Go qiuetly

The mention of the collar has a strange and slightly unsettling effect on you. On the surface the idea of being collared and claimed by anyone, let alone a student is reprehensible, and what’s left of your pride immediately wants to reject it, but the taboo, twisted nature of it appeals to you on a sexual level in the same unsettling way being spanked had.

Hoping to retain what little dignity you still have you answer, “No mistress, you won’t need to collar me, I’ll crawl to the bedroom like a good little cheerslut”.

Becky giggles as you look up and see that she has already started recording and has your answer on her phone. “Good girl”, she teases you. “Though it is kind of a shame,” she says leaning down and running a finger across your throat, “I’ve got such a pretty collar picked out for you.”

You shudder as you feel yourself blush in a mixture of arousal and shame. “Please mistress…..” you whisper as you look down and try not to let her see the excitement in your eyes.

“We’ll see Janeie slut” Becky smirks as she steps aside and motions to the bedroom.

Taking a shuddering breath you place your hands on the floor and begin to crawl on to whatever fate Becky has in store for you.

As you pass by Becky she continues to record with her phone, taking in your profile. Once you’ve passed her you Becky calls out, “Oh Janeie slut…” making you look back over your shoulder, “fuck that’s hot”, she mutters as you see that her breathing has become a little ragged watching you, “when you get to the bedroom I want you to knell at the foot of the bed and place your hands behind your head.”

“Yes Miss Becky”, you reply blushing as you feel a tingle of excitement shoot through you at the hungry look in Becky’s eyes.

As you continue to crawl to the bedroom you find your mind racing. You know that Becky has every intention of recording every second of your degradation, and part of you is scared and ashamed, but that only seem to further excite a larger part of you that is finds itself willing, even eager, to surrender to this aggressive young cheerleader.

“Oh god, am I really going to do this?” you think as you continue your crawl into the bedroom. “I’ve always been a good girl.” “Not any more”, a tiny singsong voice in your head replies, “now you’re just a little cheerslut. A little lesbian cheerslut.”

Once you cross the physical threshold of the doorway your mind seems to cross some psychological one as well. It takes an effort not to quicken your pace, to see just what your teen mistress has in store for you. Fortunately the panties and shorts bunched around your thighs slow you down enough that your eagerness doesn’t become apparent.

You reach the foot of your bed and kneel back on your ankles. Remembering the rest of Becky’s instructions you go to place your hands behind your head. As you do a sudden idea comes to you, and you catch some of your hair up in your hands lifting it off your shoulders and letting it spill through your fingers.

“Oh my, is my little cheerslut preening for me.” Becky calls from the doorway, the teasing note to her voice undeniable.

“N..no mistress”, you venture a small lie.

“Riiiiight,” Beck drools, her knowing smirk telling you she’s not buying the lie at all.

She enters the room and tosses her bag on your bed, and then sets her phone on the dresser beside the bed, where it can record everything. As she walks back toward you, she runs her hand across your shoulder before slipping between you and the bed. “There, now the real fun can begin”, she says her voice thick with anticipation.

Before you can ask what she has in mind Becky turns around, bends over and begins to reach into her bag. This brings her firm ass inches from your face, and you cant help but admire how her practice shorts strain to contain those tone cheeks.

“Oh Jane,” Becky says, interrupting your inspection of her rear, as she looks back at you over her shoulder. “While your waiting I want you to do something for me.”

“What mistress?” you ask, your voice trembling.