I realized it was only nine o'clock at the latest when I went to sleep the previous night, but likely closer to eight. I woke up at a little bit before four. I slept well for the first time in weeks. Jake was still holding me as he was the night before, though it seemed we moved slightly in sleep. We were spooning. I apparently took the pins out of my hair, though I hadn't remembered doing so, and my dress was all wrinkled. I didn't want to wake him, so I slowly slid his arm back, onto his side. I rolled to the edge of the bed and got up. I noticed the time, and realized I wouldn't be able to get back to sleep. Jake was incredibly kind to me, and I was also incredibly attracted to him. I still wasn't sure how much of the attraction was how nice he was to me and it's contrast to how I had been treated by Darla, but I knew I would have been even if that didn't happen.
    
    Darla had told me to give him a blow job. In fact, I wanted to do it anyhow. I thought about doing it as a way of showing him I'm appreciative of the vow he gave me the previous night, but then I remembered what Darla had said about it. Actually, I wanted to have sex with him. I was torn, though. I couldn't tell if I wanted to have sex with him only because of my attraction, or if I wanted to have sex on my own terms, not being forced into it. It could have been my self-esteem fighting to come back into my life. I didn't want to have sex with Jake as some strange psychological reaction to my recent abuse, but my desire for him was undeniable. Then, so was my recent abuse. Either way, I decided to take a shower before doing anything, as I was sure he'd appreciate anything I might have done if I were fresh.
    
    I took a warm shower. I shaved as I had been doing, but for Jake. I guess my mind was already made up. Why would I get clean for him if I didn't plan on doing anything with him? I wanted to have sex with Jake, regardless what, or how unhealthy, the reasons were. After getting out of the shower I dried and combed my hair, put on lip gloss, applied my anti-hair lotion, and applied a very small amount of make-up, as I had last night. There wasn't much helping the scratches all along my left side, but they appeared to be a bit better anyhow. The area around my nipples, however, were green and yellow. I tried to touch it up with the make-up, but it looked odd, so I removed it. Even though I tried, I still didn't convince myself that I looked very appealing that way. To top it off, I was still sore. Would I be good enough for him? Would I have even worried about that before my relevant problems? Didn't I still want Chad?
    
    Finally, I convinced myself to give Jake the blow job, and maybe something else if he wanted. I may not have been good enough for him to have sex with the way I was, but I still wanted him to know how much I appreciated him. Also, I wanted him to know I wanted more than just help out of my situation. I wanted him to know I thought of him as... a really great guy, who I wanted to be romantic with, I guess. I had the problem of what to wear back into the bedroom. Would he prefer being woken up with me naked, giving him head, or would he prefer me in a bath-robe or towel? Would he like me to have my thong on and maybe wiggle my hips on my way back into the bedroom? Would he be awake enough to notice? Why was I so concerned about it?
    
    I decided to go into the bedroom totally naked. I'm not sure I had any good reason for it that way instead of another, but he had already seen me naked anyhow, so it didn't really reveal anything secret to him. When I went through the bedroom door, however, Jake was not there. My plan was falling apart already, and I, for some reason, needed it not to. I knew, then, that my recent abuse was a large factor in what I was attempting. Perhaps the fear of rejection after all the torment my self-esteem had been through, perhaps I subconsciously feared he'd not help me if I didn't do what I planned, but I felt the need. I turned around and sensed a motion around the corner, towards the kitchen. Good, he hadn't left! I walked slowly through the living room, biting my bottom lip. I stopped biting my lip when I realized I was doing it, and I glanced around the corner. Jake was facing the counter the coffee pot was. He must have been rewarming the half pot left from the previous night.
    
    I tried to sneak up behind him, and I'm pretty sure I succeeded. Jake was doing something, perhaps reading. I wrapped my arms through his, and hugged him from behind, which reminded me that I had bruises on my breasts. He started to turn and I loosened my grip so that he wouldn't move me along with him. He finished turning, and he looked at me surprised. He didn't jump, he didn't seem put off, he just seemed like he didn't expect me to be nude. Hell, I didn't expect it until I did it. But that was the moment of truth, and I had to wait to see how he reacted before I could get out of the sudden paralysis I found myself in. My heart jumped and I couldn't look away from his eyes. He was about to say something as his expression softened, and I sensed his rejection coming. I couldn't allow that, so I quickly moved in and started kissing him. The bruises at the apex of each breast hurt as they squished into him, but they'd seen worse. I could handle it. The strategy worked. He kissed me back with a reserved, but undeniable, passion. As we kissed, he moved. I had no choice but to go where he did to continue the increasingly intense kisses, and I soon found myself pinned between him and the table.
    
    I tried to stay up, to hold myself up by holding him, but he had grabbed my arms and pulled them away. He allowed me to fall backwards a little, then he slowly lowered me the rest of the way. The only way I could lay down like that were if I wrapped my legs around him, which I did without hesitating. He combed one hand through my hair, grabbed the side of my chin,and leaned down to continue the kissing. I put my own fingers through his hair and worked my other hand down to his crinkled shirt neck. I started unbuttoning the first button when he pulled away slightly and looked at me intently. He was considering something important, and whatever the important thing was, he was about to reject me. I could feel it. I tried to wither away, but it didn't work. He stood all the way up, taking my hand from his second button and fixing the first, "No."
    
    I don't know which way, but my color changed. The room fell away, but I wasn't fainting. He shook his head once, set his jaw firmly, and moved back from between my legs. I lied there fully open, having just thrown myself at him, and he denied me. I thought for sure he cared. It had seemed so real. He continued his thought, "Things are far too complicated for such a decision to be made. And the further complications required for this in the first place have been shown to be... false."
    
    I couldn't do anything but lie there hoping he would reconsider, or perhaps that it was a dream. I doubt I could have spoken without bursting into tears again. He changed the subject and looked away, "I called Tony, but he didn't answer. I should go and... tell him."
    
    I fell off the table, onto my knees, surprised that someone else might learn what was going on. I couldn't bring myself to trust that man after what had happened. Wide-eyed and scared, I pleaded, "No, please don't tell him! Don't tell anyone! What if he tells Darla? I can't let Darla learn that I've told anybody! What if he tells the authorities?!"
    
    "Perhaps, but I should at least go see him to determine what I can do concerning him. And Darla... I don't know when or how I'm going to deal with her, yet!"
    
    "Don't! She still has the photos and even video! If she even had the impression you know what's happening, she'd send me to prison! Please don't do anything rash!"
    
    "Don't do anything rash?! How can I stand by knowing what's happening?!", he demanded as he waved his arms to either side
    
    "I don't know, but it's happening to me! Please let me try to handle this! I'm going to get a hold of Chad, and... I'm not sure, but he'll be able to think of some way to clear this!"
    
    Jake gave me a soft look again. He kissed my forehead, said "Okay. You call me as soon as I can help, though.", and he left.
    
    I got up and ran to my bedroom, then put on my robe and cried in bed. Just when I thought I was done crying because I was being sexually abused, being rejected by the first guy I actually wanted to have sex with since the abuse started set me off again. There was no way I could face Darla that day, so I called in sick. I hadn't remembered how many personal days I had used yet, but a break down at school wasn't an option. I cried until my alarm went off, then ran out of tears. I was sore, my throat was parched form the crying, snot was all over my pillow. That was probably the most miserable I had been in my entire life.
    
    After I stopped crying, I fell asleep for a while. When I woke up, it was almost noon. I put on my house robe, made and drank some coffee, and made some eggs and toast. I didn't give myself time to think about all the horrible drama my life had become. I had work to do. The past few weeks, I hadn't done much planning for my classes, and I planned on gaining something from my sick day besides not having to see Darla. I had to put in an order to the school library to get a few copies of books to replace ones that went missing last year for an upcoming report for my first three classes, and I had to change the pace of my fifth hour class because they were moving too slowly. Perhaps I could increase the weight of the final paper that semester if I removed one of the smaller assignments. I had gotten a few hours of work done by the time my phone went off. It was Darla. I didn't answer. I took the day off, that includes from her.
    
    I listened to the message anyhow, "bitch, you're going to wear that blouse I got you tomorrow, no bra, and that first skirt I got you, too. Your choice of thong. Meet me in the bathroom near class at lunch time, and bring the butt-plug."
    
    She seemed much calmer than she had when she left a message the day before. I tried not to think about what she said. I'd deal with it the next day. I got done with my work, and felt pretty good for dealing with so much. I decided to read a book. I hadn't really done much reading the few weeks before, so I'd catch up. I had a couple I was working on, so I finished one and almost finished another before I realized the sun had gone down. I would have to go to bed soon, and then wake up and go to work the next day. I pushed it out of my mind as I got ready for bed and read another chapter before falling asleep.
    
    I had a dream about Chad. It was intense. The details elude me now, but it took the general air of a romance book set in the fifties. I hadn't read a romance book the previous day, but dreams tend not to make much sense. I was the heroine, Chad the Hero. I got saved from some sort of crime lord, and Chad took me off to make love passionately. I didn't make it all the way to the steamy part, though, because my alarm woke me up.
    
    I moaned and got up. When I was in the shower, I realized Jake hadn't called me the previous day. Was he going to call me? Was he trying to do something about my situation? He said for me to call him, but would he check in? If so, he would probably just make things worse. Or had his show the other day been nothing more than that? I still couldn't be sure he wasn't working with Darla. My image of him seemed to change from one extreme to another all the time. I trusted him after I had calmed down on Sunday, through Monday morning, but why had Darla's apparent mood changed?
    
    My nipples still had bruises on them, and the scabs on my left breast and shoulder were still large and fresh. I couldn't get out of my mind why they were there. Darla. Tony too, but he wouldn't have done anything without Darla around. Jake was difficult to place. Had I doomed myself in sharing things with him? Perhaps he was even the master mind behind this, and he had some overarching plot. Maybe I've read too much fiction in my life. Rationally speaking, I had no reason to doubt him. I couldn't afford the trust I desperately wanted to grant him if it proved false, though. He seemed trustworthy, and I wanted someone I could trust, so perhaps I would just continue operating as though I could.
    
    I couldn't stop being concerned though. Why was Jake so important to me? Well, obviously he could possibly help me deal with Darla, and he seemed a great catch ignoring that, but I liked him more than that already. Was I displacing my feelings for Chad onto him? It was possible, I guess. Well, there wasn't anything I knew how to do to stop that, except remind myself he's not Chad when I saw him next. When was I going to see him next? He hadn't called. Had he informed Tony about my situation? Could Tony be trusted if Jake could? I started second guessing telling Jake anything. If he told anyone else, that could start a chain reaction of telling people that ends up with me in prison! Maybe I should call him? I finished shaving and washing, then jumped out of the shower.
    
    The phone rang and nobody answered. I wanted to leave a voice mail, but I couldn't think what to say. What if someone else had Jake's phone? Before I actually decided to hang up, the beep happened. It probably sounded dumb, but after a moment's hesitation I said "Please, Jake, don't tell anyone about what I told you! Let me handle it, I have a plan!"
    
    I had a plan? I mean, sure, I did, but it wasn't a very good one, and it wasn't coming together at all like I had hoped. What if it was too late and he had told someone? What if someone else heard the message? Would he call back, now? When could I expect his call if so? At any rate, I had to get dressed. I quickly found and dressed in what Darla had told me to. I had grown somewhat accustomed to thongs, though it still felt out of place wearing them to my job. The skirt seemed shorter than I remembered it, or at least shorter than I wanted to remember it. I checked in the mirror and it reminded me that I had to be careful not to bend over any significant amount. Twirling was dangerous, too. Of course, the scabs from the scrapes on my thigh were pretty obvious, but they weren't very significant. I shaved without problems, after all. After putting the blouse on I got scared. The giant section of scabs on my shoulder were obvious through the sleeve, and some of it wasn't covered at all. The area of scab on my breast was a dark blotch that, it seemed to me, was obvious through the material. My breasts hung lower than usual, of course, and they swayed against the material, making my nipples stand out. Their color wasn't exactly a secret, either, and the bruises around them just made my areolas seem more visible. To top it all off, this was the outfit the Principal had warned me might change the clothing policy, but without a bra!
    
    I tried not to worry about it on the drive there, but as soon as I got out of my car the now familiar impression I was under dressed forced me to walk to my classroom faster than I normally would. I was there early, but as I walked by the principal's office, I could see that he was walking towards the door. I certainly didn't want him to see me the way I was, so I power walked the rest of the way down the hall. I was quickly to the intersection between most classes and the lunch/gym/administration part of the building, so I went up the stairwell and directly to my class. I knew he had opened the door and probably walked out before I got to the intersection, but I wasn't going to look back.
    
    My first three classes went well. I used my writing on the board before class strategy. I hadn't turned in my order for the books from the library, but I didn't need the books right away anyhow. I had a few weeks. Then third hour got out, which meant I had to go to the bathroom to meet Darla. And she was probably going to make me wear the butt-plug for the rest of the day. I wasn't sure if I'd prefer to keep the thong on or not. It's not like the thong would hide the plug, but it would still cover my vulva if I twirled too quickly. I knew how she worked, she was going to punish me for not being at school the day before. It wound up I was right, too. As soon as I got to the bathroom I saw Darla standing right on the other side of the door.
    
    She grabbed my ear and pulled me by it to the stall against the wall "bitch, why weren't you here yesterday?"
    
    She seemed calm, but like there was a rage underneath it she was suppressing. We weren't to the stall yet, and I had to bend awkwardly to stop my ear from hurting too bad "I was sick, Mistress!"
    
    "Is that right, bitch?" She asked as she pulled me around her and pushed me, still by the ear, into the stall before her. She stepped in, shut the door, and faced me as she continued, "Well, I don't think I should allow you to get sick!"
    
    What was she saying? She knew she couldn't stop me from getting sick. She must have known it was a lie, but didn't have any way of proving it. Not yet, anyhow! I opened my purse to fetch out the butt plug when she released my ear. I held it up to her, hoping perhaps she was going to take it and keep it, instead of making me use it. Surprisingly, she took it. "Underwear", she commanded as she set her backpack on the floor against the wall and started digging through it. I could see she had that dildo and the harness. Ah, so she wasn't keeping the plug, she was just getting everything together. I should have expected something like that. The was lube in my purse, too. I knew why Darla wanted me to bring the plug, and I didn't want to shove it in dry! Darla pulled out the harness and the dildo, but she put the plug in her bag. Maybe I wouldn't have to have it in!
    
    She stood up to hang the harness on the rail along the wall, and handed me the dildo, "Fuck yourself, bitch."
    
    I didn't have anything else to do but what she said, so I used the lube I had and spread it around the dildo. When it was smoothly coated, I lifted my skirt and sat down on the pipes behind and above the toilet seat. It would be more accurate to say I was leaning there, or perhaps that I was half leaning and half sitting. Either way, I spread my other leg to the other side of the toilet and started thrusting the dildo into me. I wasn't turned on at all, so it was uncomfortable and felt too large, but I did as I was told in hopes of getting out of there sooner. I almost considered how obedient I was being, how much I had changed into the role I was being forced into, but I knew thinking about that would make things worse. I shoved it from my head.
    
    Darla was getting something else from her bag. She slowly held it up for me to see. It was the butt plug. No, it was a new one! It was larger than the one I had! The base was the same diameter, but it otherwise looked larger and with the same dimensions. It was at least an inch longer than the other one, and the wide part near the base was proportionally as big. I estimated it as being at least five and a half inches long and the widest part was more than two inches. Did she really expect me to put that in my butt?! It was much too large! Walking around with the other one was slightly painful and certainly uncomfortable, how would I cope with a larger one?! Why did she feel the need for a larger one?!
    
    She saw my look of surprise and horror "I have three total, bitch. This is the medium. Do you really want the large?"
    
    My face may have gained a little horror, but I quickened the pace of the dildo, which I just then realized I had slowed, shook my head, and tried to relax. I would need all the relax I could get to fit that in me! And with the dildo and harness?! I'd be unable to walk! I watched her put lube all over the plug as I had the dildo. After it was evenly spread she handed the plug to me and said "switch."
    
    I handed her the dildo as I took the butt plug. I couldn't stop from hesitating. I had thought the other plug was horrible enough. I didn't wait too long, though. She was watching and, no, I did not want the larger! How monstrously huge did they make these things? I stood up and turned away. I bent over and held myself up with the pipe I had been sitting on. I really wanted to hesitate, but I just let out a sigh and reached the plug behind me. I took a deep breath, and pressed it against my anus. I wasn't immediately relaxed, so I breathed and focused on calming down. It started sliding in fairly quickly, and I managed to remain calm until it got to the point I had to really stretch myself to get it in. A slight problem: it came back out a pinch when I heard the noises Darla was making. She was using the dildo on herself. I didn't look back to see, I just relaxed again and pressed. Looking wouldn't change anything. My asphincter started burning a bit as I was stretching it too far. To make matters worse, I could already feel the tip of the plug pressing against the depth of my bowels. I figured I'd get it in one shove, to get it over with. Like jumping into a cold pool. I ignored the pain and pushed harder. That was a mistake, of course. I'm not sure why I actually did it. My asphincter felt suddenly like someone struck a match against it, and the tip of the plug pressed painfully against something deep in there. I didn't intend to, but my butt shot forward, forcing me to stand straight, and I caught myself on the wall.
    
    As I tried to turn to face Darla, I realized the pressure against the insides of my butt wasn't going anywhere. When I tried to flex my legs to move, it also slightly flexed my insides. That forced the plug harder into the spot inside me, and shot me to standing straight again. The burning of my asphincter was still there, but subsiding. At that moment, I wanted little more than to get the butt plug out of me. It was simply too large! No way Darla would make me wear it with the harness all day! I managed to slowly turn around and look at Darla, who had stopped moving the dildo in her, though her dress was still pulled up. My eyes were wide, but she only looked amused. She had apparently gotten another dildo out of her bag, and she was handing it to me. I almost cried when I saw that it, too, was larger than the other one. I remember how full I felt the last time, with smaller items in me. The rest of the day was going to be hell. I hoped she was only testing my obedience. There was no way she'd be so cruel. Then, she did whip me, and she seemed capable of turning in those pictures of me so get me thrown in prison.
    
    I would have asked Darla to reconsider, telling her how much it hurt even though I didn't have permission to speak. However, the bathroom door opened and a group of girls came into the bathroom. I could hear them get to the mirrors and then gab in front of them. The dildo Darla had was already lubed, so I took it and put it in. As I did, Darla grabbed the harness and put it into position under my hand. I tried to get the dildo in quickly, but as I did it pressed against where the butt plug was. That pressed the plug back and up, making it hurt some more. Darla had none of it, though. She pulled my hand away and the dildo almost shot out. I wish it did. Instead, she pressed up against it with the harness. Then she pulled the harness up. Fortunately, she did it slowly. The dildo pressed against the butt plug, I did my best to relax, and she pressed it up as high as it'd go. I did my best to quiet my squeals. She pulled up on the back and front, and then buckled it. I kept my skirt out of the way, but I kept trying to jump.
    
    After the harness was snuggly set, I could feel the dildo and butt plug not only very uncomfortably filling me up, but also pressing painfully too far into me. Both of them. I had to relax to reduce the pain, but any movement meant I stopped relaxing as much as I could. Darla got something else from her bag. A lock. I hadn't realized the harness could be locked, but Darla has proven to be good at teaching me plenty of things I never wanted to know. It was all I could do to keep from crying as she stood up and said "You may find it difficult to walk for a while, but you'll thank me for stretching you out like this in preparation for Saturday, in the future."
    
    She didn't even quiet down so that the girls in the room didn't hear her! She didn't seem to care, though. She put her bag back on and kissed me. Her dress had long since fallen back into place, and she had put the smaller dildo away. As she pulled me towards her I reflexively tightened, of course. The pain from the invaders ramming into very soft tissues shot up my back. I tried to kiss her back to get it over with and did a poor job. She didn't seem to care. She let go of me, turned around, opened the door just far enough for her to get out, and she was gone. I quickly shut the door, but had to deal with another spasm before I could lock it.
    
    How was I going to walk back to class?! Every step would cause a jolt of pain to ascend my abdomen! It wasn't possible! I tried to see if there was room at the side to pull either item out, but it was simply too snug. I considered allowing myself to cry, but that would cause my abdomen to move and undoubtedly tighten up. I had to wait for those girls to leave and then just do my best to get back to class. Fortunately, it didn't seem they were very interested in who Darla was talking to. Soon, they did leave, and I got up the courage to take a few steps in the stall. If I took a very slow step, I could remain relaxed. The invaders still pressed deeply into me and caused more pain, but not significantly more. How was I ever going to walk such that it didn't look like anything was wrong?! How was I going to keep these in for the rest of the day while remaining sane?! I had to figure out a way of removing them, even if Darla found out. That was too much.
    
    I left the stall and tried a normal step towards the door. It shot a jolt of pain as I expected. What the hell was that plug pressing into that hurt like that?! Why did Darla do this?! There was no way for me to look normal with those in me! Even relaxing I was unnaturally still and leaned my neck forward too far. I had a horrible gate, too! I tested. It was obvious I was going to hurt a lot, so I tried a long step. It did hurt more than a small step. I started getting angry. I had to do something! I couldn't stand awkwardly in the bathroom all day! Then I remembered Darla saying something about stretching me out. Might it hurt less if I moved around and, well, stretched my vagina and butt out? I felt miserable and whorish by the idea, but I had to. I slowly walked around the bathroom. At first it hurt and I made a loud, inward sighing noise each step, but soon I could walk without doing that. The pain was with every step, but it seemed I was more able to hide it each time. I didn't want to make that a skill, so I figured I'd just go to my class. No reason to torment myself first. There probably wouldn't be anyone in the hall by that point, anyhow.
    
    I was exceedingly happy there wasn't anyone in the hallway. The trip to my classroom took far, far too long. I didn't realize how many of those small steps it would take, and I didn't count, but I certainly wasn't going to take larger steps when nobody was around to realize I was acting funny. When I got to class, I wrote what I needed on the board. It was a drawn out process. I wrote as much as I possibly could from each spot I stood at. Then I tried to sit down. I didn't realize how difficult that would be until I pulled my chair out to do it. When I bent slightly, the pressure inside me increased significantly, and I stood back up by reflex. Would I be able to sit down? Wearing such whorish clothes, I really needed to that day! With no bra, I needed to hide behind my desk. Students would be able to see my nipples and scabs anyhow, but it would feel like I was hiding, which would somewhat reassure me. I had learned that earlier. The addition of the vile plug and dildo, however, made it even more important to avoid students watching me. I had to sit slowly. I relaxed as much as I could, but the pressure was still increased by sitting. The pain was ever present, but it was mild enough that I could just stand it if I leaned back and spread my legs. It seemed the farther they spread, the less painful it was, so each knee was against an arm of my chair. As long as I relaxed that way, I could bare the pain.
    
    Fourth period went as smooth as you could expect, considering I felt like I had a really bad cramp that some things were forcefully pressing against. Darla was there, and she was the last to leave class. She came up to the desk and slid a note deftly onto my desk as some people from the next class came in. She said something about the assignment to cover the note, and then she left. Fuck her! How was I going to write on the board for this class, let alone stand to do it? And this was the class that was lagging, too. I couldn't just give them a free period. I figured I would take a Tylonal, so the class would think I didn't feel well. It was brilliant, since it was true. It might help relieve the pain. Why hadn't I considered it before? I took four. Instead of writing anything on the board, I simply lectured from my relaxed position at my desk. It was strange to do, and the students seemed to pay less attention than they should have, but I was in no mood to discipline anyone. It seemed to work, mostly. Sixth hour was easy. All that class had to do was turn in a final draft, and they could get the rest of the class off. I was relieved that, throughout the whole day, nobody really stared at my chest. Indeed, they seemed to look at it less than usual. I hoped that didn't indicate they were looking more, and so were more cautious of when I looked up at them. By the time the final bell rang, the pain was beginning to amplify, as though it was becoming a bruise that was getting pushed on.
    
    When that whole class left, I read the note Darla had given me earlier:
    
    bitch,
    
    You're going to wait for me after class, in the position as usual. I'll knock thrice. I'm going to turn the vibes on when you start sucking my clit. If you do a good enough job, you'll get to take the harness off and the dildo and ass-plug out before I leave. Otherwise it's going to have to wait until either you're in your car or whenever you get to where you put the key that was to the boots you wore Saturday night.
    
    XOXOXO
    Your Mistress
    
    I didn't want to stand or move, and I especially didn't want to take my clothes off and wait in an odd position. I just wanted those things out of me! Who would wear things like this? How wide and deep do women get that they might find it fun? And to top things off, I felt like I had to make a number two really badly. Getting up was difficult, since I flexed to do it. The pain shot me back and I caught myself on the wall. I was lucky I didn't fall over my chair and to the floor. I pushed off the wall and walked over to the door. Each step hurt just like earlier, so it took me a while, and some sharp inward breaths, to get there. I took my shirt off without too much problem. I never realized how many muscle groups flexed to get a shirt off until then. The skirt I simply let drop and I left it there. I knelt very slowly. It was hard to get down without flexing my insides. I did a little anyhow, and the pain increased, so I just fell to my knees. They cracked against the floor and it hurt, but not any worse than a good flex would do inside my bowels or against my cervix. I picked up my skirt and tossed it to the corner around the doorway, with my blouse, and then scooted up to the door very slowly.
    
    I spread my knees to touch the doorway, and it wasn't at all like in the chair. At the door, on the floor, spreading my legs made things worse. There was no camera, so I decided not to lean my breasts against the door until I heard someone outside of it. I just slumped and tried to relieve as much pressure as I could. I flopped my head to the side once in a while and sighed. I was very uncomfortable, and if I didn't have to be there for Darla I'd have been sitting in my chair instead. As it was, I wasn't sure I'd be able to wait. Each minute made sitting on my knees like that more painful, and more uncomfortable otherwise as well.
    
    Then I heard someone approach the door from down the hall. I moved forward and was instantly even less comfortable. A jolt of pain shot up my abdomen, and remained until I forced myself to relax. When my breasts touched the door and my hands were on my head, the doorknob rattled. I was stunned for a moment. Then someone knocked. Once. Following the knock was a male voice, "Lisa, are you in there?"
    
    It was the Principal! I immediately flexed from the anxiety. The flexing made me almost slam farther into the door, but my breasts were already there. I simply bounced back from them. I had to act fast. I stood as quickly as I could, aided by the pain it caused deep in my butt and vagina. I had a hard time balancing as I shot up, but I got there and stayed. He knocked again as I picked up my clothes. The shot of pain from bending over for those caused me to run into the wall. I stayed bent and pulled my skirt on when I came up. The jolts of pain were with basically every movement, but the Principal had a key, and there was no way I was getting caught nude in my classroom. I put my shirt on, which was less painful than the skirt by far, though it still certainly hurt. When I had myself straightened out I opened the door. I put my arms folded in front of my chest to hide my lack of bra. The principal stood there and looked me over. He seemed disappointed, and handed me my mail I didn't stop at the office for that morning.
    
    "Lisa, there's a meeting tomorrow morning... why was your door locked?" He asked, glancing at the door.
    
    I wished I could push my legs closer together, but they were already as close as I could bare. I had to compromise between pain and standing awkwardly. The more pain, the less awkward it would look, but it also distracted me. Still, they seemed far too open. They were certainly wider than anyone might be expected to have them if they were standing with regular pants on, and I had a skirt! My feet were about two feet apart. I felt almost like the principal could see up my skirt and realize the giant dildo and butt plug were there, but that didn't give me motivation to shut my legs. The mail was actually a nice pile, with papers mismatched in size and shape. It took both arms to hold them, and even though I tried to cover back up, the principle could see I wasn't wearing a bra. I gathered my voice to answer, "I wanted some privacy for a few minutes."
    
    "Why aren't you wearing a bra with a shirt that...?" He motioned at me. I got the impression I'd be less embarrassed if I hadn't gotten my shirt back on. As it was, it seemed I was trying to hide something. If my shirt were off, at least that impression would be gone. Actually, probably not. I still very much wanted him ignorant about the harness and what it held in me.
    
    "I got hot after class, and took it off. That's why I wanted privacy." I said as I made a show of covering myself with the papers. It felt almost like I was leaving my crotch wide open, but I had to act more self-conscious about my torso or else he might end up suspecting something about my crotch, too. Honestly, I was surprised he already didn't. I certainly wasn't standing normally.
    
    The principal averted his eyes from my chest and asked "Where is your bra, then?"
    
    Oh no, he had to have overheard some student talking about how I had been braless all day! "In my purse. Sorry, I should have put it back on. I didn't think about it."
    
    He didn't seem to believe me, but he nodded anyway and said, "Okay. Be at the meeting tomorrow. There's a flier about it in your mail."
    
    With that, he left. With my door shut and the option to relax, I walked backwards to the nearest student desk. I sat with my legs spread as far as they could go, to the bar holding the desk and the other against the back. I put my head down on the corner of the desk, which took some more pressure from my insides. I wanted those things out of me! Sure, I was embarrassed to be caught as I was, but the discomfort and pain inside my softest places was nearing unbearable. A few minutes later, I took my clothes off and slumped with my knees against the door frame, again.
    
    It was maybe ten minutes before Darla showed up. Like last week, she had me go down on her right at the door. She shut the door against herself to press her crotch into my mouth, and then I felt the vibrator turn on. It wasn't on as powerfully as it could get, but it still made me jump. I felt something pressing into the back wall of her vagina, and I realized she had a butt-plug in, too. Hers was vibrating. Something was in her hand and she held my face into her crotch. The vibrating from the dildo made me remain tense, and it hurt the whole time. In order to get it out as soon as possible, though I had to make Darla cum. It was difficult to concentrate and not jump away, but I forced myself to stay, since I knew from experience that jumping away wouldn't have any effect at all. The real trick was keeping my hands on my head instead of wherever they wanted to go whenever the pain jolted up my spine. Very quickly, Darla came. She relaxed against the door for a while, holding my head against her vulva as she spasmed. When she relaxed, I was more infuriated with every second she wasn't unlocking the lock.
    
    She did something with what was in her hand, and her plug started vibrating more. It went into my face and made it feel funny. In addition, my plug started vibrating and my dildo got faster. I tried to lick her labia and suck her clit to get that over with, but all I could do was press my mouth against her vulva and moan loudly. Tears escaped my eyes, and the pain was too much to handle. I couldn't focus on anything. My hands went down to my crotch and butt to try to pull the harness there a little looser. It worked moderately well. She grabbed my head again and pulled me in, saying, "Suck my clit, bitch!"
    
    I rolled my midsection around to try to relieve the pressure, but nothing worked. I licked as well as I could, but my lips curled and sucking was out of the question. Darla had another orgasm, and it seemed more powerful than the last. When she was done spasming, she let go of me, and I slumped onto the floor. I found myself on my right side, hands still tugging down on the crotch of the harness. I was crying very lightly. Then both vibrators started going faster. It felt like they were trying to burrow deeper into me, and like they were succeeding. After a moment, I started feeling too numb to feel the pain. I got up onto my elbow, and held the crotch with only my left hand. The numbness took on some quality I can't describe, because the best I can do is 'deep, powerful, and green'. It felt... odd. Then I moved my left hand to try to get up. The pain was gone for the most part, being replaced by the strange numbness. When I pushed myself up to an awkward sitting, the numbness took on a different quality. I knew what was happening. It was feeling good. It was feeling like it would build up to the best, deepest orgasm I'd ever been built up to. I couldn't allow Darla to do that! I hated Darla! I didn't want her to be able to pleasure me like that! Especially in this way. How could something so terrible bring such a feeling?! I couldn't move, though, so I shouted "No! No, no, no no no no, no nonnono NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"
    
    With the last no, the orgasm hit me like a truck. It probably looked like I was having a seizure. I flopped onto my back, curled my legs up, grabbed my crotch, and rolled around shaking for uncountable moments. I lost control of my body. I was washed with waves of pleasure, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. In the middle of it, I didn't want it to stop, but it was soon over, and the vibrators were being slowly turned off. I was out of breath and the intruders simply didn't hurt or bother me after that. As the last few waves washed over me, Darla leaned down to me, gave me a deep kiss that I returned far more than I'd like to admit, and she removed the lock on her way up. She left without saying a word. As soon as I had the energy back to do it with, I got furious. I quickly removed the harness and pulled out the intruders. It didn't hurt to do.
    
    The fury soon abated, and I found myself extremely relaxed, laying on the floor. I tried not to think about anything. I was physically exhausted, like I just got done exercising without pacing myself. But it felt like I exercised my insides. If I didn't start getting cold, I don't know when I'd have gotten up. I did, and I collected my things. I put the harness and the intruders in my briefcase, and went home. I found it difficult to think about what happened on the drive home. Not because I was still relaxed, that passed. I simply knew it would infuriate me to the point I'd speed and perhaps get a ticket, and I simply didn't want to drive while raging. I had to get home before reacting to what happened.
    
    When I pulled up to my building, I couldn't help but think about what had happened. Darla had taken my underwear, which meant that the kids playing on the grassy hill behind me might get a good view up my skirt if I didn't get out of my car carefully. Try as I might, I could feel the air on my naked rear when I bent to get things from the passenger seat. I don't know why I didn't grab that stuff before opening my door. I quickly got out and into my apartment. My skirt might have bounced, it might not have. My concern was that I got inside. Darla had given me the best orgasm of my life. It was so good that it immobilized me! How could that be?! How can someone I hate give me an orgasm at all?! I threw my briefcase against the wall when I got inside. My purse landed in the middle of the floor. I took a shower and dressed in jeans and a large tee shirt, with a bra under it. I didn't put underwear on, I pretended I had regular underwear on. Later that night, I learned that my period had started. It was very weak, and there was nothing on anything, yet, so I caught it just as it was starting. I blamed the fluctuating hormones for the power of the orgasm, earlier. No way Darla had done it. I hated her, she couldn't give me such an intense orgasm, dammit!
    
    After I got everything done I needed to and had dinner, I decided to look more into forced orgasms. Again, I came up with mostly people who were willing and it was a game. They weren't forced to orgasm unwillingly, they simply got tied up and played with until they orgasmed. But then, I discovered a blog. It was written by a women who was in her twenties, but she was writing about when she was raped at the age of 15. Not only was the rape fairly violent, involving her being tied up, slapped, and spanked, but she orgasmed during it. A man had managed to grab her while at her school's football game and drag her to inside the building without anyone noticing. He took her to the back of the theater, where he tied her up, cut her clothes off with an exactoknife, and raped her. She said she didn't enjoy the rape a bit, but her body somehow reacted to it, and she orgasmed three times. The man had been raping her vaginally for about a minute, according to the only clock she could see, and then she felt a strange pressure inside of her. The pressure became pleasant, and she orgasmed. The rapist was convinced, afterwards, that she liked getting raped. He continued raping her for several more minutes, and she had another. The describes him having an evil voice, and he said "If you like that, you'll love this!", and then violently raped her anally. While being raped anally, she had a third orgasm.
    
    During the rape, she was horrified and confused. She felt betrayed, helpless, and hopeless. After the rapist was done with her, he hand-cuffed her to a pipe running through a storage room. She tried to wriggle free for a while, but then it became obvious to her that the cuffs were too tight. She was found by a janitor over two days later, in a puddle of her own excrement. She was dehydrated and in a coma. The coma lasted only five hours after getting to a hospital, where they fed and hydrated her intravenously. I read most of her blog, late into the night. The rapist was never found.
    
    To this day, she claims the rape was the most horrible time of her life. Regardless, she plays out rape fantasies with her boyfriend. She never fantasized about rape until she was raped, and the fantasies always creep her out, but she became obsessed with having orgasms as good as the ones the rapist gave her. She says she has never duplicated their intensity. She seemed to flip back and forth between being happy with her life, and being depressed over the memory she didn't let die. The only thing I had in common with that woman was that I was raped and forced to orgasm during it, but it made me feel a little better knowing someone out there had the same problem. I sent her an email, but didn't hear back from her. I went to bed and slept surprisingly well.
    
    The staff meeting the next day was to discuss revisions of the teacher's dress code. I could feel the principal's eyes burn into me throughout the meeting, and that made the soreness of my vagina and deep in my butt seem exaggerated. I imagined the revision would involve enforcing longer skirts, but skirt length was untouched. The revisions mostly just required "appropriate undergarments" and it limited low cut tops to five inches below a person's neck line. The first rule seemed stupidly ambiguous to me, and the second one meant I could wear something cut lower than anything I had worn already. The revision seemed not only like a waste of time, but it didn't actually fix any of my problems! Maybe my mood changes were effecting my opinion, though. At least Darla couldn't make me go braless at work again.
    
    Classes went as usual that day, and Darla seemed like just another student. Except, of course, for my seething hatred of her. She played the role of a regular student, I should say. I waited for her at the door to class in just my thong, as was regular, and she had me work her to one orgasm before leaving. That was fine, I didn't want to talk to her. Something in the back of my mind nagged to tell her about my monthly flow, but that would abate by the weekend. I've never had a very heavy flow. By the time I got home Thursday, it was over.
    
    On Friday, things went "normally", except Darla left another note on my desk when she left class:
    
    bitch,
    
    Do not wait for me after class, today. Instead, do whatever you need to do tonight. I would suggest getting any work you need to do done, and then getting in some sleep. You're going to be in this classroom at 3AM, tomorrow morning. You're going to bring the butt-plug and lube you have, as well as those gloves you wore last Saturday night. You're going to bring those things later. Wear whatever you want to the classroom, in addition to your collar.
    
    XOXOXO
    Your Mistress
    
    I didn't want another one of her stupid games! I don't want to go walk around some public place in the nude! I especially didn't want to be forced to fellate strangers! Dammit!
    
    I did have some work to do, so I went home and did it. I mostly had to check over some papers, but that didn't take long. I didn't want to go to bed early, but I did. I woke up at 1:30 and got ready for whatever Darla was going to torture me with. I wore regular jeans and a sweater, over a comfortable bra. I went without underwear again, figuring Darla was just going to make me take it off anyhow. At least without any, I didn't have that string riding up my butt and reminding me why I didn't have any other underwear.
    
    I got to the school before 3, and put on Darla's stupid collar after getting inside. When I got to class, I saw two bags on my desk. I also brought a bag with the items Darla requested I bring. I didn't turn the light on, because I knew I was going to end up naked, and I didn't want attention drawn to this classroom or to make it easier to see into. There was a note in front of the two bags on my desk. I lifted it up and read it close to my face, since there wasn't much light to read by. It was difficult to make out:
    
    bitch,
    
    Strip nude. Take off everything except your collar. Put everything you're currently wearing in the empty bag on your desk, and then put that bag in or under your desk. You won't see that again until you come to work on Monday. And I mean put everything in that bag, too. That includes your purse and everything in it, your keys, your phone, EVERYTHING except your collar and the things I told you to bring. Once you're nude, take the bag that has things in it, as well as everything I told you to bring, and go to the bathroom. Lock your classroom door on your way out. Once in the bathroom, follow the instructions in the bag you took with you.
    
    XOXOXO
    Your Mistress
    
    I followed the instructions. There wasn't room in my desk, so I put the bag under it. The floor seemed very cold on bare feet. I had a sinking sensation when I shut the classroom door. That stuck me into my situation. Not like I wasn't stuck before, but it made it seem more real. I was nude, locked outside the classroom I taught in. I was nude at work. I had been nude at work before, but never lacking the ability to jump back into my clothes if I needed to. This was different. I was not behind my classrooms door. The cold air flowed by, but it also made it seem a bit desolate, which was sort of good. Sneaking down the hall and around the corner made me sure that someone was going to be here, though. The bags I was holding were plastic, and they crinkled and made noise with every step. If someone was here, with how quiet the place was, they'd be bound to hear. I was worried the bathrooms might get locked at night. Do they even have locks? No. When I got to the bathroom I realized the door didn't have any locks. That made sense, but it didn't make me feel at all secure. I turned the bathroom lights on to read the note in the bag, since the bathroom was pitch dark without the light on. I hoped nobody would notice the light through the cracks between the door and door frame:
    
    bitch,
    
    Douche and enema, then put on the stockings and the garter belt. Once that's on, put on the bustier and the shoes, and lock those on. Then put the butt plug in, and put on the gloves. Take all the garbage with you to the stairwell West of your classroom, the one on the Northwest corner of the school, with doors on the insides and outside. You'll find further instructions there.
    
    XOXOXO
    Your Mistress
    
    The douche was unwelcome, but I had to do it, and it wasn't gross as I knew the enema would be. The enema, on the other hand, was just as awful as I remembered and expected. It felt like I filled myself too full with diarrhea, and releasing it made disgusting noises and felt dirty. It didn't get better the second time. The garter belt was a lacy black thing, and it was sturdy. It held the lacy black stockings snuggly, but not too snuggly. I'd go so far as to say it was comfortable. It would have made me feel sexy if I wanted to be doing any of the stuff I was doing. It made a circle that outlined my womanhood, drew attention to it seductively, and outlined the kind of heart shape of my rear, too. The belt was designed to go with those particular stockings, it looked too good to be an incidental match. The bustier was also black, and it had frilly laces on the bottom and top. It was cut short at the top, though. It wasn't the kind that also supported breasts, really. It had two beginnings of cups without lace that held my breasts up, but it didn't cover any but the very bottom of them. They seemed to point straight ahead, showing me which way to go. The shoes were something out of fiction. They were mostly like normal, black dress shoes, except the strap around my ankle locked and the heel was ridiculously high. I estimated five inches.
    
    The butt plug wasn't as bad as I remembered it. I also took more time putting it in, though. It probably took me two minutes just to get that in. I felt like I was cramping as I pushed, and it burned a little. Again, when it got all the way in, I shot to a standing position. It didn't hurt as bad, but I was pretty sure that was because it wasn't accompanied by the dildo pressing against it and deep into my vagina. I found it easier to walk, anyway. It still pressed uncomfortably deep into me, and it hurt sharply if I didn't relax enough, but it was easier to relax and it didn't seem to hurt as much. Once the gloves were on and I was walking around, I realized why I hated the boots all over again. The shoes were just as clacky as those boots were. They were very loud, when considering nothing else in the school was making any noise. I slid, as I did at the mall. It was made very difficult because I had to focus a lot on balancing in the outlandish heels, and it didn't slide as easily. I couldn't make a smooth slide, as I couldn't keep my weight from pressing down more on either the heel or front. To make it worse, if I stepped too far, I came close to falling sideways. That wasn't a very relaxing way to walk, and I had half a mind to take out the butt plug until I got where Darla wanted me. Would however she punished me be worse than the sharp pain the plug shot up through my posterior whenever I didn't take a step light enough? At first I simply pulled on the end of the plug a bit with each step, to keep it from pressing so far into me. That worked slightly. It didn't hurt as much, but not relaxing enough still hurt sharply. Then I realized it would hurt less if I took normal steps. I managed to avoid the sharp pain by walking normally and pulling the plug a bit with each step, but then the shoes clacked loudly. Well, I can't say I walked normally, really, since I had a huge gate, but it was as close to normal as I could get. I knew nobody was in the school except me, though, so it was a chance I was willing to take to avoid the constant pain and chance of falling.
    
    I had the impression someone was looking from down the hall when I got to the corner with the stairwell, but I couldn't see anyone. Still, I hurried through the doors, drawing the hopefully imagined observer's attention to me even more via shoe clacks. And I didn't really hurry, either. I had such a difficult time balancing that I went about the same pace. Falling on my face wouldn't get me to the door, after all. Darla seemed expert at making me uncomfortable. Once that door shut behind me, I was even deeper in the trap. Those doors were on an electric circuit. If the school was not open to staff or students, like at 3 AM Saturday mornings, it automatically locked. You could get in with a key, but my key was on the other side of the door, and then behind yet another locked door. There was a sort of balcony at this stairwell, where you could see the stairs to the right, and the first floor below you. The front of the stairwell was brick, but the doors were mostly glass.
    
    There was nowhere for me to hide. The best I could do was get behind the stairs and hope vision was obscured to the outside enough that people didn't notice I was there. Or maybe I could get low on the floor of the balconyish second floor. No matter where I went, if someone looked in, they'd notice that I was wearing lingerie, and that my privates were exposed. I hoped Darla's game wasn't like it was at the mall, except at the school. I knew where the cameras were inside the school. Though there were only a few, if I passed by one without a mask on and walking around showing off my privates, I'd certainly lose my job. Perhaps this was how Darla was going to send me to prison? Did she leave those pictures in clear view of the camera, and I had to go there, too? I shoved that idea from my head.
    
    My left hand holding the plug from going too deep into my anus and my right arm holding the bags in front of me, I walked down to the first floor in search of the instructions Darla said she left for me. I had a difficult time deciding if I wanted my crotch or my breasts covered more, but I ended up choosing my crotch by the time I got to the bottom of the stairs. I saw a mostly empty bag sitting next to the garbage can, which was to the right of the inner first story doors (looking out), almost behind the stairs. It was on the inside of the stairs so I got behind them myself and carefully bent down to inspect it. I managed to avoid the sharp pain of the plug going too deep, but it was still otherwise uncomfortable. I had the thought to take it out until I got closer to Darla cross my mind. I didn't know when I'd see her, so I'd leave it until it became unbearable. Unfortunately. On inspecting the bag, a note was in it, as well as two pairs of hand-cuffs, two thick, black cuffs with rings coming from either side, a ball in the middle of collar looking straps, and nipple clamps.
    
    bitch,
    
    Put the two ankle cuffs on your ankles, put the ball gag in your mouth and strap it snuggly, then put the nipple clamps on. Once those are on, put one of the hand-cuff rings through the ring of your collar and lock it in place. Put the ring behind you. Cuff your hands behind you with the other pair of hand cuffs, and then cuff the chain of that pair into the ring hanging from the cuffs on your collar. Throw away all your garbage and my instructions in the trash can you're next to, and then watch for a white car to pull up to the side walk outside the doors. When you feel your butt plug begin to vibrate, run out to the car. And I mean run, bitch. If you don't get out there in time, the car will drive off, leaving you trapped here.
    
    XOXOXO
    Your Mistress
    
    Her instructions were horrible. With my hands cuffed and held up by the other pair, I'd be unable to keep the plug from plunging naturally deeper into me. And I'd be unable to do anything about the nipple clamps. How long would I be waiting for the car? Well, if she got there soon I didn't want to get in trouble, so I followed the instructions. I threw away everything I needed to before putting anything on. The ankle cuffs were easy enough to put on, though I had a difficult time with bending over to do it. I tried it one handed, but had to slowly let go of the plug to get both hands on it. I pulled the plug slightly as I stood up and put the rest of the items on a step. I could reach through the stairs to get things without bending over, that way. The ball gag was also pretty easy to put on. The ball seemed too large, but it fit in my mouth and held it open not quite uncomfortably, though it would get that way if it stayed for a long time. I hesitated before putting on the nipple clamps. Not only did it hurt, but it reminded me of Jake and made me concerned why he never called me back. I applied them slowly, but the pinching was constant and inescapable. I put one pair of handcuffs hanging from the ring on my collar by one of the cuffs, then spun my collar so that it hung onto my back. The other pair I used to cuff my own hands behind myself. It wasn't too difficult, but made me just a little more nervous.
    
    With my hands already behind me, there was no reason not to follow the commands and restrain the chain of my cuffs with the dangling cuff. That was difficult, especially with the butt plug constantly jabbing into my insides whenever I tried to stress my back, and the imbalance of the shoes. I could almost reach the dangling cuff, but then the jolt of pain would hit and I couldn't hold the position. With the ball gag in my mouth, I couldn't even stifle noises I made very well. It doesn't occur to you how much easier it is to not whine when your mouth is closed until you can't close it. The whines were a bit muffled, but I made them anyhow, and certainly couldn't form words. I got sick of it. Darla wasn't there, yet, and there were no cameras. I reached down and slowly slid out the butt plug. After I got it past the bump near the bottom, it slid out quickly. I reached through and set it base down on the fifth step up. I felt empty, in an ambivalent way. It both made me feel vulnerable to penetration, like my rear was more exposed to the possibility of someone looking, but I also happy the plug was out. Now I could try to get the cuffs right. It still took a lot of effort, but there were no shocks of pain from stressing my inside muscles. It took me probably a full two minutes, but I eventually got it. My hands were now stuck behind my back in an uncomfortable position. When I tried to see just how mobile my arms were, I could get my middle fingers to about the middle of the small of my back, reaching down, and I had a small arch of movement from there. Getting them that far almost choked me, though, so I held on to my wrists. That was about as comfortable as I was going to get like that. My arms like that plus the bustier made it look like I was trying to show off my breasts. I certainly wasn't, but I couldn't stop pressing them outward.
    
    I was scared to go out from behind the steps. The doors on the inside had tall, narrow windows above the handles. If someone were inside and glanced this way, they might see me. Of course, the clacking of my damned shoes would probably already have drawn their attention, anyhow. More concerning were the front doors. I wasn't sure how long I'd be trying to get that plug back in my anus, but I was sure it wouldn't be very fast. Those doors were mostly glass, so a field, drive way, a few pillars to the side of the sidewalk holding up the roof thingy outside, then those doors were the only thing between onlookers and I. None of those things provided much if any cover.
    
    I was about to go out and try, but a car drove by on the road. It made me realize how vulnerable I was. It was even worse than the previous weekend. I was dressed a way I thought was sexier, and I didn't have a mask hiding who I was. While anyone could see me from the outside, they couldn't get in. However, I wouldn't really have anywhere to go to avoid their gaze, since I couldn't get further into the building, and they could break the glass if they really wanted in. If anyone were inside, they would have no problem coming through the doors and finding me. My clacking feet would ensure anyone passing by the inside doors would get curious about who was out there. My breasts were sticking out, unabashedly, with a chain connecting painful nipple clamps, and I couldn't do anything to cover either my womanhood or my rear since my hands were cuffed specifically out of the way. My clothes worked to accentuate where they didn't cover. If anyone even caught a glance of me, they'd realize I was wearing lingerie, not actual clothes. It was obvious, they were black and contrasted sharply with the white of my skin. And the "bitch" spelled out in pink on the collar would make them think I wanted it that way, perhaps that I liked showing off my body to strangers, that I was an excitement craving sexaholic. My situation was hopeless. I wanted to retreat home, and probably would have if I could have.
    
    Well, commiserating wouldn't solve anything, and I didn't want to get punished for not having the butt plug in. I quickly clacked around the stairs, hoping nobody drove by and that I was quick. I knew it was going to be more difficult than I anticipated the instant I started up the stairs. I had no hands to support myself in any meaningful way, so I had to somehow crouch backwards on the stairs, slowly lowering myself onto the plug wearing my insanely tall heels. And what if I couldn't relax enough and shot up from a jolt of pain when it got too deep? I couldn't catch myself if I started falling! I could kick it down to the floor and try it behind the stairs, but how would I be sure it would land on the bottom? If it landed on it's side it certainly wouldn't be clean enough that I'd be okay putting it back in my butt, but Darla probably wouldn't consider that an excuse! And would I be able to use my feet to get it pointed up, or would I fall over trying?
    
    Well, I had to do something, so I knelt slowly on the step below the plug. I was extra careful because of the ridiculous heels. Balancing in them was much more difficult than I know how to describe. If I missed a step with the actual heel, I'd certainly take a spill. With my arms behind me as they were, I was desperate to avoid that. I got down sideways so that if I fell, I could fall backwards and catch myself on the rail, maybe. Once I was on my knees, I carefully turned and put my feet under the step the plug was on. It wasn't much more difficult balancing on my knees than the heels anyhow, except my knees were part of me and it was easier to intuit. Once I was facing the front, I searched for the plug with my posterior. It was a bit to the side, so I adjusted to align with it. I realized a line of drool was dripping from my bottom lip as I lowered my anus directly over the plug, but there was certainly nothing to be done about that. I couldn't close my mouth, after all. I tried to suck it back in, but that just seemed to make it drip faster.
    
    Just before I started lowering my anus over the plug, a car drove by. I tensed and stopped with my asphincter resting atop the plug. I didn't think there was any way that car wouldn't have noticed me. The only lights on in the stairwell were the exit sign above the door, but that was still more light than was outside! I waited to see if they'd slow down, possibly to enter the end of the U shaped driveway the buses leave from that leads to right in front of the doors, but they kept driving. I couldn't delay. I focused on relaxing, and slowly dropped down. I got a few inches of the plug into me, but then the back of my thighs hit the edge of the step. I started to slide back up, but I realized the angle of my rear altered how the plug was sitting, and if I got all the way off the plug it'd likely fall over. I could slide back down the plug and then use the edge of the stair to use my legs as a lever, but how would I control my decent onto the plug? Pushing against the back of the stair with my shins might work, but it would also hurt my shins and I wasn't confident I had the strength to descend slowly enough. I tried to get up off the plug one more time, but the base of the plug only slid farther back a little, making the angle even worse.
    
    Just as I was trying to choose between trying to catch myself with my shins on the edge and at a bad angle or trying to find a way to get the plug in me after it fell down, another car drove by. This one was going the opposite way as the other, and it seemed like it was going slower than the speed limit. Was it the car that passed me earlier, coming to get a better view? If not, was it going so slow to look at me anyway? That made the decision for me. Even if the person driving that car could see, I had to get the plug in me so I could get back behind the stairs. I pushed up with my shins, but kept my knees at an angle. It scraped the back of my thighs, but it was getting the plug into me slowly. The car was out of view by the time I got too far. I simply lacked the strength to hold myself up that way, and I plummeted down onto the plug. That was much more painful than it normally was when it got too deep. It felt like, well, something was unmercifully jabbed up my rear. The jolt of pain traveled through my intestines and I screamed a muffled cry. The drool that was dribbling down my chin landed on my left breast. The jolt wasn't kind on my breasts, either, as I realized shortly after I screamed that my nipples hurt a bit more, too. Tears were dribbling down my cheeks. I knew I was trapped with the plug painfully plunged into me. I had no way of getting it out, after then. I wished I had waited to put it back in.
    
    The plug was still getting pressed deeply into me, which I relieved slightly by leaning most of my weight onto my right cheek. The sharpness of the pain faded as I did that. A few more tears found their way down my cheeks, and I pulled my legs out from under the step I was on. How was I supposed to get up? The answer came to me immediately. I moved my feet down one step and then pulled my butt over the edge of the step it was on, careful to land on one cheek instead of two. The edge of that step scraped my back a little, but nothing bad. It was certainly better than the pain of the plug. Maybe I should have just left it in. I scooted down the stairs until my feet were on the floor. It took a while, since I had to try to remain relaxed as I slid each step. I couldn't relax fully, of course, and I got a jolt of pain each time. How I wished I were at home and in bed! I rolled back and then forward, going with my momentum to end up on my feet. the sharp pain in my intestines was almost more than I could handle, and the heels almost made me go sideways, but I landed against a door and remained up. I didn't want to keep my breasts pressed against the door for long, though, so I immediately moved backwards and slowly, calmly, walked back to behind the steps. on my way, it seemed like I heard a car pass, but I didn't want to strain any muscles looking. I knew they got a good view of my backside. I had to hurry up and get behind the stairs to try and hide if they decided to come back around and gawk. Since I couldn't hurry up, I simply kept concentrating on getting there.
    
    I watched outside the doors, through the steps, for quite a while. The nipple clamps stopped bothering me so much, but my arms were getting sore. I relaxed them a bit, which caused them to pull on the collar and choke me slightly. I relaxed a bit less. I relaxed only as much as I could without too much force on my throat. I got a slight jolt of pain from my rear when I heard a door shut upstairs. It was down the hall from the stairwell, but that meant that someone else was in the school! What if they heard the clacking of my heels on the steps?! What if they just happened to leave this way? I heard slight footfalls through the hall, but I couldn't tell which way it was going. It didn't seem to be fading. Then another door opened and closed. I didn't hear the first open, which meant whomever that was was getting closer! Would they see me out the window when I went out to the car that pulled up? Would they come this way and find me before the car pulled up. As much as I didn't want to go wherever the car would take me, it was better than being stuck like I was until someone I work with (or, worse, a student!) found me! I could hear footprints get closer to the doors on the second floor. As counterintuitive as it was, I hoped the car would show up very soon.