I woke up with only one thought in my mind. I’d broken a rule, a big one, twice. I was a very bad girl and, if she found out, she’d punish me. I was the only one who knew…

I turned myself in before I’d even eaten breakfast. She trusted me so I came clean. I’d come twice, even though the second time was while I was sleeping. Still, she needed to know.

Her reply was immediate.

Thank you for being honest with me, Miss Spencer. Your penance will be doled out on Saturday. Instructions to follow.

And then, I waited. And waited. And waited some more, my worry growing, until It was all I could think about…

o-O-o

I arrived at the Vandermeer’s home promptly at noon, dressed per her instructions, full of dread as butterflies performed acrobatics in my tummy. I’d spent yesterday evening at the mall, wanting to look my very best for Mrs. Vandermeer. It wasn’t vanity on my part, nor in hopes that she would lessen my punishment. I just wanted, more than anything else, to see the look of approval in her eyes when she opened the door and saw me standing on the porch.

I had on my collar, of course. In fact, that was the first thing I’d put on, a reminder of whom I was getting dressed for today; my owner. I wondered if today was the day that I admitted I’d been putting it on every night before going to bed, my thoughts centering around her, of what she’d done, or might do, to me. Sometimes, I couldn’t stand it anymore and got up in the middle of the night so I could look at the pictures she'd sent of me. It had gotten so bad that I’d had to put a towel under me and stuff a pair of my own panties in my mouth to muffle my moans of unfulfilled desire as the intensity of feeling arose within me, my cunt remembering every little detail; the feel of her quirt, her thick rubber cock, her clover clamps and, most of all, the sound of her voice…

Then, frustrated, I’d crawl back under the covers, fighting the urge to fuck myself, unable to stop from rubbing my cunt against the mattress until finally, I’d slip into slumbers filled with pornographic dreams.

She’d asked me to wear a skirt and sexy underwear today, leaving the details up to me. She’d said she wanted me to try to look grown up for once, rather than ‘slouchy’. Yes, that was the word she’d used!

Miss Spencer. I expect the young woman who shows up at my doorstep not to embarrass me by looking slouchy. I would prefer if you put some effort into your appearance. Do I need to remind you that I am a Professor of some academic standing?

With that in mind, I’d taken the rest of the money she’d given me as a ‘bonus’ and did a little shopping, starting with a matching bra and panty set from Macy’s. A demi-bra and thong by Calvin Kline. Red, lacy, and sexy, yet still sophisticated. On a whim, I added the matching garter and a pair of black stockings, unsure, at the time, if I’d work up the nerve to actually wear them. I was wearing them now, feeling deliciously naughty, liking the way they looked with the pair of dark red four-inch pumps I was wearing. I hoped I wouldn’t be doing too much walking or I’d be in trouble, being way more comfortable in sneakers.

Thankfully, I’d money of my own to spend. The trip wasn’t by any means inexpensive. Just the underwear and the shoes, used up what I’d left over from purchasing my latex lingerie. I completed the look with a black capped sleeved dress with side gathers. DKNY. Yeah, way too expensive, but it looked so sophisticated that I couldn’t resist, hoping that she would overlook the fact that it wasn’t a skirt. It was fairly modest, it’s hem just above my knees. Looking in the mirror before I left, with just a hint of makeup on - eye liner and a soft coat of Chanel Lover on my lips to match my lingerie, I barely recognized myself. Giggling girlishly, I contemplated a visit to the hair salon for a few highlights and a more adult style in the near future. Then, with the addition of a pair of small gold hoop earrings, I set off to face the music, hoping that Abby appreciated the effort I’d made.

“Shannon? Come in. I hardly recognize you.”

“Hello, Mr. Vandermeer,” I mumbled, blushing as I stumbled over his name as he greeted me unexpectedly. “Mrs. V. is expecting me… I think?”

“Oh, of course. Come in. She’s in the study.”

As he held the door open for me, I couldn’t help but wonder if he suspected what went on between his wife and me. Once again, the image of him taking me from behind while she watched, arms folded beneath her breasts, that beautifully cruel smile turning up the corners of her lips teased at my thoughts as he directed me to my mistress.

I’d been in her office before, of course, watching her edit her notes for an upcoming lecture as she passed on everything I needed to know about where she’d be, and at what time and how to reach her in an emergency, her voice crisp and clear. Never like this, though. It was suited to her I found myself thinking; neat and functional with little touches of warmth, just enough to make the room comfortable without lending an air of clutter. Unlike my parent’s bookshelf, Mrs. Vandermeer’s held only neatly filed books. There were a few family photos on one side of her desk and some tasteful art on the walls. The carpet was plush and matched the pulled back drapes. A sheer softened the sunlight. A pair of bouquets in vases added splashes of color.

She was seated at her desk, her laptop before her, several stacks of papers carefully organized on her right. Glancing up, she ushered me in with a look. Nervously, I went to stand before her, knowing what it must like to be one of her students called up before her to answer to charges of plagiarism or cheating. When the door closed gently behind me, it was all I could do not to jump. As it was, my heart skipped several beats. She seemed intent on ignoring me, so I simply stood, my hands clasped in front of me, toes turned inwards as I tried not to fidget. I swear to god, I felt like I was back in fifth grade.

She was dressed casually. A pair of khaki trousers, a navy blue blouse, blonde hair tied back rather severely. I felt myself growing damp just watching her as she worked at her laptop, obviously more concerned with what she was doing than addressing my presence. I wondered if this was all part of the punishment? It was, after all, beyond cruel. After ten minutes I’d replayed the worst of my fears through my head, that she would dismiss me and tell me I was no longer her pet, her slave, her dirty little fuck toy. Tears were forming in the corners of my eyes, threatening to spill down my cheeks. Finally, unable to bear it anymore, I unleashed a silent sob, drawing her attention to me at last.

She broke her silence, finally looking up from her chair, her ice-blue gaze full of irritation, her frown speaking volumes. I turned away, unable to withstand the look she gave me, only turning back when she spoke.

“You broke my rules. Twice in the space of one night.”

I nodded, feeling remorse well up inside of me.

“What do you have to say for yourself, Miss Spencer?”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Vandermeer,” I managed, my voice quavering so badly that the words were barely intelligible, knowing that such simple words could never convey just how sorry I truly was. So I met her eyes, hoping that she could see within my very soul and know just how terrible I felt about what I’d done.

“You’re sorry. Yes, I can imagine you are. It’s never going to happen again, is it, Shannon.”

“No, Mrs. Vandermeer.” The words came tumbling out as one.

“Good. I suppose I will have to punish you. I don’t want to, baby, but you leave me no choice. Understood?”

“Yes.”

“Put this in.”

She opened a drawer, pulling out a familiar object; the egg shaped vibrator that she’d used when I’d been suspended by my wrists at the other house, clover clamps cruelly pinching my nipples. Just the memory sent an erotic charge up and down my spine and teased at my already aroused cunt and my swelling nipples. From the suppressed smile on her face, she must have known.

“Put it in.”

Taking a deep breath, I lifted the hem of my dress, revealing the tops of my stockings, my garters, the red lace panties, knowing that my pussy had already betrayed me, staining them dark with lust. Swallowing, I pulled them to one side and inserted the device. It went in easily. After all, I was already sopping wet. Then, taking a deep breath, I smoothed my dress back over my thighs with trembling hands and awaited her next command.

“Good. Now sit,” she ordered tersely, her cold blue eyes directing me towards a straight backed chair tucked under a small table directly to my right.

I sat, folding my hands primly on my lap, staring at my knees as I nervously awaited further instructions, all too aware of her studying me carefully, her business-like voice giving me erotic chills, the feel of the egg securely trapped within my slippery cunt making it hard to sit still in her presence as she explained my task. It was a simple job, really. Using an answer key, I was to grade her student’s tests. Of course, there were instructions beyond that. With Mrs. Vandermeer, nothing was ever simple.

“You are not to move from that chair without asking permission first, Miss Spencer. Nor are you to interrupt me with questions, comments, or any other distracting sounds. I expect you to go about your work in silence while I read through my student’s essays. And, most importantly, you are not allowed to climax under any circumstances. Only very naughty girls have orgasms without their owner’s direct instruction. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

“Yes, Mrs. Vandermeer,” I answered meekly, my cheeks burning at her reminder of why I found myself being punished in the first place.

And so it was that I began my task as she took a seat directly behind me, out of my sight, her eyes burning holes in the back of my head, or so I imagined. One at a time, I read through the stack of papers, marking the occasional wrong answer with a bright red check which I then tallied up at the top of the test in total silence, only the occasional shifting of paper from behind alerting me to her presence.

Of course, I knew that it wouldn’t last. After all, what was the point of the vibrating device she’d insisted I implant myself with if not to torment me? As I began my sixth exam I felt it come to life in my pussy, humming silently and quickly turning my insides to jelly, despite the low intensity of it. It didn’t matter. I was already primed, my cunt already wet and craving stimulation of any kind. I stifled my urge to let out a soft moan, knowing that I’d pay for it later. Biting my lip, I concentrated on ignoring the lovely sensation inside of me and went about the business at hand, trying not to think about how many settings her toy had beyond this…

I jumped a little when it suddenly changed from a soft, almost pleasant vibration to something a little more insistent. In a matter of moments my panties became soaked. In the back of my mind I worried about staining my dress. After all, it was presently the nicest thing I’d ever owned. Doing my best not to squirm, I continued with my task, pausing only to listen for a clue as to what Mrs. Vandermeer was doing. Was she watching me, her cruel smile turning up the corners of her lips, waiting to pounce on me if I broke my silence or moved more than was necessary?  Or was she simply ignoring me, reading through her student’s exams with a critical eye? The need to turn my head, just enough to catch a glimpse of her became overwhelming and, before I could stop myself, I did just that.

“Eyes on your work, Miss Spencer.”

Her voice cracked like a whip and I obeyed, focusing on my work, my heart beating loudly as I vowed not to risk that again under any circumstance. We continued on in silence, the tick of the mechanical clock in her office seemingly suddenly quite loud, the dampness in my underwear quickly spreading as the egg within me did its job all too well. Soon, it was all I could do to keep from coming; accomplishing anything beyond that was out of the question. Grading papers became an exercise in futility. Not only that, but I was feeling the need to pee soon and wondered what she would say if I asked permission to use the bathroom… I decided to hold it for as long as I could, doing my best to slowly work my way through the pile of exams without fidgeting.

I was startled by the soft knock on the door, my head jerking up, watching with a certain fascination as Mr. Vandermeer entered. Thankfully, the sound of the vibrator inside my cunt was too soft for him to hear, or so I thought. To be honest, I was uncertain.

“Can I get you girls anything?” He asked, the warmth in his voice obviously directed at his wife. I’m not sure how I did it, but I managed to keep still and not make a sound as the egg suddenly rose in intensity. Squeezing my thighs together, I focused on the tabletop, unseeing, my entire being concentrating on only one thing; not giving myself away in front of my Mistress’s husband.

“An iced tea would be nice, dear.” Abby answered, sounding slightly distracted. “Shannon, honey. We’ve got Lemonade as well. Would you prefer that?”

I groaned inwardly, unable to even think. Somehow, I managed to nod, and accompany the motion with a polite sounding noise that was as close to ‘yes, please’, as I could get. It seemed to be sufficient, for I heard him leave again. Of course, he’d be back. Still, I let out a sigh of relief, partly due to the vibrations in my dripping wet pussy coming to a sudden halt.

“I think that’s enough for now, Miss Spencer. I don’t wish to cause you too much discomfort. Besides, I think you’re shirking your duties. I really do expect you to finish those before you go home today. Oh, and need I remind you, you’re not allowed to come? Not today, not tomorrow, not until I give you express permission. I hope that’s become quite clear?”

“Yes, Mrs. Vandermeer. It has. I’m very sorry for disobeying you.” I sounded like a scolded child after getting my hand caught in the cookie jar which, I guess, was appropriate.

“Good girl.”

I was thankful she couldn’t see my face or the way I smiled at those two words, warmth flooding through me – not sexual, or at least not just sexual. I felt loved, not that I thought she was in love with me. It was more like the love one would give a cherished pet, which in a way, I suppose I was.

Mr. Vandermeer returned a short while later, carrying a small tray with two glasses, as well as a plate of crackers, cheese, and a cluster of green grapes to snack on. In the state I was in, it was impossible not to watch him as he set it down on Mrs. V’s desk, and wonder if he knew or suspected what was really going on here. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought that I detected a bulge in his jeans. Or perhaps he was just… big. Taking a deep breath, I did my best to erase the thought of him bending me over his wife’s desk and pumping his prick into my moist cunt while his wife watched, her fingers tangled in my hair, pressing my face to the desktop, her smile deliciously wicked…

“Shannon?”

“I’m sorry?”

I found myself blushing, staring up in Mr. V’s eyes, noticing the tall glass of lemonade he was holding out to me, the glass dappled with moisture, the soft clink of ice sounding suddenly loud as he set it down on my table.

“My wife can be quite the taskmaster.”

Swallowing, I nodded, grasping the cold drink with both hands and taking a refreshing sip, afraid of what might slip out of my mouth if I actually answered his comment.

“I’m going to take the little monsters out to the park for a while,” he announced before leaving, this time, not bothering to close the door, leaving me with a beautifully terrifying thought. We’d be alone in the house. Nervously, I took another drink, daring to glance towards Mrs. Vandermeer, shivering as I met her gaze, knowing that she was thinking the same exact thing that I was.

“Keep your mind on your task, Miss Spencer.”

I obeyed, continuing to correct papers, hyper-aware of the noises in the house, until, finally, I heard the sound of the front door shutting, followed by a perfectly deep and penetrating quiet that, in my mind, announced that my punishment was truly about to begin.

“Finish your drink.”

It wasn’t a suggestion, but rather a command, one which I readily obeyed despite the familiar feeling growing in my bladder, knowing that I’d be good for about a half hour or so, but then, I’d need to relieve myself. Something told me it wasn’t going to be that simple, not with my Mistress watching over me. Finishing yet another test, this one nearly perfect – only one question answered wrong – I replaced it with another, unable to keep my thoughts from wandering, wishing she’d turn the egg on again. As torturous as it had been, it had felt so good buzzing away inside of me, teasing my cunt closer and closer to a forbidden orgasm, filling me with a delight of pleasures. It was all I could think of. At least until my thoughts were interrupted by the soft metallic sound of a zipper slowly parting.

I held my breath, not daring to move or to make a sound, straining my ear. I could hear Mrs. Vandermeer shifting on her chair, the sound of cloth being adjusted, or so I imagined, a drawer opening, the rustle of objects…

“Did I give you permission to stop?”

I went back to what I was doing, going over the answers of a student who obviously hadn’t spent his study time wisely, my ears attuned to what was going on behind me. I swore I heard a soft sigh. I felt my face going warm, my imagination running wild. The zipper, the drawer, that small sound of what sounded like relief. She was playing with herself. That was the only possible explanation. While I sat here, grading papers, my pussy tormented, she was watching while pleasuring herself. It wasn’t fair, but of course, that was the point, wasn’t it? It was my own fault.

I listened, my heart pounding in my chest, doing my best to continue the job at hand, her actions becoming more and more obvious. A soft moan, the barely heard slurp of her wet cunt, the shifting of feet on the floor, of her ass on the chair, and the occasional bump against the desk. Soon, I didn’t even bother to pretend I was working, I simply sat still, listening, the soft purr of the egg inside of me keeping me aroused, yet nowhere near pushing me over the top. It was awful, worse than I’d imagined, knowing that she was so close, and yet there was nothing I could do about it. Worse, the need to urinate was growing. I glanced at the tall empty glass that she’d made me drain, wishing now that I’d gone to the bathroom earlier, when I’d still had the chance.

“Oh, baby.” She let out a soft gasp, her voice thick with pleasure. “Oh, yes, feels so good.”

I sat there in silence, suffering, frozen in my chair, filled with an overwhelming desire to hike my dress up and fuck myself silly or, better yet, crawl beneath her desk on my hands and knees and plunge my tongue into her beautiful cunt and make her come over and over, her fingers tangled in my hair, my face squeezed painfully between her thighs…

“Oh, god, yes…”

She moaned, her voice rising in a crescendo. I recognized that sound. Moments later, she climaxed, crying out passionately, the buzz inside of me suddenly becoming urgent as she switched the setting mid-orgasm; whether on purpose or on accident, it didn’t matter. Soon, I was sitting in a puddle of my own juices, feeling the moist warmth soaking into my dress as that damn egg drove me to the brink of sanity. Clutching the corners of the desk, my knuckles growing white, I did my best to hold on, not even realizing that I kept repeating the word ‘no’ over and over until she pointed i-t out to me, cruel amusement in her voice.

“Fight it, my beautiful little fuck toy.”

“I… can’t.”

“You had better. What I have in store for you if you don’t…”

She didn’t finish her thought. She didn’t have to. I fought it, the egg on its highest setting inside my cunt, my muscles contracting, squeezing it, pushing, relaxing, tensing up, all my concentration on somehow not coming.

“I… Please.”

“Do you remember why I’m doing this to you, slut?”

“To pun… punish me for coming with… oh my god, without your permission.”

I hadn’t heard her get up, so intent on what was going on between my thighs. Her fingers tangled suddenly in my hair, pulling my head back until I was staring up at her, her eyes hot, her face still flushed from her orgasm. It was almost my undoing.

“If you come, baby, you will regret it,” she hissed.

I stared up at her with puppy dog wide eyes, believing her with my heart and soul, my body tensing, shaking from head to toe, my nipples so swollen that they hurt, my clit throbbing like it might explode. I held on, I had to, I had no choice.

“Come on, just a few more minutes and it will be all over.”

“I can’t! “ I cried, my voice shaking with desperation.

“Yes you can, baby,” she answered back, almost gently.

I held on, trembling as I stared up into her face, my muscles taut, my nerves on fire, each breath out of control, finding something in her eyes that anchored me, some sort of strength, or perhaps it was fear, that kept me from coming until finally, just as I was about to lose the battle, she turned it off…

I felt like collapsing. I began to sob softly, not just from the physical ordeal I’d gone through, but the emotional one as well. I wanted her to take me in her arms and hold me, and tell me I was a good girl. If I’d had a voice, I would have begged her. I think she knew that, too. I thought I could see regret in her slight frown, the tilt of her eyebrows, and the warmth in her eyes. A realization hit me that she didn’t want to punish me. I felt a surge of guilt for putting her through this, vowing never to misbehave again, not if I could help it.

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Vandermeer.”

I put every regret, every ounce of sincerity, every iota of love I had for her into my apology and was rewarded with her bending over me and kissing me tenderly on the forehead.

“I know, baby. I am sorry too, but you understand, now, why I have to do this?”

“Yes,” I answered meekly, my cheeks hot with shame. “For my own good.”

“That’s right pet. For your own good. Because I care about you.”

I felt myself relaxing, the intense need to come ebbing in me as I focused on her words, her affection washing over me like a warm tide, filling me with something even more satisfying than lust; love. Not that I was brave enough to admit it, not even to myself, but it was there. Not just a schoolgirl crush, either, but the real thing. She ran her fingers through my hair, combing through my dark locks tenderly, and I sighed, losing myself in the moment, not wanting to think about anything but the sensation of her touch.

“You are a treasure, Miss Spencer.”

The only response I allowed myself was a secret little smile as my heart did flip flops in my chest. I felt the loss of her touch as she moved away, wanting badly to protest, yet not daring to even move.

“Stand and face me, baby.”

I stood, the motion almost automatic, turning to face her, noting the top button on her pants was still undone.

“Take off the dress and fold it carefully. Place it on your chair.”

I felt a seed of panic taking root in me, unable to stop myself from glancing at the door, hyper-aware of the silence beyond, listening for the sound of the front door signaling Abby’s husband's return.

“Eyes front, Miss Spencer,” Mrs. V. snapped, drawing my focus back to her once more, quailing at her stern frown.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Vandermeer,” I mumbled as I began disrobing for her, carefully removing my elegant new dress and placing it almost reverentially on the chair before resuming my position with a silent reminder to keep my hands at my sides.

I watched her appraise me from head to toe, obviously pleased at my choice of underwear. Or perhaps it was at the dark spot staining the crotch of my panties.

“You look very sexy, baby. Thank you for putting so much effort into looking pretty for me.”

A tremulous smile touched my lips, noting a hint of warmth in her voice and under that, desire.

“Take off your panties. I want to see your cunt or rather, my cunt. It belongs to me, after all. Isn’t that right, Shannon? And remove my egg, you won’t be needing it anymore.”

My mouth suddenly dry, I managed to choke out a reply, tears threatening to well up as I unsnapped my garter and wiggled out of my soggy panties, my swollen labia parting for her, my arousal blatantly obvious. Humiliation swept through me as I reached up inside myself and removed the vibrating egg, my arousal dripping from it, coating my fingers as well. Unsure of what to do with it, I lay it on top of my discarded underwear on the chair next to my dress.

“The stocking are a nice touch. Fasten them, then turn around, I want to see all of you. Not just your dirty little cunt and your ripe tits, but your lovely teenage ass as well.”

My hands were shaking so bad it took two tries to refasten my stockings. Finally, I managed it and turned, blushing, careful not to stumble on my heels. I even tried to make it sexy, imagining what it would be like to be a model. Or a stripper. I heard her chuckle softly when I put some sway into my exposed bottom, pausing to push it out at her before completing my turn.

“Very lovely. If you weren’t here to be punished, I’d feel obliged to reward you, baby. Keep that in mind."

“My heart fluttered, my thoughts leaping ahead, visions of showing up on Mrs. Vandermeer’s doorstep dressed in the scantiest lingerie I could afford, parading through the house like a tart, just to earn her smile, her praise.

“Yes, Mistress.”

Heat crept through my cheeks as I lowered my eyes, staring at her firmly planted feet, enduring the silence that followed, not daring to say more. Eventually she broke it with a soft sigh.

“I don’t like doing this, Shannon, but you broke a rule. I’m very proud of you for confessing, and because of that, I will go easy on you, but…”

Her voice hardened into steel, making me tremble.

“…next time it happens, you will regret it beyond your wildest imaginings, understand?”

Not trusting my voice, I simply nodded, understanding all too well, lifting my chin just enough to smile gratefully at the woman who was about to punish me for doing what came naturally to most girls my age.

“Your glass, baby.”

I blinked, not quite understanding. Clucking her tongue, unable to mask the laughter in her eyes, she repeated her words slowly like one would to a child. Or a pet.

“Your glass. Go get it.”

This time I didn’t hesitate, her meaning clear. I quickly retrieved my glass, the ice cubes clinking softly, doing my best to stand in the exact same spot as before, clutching it in both hands.

“Kneel Miss Spencer.”

I knelt without a moment’s hesitation, adjusting myself at her directions.

“Back straight, breasts out. Such perky little nipples, slut. My naughty little girl must be looking forward to being punished.”

Unsure of myself, I shook my head, then nodded, then shook it again, much to her amusement.

“Oh, I think you are, whether you know it or not. Spread your knees apart. Wider. Wider. Perfect. I love the way it opens you up. Your cunt is very beautiful. No, don’t stare at the floor, keep your eyes straight. Perfect. Now place your glass between your thighs. I want the rim just touching you… that’s it.”

Swallowing, I knelt there, the rim of the glass touching the lower edge of my pussy, feeling vulnerable, fearing what would happen next, aware that my juices were running slowly down the inside of the glass.

“Now, listen very carefully Shannon. You are going to stay perfectly still, just like that, while I work. I want you to hold your bladder for as long as you can and think about why I am punishing you. When you can’t stand it any longer you may pee into the glass, but only after asking permission. And don’t you dare get a single drop on my carpet. Do you understand?”

I stared at her open-mouthed before finally nodding as her eyebrow quirked up. Satisfied she seated herself behind her desk once more, taking a moment to set up a device I recognized all too easily. A vidcam. And it was focused on me.

“Trust me, you’ll want a reminder of this, Miss Spencer. Now remember, as long as you can and don’t forget to ask permission. Oh, and I sincerely hope my husband doesn’t return before you’re done. That would be particularly humiliating.”

That said, she ignored me, leaving me in the hell of my imagination…

I let my mind wander, unable to take my eyes off the camera sitting on her desk unless it was to glance over at Mrs. V. from time to time as she, true to her word, ignored me completely. As time stretched on I began resenting her. Here I was, dressed up (or down) for her in the sexiest underthings I’d ever worn and she was reading through essays on political science. The longer I knelt there, the empty glass waiting for me to fill it with piss, the more time I had to realize my situation. I wasn’t her lover. I was her pet, her property, her plaything. I could, of course, just have stood up and left, but I knew with certainty that if I did, I would always regret it. Depraved as it was, I wanted this… that wasn’t entirely true. I didn’t want it. I craved it and, what is more, I needed it.

So I stayed put, knowing that every moment was being recorded, knowing that eventually I’d pee into the glass and, even worse, I’d probably feel grateful to her for letting me. I tried not to think about it too much after that. Instead, other thoughts wormed their way into my mind.

The image of Abby’s husband came to mind. God, he was handsome. I wondered what my Mistress would do if he came home right now and walked in on her to find me kneeling half-naked on the floor ready to piss into a glass. Would he be angry? Or did he already know? Perhaps, when this was all over, she’d show him the video, jerking him off as he told her what he’d like to do to me, telling her what a dirty little slut I was and how he’d love to come all over me…

I found myself getting more and more turned on, my breathing speeding up, growing shallow. Maybe he’d shut the door behind him, unzip his jeans and, grabbing a handful of my hair, shove his cock into my mouth. Mrs. V would simply look up and smile, nodding at me, giving me permission to suck him off like a whore. Maybe he’d shoot his load down my throat. More likely he’d come all over my face, letting it run down my cheeks, over my lips, dripping off my chin and onto my tits and belly and into my waiting glass…

“Be quiet, slut.”

I blushed, realizing I must have let out a soft moan. Nodding, I pressed my lips together and went back to staring at the camera, a new fantasy arising. In it I was kneeling in the middle of the study at the other house, several men and women standing in a circle around me, watching me, drinks in their hands, laughing as they talked about me, telling Mrs. Vandermeer what a nasty little fuck toy I was, telling her how much they were looking forward to using me for their own depraved enjoyment…

“Miss Spencer, if I have to tell you one more time…”

I cringed, nodding, biting down on my lip as I tried not to think about anything but being quiet. It wasn’t hard, seeing as how I realized that I’d have to pee soon. The pressure in my bladder was building slowly. It wouldn’t be long now. She’d told me to hold it as long as I could, though, so I kept my mouth shut, unable to think of anything else but pissing now. How long that lasted, I’m not sure, perhaps twenty minutes of discomfort that soon became unbearable.

“Mrs. Vandermeer?” I whispered, trying to get her attention.

She ignored me for what felt like an eternity before finally pausing at her work, gazing across the room at me, her lips pressed firmly together.

“Yes, Miss Spencer?”

“I… can’t hold it… much…”

I felt a deep blush covering my cheeks at the admission, knowing what was about to happen. I watched her glance at the clock on the wall, my gaze following her involuntarily.

“Ten more minutes, Miss Spencer.”

“But…”

She raised her right eyebrow, silencing me as she went back to grading her student’s papers while I watched miserably as the second hand moved in slow motion wanting to scream with frustration as I did my best not to squirm as the need to pee became overwhelming. I almost sobbed with relief when ten minutes were up, shaking as I turned my eyes to her, praying that she’d been paying attention to the time, afraid of displeasing her by speaking up again.

Another minute went by. And another and another. I was becoming desperate, squeezing my muscles together, knowing that if I relaxed I’d never be able to stop myself. Fourteen minutes. Fifteen. I was becoming desperate. Now, instead of dreading pissing in the glass, I was looking forward to it. It was all I could think about. Please, I began to beg silently. Please, Mistress, please, please, please.

Finally, she looked up at the clock again, putting aside the last of the tests, her hands folded before her and resting on the table, her smile cruel and yet somehow reassuring.

“Would you like to piss for me, Miss Spencer?”

“Yes please, Mrs. Vandermeer,” I whimpered.

“Good girl. Just don’t get any on the carpet or I’ll make you lick it up. Go ahead and piss, slut.”

“Thank you, Mistress.”

Before the words were even out of my mouth I let go. It started as a warm tickle at first, but soon it became a stream. Shaking, I did my best to direct it into the glass, watching between my legs in horror as some of it missed, leaving dark spots on the carpeting. It felt so good, almost like an orgasm, the relief of finally being able to empty myself. When I was done, I’d filled the glass with my warm piss and was breathing so hard I was in danger of hyperventilating.

“Not bad, Miss Spencer. Not perfect, but not bad.”

Again, I almost sobbed, a feeling of relief laced with love blossoming inside of me. She sounded pleased with me. I wanted to crawl to her and wrap my arms around her legs and kiss her and thank her the only way I knew how; pushing my face between her thighs and making her come. Instead, I remained kneeling like a good girl, shaking as I did my best to smile up at her, ignoring the camera still focused on me.

“Thank you, Mrs. Vandermeer.”

“Now drink it.”

I take pride that I didn’t protest and that I only hesitated for a few moments before picking up the glass and pressing it to my lips, tilting it back, my eyes never leaving her face as I slowly drained the glass, my own piss flowing down my throat. This time I made up for making a mess on the carpet, careful to get every last drop, including the last fragments of ice. I even licked the rim, earning me a delighted smile from Mrs. V.

“You did well, baby,” she purred, standing up from behind the desk and moving behind me, idly stroking my hair like one would a pet. That’s what I was, after all, her pet. The thought made me smile. I belonged to her now, at least in my mind. I trembled at her touch, knowing that, at that moment, I’d do anything she asked of me. Anything, no matter how perverted or depraved or just plain filthy. Instead, she told me to get dressed again and finish up my assignment.

“Yes, Mrs. Vandermeer.”

She chuckled softly. I’d been unable to keep the disappointment from my voice.

“This was meant to be punishment, Miss Spencer, don’t forget that. Otherwise you would have gotten your wish. Remember that the next time you decide to play with your cunt without permission.”

Meekly, I nodded, wiggling back into my panties and slipping back into my dress before resuming my seat.

o-O-o

It took another half hour or so to finish my task, during which time I heard the front door open and close, signaling Mr. Vandermeer’s return. Thankfully, he left us alone. In fact, I didn’t see him again until I left the house, blushing as he ushered me out, knowing that the unmistakable odor of my aroused pussy clung to me like perfume.

That night… oh, how I wanted to play with myself while going over the events of the day. I could think of nothing else and, despite my best efforts, I went through several pairs of panties, changing as they became too soaked for comfort as I hid out in my room, away from my parents. That night I received an email with a file attached. I didn’t even need to open it. I knew what it was. Me, dressed like a whore as I pissed into a glass and then drank it. I smiled, saving it in my special folder with the pictures Mrs. Vandermeer had taken before re-reading the accompanying message one last time before crawling into bed and trying to sleep.

 I hope you will not give me a reason to punish you again. I have grown quite fond of you and I want you to achieve your full potential. Rest assured that only you and I have copies of this video. I will be contacting you again shortly. Until then, behave yourself!