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Incompetence is key (Siren13 x Alan23)

Blushing as she hears his whispered compliment, she blushes deeply, a considerable feat considering how flushed her face already is from his wonderful fucking. When she feels him spurting off inside her, she cums around his cock again. Her legs wobbly and unsteady as she feels him kissing her neck. She shivers happily, loving the way his lips feel on her skin, eliciting a soft moan from her lips.

Only barely noticing what he's doing with her dress, she tries to get her breathing under control. When she feels him leading her to the mouth of the alley, she practically digs her heels in.
"Dean... I can't go out there... We just... And I look like we just, and I can't go out there like this..." She stammers and stumbles, her legs not yet fully recovered. She pulls gently on her hand, hoping he'll release it, her other hand already trying, and failing, to untangle her dress from her belt. She looks up at him helplessly.

She frowns and blushes gently as she recalls him fixing her clothing in class, realizing she actually loved it when he looked after her like that. She fumbles a little more with her clothes, not sure how he had tucked them in so awkwardly. Finally she looks up at him again, a defeated look in her eyes, but deep down a tiny glimmer of happiness, and drops her hands to her side now.

"Help, please Dean... I don't like looking disheveled like this." She says quietly, adding Master even quieter, shivering as the word leaves her mouth.
 
Dean revels in her total embarrassment. It's amazing - not only can he forbid her to pull her dress down, and force her to walk the streets revealing everything - but even if he doesn't, and gives her total freedom, she's still too upset and shaking to sort it out. He could walk away now, and she'd be totally helpless, with any passing member of the public able to see her totally exposed.

However, he takes pity on her, and finally relents. He pulls the dress out from where he's tucked it into her garter belt, and shakes it down, allowing her to smooth it to get the worst of the creases out of it. Then, tenderly taking her hand, he walks her along the alleyway. He's amused to see she blushes almost as much as his holding her hand as when she was showing everything. Love washes over him... she is so helpless, needing his help so much.

But he still has a surprise in store for her - her ordeal is not yet over.

To his satisfaction, when they get to the street, a few people are about. Good - that's exactly how he want it. He looks down at her ankles and frowns.

"Sianna, those stockings are a disgrace," he says, pointing at the wrinkles and sags on her slim legs. "You're going to have to pull them up. I'm not having my girl looking any more ridiculous than she needs to be. No - not back in the alley. Pull them up here!"
 
Being led from the alley, she marvels at how big his hand is compared to hers, they way it wraps around hers. As they reach the mouth of the alley, she hears his next command and blanches. Fix her stockings? Out here? It was one thing to look and fix her disheveled mess of an appearance in an alley, but out here, where there were clearly people out and about, that was something very different. Gaping at him momentarily, she sighs quietly, in a defeated way.

Walking over to a lamppost by the curb, she puts one elegantly clad foot on the base and begins fixing her stocking, her face burning and reddening the whole time. By the time she was clipping the stocking back into the garter she was sure her face felt feverish. Then she started on the second leg, fixing and adjusting. Her face and whole body were so warm at this point she was actually getting a little dizzy now. Standing up shakily, she straightened and patted her dress down and into place. Looking up at him and smiling beautifully, she looks eagerly for his approval.
 
Dean is so proud of his Sianna, he has to fight hard not to show it. She looks so beautiful, standing there fussing with her stockings, drawing attention to her lovely, slim legs. A few passers by look at her as they go by, some of the women half-smiling sympathetically - presumably they've suffered from misbehaving hosiery at some point - others giggling with their hands over their mouths, while the males all, without exception, ogle her with various degrees of discretion.

No matter what the spectators do, Sianna's reaction is unvarying. She simply blushes more. By the time she's finished and wriggled her dress back down, her face is so red he's worried she might collapse, for surely the blood must have drained from the rest of her body.

When she finally finishes, and looks at him - that look, half of adoration, half of fear, that he finds so captivating - his heart melts. He takes her in his arms, and kisses her, a long passionate kiss, in the street, in full view of everyone who might pass. She has to stand on tiptoe to meet his kiss, and the dress hikes up again, and this time he's even enough of a gentleman to reach behind her and yank down the hem, so that she's not showing an embarrassing amount of leg. Then, his arm wrapped protectively around her, he escorts her back to her apartment.

* * * * *

Dean enters School the following Monday full of anticipation. For the rest of Saturday, and all of Sunday, he's given her the easy ride she's deserved, treating her gently and lovingly, praising her looks, kissing her constantly, and not ordering her to do anything that will humiliate her. She's remembered her lessons well, calling him "Master", and kneeling on all fours whenever she requested permission to do anything.

They have spent much of the time in bed, and he's taught her many different sexual positions and activities. It's obvious that they are all new to her, but she's responded well. But before leaving on Sunday evening, he's given her specific instructions for the next day.

He's selected her outfit, ignoring her pleas to allow her to wear jeans or pants. It consists of a business suit, based on a retro-80s pattern, in a muted purple, with faint gray pin stripes. A blazer and skirt, not a micro-mini, but it becomes one whenever she sits down, since it's a little tight and rides up. If she's careful, and keeps control of the hem, she will be able to avoid showing her almost fluorescent pink panties, but she'll have to concentrate carefully. Black ankle-boots with a turnover top, and flesh-colored pantyhose complete the picture. He has been very particular that the hose must stay tight all day, without bagging into wrinkles at her slim ankles, and that if this happens, she's to pull them up, no matter where she happens to be.

He has arranged something else, too. Ten minutes before school starts, a van arrives at the school. A young girl delivers something to the staff room. A huge bunch of assorted flowers, with no clue as to the sender and no message. Simply a delivery address

To the Beautiful Sianna Kurayami
 
Looking in the mirror before she left, she inspected her appearance, wishing for a moment that she could put a longer skirt and stockings complete with garters on. Smiling at the way she'd done her hair, she remembered the few times he had bunched it up like this while they were in bed, she hoped to make him as excited by the memory as she was. Examining the rest of the outfit, she decides she likes it, a lot more than she thought she would.

Blushing as she walks into class, she feels the skirt hiking up as she walks. Quickly she tugs the hem of her skirt down, not even trying to conceal the movement. Seeing the large quantity of flowers on her desk, she blushes even deeper, putting her hand up to her mouth demurely, her smile not small enough to hide behind it. Reading the card, she blushes even deeper, knowing exactly who they were from.

She looks out over the sea of bored and hung over faces that are the usual show for Monday morning classes and for once, she doesn't care that they don't notice her. The only one she wants to notice her hasn't stopped paying attention since she walked in the room, making her flush and extremely happy. Keeping her skirt in mind, she starts teaching, absentmindedly tugging and pulling the hem down as she talks, blushing and not making such obvious shows of hiding it. She was starting to think Dean liked seeing her fuss with her clothes ((lol)). She scratched her shoulders where her bra was cutting in, and tugged and pulled at it a few times, again not making all that big a deal out of it.

She wanted to run from the room red as an apple when it snapped against her skin particularly loudly one time, but she managed to simply purse her lips, blush ridiculous amounts and look to Dean for encouragement. She remembered some of the things he said before he left Sunday night. How everyone has clothing problems some times, how she shouldn't hide it, she's only human.

She was trying to make him proud again, not shying and shrinking away whenever she had a problem with her bra, or pantyhose; which to her displeasure had slipped and become twisted around her ankles at a few points in the class, causing her to blush furiously as she put her foot of the chair, angled her body so no one could see her panties, but still so Dean could see her fixing the bit at her ankles. She tried to refrain from sitting as she realized just how high the skirt rucks up. She would simply turn bright red, glance at him briefly, and try and remain composed, although some times a nervous laugh would escape her lush lips.
 
Dean is in heaven, right now.

He'd half thought that, once he was not physically present, Sianna might have managed to shake off his mental dominance, and have deliberately disobeyed his instructions as to what to wear. When she'd entered the class a few minutes ago, wearing the suit he'd picked out, he'd relaxed and begun to enjoy the experience. And when she'd seen the flowers, and her face had turned bright crimson, he'd had an erection that threatened to lift his desk off the floor!

He wonders how the rest of the class can be so stupid. They are so busy going through their usual ritual - making remarks that can just be heard about the shortness of her skirt, how the flowers were from someone whose guide-dog she'd taken for a walk, or giggling just loud enough to be heard when she adjusted her bra and it had made the loud snap - that they hadn't noticed anything. That whenever she looked at him, her face colored up, and she began fussing with her skirt or tugging at her jacket. How, when she'd looked down and seen her pantyhose bagging around the top of her calf-length boots, and she'd discreetly ducked behind her desk and smoothed them back into place, she'd looked right at him afterwards, as if seeking his approval. How she's spent the whole period twisting strands of her hair flirtatiously, and unconsciously, just like a girl in love. Or how he, Dean, hasn't joined in the usual games, making fun of her... None of them have noticed a thing, so wrapped up are they in their own bubblegum egos!

At break time, he sidles off to a room he's picked out - a disused boiler room, where none of the kids ever go. Simply because he can, he sends her a text, ordering her to present herself there. The power he has over her is alrewady driving him crazy with desire...
 
Smiling and acting like a total flirty girl the entire class, she dismisses the class a few minutes early, which surprises everyone, as she's usually a stickler for going by the bells. Sitting at her desk, she's smiling off into no where while she looks at the flowers on her desk. She somehow manages to hear her phone from inside her dream like state and checks it, not really realizing what she's doing until she sees who the text is from, which snaps her out of her revery. Reading his instructions, she stands up, fixes her skirt and makes sure her appearance is in order before she leaves the classroom.

Heading down the halls, smiling and blushing like crazy, she tries to keep her grin under control, but has a very hard time, so she settles for keeping her head down and bowed like she usually walks. When she gets to the boiler room, she stands outside it, trying to calm her breathing before she opens the door and peeks round it quietly. Not seeing anyone in there at first, she slips into the room, her eyes fighting and straining to adjust to the dim lighting.

Seeing who she assumes is Dean, she blushes happily, and bows her head demurely and sweetly, whispering "Master" in her purring way. She then stands still and puts her hands behind her back, not wanting to get on the floor unless he tells her too, not wanting to wreck the clothes her picked out for her, or have her knees be obviously dirty in a way that could only have been inappropriate.
 
Dean looks her up and down. He approves at what he sees - she's looking drop-dead gorgeous, and has adopted a demeanor of total submission, as if she's been doing it all her life. Which, in a way, she has... but he is careful not to look too approvingly, for his strategy is never to allow her to relax. He can tell instinctively how frightened she is, desperate for approval, desperate to know that he still wants her. he can tell she's obviously spent a few minutes primping before presenting herself, for her hair is in place, and her suit has fewer wrinkles than when he last saw her in class, showing that she's tugged and smoothed it into place. Even her hose are taut, which tells him she's pulled them up before she arrived.

"Not bad," he admits. "No, not bad. For a girl who has so much trouble keeping herself looking presentable, I can see you've made a special effort. Turn around - " the last casually, conveying that he does not need to speak with emphasis, for he knows she will instantly do everything he says. He gives the jacket of the suit a quick, sharp tug, since despite her best efforts it is still creased around her slim midriff. Then, stooping, he runs his cupped hands up along her legs, making sure her hose are perfectly tight. By the slight change in her breathing he can tell that she's embarrassed - somehow, the implications that her pantyhose are loose despite her having pulled them up makes her seem even sloppier! He ignores the dampness around her crotch, which has seeped through her panties and hose. Then he has her turn around to face him, and gives her a short, quick kiss, slipping in his tongue and lingering, managing to convey his total ownership of her, being able to kiss her any time he likes.

He stands back and admires her, his creation.

"I have some instructions for you," he continues, still gently. "This morning, in class, the girls were making fun of you again. I can't be the one to defend you every time - you have to learn to stand up for yourself some time, like a proper woman instead of a child. You're a teacher, and you deserve respect. In class this afternoon, fifth period, when I'm there - if you have to fix your hose or your bra, or anything else, and any of the girls giggle or make remarks... You're not to pretend you haven't heard and ignore it. They all know you have heard, and it just makes you look weaker. You're to tackle them about it, hand out a detention, even if you're scared. Got that? OK, you can go now. And you're to pick me up at the rear of the mall, outside the trade entrance of the computer store, ten minutes after school finishes. Got it?

He turns back to his phone, ignoring her, but when she backs away to leave her blows her a kiss.
 
Standing, waiting under his scrutiny, her breath hitches as she feels his hands slipping up her skirt. She can feel her panties becoming moist at his hands; the idea of her not being presentable after her efforts, combined with his hands being as close as they are, are making her excited. When she felt him kiss her and slip his tongue into her mouth, it took all her effort to put her hands back down to her sides, wanting desperately to grab onto his hair and kiss him deeply, hold him to her. She startled herself with those thoughts.

Catching her breath gently, she starts walking back to class, her breathing still a little erratic from everything. She blushes happily every time she thinks of him blowing her a kiss. Then she thinks of his instructions. Thankfully, she had fourth period to prepare herself. Sitting in her class quietly, she starts thinking of things to say that the girls won't be able to call her on. But just as soon, she starts thinking of picking Dean up behind the mall. She frowns when she thinks of that. A tiny part of her feels like he's trying to hide her, and she suddenly really doesn't like that.

Feeling fairly bold for her fifth period class, she walks in with her head high and looks quickly for Dean, spotting him easily enough, breaths out gently, and catches the class' attention fairly fast, and began her lesson. She had come into the class with a wrinkle in her hose, hidden under her skirt, which she knew would start to slip very quickly. Despite her best efforts, she still blushed when it did slip, but she locked eyes with Dean briefly, and began fixing it, in plain view this time. Waiting for the females to start. When they did, it started with quiet sniggers, which she ignored, knowing they would get bolder. When one of the females made a very audible comment, and her gaggle laughed, Sianna gave one last tug, pulling her whole outfit together quickly, she singled out the culprit and told her she would have a detention for classroom disruption. And before she could even argue, she started teaching her lesson again. She smiled like a little girl when she turned to the board, her ears turning pink at her boldness.

She couldn't wait to see Dean after school, hoping to hear words of praise on how well she'd obeyed him.
 
Starr McGonachie had a problem.

At an athletic 5' 11", she was one of the tallest, and most bad-ass girls in the school. To the natural sassiness that comes so easily to Afro-Canadians was added the physicality to back it up. She was a constant user of weights, which had turned her natural strength into even harder muscle, and having grown up in the roughest part of town gave her a street-cred that few could match. Few of the girls in the school wanted to mess with her.

And now, the reputation she'd built up ever since she'd started at the school was about to be destroyed. And it was all thanks to that bitch Kurayami!

It has started easily enough, just routine. Kurayami had been having trouble with her pantyhose, nothing new there - there was always something misbehaving. If it wasn't her hose, it was her blouse coming un-tucked, or her bra riding up. And it was normally safe enough to laugh, because Kurayami was too timid to stand up for herself. It gave everyone a great sense of power to be able to tease a teacher, knowing she was too frightened to defend herself. Like the normal roles were reversed.

But today, the teacher seemed to have got a new edge of confidence from somewhere. No-one knew where. But this time, when they laughed - and Starr was laughing loudest of all - instead of just blushing, she'd seemed to find some guts from somewhere and had actually tacked Starr about it, and giving her a detention.

Normally, getting a detention was no big deal, and couldn't hurt your reputation in any way. It was part of school life. But everyone knew Kurayami never gave them - she'd tried it once with Sandi and had to back down in humiliation.

So to have her stand up to you pricked your reputation like a balloon. It was like being trashed by the school nerd! If she'd had some warning, Starr might have been prepared and put Kurayami in her place. But the teacher's defiance had come totally out of the blue, and had temporarily paralyzed Starr into silence.

At the next break, the other girls were already teasing her about it, or asking what she was going to do about it. Well, Starr had an answer for that.

"You jus' watch what I'm gonna do!" she replied, growling.

When Sianna emerged from the staff room for the afternoon break, she was still feeling good. For once, she'd stood up to her class, and hadn't been a victim. And now, here was Starr standing there... and for once, Sianna didn't feel a catch in her stomach that came from fear.

Until Starr advanced on her, scowling.

"How dare ya talk to me like that, you bitch!" she screamed. "In front o' my peeps! A weak-kneed little nothin' like you got no right. You gonna pay!"

She grabbed Sianna, muscling her over her shoulder in a fireman's carry. Starr was capable of doing this to most girls, but in Sianna's case you didn't need much strength to do it. Sianna screamed, and exerted her full strength, but was too feeble to resist. Her efforts only made Starr laugh a deep, throaty chuckle. Then, holding the squirming Sianna with just one arm, she sued her other hand to undo the clip if Sianna's skirt and unzip it, working it down along her legs. By the time she dumped Sianna unceremoniously on the ground, a huge crowd had gathered. Starr, her reputation intact, waved the skirt above her head.

"Cute panties, MISS Kurayami," she chortled. "Now, you wan' this skirt, yo can either come and get it, or yo can beg. Or yo can spend the rest of your day flashing that fat sorry ass o' yours in yo panties. So what's it to be, then, eh?"
 
Screaming and flailing, she tried everything to escape the hold that mammoth of a student had on her. Feeling her skirt being pulled down around her ass, she started sobbing. After she was dumped on the ground, she stood up, trying desperately to hold back the tears. Without looking back, she walked, red faced and very exposed on the bottom half, to her car. She got in and drove away, calling the school saying she was going home sick for the day, knowing they knew she'd had enough for the day. She cried the whole way home. When she got home she changed out of everything Dean had laid out for her, down to the heels. She laid on her couch crying and sobbing for the rest of the day, until she saw the time and realized she had to go pick him up, five minutes ago.

She had debated showing up the entire time. Convincing herself that it was all his fault. She had never had this much trouble with a student before he had started meddling with her life. She cried the whole drive there. Seeing him standing there looking slightly angry, didn't even phase her as she got out of the car. Crying still she started beating on his chest, yelling at him, before breaking down completely and falling into his arms crying.
 
Dean was quite surprised to see Sianna's car turn up at the place he'd ordered. Word had soon got around the school that she'd been totally humiliated by Starr, and though he couldn't show it, Dean was furious. Although he was ruling her with an iron hand, he totally loved Sianna, and hated the thought of her being hurt or made to look ridiculous. And he could do little about it. If it had been a guy, Dean would have tackled him. But even in high school, attacking girls (even one as tough as Starr) was considered cowardly.

And the total irony was, Starr and he were good friends - and if he'd asked Starr to give Sianna a break, she'd have complied!

He could see that Sianna was mad as hell by the tight-lipped look on her pretty face. And when he got into the car and she started hitting him, any doubt was removed. Normally, given that Sianna was obviously exerting her full strength, it would have hurt, but she was just not strong enough to make any difference, and he had to really fight down the urge to laugh. He could see how embarrassed she was, knowing she was so totally helpless. Finally, she collapsed in humiliation, sobbing her heart out in total mortification.

"It's OK, Babe, it's OK," he whispered soothingly. "You can't help being a weakl - er, not being a good fighter." She was wearing a pink tank-top and jeans, and he slipped his hand into the arm of the tank and began to massage her breasts, feeling amazingly horny at her total neediness. Somehow, she looked even prettier when she was crying than normally. "I was so proud of you, having the courage to stand up to Starr. And you looked so pretty today in that suit." He continued to play with her nipple, feeling her relax into him, even saw the beginnings of a weak smile. "I'll have a word with Starr, ask her to leave you alone in future. She'll do anything for me, so it'll be fine,"

And then he saw his mistake. He'd forgotten how insecure Sianna could be. Just how she'd interpret the phrase "She'll do anything for me,"... Sianna's smile vanished completely and Dean realized he was in for trouble!
 
She had just started to trust him, which had wavered severely at his horrible orders from this afternoon. Her last ounce of trust in him hanging on by a thread. And he says that. Her hand came up and slapped at his hand so fast, whether it hurt him or not, it surprised him enough to get his hand out of her shirt. Starring straight ahead, her face fighting with itself, trying to decide on angry red or shocked pale, creating a very blotched and horrible complexion on her face; her hands gripping the steering wheel hard enough that there was no contest in the whiteness of her knuckles. "Get out of my car." She whispered quietly. Anything above a whisper and her voice would have cracked. The tears, which had begun to slow when she had almost smiled, fell freely now. No sobs escaped her full lips, no trembling fingers, just a steady stream of tears to show her feeling of betrayal and hurt.

Not wanting to let go of him, she didn't know what to do other than tell him to get out. She hated herself for being this weak, but she loved him. He humiliated her for his own amusement, he got her in trouble with the other students, and now the teachers for sure, and now his words cut her down to her soul, but she still didn't want to be without him. She needed time and space from him this time. His words were just too much. So, avoiding saying what she feared, she whispered again. "Dean. Please. Get out of my car. If I have now, or ever, meant anything to you, you will get out." She couldn't look at him, not yet.
 
*If I have now, or ever, meant anything to you, you will get out... *

An arrogant smile turned up the corners or Dean's mouth. He knew he'd make a tactical mistake, pushing his dominance too far, into the one domain likely to raise her anger. But he'd recovered quickly, while Sianna had made a strategic mistake of her own. By bypassing any attempt to force him out of the vehicle, and moving straight to her moral blackmail, she'd highlighted her total impotence in the manner of forcing him to do anything at all.

"Oh, of course I'll get out," he said, his teeth clenched. "When I'm good and fucking ready. But not before I've had an explanation as to why you're carrying on like this!"

He knew he was in an unassailable position. Sianna was nowhere near physically strong enough to force him to get out. And the recourse open to other women - that of calling a cop - was also a non-started for her. To do so would mean she'd have to admit that even though an adult woman in a position of authority, she was too helpless to enable the security even of her own car. Besides which, to explain why he was there at all would open up the need for very awkward explanations. He continued to stare forward through the windscreen, but watched her through his peripheral vision. The way her head dropped and she slumped forward in the car seat told him all he needed to know. He waited for her to speak.
 
Resting her head against the steering wheel for a few moments, when she looked up and he was still in her car, she sighed heavily and without a word, set the car in motion. Almost forgetting that he was in the car, almost but not quite, she started doing what she usually did when she had had a particularly horrible day. She drove. No direction, no destination. Music loud, and when she thought he wasn't paying attention, she started to sing. Not the bad car karaoke that people do when their upset, full of emotion and feeling, full throated singing. Her voice light and beautiful, singing all the words she couldn't stand to say to people. When the song would change, so would her mood and emotion, her voice still seeming to match perfectly.

After about an hour or so of her unprecedented bout of courage, she slowed the car down, parking it perfectly by her home, she turned to him.

"I 'carry on' the way I do, because it was working for me. Yes, it wasn't perfect. I am painfully aware of that now. But I have never before been used, or humiliated," she stressed that last word, "as badly as I have been today." She looked down sheepishly. "Dean. I don't want to stop seeing you... I... *mumble*, but things like today, I think I could handle that, under any other circumstance, but the fact that you would 'protect' me using that method..." Her misunderstanding of what he had meant very obvious in that last sentence, "I cant bring myself to believe that you feel anything for me other than disdain and the semblance of ownership of a broken dog." She looked at him one last time, letting her words and emotions settle around him, her gaze level, eyes still red and flowing. Her voice had only faltered once or twice during h whole speech. Finally she dropped her gaze first, exiting the car, she left a newly cut key on her seat, with a ribbon tied around it, leaving him in silence.
 
*Three Days later*

Sianna is sitting alone in her apartment. The pain of her betrayal by Dean has faded to a slow ache. And mixed with her sense of loss is a small, and very unfamiliar feeling. That of triumph. For once in her life, she has transcended her inability to stand up for herself. For once, she had been in control of the situation. Dean has not returned to school since - feigning sickness - and none of the girls have attempted to bully or tease of humiliate her, almost as if word has got around. Her victory is, in some ways, a Pyrrhic one, for Dean has not returned. Nonetheless, she'd fought back, and gained a win of sorts - the first such of her life.

It is a Saturday night, and Sianna has just enjoyed a scented bath, fantasizing mildly about Dean and remembering various events from their short life together. Her hands have crept to her sex, and a languid smile lights up her pretty face... and just as she is getting to the very best part, there is a knock on the door.

"Dean!" she thinks, her heart beginning to pound. Yet as she hurriedly wraps a towel around her gorgeous form, a puzzled expression crosses her face.

Dean has a key. Why would he...

"Open up, Miss Kurayami. I know you're in there!" A husky voice, familiar and terrifying. Just as she'd thought she'd turned the corner... and now, here was Starr, to torture her again. And, to add to the utter humiliation, in her own apartment at that! Sianna thinks about refusing to open the door, but this will only delay the reckoning.

She opens up, and stands back, her face white, her body trembling. And yes, Starr stands there...

But looking down at the ground. She holds out the stolen skirt, as if it were some kind of votive offering. Sianna's abject fear is replaced by an even stronger feeling of puzzlement. Is this some kind of game?

"You forgot to take your skirt," mumbles Starr, biting her lip. "Miss Kurayami, I'm really so sorry for being such a bitch. I got no class, an' I proved it." She looks up, and there is almost a pleading look in her eyes. "Like I had no right to do what I did. Soon as I done it I felt like a real piece o' slime. I come after yo, but yo'd gone. I took advantage of yo bein' small an' not a very good fighter, an' I was a real coward to do it. It's only trash like me would humiliate a person like that. I shouldn't ever do it to any girl. Especially Dean's girl."

She looked down at the floor again.

"He saved me, you know? Dean. Back when I was doin' a han'ful of crystal meth a day he got me off it. Best frien' I got. He didn't care I was poor, an' talked the way I do, an' that I was black. He sat with me four, five nights, holdin' me while I was shakin'. Clinic couldn't do it, but that Dean. he got me through." She smiled, and her dark eyes were almost brimming with tears. "Shit Miss Kurayami, hope you know what yo got there. There's all sorts o' girls at school wan' a piece of what he got, me included. But Dean, he give me far more than that. I know he's your man, kay?"

She dropped the skirt, and turned, walking away, her head still down.

"If I was you, I'd call him. Just sayin' is all."

And then she vanished into the elavator.
 
Standing at the door, mouth hanging open in complete and utter shock, she looks at the elevator where Starr's figure had disappeared. She didn't know what to do, what to think. Smiling weakly and with a new affection for the Amazonian like women who had just terrified her. She closed her door, picking up the skirt gently. Putting it on the back of the couch, she picks up her phone. Scrolling down to his name on her contacts list, she stares at, hoping something would come to her. She opens a blank text to send several times, knowing she should call him, not text. She had been worried about Dean, as soon as he stopped coming to school she had been worried.

Taking a deep breath she dialed his number, holding her breath to see who would pick up, him or his answering machine. However, as soon as the phone clicked over, she hung up (and took a large mouthful of wine), afraid that it was him, yet at the same time not knowing what to leave on his massages. She repeated this process several times, even up until 1AM. She couldn't sleep that night.

The next morning, she arrived in class, wearing jeans, a loose fitting blouse, that still managed to show off her curves nicely, and her favourite heels (coincidentally the ones Dean had picked out for her to wear that fateful day). She had dark circles under her eyes, her make up wasn't perfect like every other day, and her hair was in a loose and messy braid. She was the picture perfect image of a hangover. She couldn't remember the last dozen calls she'd placed to him, but saw them on her log this morning. Some of them very evidently longer than hanging up when someone had picked up. She started off fearing that she had said something stupid over voice mail, or even worse, 'in person'. But then she had realized that really... How much worse could she make it?

Sitting at her desk, grading the papers that had been turned in, she hadn't even looked up at her class this morning, she didn't want to deal with them. Coming across Starr's paper, she smiled to herself. She marked her a little easier today, correcting her, giving her tips to make her writing better. At the end, above her mark, she wrote a small thank you note. Thanks for the courage, the push and for treating her like a human being in the end.

Sianna was very happy to not be ambushed by people after class anymore, whether it be angry students, or angry teachers, she was happy to sit in her class, thinking. Waiting. She wasn't sure for what, but she knew she was waiting for something.
 
"Aw, come on, man. Yo know ya love her!" Starr popped the soda can, and the contents frothed up, drenching her tank top. "O fuck, I always do that!" She put her lips to the hole, and swallowed until the can was no longer a feral waterfall of froth. "An' yo know how she needs yo, right? I'm startin' to really like her, y'know, but yo gotta face it, she's not able to cope with stuff on her own. She gets all nervous an' shit. She needs her man."

Dean lit a new cigarette from the butt of the old one, and looked around the school grounds. "Nah. If she really needed me, she'd ring me properly. Not just stalk me by ringing then hanging up. I don't mind her doing that, if only she'd have talked just once. Shows she don't really care."

"Hey, come on man. She gave yo the key to her fuckin' apartment, for - "

"No she didn't. Not give it to me. That's the point. She left it on the fucking seat. Like I was a dog."

"Yeah, well, she's got pride, see. Just 'cos she's shy an' all don' mean she got no pride. Yo can't expec' her to totally humiliate herself, even if she does wanna be owned by yo. All it'd take is just one gesture, an' she'd accept that. Wass the word... a token, thass it. Jus' say one nice thing to her, is all. Or do one nice thing for her. Tell her she's lookin' nice, or smile at her, or some such."

"I ain't gonna crawl to her."

"No, listen. I ain't sayin' that. Just say one thing so she knows she can take the risk or openin' up to yo. Like lettin' her know that you'd listen if she decided to talk to yo is all." Starr smiled. "Hey, I got an idea."

She leaned forward and whispered in his ear.

* * * * * *

It was the end of classes for the day. Sianna walked across the yard to the car park, still feeling trashed. Her head was thumping, there were still black circles under her eyes (though she still looked beautiful), and her hair was a mess. As so often happened, the tail of her blouse had come out, but there was no way she was going to go through the gyrations of tucking it in in front of the knots of students that were lounging around. She'd be in her car soon, and no-one would see it.

It all happened in a flash. Suddenly, she felt the presence of someone behind her, and the hint of breath on the back of her neck. And then, the presence of hands actually in the waist of her jeans. With a shock, she realized that it was Dean, and he was actually tucking in her blouse... before she could react, with disapproval or otherwise, he was gone as swiftly as he'd arrived, leaving the now perfectly groomed teacher to continue to her car.

"Wow. Wish my bf was like that," she heard a voice say from one of the crowds of loungers. "That's what I call a gentleman, fixing his girl's blouse like that when it's come untucked, and not even waiting for thanks." It may have been Starr's voice, though if it was she was making an attempt to disguise the pitch of it as well as her usual ebonics.

"Yeah, it's, like, chivell-russ, really sweet," came the reply, from what might or might not have been Ellika, one of Starr's best friends. "A man looking after his girl, like that. Nice thing to do, yeah? Hope she's polite enough to ring him an' thank him."
 
Grinning wide and blushing like no tomorrow, she looks over for Starr. Spotting her briefly, she flashed her a dazzling smile, before pulling her cell phone out, almost instantly, while she threw her stuff in the car. The parking lot was a typical Friday afternoon nightmare. Letting the phone ring until she got his voice mail, this time she didn't hang up.

"Dean. I'm sorry. I miss you, dearly. I'll be waiting at a certain coffee shop, starting tonight until close and then Saturday and Sunday from open till close. Or until you show up. I'll do whatever you want me to do... Please, don't make me wait too long Master..." She whispered the last line into the receiver, her voice cracking as a tear rolled down her cheek.

She pulled into her parking spot, running upstairs to change clothes. She fixed her make up, trying in vain to cover up the dark spots. She fixed her hair into a more socially acceptable messy bun. Looking down she changed her shirt to a simple tank top, leaving her jeans. Checking the time, she bolted back to her car, and started for the parking lot, glad it hadn't taken her long to change. She grabbed her coffee and sat at the same table she had the first time she had been waiting for him. In fact, she had the same drink, the same table and she was even facing the same way, away from the door. Sighing quietly, she sent him a simple text.

"Thank you. Hope to see you soon.
Yours."
 
If Dean had really been inclined to regard his relationship with Sianna as that of an owner with a pet, he'd have known exactly what to do. Keep her hanging, not even acknowledge her texts and call, maybe give it until Wednesday or Thursday before he kept the rendezvous. Remind her exactly just who was in control. In fact, this was his original plan. However, as soon as he received her text, another feeling took over. He dropped the phone casually on the bus seat beside him, adopting a nonchalant air that might, just have convinced any naive observer, but certainly did not deceive himself.

He was forced to realize that even in the short time he and Sianna had been together, he'd developed certain feelings. He'd started out thinking it might be amusing and ego-boosting to control a teacher as his slave, but now he had to admit he had developed a genuine respect and liking for her. As Starr had pointed out, Sianna's lack of confidence and physical frailty were not, ethically, a reason to hold her in contempt. Especially as she had tried so hard to overcome her limitations. In fact - the feeling hit him like a wave, despite his best attempts to argue against it - he was developing genuine love.

The feeling of her apartment key burned a hole in his pocket.

The bus's route took it along the main street of the town, and as he thought these thoughts, was just passing the turn-off to the road where the coffee shop was situated. Now was the time for the decision. And the decision he took was to change his life.

He scrambled off, and jumped from the bus just as it was starting off again, then made his way along the street. When he came to the coffee shop, he looked in, seeing that she was sitting at the same table as before, redoing her make-up and fussing with her hair. No-one around her could possibly be in any doubt she was waiting for a lover! The thought was a powerful balm to his psyche.

He deliberately delayed, lighting a cigarette and smoking it down to the butt, standing just out of sight in the corner. Finally, he walked into the shop, approached her from behind, turned her head around and planted a single casual kiss full on her lips.

"Go get me a coffee. White, with cinnamon sprinkling," was all he said, noting with satisfaction the way she instantly scrambled up and scurried to the counter, discreetly mouthing the words "yes Master".

When she returned, he looked her full in the eyes. "OK," he said. "I know you need me. So now tell me just why I should take you back."
 
Her entire body stiffened instantly when she felt someone touch her head, virtually relaxing into putty in his hands when she realized it was Dean. Feeling his lips on hers, it took all her control not to burst into grateful sobs that he had even shown up.

Memorizing his order as soon as he said it she went to the counter, floating on a cloud. Placing the order, she shadowed the barista from across the counter to make sure she made it perfectly, clearing her throat when she skimped on the cinnamon sprinkling.

Handing him his drink she sat across from him, unable to hide her beautiful smile for him, just so happy that he was there. On the first day. She couldn't believe it, her heart felt like it could soar. She listened to him with rapt attention. Hearing his question, she sat for a long while in silence, thinking. Without thinking she placed her hand on the table, palm up, extended towards him.

Taking a deep breath, she started speaking. "I don't know why you should take me back Master. I'm sure you'd agree with me when I say I haven't exactly acted as a Pet should." She blushed slightly, recalling her actions. "But it's very true, like you said, I need you Master. I don't even know that I deserve to have you back Master. But I would be thankful for forever and a day if you were to give me another chance to be yours again. I miss you, terribly." She lowered her head, in a slight meek bow, her eyes lifting gently from under her lashes to observe him demurely.
 
It was a heady feeling for Dean. It struck him that, right now, he could make her do absolutely anything he wanted. He had only to give the order and, so desperate was she to keep him, she'd instantly comply. He could make her sign over ownership of her car to him. Pick a fight with the barista. Take off all her clothes and dance naked on the table. Sit in her chair and wet herself. Go out into the street and offer herself sexually to the first passer-by. Go down on her knees and beg him to take her back.

Dean actually considered all of these things. He held such power in his hands as few males of his age ever did. Total ownership of a slave. She was his, to do whatever he wanted. Looking across at her, her pretty head bowed in total submission, the desperation coming from her in waves, he wondered just what he could do to make use of his power.

At, right at that moment, Dean Graham began the process of becoming a man.

Where the idea came from, he couldn't work out. It was just that the thought was hammering into his brain that absolutely anyone could take a woman with such low self-esteem as Sianna and treat her like dirt. There wasn't anything especially macho in it. It would be like squashing an ant in order to make yourself feel tough. And the thought went through his mind:

What would a really strong man do, right now?

And even as he thought it, he knew the answer. Sure, he'd keep control of her. It was what both of them wanted. But true control isn't just about using a slave as a toy. It was also about teaching her, raising her confidence, dominating her with justice as well as power. Weak and helpless she may have been, but, as Starr had said, she was still entitled to respect.

"OK," he said, at last. "I'll give you a command, and if you obey it, you're mine again. But you have to do it with no questions, exactly as I tell you, no matter how embarrassing it is. Ready?"

He saw her face go white, as she nodded.

"OK then. You have to tell me about your life... how you got to be like you are, so needy and helpless, and scared of other women. How you got to be everybody's doormat."

He sat back, and picked up the mug of coffee.
 
When she heard his order actually had to stifle a laugh at how simple the request sounded to her. Tell him about my life? This has to be a test... How hard could it be to tell him... About how I became... This way... Her thoughts died in their tracks as she realized exactly how hard this was going to be. She hadn't realized that every emotion had just played out on her face, for his amusement as she went from ignorance about his demand, to realization, then to a downright almost pained and horrified expression. She began fidgeting in her chair, her hands finding the napkin and began tearing it into little pieces as she went. She opened her mouth a few times to start speaking, but quickly would close it, rethinking what she wanted to say.

"The majority of my childhood was spent with my mother. I won't lie and say she was a coked out whore, cause really that would just be an excuse for her. She provided for her and I very well, I won't slight her that. She was a very... Abusive woman. She would tell me to lose weight that I didn't have to lose, but since I had... Bigger... Breasts, she thought that I would be a very large woman when I grew up, so, by her logic, I had to weigh nothing to counter act them. I was never tiny enough, and when I started to really develop, my hips and ass balanced out my breasts... Leaving me with a very small midriff and almost comically large proportions. Well, mother couldn't have that... She threatened me with surgery a few times. On top of my image abuse, nothing I did was ever good enough. You know I became a teacher to make her happy, to get her to love me even a little. Most days I freaking hate this job." She looked down at her mug now, sighing, having said quite a lot in a short time. She started tracing her finger through the little bits of foam in her drink, sucking her finger cutely randomly.

"I sort of became afraid of women, because, well I thought they were all going to be like that... And my first experiences with women other than my mother, like teachers and students at school, only further reinforced my thoughts... The subservience and, well I don't want to say love, but that's close... So, love of being obedient, came from the little time my father spent around us. I guess he realized my mother was a poisonous bitch," she almost spat the words out, she covered her mouth apologetically, looking at him with a tiny guilty smile before continuing, "So he wasn't around as much as he should have been. But, when he was, he told me I was beautiful, he would tell me not to listen to my mother, not to take it to heart, and that made me want to do anything to make my father happy, so I would do whatever he asked." She had a warm smile on her face when she spoke of her father, her fingers gently tracing the rim of the mug. She looked down, blushing. "I can't really think of much else that would have made me this way... After the issues distilled in me by my parents, it was simply a continuous loop of the same scene over and over again. Doting, caring and complementary guy friends, still father figures, and for some reason, no interest in me," she smiled a little wider, "maybe I just didn't notice their interest... And female "best friends" who were very much the same as my mother..." She hadn't realized it, but while she had been taking, tears had started falling down her cheeks, she couldn't even bring herself to wipe them away, she simply took a sip of her drink, looking down at the table, not sure she could meet his eyes yet.
 
Dean stayed silent all through Sianna's account, though his mind was racing frantically. Anyone who had ever ran foul of him would have testified to his toughness, but there was another side to him that he rarely showed. A need to protect and cherish. It was this had had, he now realized, instinctively drawn him to Sianna. If anyone needed protection, she did! He had always had a high opinion of himself, but this was based on the usual conventionally regarded attributes - his good looks, his physical strength, his quick wit. The strange thing was, he was now feeling good about himself for another reason. It felt good to be the one to have seen what was inside her, that she was the way she was for a reason beyond her control, and that despite every possible card being stacked against her, she had still not given up. And this sensitivity, he saw, brought its own reward - looking at her, her cute sexiness when she sucked her finger, her beautifully, appealing submissiveness, her stunning body, her pretty face - he almost felt his heart jump when it struck him. "This woman is mine. She loves me." Her crying only made her seem ever sexier, more wonderful.

"Hey, Sianna," he said, softly, causing her to look up from her tears. "You know, I'm so proud of you." He gently touched her hand. "You;re the sexiest pet a guy ever had, you know that? Now - I need another coffee."

She moved to wipe her face as she stood up.

"No, Leave it. Crying's nothing to be ashamed of. Your mine, now, and you're allowed to cry if you have to. What anyone else thinks doesn't matter. Come here."

Obediently, she walked and stood before him.

"Turn around."

When she obeyed, he began tucking her tank top back snugly into her pants, totally ignoring the weird looks other patrons were giving them.

"Turn round."

And now, he began fixing her top at the front, smoothing the wrinkles from where it had rucked up as she'd been sitting, tucking it into her waist. perhaps the most intimate grooming a guy can perform for a girl in public.

"I want you to look perfect, since you;re mine," he smiled. Then he turned away from her, leaving her to fetch his second coffee, totally knowing she'd obey.
 
Smiling now, the tears drying on her face, she went to the counter to fetch his coffee. Standing in line she rubbed her face a little, taking away the saline residue that left itchy uncomfortable tracks on her face. While she was waiting she shrugged her shoulders, untucking her shirt subtly. She knew he meant well, but did he have to tuck in her tank top? It so wasn't comfortable tucked in. Her hands trailed down the front of her shirt, back up over her breasts, feeling the nice smooth fabric, smiling warmly at the recent memory of him tugging the wrinkles out, looking after her.

Coming back to the table she passed him his coffee, not yet sitting, as he was still standing. She waited to see if he would tell her to sit or if they were going somewhere else.
 
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