I didn’t turn on a single light that night after Kirsten left. I barely made it up to bed before passing out. I couldn’t remember the last time I had slept so soundly. It must have been almost noon when I woke up.
“Bringg.” It was my doorbell. “Who the heck could that be,” I wondered as I slipped out of bed instantly aware of that the thong Kirsten had enjoyed so much still hugged my cocky tightly. I reached for my robe, a warm terry cloth job that made me feel like a boxer every time I put it on. It was incredibly light. I did a double-take. She must have switched them. I had been left with a short, almost kimono-like wrap with a flowered print. I pulled it on anyway, trying to figure out if there was any way out of this mess.
“Professor,” I heard a call from below and the bell again. It was Summer. She was going to get my neighbor’s attention if she didn’t stop it. But how could she know I was home, unless...unless Kirsten had told her. There I stayed crouched under my bedroom window sill until she finally gave up. I quickly showered.
Toweling off, I went to put on a pair of boxers, but my drawer was full of panties, virtually all thongs. Kirsten had left a note as well, “You seemed to enjoy these so much (I know I did) I thought you might need some reminding. Remember your stockings tomorrow. NO SOCKS! Don’t worry no one will notice, unless it is pointed out to them.” Despite myself, I felt my cock growing harder; terrified, yet aroused, at what she might do tomorrow.
For the rest of the day I tried to distract myself, but the image of her blond curls, damp with arousal followed me everywhere. Intrigued by how turned on she got, and shocked by how hard I had come, I knew I had little chance for resistance, even without her threats. Then I remembered the last discussion with her friends. She had made me promise to suck a real cock or be exposed. She wouldn’t really do that would she. I shouldn’t have even asked.
The next day, I went to class feeling the clinginess of the black stocking slide against my pants with each step. I was convinced that the line from the rubber ribbing or the thing that I sported above was somehow visible. I kept checking, which was probably more obvious than anything else. I had worn my longest pants, but I couldn’t help but feel incredibly self-conscious as each step the cuffs pulled above my shoes revealing the stockings which I had to hope passed as socks from a distance.
Kirsten was already at her seat when I came into the room and so was a blank envelope on my desk with various other papers. The note was short and breathtaking. “Meet me here tonight at 8:30. Consider if I told anyone in class today what you are wearing and what gets you off - mlcs.” I looked up and saw her eyes on me. In explanation, she mouthed, “My little cocksucker.” I shuddered, but felt my own cock involuntarily swell in my pants.
I can’t even tell you know what the class was about. I somehow managed to get through to the break with minimal movement. On her way out the door, Summer stopped and turned to me. My heart almost popped into my throat. “Professor, I need to talk to after class. I really need a brief extension on the next paper. I tried to come by yesterday, but you were not around.”
I felt like I was going to melt, what a relief. “That should not be a problem Summer,” I blurted out without thinking, “How long do you need?”
“Would one week be okay?” she smiled. How could this innocent girl be the same that had suggested to Kirsten that I be forced to suck cock for their amusement less than two days before.
She looked so innocent. Knowing the ploy, but still basking in the fact that Kirsten had not actually told her anything, “Okay, but make sure that you get it in then.”
“Thanks so much professor. By the way, those are killer shoes.” Smiling she turned and walked with Kirsten to the door. “You were right K, no problem whatsoever. How...” The rest was lost in the bustle, and I was left rooted to the spot unable to move, suddenly glad for the tightness of the thong I had chosen as it served to conceal the growing bulge in my pants. I came to and sat down, trying to control my breathing.
“MLC!” Kirsten!
“Yes.” She had poked her head back through the door.
“No MK? Professor.”
“What.” Still in my reverie. “Oh...Yes, MK.” I was beaten and acted almost on instinct.
“Check your email and be on time or who knows who else might be on my mailing list.” I was back with it now.
“What do...”
“Now, now.” She began sidling back into the room. “Try not to get too aroused thinking of me cumming while fucking you with my cock.” She work almost echoed around the room as my own swelled as if on command. She put her hand on my crotch, “Maybe we’ll work on this later, Professor.” She smiled, almost leering, and turned to catch up with her friends.
I could not get to a computer fast enough. Just as I had suspected she had uploaded some of the video footage. I didn’t dare turn on the sound in my office, but I could see my mouth moving enough to know she had focused in while I begged to suck her cock and told her that it turned me on. I was shocked to find the scene cut to the other room, where she showed a clip of me agreeing to suck cock for her and eat my own cum out of her dripping pussy. She had done the editing superbly so that only someone with an intimate knowledge of her body (something I had to admit I was enjoying tremendously) would know who was taking advantage of me. Looking at the stills attached, I could not believe that I could become aroused even as my whole life (at least professionally) was hanging on by the whim and caprice of one of my students.
Just as I was getting up to go, the office assistant knocked on my door. “Professor?”
“Yes.”
“One of your students just called, Kirsten, she asked me to tell you not to forget the costume and that you would know what she was referring to. Does that make any sense?”
Turning red, “Yes, as a matter of fact it does. Thank you.”
Although I knew that being on a campus and having computers gave Kirsten some additional leverage and certainly eased her opportunities for exposure, it had not really hit home until her voice was channeled through my assistant. As if driving the point home, my phone buzzed, “It’s Kirsten again. Do want it?”
“Sure,” trying to maintain my normal voice, even as I physically shuddered. The phone clicked, “Yes, MK.”
“Hang on professor, I am still putting it through, but its Kirsten not MK.”
I nearly dropped the phone. Now I was digging myself deeper, without any help from Kirsten -- or so I thought.
“Hello Stevie. Did you miss me?”
“Yes, Mistress,” I whispered.
“You’ll have to speak up to believed.” She intoned. “Slut,” she added now almost sweetly.
“Yes Mistress,” I said louder trying to reach my door to shut it.
“Better,” now the mature woman, stricter, as she had been two nights ago. “I just wanted to make sure that you got the message.” We both knew exactly what she meant.
“Yes, Mistress.”
“Good. That’s all for now, be on time.”
I was. After getting back to my house, I realized I did not know whether I was supposed to wear a costume, assuming that to be the drag outfit she had so enjoyed, or just bring it with me. I probably should have been more bold, but I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving my house dressed as a woman. I did leave on stockings and panties, but brought the rest including the wig in a bag with me when I went back to the classroom.
At 8:40, the door opened. Her golden hair was down, streaming over a tight sweater vest zipped up to her neck. She was wearing a wrap skirt and despite myself, I couldn’t ignore the fact that all I wanted was for nothing to be underneath and for her to walk over and pull my face to her crotch so that I could taste her, feel her warmth and the series of trembles leading up to one of her convulsively free orgasms.
“No, I told you I had to meet someone.” Looking up, “Hold on a second.” She dropper her arm to her side, still holding the phone. “I thought you said you got my message. That is not what I told you to wear. I guess I will have to show one or two people some photos.” She turned bak towards the doors.
“Mistress, wait, please, I misunderstood. I have the stockings on and the other clothes are right here,” I pointed desperately to my bag as she looked over her shoulder.
