Kirsten did not show up for my class the next day, Friday. I have to admit, I was somewhat relieved, still somewhat jumpy and completely in shock as to the feelings that she had elicited from me and totally terrified by the potential ramification of what had occurred.
I left town for the weekend, trying to escape the loneliness of my house, as well as the looming danger of further action by Kirsten. When I returned home Sunday night, there was a bag by my door.
I knew without looking that Kirsten had left me something. This time I was right. I picked up the bag and pulled it into my chest tearing the note from the top as I opened my door, looking almost furtively backward as I puled the door shut behind me. The note read:
“Dear Steffie - I had a great time the other evening. I learned a lot about myself and you. You looked so good, I thought that I might help you out by giving you some items to wear to class tomorrow. I hope you like them. I know that I am very much looking forward to seeing you and raising my hand and talking to you as if nothing has changed. I like that you will know how aroused I am sensing your discomfort, knowing that one comment from me could cause you untold embarrassment. But you will wear what I have given you and you will shave your legs completely so that you do not tear my gifts; and that will turn you on. Just in case you are having any second thoughts, I have forwarded you an email that raises some interesting questions. Remember to thank me in the morning for allowing you to do what you really want. MK
I dropped to my couch, the note slipping from my hand. My body was split in half. Even as my mind was crying out to rebel, to find some escape, I became aware of the pressure building as my stiffening cock pushed against my jeans.
I ran upstairs to my computer ignoring the flashing light on my answering machine. She had sent an email, and there was an attachment. “Steffie, I am a little disappointed that you did not just accept my instructions, but I am glad that you are so anxious to hear from me. You should not need to open this attachment, if you remember what we talked about at our last meeting.”
I was dying to know whether she had actually taped anything or been able to download anything for future use, but I knew that if I opened the enclosure there would be hell to pay. How much of a sap was I to risk wearing lingerie to class, not to mention shaving my legs, without any proof that she had anything more than her word. I probably could have ended it there, but I did not, and it only got worse, much worse.
I had a pit in my stomach the next morning as I entered the classroom, my now shaved legs encased in Kirsten’s nylons with a thong bikini sliding deeper between my cheeks with each step. I hoped the wind would explain the flush that crept into my face as anyone looked in my direction. Did either of these new garments make a visible line under my pants. I had tried to check and found none, but Kirsten came in with Summer and another girl just as striking as her.
“Professor Samson, this is my sister Michelle.”
“Welcome Michelle. Thank you MK for letting me do what I want...teach.” I said with some humor wanting Kirsten to know that I was taking this with good faith and intentions, trying at all costs not to emote the sinking filling that I was already in too deep to escape.
“I love your outfit today, Professor. It gives you an attractive glow.”
“Well...thank you MK,” I said awkwardly as she smile widely at me looking all but like the fabled cat with the canary.
“MK?” questioned Michelle as they took their seats.
“It’s along story, maybe I’ll have him explain sometime,” I heard her whisper as class began.
Of course, as fate would have it we were discussing the operation and stage construction for Shakespearean drama that day. I had managed to get through most of the class without acting too self-consciously. I am sure that they all knew about my personal relationship by now (it was a small campus) and were willing to cut me some slack; all but Kirsten it seemed.
“Professor, is it true that there were no actresses in Shakespeare’s plays and that all the parts were played by men.” Even her voice was getting to me. She never spoke in class. I had a bad feeling about where this was going, but I was powerless to stop it without making too big a deal of it.
“Yes, K...MK,” I caught myself.
“Thank you..Professor.” That canary smile again.
“You mean none of the actors were women,” another student piped in.
“No. They did not allow women to perform in “respectable” theatres at that time. You’ve all heard about the choirs in the middle ages that directed castration so that their young male singers would not go through puberty and spoil their voices; this is nothing compared to that. Many actors continue today, Patrick Swayze, the guy from Friends in the WW2 movie. There is no ostensible difference, it is all acting, playing a part.”
“Professor, are you saying that you would not have any problem dressing up as a woman,” Summer asked with a smile and a false incredulity that made me suddenly very afraid that Kirsten had told her everything.
“Well, I’ll tell you what, when Spielberg calls and tells me I have to put on a tutu to be in one of his films, I’d say yes!”
If anyone caught the undercurrent of the exchange, I was not aware of it. I felt great, somehow thrilled convinced that I had walked the tightrope set out for me and lived, at least for one more day.
“Take Michelle over to the grill. I’ll be right after you, I just got to check one thing with Professor Samson,” Kirsten instructed Summer as everyone made their way out the doors.
“You did well today, Steffie,” she affirmed as she cupped my right cheek and ran her index finger along the thong. I tried to turn to move her hand from the door’s line of sight as any of the last student’s would have gotten a full view had they turned around.
“MK, please...” I whispered.
“We are alone, no?”
The door shut, “Yes, Mistress,” I said, the frustration rising in my voice.
“Steffie, that is not a nice tone, but I’ll forgive you because you probably are just aching for release, no?” she asked apparently innocently as her hand followed the seam of the panties over my hip and down to my stiffening cock. She took my right hand in her left and slipped it through the folds in her wrap-around skirt, pulling it directly between her thighs.
“Do you want to know how wet you make me?” she whispered looking directly into my eyes.
Captivated, “Yes, mistress.” She pushed forward and my fingers slid through her curls, across her clit and against her slick skin. I lifted one finger up slightly into her and if felt as much as heard and saw her back arch, her head tilt back, her neck become exposed as she bit her lower lip and smiled. She puled my hand away as she squeezed my now turgid cock again.
“Glad we have such a rising effect on each other, aren’t you Steffi? I like calling you that, it reminds me of what...never mind.”
“Suck your fingers, taste me, Steffie.” I hardly hesitated. “Better,” she began to walk to the door.
