ᴛᴡᴏ ᴡᴇᴇᴋꜱ ʟᴀᴛᴇʀ
I lingered near the door of the classroom.
9:58. Still too early.
My breath began to come in gasps now, as 10 drew near.
The key is to scamper in just as the bell rings. That way you won't be tardy.
"Cassy!" said Lindsay, surprising me outside the door.
"Oh! Hi." I said.
"I've been waiting for you in there." she complained.
"What's - what's in your hand?" she asked, pointing to my right hand clenched defensively at my chest.
"Oh!" I said, startled, opening my hand instinctively to reveal a paper wrapper.
"Uh, you just put on panty liner?" she mused, eyeing the wrapper.
"Uh. No." I gasped. "Or. Yeah." I admitted.
"Is it yer period already?" quizzed Lindsay.
"No!" I barked.
What?! Say yes!
"I mean yes. It is. Started today." I fumbled.
"Okaaay." said Lindsay. "Well are you ready for the essay test?"
"Essay. Yeah." I choked.
"Well, shouldn't we sit down? You know you'll get marked tardy again if you're late." warned Lindsay.
I looked at my phone. 9:59:15
"Just a sec." I said, and pretended to fix my socks.
"Um, did - did you roll your skirt? It seems higher than this morning." observed Lindsay.
I gulped but croaked out a laugh.
"Yeah, my mom wouldn't let me outside otherwise." I said with braggadocio.
"Okaayyy. The super short skirt thing just doesn't seem your style." she ventured. "And that's maybe too rolled up."
"I'm going more for Dark Academia." I lied.
Lindsay hesitated.
"That's more Dark Chlamydia." she said.
"And well," my friend continued. " - that's also a lot of makeup."
"I'm trying to - to find my look." I gasped.
"You know your shirt is cut here - under the left armpit - yeah?" said Lindsay, fingering a long rent in my blouse.
"Oops, yeah." I breathed.
"Did you do that - it looks intentional?" she asked, concerned.
9:59:55 I saw on my phone.
I stepped past Lindsay without replying, and strode into the bustling classroom as the bell sounded.
I scampered to my desk, but, sitting down, I realized Mrs. Goodman wasn't there yet.
NOT HAPPENING
The bustle of the classroom continued.
Where is Mrs Goodman
A big hand stopped me as I began to sit down.
"Good morning, Tyler!" I chirped brightly, staring fixedly at the man's desk.
"Aw, look at jiggle-pig. What did I tell you yesterday?" boomed the man, looking over my inappropriate attire.
"You said to wear something short, Tyler." I recited.
"Hmmph." said Tyler, rotating me about. "Not bad."
"She looks like a slut." observed DeNouve.
"It'll work." he grunted, and cuffed me on the backside of the head to dismiss me.
"Thank you, Tyler." I said, and sat down.
"Yer really training her to be your slut." observed Harris.
"Mmm," guffawed Tyler. "We'll see if it's worth it."
The teacher began the lecture.
Behind me, the big hand found the cut in my blouse.
"What is this?" he demanded, testing it. "Not big enough."
"Sorry, Tyler." I admitted.
"Quiet back there, you two!" called Mrs Goodman.
Tyler forced his fingers into the rent, the cotton tearing open slightly to admit the big hand.
"Ok ..." Mrs Goodman began discussing Regency novels.
The hand explored a bit under my shirt, resting casually on my bosom.
Surely everyone could see the big hand under my shirt
I brought my legs together and could feel my heart starting to pound.
" - So maybe Cassy knows. She's always knows Ann Bronte. " said Mrs Good man smiling. The class attention turned to me.
"Oh." I gasped. "What?"
"If that motif was de rigeur in Charlotte's style, what style would we expect for Ann?" repeated the teacher.
"Oh, and which motif was this - um - exactly?" I said, aware of the male warmth holding my bosom possessively.
"It was " - continued Mrs Goodman.
Under my shirt, the hand pinched a nipple.
"OH!" I groaned.
"...anachronism. So?" asked Mrs Goodman.
"What - what was the subject?" I asked, fumbling again.
The classroom tittered nervously.
"Never mind." said Mrs Goodman dismissing me with a frown, and continued her lecture.
"Are you taking me to Homecoming?" pouted Denouve, sotte voce.
"Uh. Maybe. Prolly Gwendoline." grunted Tyler, continuing to explore around my bra.
"You could be more romantic Tyler." complained Denouve.
"I kinda do whatever I want." asserted the square-jawed man.
"That's true" observed Harris. "That Edison kid's sitting on a poop bucket forever causa you."
"Oh yeah." remembered Tyler.
"That was so MEAN." repined Denouve. "Poor Edison!"
"Shush!" called Mrs Goodman. "Please, older students try to set an example."
Under my shirt, I felt Tyler force the bralet up, making room for himself. The lycra stretched to maximum, cutting into my back. I squirmed, willing it to make space for the big hand without snapping.
"Who's your Homecoming date anyway Harris?" asked DeNouve.
"I think Megan?" said Harris.
Tyler now had my breasts cradled in his hand. I adjusted as best I could, but the bra straps quietly snapped.
Don't respond don't respond
My areolae tingled, aware of the warm, male skin which owned them.
No NO no NO. I told myself, as my body sprang to life.
The nipple started to firm up.
"No" I mumbled aloud.
My nipple gradually hardened against his hand, betraying my warped desires to this man.
"Good piggy." said Tyler, rubbing me absently.
"What are you up to - " laughed Denouve, puzzled.
"Ok class, clear your desk, essay time!" announced Mrs Goodman.
**********
YOU ARE READING
Giving Up to Him
RomanceCassy just wants to enjoy her first week of school. But she gets seated in front of the school thug, a sinister 19 year old who makes every moment a torment. As Cassy learns to submit to the young man's bullying, part of her seems to enjoy it. Will...
