Help David clean up the basement

"There's some crates I need to move. Would you mind picking some of them up for me?"

She nodded and started moving the old cardboard boxes he had previously moved over near the furniture. He watched, unmoving as she bent over. Of course, her skirt was too long to get anything more than quick glimpse of her thighs, but still it inflamed his passion for her.

She realized, half-way through moving the third box, when she realized he hadn't been helping her. "Umm, David, are you going to help me?"

"I'm pretty tired from classes, Mrs. Browning, you don't mind doing the rest by yourself, do you?"

"Yes, I do mind!" She said. He laughed at the accidental command.

"But you will do it anyway." He said, stepping closer to her and leaning toward her, well aware she was incapable of resisting him.

She huffed and trembled with rage, but she could not break her programming. Eventually, she lowered her head and nodded. He laughed.

"Good girl." He swatted her on the ass and she let out a little squeal.

"How dare you!" She yelled. "Don't do that!"

"Relax, Mrs. Browning, just keep moving the boxes and it won't happen again."

She returned to the task and began moving the boxes very quickly, hoping to finish up so she could go home. He stopped her, as she picked up the next box, however.

"Mrs. Browning?"

"Yes...David?" She said, red in the face from embarrassment and from physical activity.

"Mrs. Browning, I think those high heels of yours are slowing you down. You should take them off."

She put the crate down and took off her heels, glaring at him the entire time. Then she picked up the crate and continued her work. David waited until she was almost done before he interrupted again.

"Mrs. Browning, I think all this physical labor is really getting your dress dirty. You should take it off."

She paused and looked back at him, anger replaced by despair. She tried to smile and did a very bad job of it. "Oh but I'm almost done, I don't think that will really be necessary..."

"Oh, I think it will, Mrs. Browning."

"But...I...please, David, I don't know how you're doing this, but please don't make me take off my dress!"

"I'm not making you do anything, Mrs. Browning. I'm merely giving suggestions, you are a fully grown adult woman completely in charge of your own actions."

"But...but it's immoral. I'm a teacher and you're a student!"

"Relax, Mrs. Browning, it's not like I'm going be attracted to your wrinkly old ass! I mean, what are you fifty?" He asked the gorgeous thirty-five year old teacher, barely able to get through the sentence without laughing.

She blushed, even as her hands began to lift her skirt. "Please, David, don't make me do this!"