Teacher Finds a Master Ch. 01

***

Danny couldn't laugh at such an abject email. The poor woman was hooked, and if he'd thought about it, so was he. The mature woman was twenty years older than him, yet she was grovelling for his attention. It was both sad, and gratifying. The photo was less important than the message. Close ups of a bare pussy were freely available on the web, so not shocking in the least. Even such an intimacy with someone he was getting to know wasn't so enthralling as he thought it should be.

The punishment promised was a bit of a problem. What to do now? There were no clues in Mr Johnson's emails. He would have to think this over.

'Slave Tittyanna, your master approves of the speedy adherence to his demands. Slave's punishment will be announced when he is ready. Be assured a punishment will be meted out. Slave's master wishes to know more about his slave. What work does slave do. What kind of accommodation does slave have. Tell master the things that slave enjoys, and what annoys slave. Tell your master all about slave's life and daily routine. Do not leave out any detail, as your master needs to know, so as to command his slave wisely and with care. First of all, when last did slave have an orgasm, and how did it come about? With someone, or by masturbation. Did slave use a toy? Your master awaits his slave's reply. Be thorough rather than quick. Your master, with love and care to your welfare.'

Re-reading the email, he wondered if the last sentence should be removed. He didn't mean he loved her, but did mean he cared for her. With a shrug of his shoulders, he just clicked send.

He made lunch while thinking over what was happening between them. She wasn't doubting he was Mr Johnson, or Master John, who had a good reputation on that web site. It was a good reputation, for making submissive women happy, through fulfilling their fantasies. He had to change his mind about the man. It wasn't just a kinky way of getting women. He was providing a service, maybe even a valuable service.

The kitchen was tidy, so he turned the lap top sound back on. With time to think about what he was doing he decided to continue. He would find out what Miss Spank wanted, and give it to her.

He opened the email. There was a lot about her mundane life. She'd written it was boring and routine, and some excitement was desperately needed for a change. He thought to get to the naughty bit fist, but was becoming interested in the details. She was becoming a real person, and that made it all the more fascinating.

***

'Your humble slave hopes slave has not broken master's rules, but slave has masturbated often since writing to her master.'

***

He wrote back telling her not to have an orgasm without permission. She acknowledged with the usual blurb. It took about ten minutes before receiving another email, begging for permission to cum.

Danny enjoyed playing her like a slave, especially denying her permission to orgasm. With every email came at least one photo, showing adherence to his orders. His slave had shaved her pussy, and purchased a dog collar with a metal tag engraved with the slave name, Tittyanna. So maybe she was obeying all of his instructions after all.

He advised her to save money, as instructions were being formed, to purchase some toys. Master John intended to use his slave to the full. Changes in her life would not be dramatic, but carefully arranged to make full use of slave, Tittyanna. The return email gushed with thanks and agreement. Changing her lifestyle to suite her master was looked forward to with happy anticipation. It was surprising anyone was willing to go so far, and so now he had to think of something.

On the third day, she sent him a video of her masturbating. The sound of her moaning was enough to give him an orgasm, let alone the explicit imagery. He ran it again, carefully examining the bedroom. That was one room in the world he would like to enter, then enter her.

He guessed she really was just under forty, though she had a fit body. She had large natural breasts, which looked enticing over a slim waist. Her ass was hard and cute. He hoped her face was nice too. She didn't have to be a beauty, just not too ugly. With a body like that he could put up with almost anything.

After a week of getting her to dance to his tune, she was still enthusiastic, and her emails became desperate. She had been sending three to his one email. Then the email he had been waiting for arrived. She wanted desperately to meet him. He'd told her a little about himself, only using Mr Johnson as a reference. They weren't much different in build, but Mr Johnson was thirty years older. By the look of his emails, about thirty years more experienced as well.

Over the week he'd learned a lot about her, though he still worried she might be a weirdo, maybe even dangerous. He examined the photos again, trying to get a clue as to who she might be, and to reassure himself she wasn't a lunatic.

She arranged herself over the edge of the bed, with legs spread, showing off a cute bottom, and everything else. Knowing the bedroom well by now, he guessed she'd set the camera up on a chair. He even knew the chair was a twentieth century modern design, from other pictures.

The next picture was the same, only she'd moved her ahead slightly. He zoomed in on a mirror. He'd caught glimpses of her face before, at some odd angle, leaving her unrecognisable. This time the mirror was showing most of her face. He zoomed in too far and it broke up. Patiently he zoomed out a percentage point at a time.

'Fuck! No!' he shouted.

'Mrs Watson! It can't be!' he whispered.

Another email announced its arrival. He ignored it. 'Oh! Shit! I'm in big trouble,' he said, to the empty room.

Sending obscene emails to a teacher must surely be illegal. He calmed down a little. The lap top sounded off again. His hands moved to delete the emails, but didn't reach the keyboard. He almost ran out of the room, as though escaping the situation.

He opened a can of beer, hoping to cool down enough to think straight.

'OK. She doesn't know who I am. She's not my teacher. She just works at the same school. The email account was just made up a short while ago,' he said, to the empty kitchen.

While looking through cupboards for food, it occurred to him the email address could be traced back to his standard account. He found some stale bread, just good enough to hold a burger. He chucked slices of tomato in, and squirted ketchup over the lot. Sitting down to wash the mess down with another beer helped.

'So what! She sent me the photos, so she's the one in trouble. She'd want to keep that a secret, so why worry?' he mumbled, around the burger.

He slowly cleared up the mess, and even put the kitchen waste out. With a deep sigh he figured the laptop should be faced. He left the second can on the table, with the idea of keeping a clear head. Still not sure what to do, he sat down in front of the laptop.

There were four emails. She wanted to meet him, to play!

'That would be interesting, Mrs Watson,' he said, to himself.

Even if she didn't recognise him, his age would shock her. She taught geography to eighteen year olds, in the class next to his English class. He examined the photo more carefully. It could be a sister, or just someone who looks like her. She could be anywhere in the world, and not in this town at all. The time zone dictated she wasn't too far away.

Another email turned up, asking if she had done anything wrong. The tone sounded worried and desperate. He emailed back asking how long it would take her to drive to a motel he knew of.

The answer bounced back, gushing with thanks, and that she could be there in two hours.

'Damn! So can I,' he told the screen.

It might mean they lived close, possibly in the same city. That again confirmed it was Mrs Watson. He looked at the time, and figured that could be worked. He gave her instructions, and shut everything down, locked up, and left on a wasted journey. She wouldn't turn up, it was all just a game.

On the edge of town he pulled in to a strip mall to see a friend.

'As cheap as possible, they don't have to be high tech,' he complained.

'Alright, no problem, and I'll give you a staff discount, while the boss is out. Take this one, it's got good sound quality,' Chewy said.

'Throw in a car charger too,' he said.

'Are you going to tell me, why all this stuff?' Chewy asked.

'No. Not ever,' he smiled, and walked out.

Danny arrived early. Mrs Watson may be sitting in the parking lot, but she had strict instructions to walk in on the hour. Ten minutes to go. He checked the cameras were charged, especially the one with a good sound pickup. On the hour, in she walked. It was Mrs Watson alright, unless she had a twin. She looked perfectly normal, as though booking in to a teachers convention.

He unplugged a camera, and stuffed it into the empty lap top bag, added the others, and just sat there. Five minutes to book in, five minutes up to the room, fifteen minutes to prepare. He checked his watch, yet again. Seconds were ticking by, yet not seeming to add up to minutes. Unable to wait any longer, he walked from the parking lot to the reception desk, trying not to hurry.

A receptionist was discussing a booking, so he strolled over to examine local tourist brochures. Nothing exciting to see. His heart rate was up, and not from the idea of visiting a local veterans monument. He slotted it back in place, and looked at his watch.

'Has Mrs Tittyanna booked in yet?' he asked.

He'd inflicted upon her the indignity of using her slave name. It would remind her of what she was. He just hoped she hadn't been stupid enough to try using a credit card.

'Yes, sir, she's in room two-o-seven. You're to go right up. The lift is over there and the stairs are to the right,' the young woman said, and gave him a big smile.

Maybe Mr Johnson's suit and aftershave worked better than he thought. He smiled right back at her, and held her eyes until her cheeks turned pink. He was feeling very confident from having Mrs Watson carry out his instructions. At least so far she had.

The elevator clanked its way up one floor, huffing and puffing, as though an old man was pulling it up with a rope and pulley. He breathed deeply and rolled his shoulders, needing to remain calm. On the drive he practiced speaking more slowly, and in a lower tone. Sometimes the sound was too far back in the throat, or too nasal.

It was important not to think about what might, or might not happen in the room. All sorts of possibilities worried him. Maybe her sister had been chiselled out of a fortune by Mr Johnson, and she was setting him up to get even. Maybe she had a pistol, ready to shoot him on entering the room. No! He wasn't going down that road again. Dismissing the negative, he tried to concentrate on the positive ideas.

The elevator doors scraped opened, and he took a deep breath. He would run down the stairs if something went wrong. He turned around on finding the door numbers were going up instead of down. He stopped at the right door, and looked at a card peeking from under it. It was in the hotels colour scheme.

Looking left and right confirmed no-one was around to witness his failure. Stop it! He told himself. Slowly and carefully he pulled the door entry card from under the door. He held it for a moment, hoping she had fully carried out the instructions. When he walked in she might scream her head off. What was he to do then, except run for it.

He pushed the card into the lock, and it flickered green. He pushed the door open, which sounded like an old creepy black and white movie sound track. Maybe it was a mistake choosing a cheap motel off the highway. Opening the door enough for his head, he peered in.

A naked woman lay on the bed as proscribed. He breathed a sigh of relief. Walking silently on the worn carpet he circled the naked body, strategically placing cameras on furniture. One was positioned each side of the bed, on the cheap shelves where little cupboards should have been. Another was placed on a dressing table, angled at the naked woman.

He sat on the edge of the bed, still fully dressed, just in case a quick get-away was called for. No one was in the tiny bathroom, and she was tied to the bed, yet he still felt nervous.

'Hello Tittyanna, is my slave comfortable?' he asked.

The woman sighed, and tried to speak through the gag. Her head was turned toward him, though she couldn't see who had her helpless, for she wore a blindfold.

'Don't worry, a slave doesn't need to speak, just comply. You will nod your head in acquiescence to your master's demands,' he said, feeling pleased with the choice of words.

He was pleased that she had carried out his instructions, and almost as pleased when she nodded her head. She was ready for his orders and although tied down, would try to follow his instructions.

'Do you remember your disobedience, and your master's promise of a punishment?' he asked.

A particularly heavy tone of voice was used, and he was pleased to see her respond. She nodded, and shivered in anticipation.

'You're being naughty again my slave, Tittyanna,' he accused her, and pinched a nipple.

When she shook her head, she meant that she wasn't being naughty. The shake, meaning no, wasn't for him to stop playing with her breasts. In any case he carried on, as they were so irresistible.

'Yes, my slave is anticipating a spanking as a punishment. My slave will enjoy a spanking, so something else is planned,' he teased.

For safety's sake he told her to leave a hand free. So she could at least free herself if he didn't turn up, or they mistakenly went to different motels. In case she tried to pull the blindfold off before he was ready, he took hold of her hand. He kissed the palm and licked it. She let out a little moan of approval.

The limp arm was pulled above her head, and secured by handcuffs dangling from the metal bed-head. She was secured, with no chance of escape without help. He took his clothes off and climbed onto the bed. She again let out a breathy gasp. He leant over her, and kissed her forehead, followed by more kisses to her face and neck.

Kisses rained down her shoulders, over her chest, to her breasts. He gently puckered his lips over a nipple and sucked.

'Remember slave! No orgasm without your master's permission. Understood?' he demanded.

She slowly nodded her head. He spent some time on her breasts, for there was a lot of flesh to explore. They weren't so sensitive as he thought they might be. He pushed them up into shape, and marvelled at their size, especially as they were natural.

Moving on, he licked his way over her belly, which was plump but not unpleasantly so. When he breathed heavily on her forcibly spread thighs, she began to whimper. The woman had tied her own ankles to the bed legs, so there was no sympathy to be given. He kissed her thighs, just missing her shaven pussy. Her heels drummed the bed sheet.

'Don't forget, slave. Slave must not cum without permission!' he reminded her.

The woman whimpered pathetically, and thrust her pelvis up at him. He was kissing and licking the sensitive flesh all around her sex. The crease between leg and body seemed particularly susceptible to a light lick, and flick of his tongue. She was mewling loudly, so to keep her quiet, he went for it.

All of a sudden she felt her pussy lips sucked into his mouth. The frustration had mounted until she just had to pull at the bonds holding her to the bed. Not to get away, which was impossible, but to pull him to her, which was also impossible. A desire to shove his head into her pussy was too strong to resist the attempt. Just in time he sucked on her lips. He was certainly an experienced man to have her so worked up.

Then she figured it wasn't just the foreplay, it was the bondage, and playing the slave role. For her that too was foreplay. She needed to orgasm. Holding on to that was difficult. She knew how to fake it, after being married to a thoughtless man for so many years. Though how to fake NOT having an orgasm was beyond her. The last orgasm had been after reading his instructions for this afternoon. This was all very new to her, and very exciting.

When he sucked her bits into his mouth all such thoughts evaporated. She barely held onto the idea of waiting for permission to cum. Like a candle in the wind the idea flickered, and went out.

She cum noisily. All at once it struck her, and there wasn't a thing she could do about it. The preparation, anticipation, teasing, his masterful touch while bound and helpless, all compounded to wipe away years of civilised behaviour. All that was left was an animal receiving a mind blowing orgasm.

The yell was loud and worrying.

'I should go up there to see what's happening,' he said, though making no move.

'Why?' the receptionist asked her boyfriend.

'Someone's in pain. Might be murder, do you think? There's been some strange people in here since the owner put down the prices,' he said.

'That wasn't pain. That was a deep orgasm,' she told him, and sighed.

'No it wasn't. I know what an orgasm sounds like,' he said.

He looked at his girlfriend, and scowled. She meant what she said, and there was a wistful look on her face.

'I'll leave you here then. You can find out why she yells like that, when they check out,' he crossly spoke.

'That would be too late. I might join them before they do. See what he's got that does that to a girl,' she seriously spoke.

She looked at her boyfriend and laughed. He didn't make a move upstairs, or out the door. She smiled at him, winked, and opened her arms to him.

'I bet if you tried real hard, you could make me yell like that,' she dared him.

The office was small, but for two young athletic people, there was room enough.