it should end with punctuation. You are a literature teacher, you should know better.

I will plan on wearing a black thong tomorrow.

The five-inch stilettos would be a really nice touch, don't you think so?

But I don't think it would be appropriate in the school setting. To be honest I don't think any of what you are suggesting is appropriate.

I had the feeling that she was testing me. I felt I needed to reassert my dominance in our relationship.

First of all, it is not a suggestion. It is a command. Second, it is not your place to question me. Do you understand?

Yes, I understand.

Good. I think you are going to look very sexy tomorrow, Marian. I'm quite looking forward to my literature class.

I remember being curious about how she would respond. She knew she wouldn't be allowed a one-word answer.

Yes, it will be an interesting day. I can't say I'm looking forward to it.

Oh but think about all the 16-year-old boys that you are going to be giving a thrill. Doesn't that excite you, Marian?

No, it doesn't excite me.

Oh, one more thing. You always have your hair pinned up. Tomorrow would be a good day to let your hair down.

I will wear my hair down tomorrow.

And perfume. I want to smell it on you. The boys will like that.

Okay, I'll spray perfume.

Great! That should do it. You should get some rest. You have a big day tomorrow. Oh, isn't this exciting?!

May I go now?

Yes, Marian. Sweet dreams.

Goodbye now.

* * * * *

In the next account I’ll tell you all about the impromptu adventure I mentioned. It all went down the very next day in Miss Joplin’s classroom. I get all tingly just thinking about it.

[fenmo]

Looking forward to the next part!

[Blondie]

Chapter 4: Naked on the Desk

The next day did not disappoint. Miss Joplin was dressed exactly as I instructed. Plus, she had her hair down—I almost didn't recognize her at first glance—and I could smell her perfume. Oh, and I did glimpse a bit of the lace of her stay-up stockings when she moved, even though she was careful not to bend. I didn't say anything as I walked by; I just gave her a sly, knowing smile.

When the class ended I took my time before leaving my desk, waiting for the room to clear so I could have some private time with Miss Joplin. Most of the kids were gone within a minute, but there were two boys that were hanging around Miss Joplin's desk. Most assuredly they were attracted by her new look, and were using any excuse to stay and talk to her.

"Don't you boys have something better to do?" I said as I approached the desk. As I mentioned before, this was my junior year and by then I had built up a reputation around Roosevelt. The boys didn't want to mess with me, and they promptly scurried from the room.

"You look absolutely stunning today, Marian," I said. "If I may say so myself, I did a terrific job picking out your clothes for you."

Miss Joplin blushed slightly and didn't quite know what to say, but she knew me well enough by then to know that silence wasn’t an option. "Thank you," murmured, eyes glued to the floor.

"Did you wear the thong like I asked?"

"Yes." Her voice was almost a whisper.

"May I see?" She looked nervously over at the door, so I walked over and locked it. "The door is locked now, Marian. It's just you and me. Can you lift your skirt for me so I can make sure you're wearing a thong?"

Miss Joplin turned her back to me, lifted up her skirt and quickly let it drop back down. It was up long enough for me to see her bare bum and the band of the thong. She turned back to me, and I was delighted to see her blushing profusely.

Remember how I said that for the most part I hadn't yet gotten a sexual thrill out of the psychological manipulation of Miss Joplin? Well, this encounter changed that. I had planned on stopping there, but I was getting aroused, and I wanted more. I eyed the barely noticeable cleft of her cleavage.

"I assume you're wearing the demi bra?"

"Yes," she answered nervously.

"I'd really like to see how it looks on you. Can you show me? After all, I did buy it for you, so it's the least you can do. Can you take your blouse off for me?"

"Please, Felicity... I... I can take a picture for you when I get home if you want. I can send it to you."

I smiled. "That's nice of you, Marian. But it would mean so much more to me to see you in the flesh. And I can take my own picture to save you the trouble. I'll even send it to you."

"Oh, God," she said throatily as she reached for the top button and began unbuttoning her blouse. My breathing became heavier, and I felt a tingle between my legs. That first moment when I know I'm about to strip somebody, or when I know they are going to have to strip themselves at my bidding is really a turn-on.

She had the last button finished and she paused. I held out my hand. “I’ll take that.” She pulled off her blouse and obediently handed it to me, then immediately crossed her arms over her chest. Her exposed skin increased my titillation. There was no turning back now. I tossed her blouse onto a desk and took a seat, settling in to enjoy the show.

“Very nice, Marian. Now I want to see you walk around in just your underwear.”

She looked stricken. "Oh! Please, Felicity. I can't take this anymore. Please! I'll send you a picture. Even a video. I'll... I'll walk for you in a video."

I pressed my thighs together, my stimulation mounting. There would be no relief for the hapless Miss Joplin on this day.

"Again, nice offer, Marian, and maybe someday I’ll take you up on it. But right now I want to see you parade around your classroom for me in your underwear. For me. In person."

She just looked at me anxiously, breathing fast, on the edge of tears. I was really getting excited now. I put my hand inside my panties and started rubbing myself. I was already damp. The look on her face told me she thought I was utterly depraved—and she was probably right. But I really didn't care what she thought. I also considered that her humiliation level must have ratcheted up significantly when she realized that I was getting off sexually over her humiliation. That was a "win-win" for me!

"Take your skirt off for me, Marian."

I knew I would want this scene captured for posterity—so I started a video on my phone and pointed it at her with one hand while continuing to massage my vagina with the other. Most reluctantly, she unzipped her skirt, holding it for a second before slipping it off and laying it neatly on a nearby desk.

A lot of it was probably due to the humiliation aspect of the scene, but I have to say she looked absolutely stunning in her black thong, demi bra, thigh-high stockings, five-inch heels and burning face.

"Good girl, Marian. Now walk for me."

I held my phone up and followed the mortified Miss Joplin, who was now sniffling softly as she grudgingly traipsed back and forth across the front of the room. It was a delectable sight, and my excitement level was increasing by the second.

It was a good time to step up the humiliation. "Can you stand up on the desk for me, please? I think it would make for a marvelous photo op."

The beleaguered Miss Joplin drooped her shoulders before looking anxiously toward the door. “Don’t worry—it’s locked, Marian. Nobody else can see you."

Still sniveling, Miss Joplin climbed onto the desk. She sat on her haunches with her arms across her chest, staring downward. It was a sight for sore eyes. I took a picture, while continuing to knead my groin in self-pleasure.

"Good. Now stand up, please," I said. She rose to her feet, temporarily wobbling on her high heels. "Ooh, careful, Marian. Safety first. There you go." I held up my phone. "Hands on your hips, please. That's it." I snapped a couple of pictures. "Now turn around. Good. Keep your hands on your hips and turn your head toward the camera. Perfect, Marian." I snapped two more pictures. I remember thinking how nicely her white ass cheeks contrasted with the black thigh-highs.

“Okay, you can turn back around now, Marian. We’re almost done. I just need a few shots without the underwear.” I watched the realization dawn in her eyes—her horrified expression only deepened my enjoyment of the moment.

"No... oh God, please, Felicity. I just can't."

"I understand, Marian. I'm sure it will be quite humiliating. And that's the goal here. But it's just you and me right now. We probably only have another five minutes or so before your next class will need to come in. You can tell me to leave right now if you want, but I'll be unlocking the door and taking your blouse and skirt with me if you decide to go that route. Your call."

"Oh... oh... oh, God..." She took a deep breath and reached behind her behind her to unclasp her bra.

"That's my girl," I purred.

She let the bra fall, and without hesitation she slid her thong down, stepping out of it without further protest. Naked but for stockings and heels, she stood staring downward, both hands cupped softly over her sex. The blush on her face was exquisite. I took another photo.

"Good, Marian, good. Now stand up straight and put your hands on your hips." She obeyed, exposing herself. It appeared her pussy was in need of a good trim, a condition I filed away for a potential future session.

I snapped another picture. "Beautiful, Marian. Can you please kick your thong and bra off the desk? Good. Oh yes, nice picture. Wait till you see these. You look so sexy in those thigh-highs and stilettos. Now turn and face the blackboard. Good. Turn your head toward me. Nice. Smile, if you can. Give me your best 'come hither' look. Come on, you can do it, Marian." She was too close to tears to give me a seductive look, but she did try.

I was on the point of ecstasy, and Miss Joplin was going to help me get there with a humiliation boost. “Now, turn back around. Arms behind your head. Oh! Good. Bend your knees a little. Ohhh. Now gyrate your hips for me. More! Yes! Oh! Oh, yes! Keep going! Yes! This is so humiliating, isn't it? Say it!"

"This is... this is so humiliating." She twirled her hips, voice breaking.

"Louder!"

"This is so humiliating!"

"Ohhhhh, yes!" I exulted as I came, harder than I expected. "Aahhhhh," was all I could say for a moment as I continued to softly caress myself. I paused for a bit to revel in the moment, and to catch my breath.

What a delicious experience that was. I mean, seriously, who needs sex when I have that?

"That was incredible, Marian."

When my composure returned, I strutted over to her desk and rooted through the drawers. "Do you have any Kleenex?" I asked. "Oh, here we go." I pulled out a few tissues and reached into my panties again to soak up my juices. I didn't see a trash can handy, so I laid the soiled tissues on the desk between Miss Joplin's stilettos. I'm sure she delighted in cleaning up for me. (giggle)

"Love the perfume, by the way," I said. I slung my backpack over my shoulder. "I think we're done here."

Realizing the urgency, she jumped off the desk, scrambling for her clothes. I paused at the door, glancing back. "I think you'll find some of the pictures frame-worthy. I'll be sure to send them to you." As I put my hand on the doorknob, I stopped and turned back once more. "What do you say, Marian?"

"Thank you," she said breathlessly as she yanked up her skirt and frantically fumbled with her blouse.

I noticed that her thong and bra were still on the floor. I found out later that she had just enough time to scoop them up and slam them in her drawer just as the first student barged in.

"Marian!" I shouted, getting her attention. When she looked at me I blew her a soft kiss, smiled and said, "Thank you!"

Walking away from her classroom, I felt a rush unlike anything before. I scrolled through the photos on my phone as I moved down the hallway, each one confirming that my ownership of Miss Joplin was moving along swimmingly.

[Blondie]

Chapter 5: A Humiliating Texting Session

One rainy Saturday afternoon I was scrolling through my phone, looking for something to amuse myself. I thought about how quickly Miss Joplin had become my favorite distraction. She was always there at the edge of my thoughts, always one message away from being stripped bare—sometimes literally, always figuratively. That power made me tingle with excitement. There was no rush like it

It had been a little over a week since I’d left her naked and broken on her own desk. My thoughts drifted to that experience, and as I relived the scene I started to become aroused. I opened my Messages app and found Miss Joplin.

Where are you?

I imagined her sense of apprehension when seeing my text. I smiled when she dutifully responded right away.

At home

That's not a complete sentence.

I am at home.

Good, Marian. What are you wearing?

I'm wearing a pair of jeans and a sweater.

Is it one of the sweaters I picked out for you?

No

I don't want to have to reprimand you again about using one-word answers when you respond to me.

No, I'm wearing a sweater that I had before.

I think I'll do some more shopping for you so you can wear clothes of my choosing when you're not at school.

Okay.

She immediately caught herself and followed up with another text, which made me smile.

Okay, if you feel that is necessary.

It isn't really necessary, but I like shopping for you. And I enjoy seeing you model your new clothes for me. I promise I'll pick out some outfits that bring out your sexuality. Then we can meet somewhere and you can show them off for me.

Okay, I guess we could do that. Or maybe I could just send you a picture.

That would be nice, but I would enjoy it even more if you could model for me in person. I think your sexiness will come across even better if I could see you in the flesh.

Okay, I will do it in person.

Maybe you can model some lingerie for me, and show off your sexy poses, like you did for me in the classroom that day.

Please don't make me do anything like that again.

I know that was very humiliating for you, but the good news is you made me very happy.

Long pause. I really don't want to do anything like that ever again. I'm begging you.

Are you wearing a bra under your sweater?

Yes, I am wearing a bra.

What color is it?

It's a light pinkish bra.

Ooh, I'd like to see it. Will you take off your sweater and send me a selfie?

There was no immediate response. I was pretty sure that she was in the process of (quite grudgingly) taking off her sweater, but I was persistent in demanding that she remained readily responsive to me.

ANSWER ME!

Yes, I will send you a selfie. Just give me a minute and I will send it to you.

Did you mean, "Please give me a minute?"

Yes, please give me a minute.

That's better. I'd appreciate it if you'd be polite with me at all times.

Okay, I will always be polite with you.

Thank you.

You're welcome.

After a pause, I started typing again. I was unrelenting. I knew what she was doing, but I wanted to hear it from her.

What are you doing?

I took my sweater off and am about to take a photo. Please give me a minute and I will send it to you.

I grinned. A minute later, a photo arrived: Marian’s chest, pale skin covered in a delicate pink bra. Here it is:



Lovely, Marian. And I find the hand on the hip pose rather sexy. But I'd like to see your face, too. Please send me another one, showing me your bra and face.

Okay, please give me a minute.

She really was learning.

Moments later I received a picture of Miss Joplin, her face and chest nicely framed. She did not look like she was enjoying herself at all.

Thank you, Marian. You can leave your sweater off.

Okay, I will leave my sweater off.

Are you wearing matching panties?

No, the panties are white.

How boring. Cotton? Nylon?

They are cotton panties.

That's not very exciting at all. After we finish this stimulating conversation I'd like you to throw away all of your bras and panties except for the ones I picked out for you.

Okay, I will do that.

Do what?

I will throw away all of my bras and panties except for the ones you chose for me.

And make sure you always wear a matching set from now on.

Okay I will always wear a matching set from now on.

Shouldn't there be a comma in there?

Okay, I will always wear a matching set from now on.

Excellent! In the meantime, go ahead and take your jeans off. I'd like you to spend the rest of this session in your underwear.

Okay, I will do that. Please give me a minute.

I waited, picturing her fidgeting, wriggling out of her jeans, probably cursing me under her breath. After a minute, I texted again.

Are you stripped to your underwear now?

Yes, I am in my underwear now.

Great, I'm sure you are very comfortable. I'm in my underwear, too.

No response. I tapped my screen, annoyed.

MARIAN!

Sorry, I didn't know what to say. I'm sure you are comfortable in your underwear.

Yes, and knowing you are in your underwear—at my behest—gets me all tingly inside.

Okay, good for you.

Are you being sarcastic with me, Marian? Because if you are being sarcastic with me you are going to have to be punished.

No, please, I'm not. I just wasn't sure how to respond.

I have my hand inside my panties now, Marian. I have to tell you that making you strip to your underwear has gotten me all excited. Are you excited?

No, honestly I am not excited at all.

I was definitely becoming excited. I continued rubbing myself as I texted with one hand.

I'm pulling my panties down now so I'm free to play with myself while we talk.

Okay, I'm sorry but I really don't know what to say now.

My panties are completely off and I'm touching myself. Tell me what it felt like when I made you walk around your classroom in a bra and thong.

I did not like it. I am not liking this either.

It's not about what YOU like, Marian. It's about what I like. I'm naked now and I want to hear a more detailed description of what it felt like when I made you get naked and pose for me on your desk.

I could see the typing bubbles on my iPhone. I was becoming more stimulated by the second and I didn't want to wait.

Keep texting me but make the texts short. You can keep sending me texts until I tell you to stop. I want to hear how humiliated you were in the classroom that day. Describe what I made you do and how you felt. You teach literature, make it good.

I had to take my clothes off and stand on the desk for you.

It was very humiliating for me.

Keep going! You can do better. You know what I want. Say it!

I was naked on my desk and you made me do different poses.

It was the most humiliated I've ever been in my entire life.

I was so humiliated that I just wanted to die. It was awful.

Keep going! I'm almost there!

I was stripped naked and totally humiliated.

I didn't know if I was going to get my clothes back.

I was worried other people would see me naked.

What was I doing while you were all naked on the desk?

You had your hand in your panties.

You were pleasuring yourself.

Just like I am right now while you sit there tormented in your underwear.

Yes, like right now.

I am tormented in my underwear.

What am I wearing and what am I doing?

You are naked and you are pleasuring yourself. Please, can we stop now? Please!

What am I thinking about while I pleasure myself? You'd better be good.

You are thinking about how you made me strip to my underwear.

Go on! What else?

You are pleasuring yourself over my humiliation.

I'm humiliated right now because you made me strip to my underwear.

And the fact that you are naked and pleasuring yourself about my humiliation makes it even worse.

That was just what I needed to put me over the edge. There was an extended pause in our interaction while I climaxed. I was sure she knew exactly what had happened—and I was equally sure she was absolutely miserable. After a huge sigh of satisfaction, I started typing again.

Thank you, Marian, for the afternoon delight. You were perfect.

Please, may I go now?

You aren't being very polite, Marian. I thanked and complimented you.

You are welcome. And thank you for the compliment.

You deserve the compliment. You brought me to orgasm. You are a wonderful sexual servant, and a very obedient one. I'm very fortunate to have you at my beck and call.

The reply took a minute. I pictured her struggling to form a response. When she did, it made me smile.

Thank you for saying so.

You are welcome Marian. Okay, you can go now. Thanks for playing. I'll be in touch. In more ways than one.

Okay, goodbye.

I stretched out on my back and laid the phone on my bed. I was smiling as I drifted off to sleep. I was certain Miss Joplin was not.

[Blondie]

Chapter 6: An Unwelcome Makeover

It was mid-morning on a lazy, overcast day during the fall break. I had nothing going on and was up for a little fun, so I thought I would check in on my new favorite teacher.

Good morning, Miss Joplin.

It only took a few seconds for her to dutifully answer me, though I could almost picture her bracing herself before texting back.

Good morning.

How is your fall break going?

I'd venture to say that engaging me with small talk was not high on her list of preferred activities. Or engaging me at all, for that matter.

Fine, thank you.

Me too. Though I miss seeing you at school in those sexy outfits I bought for you.

I don't know how to answer that.

I would appreciate it if you would try. I would like to have some good back and forth with you when we text.

Okay. But to be honest, I really don't feel comfortable wearing the clothes you bought.

Fair enough. I appreciate your honesty. But I'm sure you've noticed the boys paying more attention to you in your low-cut blouses, short skirts and high heels.

Yes, I have noticed. They are teenage boys, so that doesn't surprise me.

Did you get the package of new clothes I sent you?

Yes.

Full sentences, Marian. You know the rules.

Yes, I received the packages of clothes that you sent me.

I hope you like them. I'm sure you noticed that I added some leotards and lingerie. I thought you might appreciate something comfortable for lounging at home.

Yes, I did notice that.

I would like you to throw away all your old clothes.

Please, Felicity, may I please keep some of them?

I loved that she asked me that. I wouldn't grant her wish, though. All part of having control over her.

No, it's out with the old and in with the new. I like the idea of you wearing only clothes that I pick out for you.

Okay, I will throw away my old clothes.

So when you are in your house I would like you to be wearing either a leotard or one of the lingerie pieces.

Okay, I will do that.

Do what, Marian?

I will wear either a leotard or lingerie when I’m in my house.

Maybe you can alternate. Wear a leotard one day and lingerie the next.

Okay, I will alternate wearing a leotard one day and lingerie the next.

Or I'm okay if you just want to wear one of the bra and panty sets I picked for you.

Okay, but I will probably wear a leotard or lingerie.

But never the same thing two days in a row.

No, I will trade off.

Or you are free just to be naked all day if you want.

Okay, but I probably won't do that.

Unless I tell you to.

Yes, unless you tell me to.

Tell you to what?

Unless you tell me to be naked, I will wear either a leotard or lingerie.

Do you like being naked?

Only when I take a bath.

So, other than bath time, you’d rather not be naked?

No

No, I would rather not be naked unless I'm taking a bath.

I'm happy to hear that. Knowing how modest you are will increase my pleasure next time I make you get naked for me.

Please, can we talk about something else?

Or may I just go now?

In due time, Marian. I know it must make you feel uncomfortable to talk about being naked at my behest.

Yes, it is uncomfortable to talk about that.

About what, Marian?

It is uncomfortable to talk about being naked at your behest.

Okay, we can talk about you getting naked for me some other time. On another matter, I'd like you to wear the pink teddy tomorrow. I think that is a lovely piece, and when I imagine you wearing it for me I get a bit titillated.

Okay, I will wear the pink teddy tomorrow.

Don't get me wrong when I say I get titillated. I'm not sexually attracted to you—though you have a lovely body and I do enjoy looking at it and making you expose it for me—but it gives me pleasure knowing that you’ll wear the pink teddy, even though you don’t want to, just because I told you to.

There was no response, and I let it go.

Do you find it humiliating to be completely under the control of a young teenage girl?

Yes, I do. I find it humiliating.

I'm so glad, Marian. Hey, did you get the tripod and the remote control for your camera phone that I sent you?

Yes, I did receive them.

Good. Do you know how to use them?

I could probably figure it out.

And I'm sure she already figured out why I bought them for her.

Yes, I'm sure you can, Marian. Maybe you can use the tripod and send me a selfie after you put on the pink teddy.

Okay, I will send you a selfie wearing the pink teddy.

Ooh, thank you, Marian. I'm really looking forward to that.

There was no response, so I sent another text.

It is in your best interests to respond to me, Marian.

I'm sorry, I just don't know what to say sometimes. I'm sure you are looking forward to that.

Looking forward to what?

You are looking forward to seeing a selfie of me wearing the pink teddy.

I am! Actually, why not make it a morning tradition? Maybe you can send me a selfie every morning when you get up and get dressed. I want to see what you’re wearing, how you look. Will you do that for me, Marian?

I will send you a selfie every morning of myself and what I am wearing.

Thank you, that will be a nice treat for me. You don't have to do that on school days since I'll see you in class. But definitely on weekends and during school breaks like this. And every day during the summer break. Any time there's no school.

I wondered how she felt about that. Summer was still a long way off, which implied this was no short-term arrangement.

Okay I will send you a selfie on non-school days.

What time will you be sending it?

I don't know. Sometime before 10:00?

That’s too late. I want your selfie waiting for me when I wake up. That will be a delightful way to start my day.

Okay, I will send it earlier.

Sometimes I wake up early. Just in case, let's plan on no later than 7:00.

Okay, I will send it no later than 7:00.

That will be nice. If you decide to be naked instead of wearing the leotard or lingerie, you can just send me a naked selfie.

I will be sending you a selfie of me in either a leotard or lingerie.

I'm looking forward to that. Now, about your hair. We need to do something about that.

I don't know what you mean.

You have nice hair, but it's not exactly stylish. When was the last time you went short?

My hair has been long since I was a child. I prefer it that way.

I think it is time for a change. I was thinking a nice bob cut would suit you.

I really do like my hair the way it is, if you don't mind.

What are your plans for today?

I was thinking of calling a friend to see if we can meet for lunch.

You’ll need to reschedule. I've booked you at Joni's Salon for 12:00. Joni herself will be doing your new do. She's pricey, but I've heard really good things about her.

Please, I really don't want short hair.

I had a picture at the ready, and I sent it to her. Here it is:



Show Joni this picture and tell her you would like your hair to look just like this.

There was no response, so I pressed on.

Now tell me what you are going to do today.

I am going to get my hair cut.

What kind of haircut?

A short bob cut. Like the picture.

Excellent. I assume you are at home right now?

Yes, I am home right now.

What are you wearing?

I am wearing some old sweatpants and a tee shirt.

I don't recall buying you sweatpants or tee shirts.

No, I didn't know I was supposed to wear what you bought me.

Well, now you know.

Yes, now I know.

So go throw away your sweatpants and tee shirt. Let me know when you've done that. I'll wait. And don't put anything else on.

A minute or so later she replied. Okay, I have thrown them away.

Good, Marian. What are you wearing now?

I am wearing my underwear.

Can you describe them for me?

I am wearing panties and a bra.

I had told Miss Joplin during our last communication that she was to throw away all her bras and panties and wear only the ones I had bought for her—with her credit card, of course.

I assume they are a matching set that a bought for you.

Yes, they are a set you bought for me.

Matching?

Yes, they are matching.

I'm pretty sure you wouldn't be foolish enough to lie to me. But I want to be certain. Send me a selfie of you in your underwear right now. If I don't receive it within 30 seconds there will be consequences.

I apologize, Felicity. I'm really sorry. I wasn’t thinking this morning, and I forgot I was supposed to wear what you bought me.

I waited a minute or so to answer. I was sure she was apprehensive about my response, and I let that apprehension stew for a bit.

I'm going to have to punish you, Marian. You should know better.

I'm really sorry. Like I say, I just wasn't thinking. It won't happen again.

What were you planning on having for dinner tonight?

I was going to have a leftover casserole.

Not anymore. You’re having pizza.

Okay, I will have pizza tonight.

I'll have it delivered for you. Say, 6:30?

Okay, pizza at 6:30.

Is Giuseppe's okay?

Yes, Giuseppe's is fine.

Did you notice the black bunny ears in the package I sent?

As the reader may know from reading my previous accounts, on occasion I have employed the usage of bunny ears on my victims. Making them wear the bunny ears certainly has added to the humiliation effect, and has become one of my trademarks, if you will.

Yes, I saw the bunny ears.

I want you to wear them to school on Monday, and keep them on all day.

Oh, gosh. What will I tell the other teachers, and the principal?

I'm sure you'll figure something out. Tell them it is a punishment for not wearing the sexy underwear that one of your students picked out for you.

No answer. I pressed on.

I would also like you to wear them tonight when the pizza delivery guy comes to your house.

Okay, I will wear them tonight for the pizza guy.

Also, I would like you to wear the black, five-inch stilettos I bought you.

Okay, I will wear the stilettos and the bunny ears.

And nothing else.

Oh, please, I can't do that! Please, I'm sorry for not wearing the underwear you picked for me. I promise I won't forget to wear them from now on.

You would not have forgotten if you had thrown out all your old bras and panties like I asked you to.

Yes, I know I just never got around to doing that. And I promise I will do that as soon as we're done here. Please, I'm begging you, don't make do this.

It will be a good lesson for you, Marian. And I'm sure the pizza delivery boy will be thrilled. I suspect you won't disobey me again after tonight's experience.

There was a long pause before her response.

I'm afraid I can't do this anymore. I just can't. I won't.

That is entirely up to you, Marian. Need I remind you I have video of your little kleptomania spree at the drug store? If that gets out to the proper authorities you might well go to jail. And your teaching career would be finished.

I also have a file of all your contacts. Not to mention some very risqué pictures of you—selfies, and you on your classroom desk in nothing but five-inch heels. I don't know the people in your contacts, but I'd venture to say that they would find these photos rather shocking—and for some, they might be entertaining.

For good measure I shot two photos off to her. The first one was a selfie of her face and her naked breasts. The second one was a shot of her perched on her desk in a sexy pose. She was naked but for a pair of five-inch-high heels.

So again, it's your decision, Marian. But I need to know right now which way you want to go on this, so I can act accordingly.

There was a very long pause. She was at the proverbial crossroads, and I allowed her to take as much time as she needed. We both knew that whichever way she turned would have a huge impact on the rest of her life—and our relationship. Of course, neither option was appealing; neither held a single redeeming quality for her.

In the end, she chose what she thought was the lesser of two evils.

Truth be told, I never would have followed through on my threats. If I did, she could report me for blackmail, and I’d be the one facing consequences. Plus, my life as a humiliator could come to an abrupt end. So no, I wouldn’t have followed through with my threats.

Fortunately, she didn’t know that—or wasn’t willing to risk finding out.

Okay, you win. I will do it.

Wise decision, Marian. Speaking of decisions, what kind of pizza shall I order for you?

I don't care. Veggie.

Full sentences, Marian.

I will have a veggie pizza tonight.

What size would you like?

I will have a small.

Have you ever shaved your pussy?

Please I'd rather not talk about that.

No, I have never shaved down there.

Well, I would like you to shave "down there" today. Do you not like the word pussy?

No, I really don't. I find it rather uncouth.

Well, I find you rather prudish.

Yes, I suppose I am rather prudish at times.

Yes, indeed. But that's okay, Marian. I find that trait in you rather endearing, and it makes our arrangement that much more enjoyable for me.

Yes, I'm sure you find that enjoyable.

So tell me what two things you are going to do for me after we're done here. I want to see it in your own words.

I am going to shave my pussy and get my hair cut.

Excellent! See, that wasn't so hard now, was it?

I suppose not. I just don't like to talk like that.

We are just about done here, so here's what you're going to do. After you set down your phone, go immediately to your tub or shower and shave your pussy.

Okay, I will do that.

I'd like you to do a nice, clean job. Oh, and be careful down there.

I will be careful.

You might as well shave your legs while you're at it. I'd like you to really shine for the delivery boy.

Okay, I will shave my legs.

For who?

I will shave my legs for the delivery boy.

I have an idea. Hold on, Marian. I'll get back to you in a few minutes.

I did a Google search, then made a phone call. The phone call turned out as I had hoped.

Good news, Marian. Today is your lucky day. You don't have to shave your legs or pussy.

Okay, I'm glad I don't have to do that.

There’s a European Wax Center near you, in the same strip mall as Joni’s Salon. Lucky for you, there was a cancellation this afternoon. I booked you an appointment. Isn't that great?

Please, I can do it myself. You don't have to do that.

Oh, it's my pleasure, Marian. You've never shaved your pussy before, and they are professionals. I'm sure they will do a terrific job removing your pubic hair for us.

I smiled as I typed the word "us."

Please, may I just do it myself?

Gee, I thought you'd be delighted. Are you bashful about exposing your pussy so up close and personal to a stranger?

I would just prefer to do it myself, if you don't mind.

I'm pleased that you're willing to shave your pussy for me, but I'd much prefer that you have it done professionally. They’ll get you nice and silky, and it’ll last longer. Your appointment is at 2:30. You’ll get your legs, arms, and underarms waxed as well.

Okay, I will go to the appointment.

Yes. FYI for your pussy the options were a Brazilian or a Hollywood wax. The Brazilian wax removes all the hair from front to back but leaves a small triangle. With the Hollywood wax ALL the hair is removed, leaving you perfectly smooth, like a little girl. Which would you prefer?

I would prefer the Brazilian wax.

Oh, too bad. I already booked you for the Hollywood. I'd like you to be silky smooth for me. That way, every time you look down and see your bald pussy you will think of me.

Okay, I will get the Hollywood wax.

Good. Enjoy every second. I want you to tell the technician that this is not of your own choosing. Tell her that you did something naughty, that a girl caught you doing it, and this is your punishment.

Okay, I will tell her I am being punished.

That text came back rather promptly, and I had a feeling that she had no intention of saying that, likely assuming I would not know otherwise. So I followed up with a warning.

I know the lady who will be doing your waxing, and I do plan on following up with her, just so you know.

Of course that wasn't true, but Miss Joplin couldn't be sure about that, so I knew she would comply. I imagined her, cheeks burning, forced to confess her naughtiness and humiliating punishment to a stranger. It made me smile.

There was a pause this time before she responded. Okay, I will make sure to tell her what you said.

Tell me what your exact words will be.

I will tell her that this procedure is not of my own choosing, that I got caught doing something I shouldn't have, and that this is my punishment.

That's close. If I find out later that you didn't use the word naughty and that a girl caught you being naughty, then there will be consequences.

Okay, I will say I did something naughty and a girl caught me.

And that this is my punishment.

Good girl. You're going to be amazed at how different you look when you see yourself in the mirror. I'm so excited for you.

I am not excited.

Will you think of me whenever you are naked and look down at your bald pussy? And every time you touch yourself down there?

Yes, I will think of you.

When?

When I am naked and look down at my bald pussy I will think of you.

And when I touch myself down there.

Excellent! I think the delivery boy will be in for a treat too, don’t you think so?

Please, I'm begging you. May I just wear something? The delivery boy will like seeing me in one of the leotards.

If you hadn't lied to me I might have considered being a little more lenient. But you need to be taught a lesson. Look at it this way: You'll be giving a young man the thrill of a lifetime—one he will never forget.

There was no immediate response, so I let her digest the impact of her impending humiliation while I typed in another text.

It sounds like the wax lasts four to six weeks. I would like you to stay nice and smooth and hairless for me, so I have you booked ahead once a month for the next year. That’s as far as they’d let me go. I’ll send you the schedule.

Can I change it to every six weeks?

That made me grin.

No, let's do it once a month. That way there is no chance of any unsightly stubble appearing.

Okay, I will go once a month.

After your appointments, send me a full-body, naked selfie. I want to see your new bob and your nice, smooth pussy.

Okay, I will send you a selfie.

Make sure your hands are folded behind your head so you're on full display. Oh, I'm so glad I bought you the tripod. You can use the new remote to get the perfect shot. Use the ten second delay.

Okay, I will fold my hands behind my head. And I will use the remote.

And make sure your legs are spread so I can get a good look at your denuded pussy. If you lower the tripod a little bit I think that will provide the best angle.

Okay, I will lower the tripod and spread my legs.

Great! I'll let you go now. You have a big day ahead of you. I would suggest a nice bath or shower before you go. Good hygiene and all, right?

Yes, I will take a shower.

This is so much fun! I'm really glad we connected this morning.

I am not having fun.

I know, Marian. But at least one of us is. Toodle-oo. I look forward to receiving your selfie today.

Good-bye.

I set my phone down on the bed and smiled, deeply satisfied after my latest exchange with Marian Joplin. The session had me worked up, and my hand slipped instinctively into my panties. As I pleasured myself, I pictured an agonized Miss Joplin reluctantly peeling off her clothes, preparing herself for this day of unwanted submission and humiliation.

It didn't take long to reach fulfillment, and even less to drift off into a blissful, post-climax slumber.

[Skylar21]

Miss Joplin just keeps getting deeper into her humiliation. I enjoy the forced complete sentence requirement, making Miss Joplin narrate her own embarrassment.

[Rick1964]

Thank you

Thank you for continuing this wonderful story.