Riding on nerves

In the confines of the sleek, black car Jesse was nestled up against the button-popped blouse of his headmistress. The soft flesh of her bare breast cushioning his cheek and the small bud of her nipple safely ensconced between his lips.

The sissy had been taught how to properly suckle upon a female-presenting owner as much as he had been taught how to arouse or excite any erogenous zone. 'Such a position can be of great comfort to both the owner and the property' echoed Mr Durren's dry voice in the teen's head. 'A slutwife must be able to read whatever their master needs: immediate pleasure, sadistic excitement or gentle consolation.'

There were a near infinite variety of subtle interactions that could be provided from one body to another, it turned out; and intrinsically knowing which to offer out in any specific moment was what divided a 1st Class Slutwife from any common fucktoy. Jesse was still unconvinced he'd ever manage to master such complexities of servitude. Yet, here and now… he could sense something of Madame Stanfield’s needs… as he listened to the intimidating woman's heart beating within her chest and looked up at the unknowable shadows cast across her face. There was no stutter to that heartbeat. No real signs of worry upon that ever-stoic brow. But still, he knew just by the way she held him… She needed to feel like she was comforting and nurturing him… so that she herself could remain steady.

The headmistress had been on call after call, ever since they had stormed out of the restaurant. Jesse had just been swept up in the typhoon of it. Watching as Beth was left behind with Mr Carter, sharing the wide-eyed glance of children or pets whose owners are having an argument they couldn't possibly understand. The little sissy wanted desperately to ask what exactly was going on… but didn't dare do so. Such things were not for the likes of him to stick his nose into… even if it was potentially about one of his beloved classmates. A dildo didn't get to question where the missing buttplug had gone. Yet the worry burned deep inside him. He had to find a way to broach the subject, without earning his mistress's wrath!

"Will Beth be okay… with him?"

The colour and tremble in his voice was plain for even Jesse to hear. Mr Carter was a superior being, whatever the Madame's personal opinion of him. To question his behaviour even with just a subtle change in intonation, was to shirk everything her prestigious academy had been teaching the young sissy. He fully expected to be punished for it later: to be ordered to lift up his skirt and lay out his small genitalia on the side of a cold school desk… to have it struck several times with a ruler. That was the penance owed for such a lack of respect, the boy knew this. Yet he pressed on anyway.

One of Madame Stanfield’s eyebrows raised itself, her razor-like gaze focussing in on the small thing in her lap for the first time in a while. Jesse wondered for a second what it might be like… to be always surrounded by such servile, fearful creatures year after year, generation after generation. Charged with both their protection and degradation in equal parts. He wondered if she even recognised their faces, or if each of them were entirely interchangeable for her? Maybe that just made it easier, when the time came to let them go?

But, after a dread moment’s pause, the woman just sighed… as if glad, really, that her student should care for his classmates so. "She will be fine, little one… I believe, to Mr Carter, she represents an investment and a triumph worth more than morality itself."

The glint of her eyes in the dark of the car turned steely now though, her voice soft and conspiratorial.

"I'd be careful around that one though, and anyone else he's got his claws into… That man is not playing the same game as anyone else, but is putting pieces on the board all the same. I suspect, before too long, we are all going to be learning his rules… if it's not already too late."

The madame returned to pensive silence after this, pushing Jesse down into the footwell to begin work between her thighs. The outpour had been enough though, the warning stitched into her student's soul. Things were occurring far above his lowly position, great cogs clunking in the workings of the world. Better that he and his classmates just keep their pretty heads down where they belonged, lest they get chewed up and spat out by such machinations.