By the time Priscilla got back to her new, sweet little apartment, the incident in the Media Lab almost seemed unreal. Being taken by those boys . . . well, she wasn't going to stand for it.
As she emptied her handbag the buttplug fell out - oh yes, the incident was all too real, and she needed to deal with it. Would they really expose her if she didn't go along? She had no way to know, but they
did
have video of her.
She really couldn't risk being exposed, her reputation both personal and professional, ruined. Her career gone.
She woke up on Saturday from a good night's sleep, determined to make the best of the situation. By eight in the evening she needed to be at the boys' place, and she needed to be "wearing" the buttplug, however one did that. She had all day to figure it out, and to be in the right state of mind before the rendezvous.
On the weekends she usually went to the gym. After all, it wasn't easy to keep a body looking like hers, so she didn't mind the workouts. But today was going to be busy, so she did her stretches in front of the mirror.
She didn't think she was conceited, but she did like to admire her body in the mirror. At her age, or even younger, most women couldn't boast having firm legs and butt, slightly rippled abs, and solid, but not manly, shoulders and arms. And her breasts, or her "big bazooms" as she called them to herself - well some women might think they were too much, but she had never met a man who didn't go wild over them. And men always commented on the size of her nipples, which stuck out maybe a half inch and were as big around as her thumb - to Priscilla they looked normal, after all, she always had them, but men seemed to go wild over them and always wanted to either suck them or twist and pull them. Which was OK with her, she loved either.
But now she had the real problem of the buttplug to deal with. Wouldn't it hurt? Would it even fit?
She had a quick breakfast, made her morning visit to the bathroom, and decided to give it a try. The lube she used for her big dildos should work just fine.
She threw a towel down on her bed, stepped out of her panties and laid on her back. The buttplug really wasn't so big - maybe on inch in diameter, 3 inches in circumference . . . . smaller than any man's cock she had ever seen. Of course, she had never let a man stick it up
there
before.
A big dollop of KY on the tip. Legs spread, pulled up as high as possible, her knees almost at her ears. And now she could feel the tip at her anus . . . cold KY tickling her. A little shove . . . ooo, ooo . . . she wasn't used to something going
up
her ass. It felt strange, tight.
Priscilla pushed it in gently, but her anus resisted. "I must relax," she thought, and each time she gently pushed the plug, she exhaled and relaxed her sphincter - - and slowly, oh so slowly, a quarter inch at a time, the plug sunk into her depths.
Funny though, the further it got, and the more she relaxed, the better it felt. And then, suddenly, PHOOSH, it was sucked in the rest of the way. The funny shape of the plug just sucked it in!
"Damn," she thought, "is this thing gonna get stuck?" But a pretty gentle tug, and out it came. But the disturbing thing to Priscilla was, it actually felt pretty good . . . and working it in and out . . . . oh shit! What was she doing? She wasn't supposed to be enjoying this! She wasn't some depraved slut, she was an educated woman, a woman teaching at the college level! Being bullied by some students and forced to insert perverted objects up her anus simply was not going to turn her on. She wouldn't allow it!
And now she knew what she needed to know, that the nasty little thingie would slide up her butt. So out it came.
All day she managed to keep her mind off the evening meeting. But now, as she was driving in her car to the rendezvous, every time she hit a bump the buttplug gave her a zinger in the ass, every time she turned a corner it massaged the walls of her anus. It actually felt so good she had trouble driving, what with sensations coursing though her whole body.
The GPs got her to the address, she parked the car and started to get out. As she swiveled on the seat and extended her left leg, her weight shifted and the buttplug rammed her; she shuddered, trying to focus on getting to the boys' "clubhouse, and not the ever-more-pleasurable sensations coming from inside her thong.
The address seemed to be some sort of garage, a local mechanic shop. All looked dark, but she knocked on the greasy door. After a minute the door cracked open, "Well lookie lookie," she recognized Horse' voice, "I didn't know whether you'd be more afraid to come down here, or not to come."
"Right this way Miss Temple," as he strode into the dim shop, and she closed the door to follow. "Old Mr. Losco who owns this place lets us hang out. He says he'd rather we be here than out on the streets getting in trouble," he laughed hoarsely, "so he let us set up our clubroom here."
Horse opened a door, held it like a gentleman, and Priscilla stepped in. She was caught by surprise - the room was about the size of a living room, and was a warm cozy place with carpeting, draperies, a sofa and some chairs, and was gently lit. All the colors were earthtones, and there were plants in the corner, and copies of Van Gogh and Monet on the walls.
"Miss Temple, why don't you go fix yourself a drink," and as Horse motioned to the bar at the far side of the room Priscilla thought, "Maybe this won't be so bad after all." As she walked across the room she could feel the buttplug - felt good, but a constant reminder that she was under his control.
Priscilla watched as the tall, strong black boy wrestled some kind of piece of equipment out of the closet and dragged it into the center of the room. "There we go, how's your drink?"
She had poured herself a vodka, Grey Goose, with some cranberry juice, and it was actually pretty good.
"You did what I told you with the buttplug?" As she nodded, he slapped her on the ass and gave her a big grin, "And I'll bet you liked it, didn't ya?"
"Where are your friends?"
"Don't you worry about that, Miss Temple. My job is to get you warmed up, so first we're gonna make sure you followed my instructions. Now strip!"
Well that wasn't going to be so hard - all she had worn was a loose fitting blouse, tight jeans, her thong and sandals . . . she started to unbutton her jeans. "Not so fast, Teach. You do it right and give me a hardon, and maybe I'll go easy on you. First you down that drink, right now."
Priscilla gulped down the drink, after all vodka and cranberry was nearly tasteless. "And pour yourself another, then start taking off your top, nice and slow, and show me those big tits."
"I'm a teacher, not a, not a . . . . whatever," as she poured another drink. As she turned she started to unbutton her blouse. She knew men liked her big bazooms. She dropped the blouse slowly, then, as she inhaled deeply contracting her waist and filling her lungs, thrusting out her big melons and making them seem even bigger, she cupped each one in her hands, hands that were only half as big as her tits, with her index fingers gently touching each of her nipples . . . as if to say to Horse "You ain't seen nuthin like this before!"
And as he drank in the beauty of her tits with a broad smile, she started to get a warm feeling, some from the drink, and some from the excitement of exposing herself to this young man. Her hand dropped to her pants, to her zipper, and before she knew it she was out of her pants, standing there in her thong.
"OK Miss Temple, let me see that buttplug . . . that's it . . . . now turn around, bend down and spread em'."
She obeyed, and as she spread her cheeks she felt Horse slip his fingers under the thong, and start tugging on the buttplug. He was wiggling it around, and starting to pull it out . . . but no, now he was putting it back in . . . and out. Starting to work it in and out, and rotate it around and around. "ooooo ooooo."
As soon as he heard her moan, "I knew you were slut the minute I saw you. Tryin' to hide those outrageous tits and nipples, when all you really want is to be exposed for the slut you are."
"No, no," she tried to protest, "I'm a teacher, I'm a . . . . . " SLAP! SLAP! twice hard on the ass as he shoved the buttplug.
"Yeah, you're a teacher, but now I'm gonna teach you," he said, motioning toward the device he had dragged out of the closet. Priscilla thought it looked like one of the pieces of equipment from the gym.
"Siddown right there."
It was made of steel tubing, and the seat and back were covered in supple black leather. There were two sort of extensions that projected forward from the seat, that her thighs rested on. From the back there were two extensions that projected up, like the spreading arms of a "Y".
"Stick your arms up in the air,
now!
" And no sooner than her arms were up,
click click
