Send Ashley to school with a butt plug

While sitting at work the day following Ashley's naked dinner debut you receive a phone call from her school. You swallow hard as the principal asked you to come in to discuss "your daughter's recent behavior." Your guess is the call is likely related to the most recent task you assigned to Ashley at the behest of you blackmailer. He had you fire up your anonymous email account once again and send Ashley an order to wear a butt plug to school.

This morning you watched Ashley out of the corner of your eye as she got dressed by the door before leaving for school. Thanks to the blackmailer she's now restricted to dressing right before leaving the house and stripping as soon as she enters. There wasn't any sign that she'd inserted the plug before she left, so if she did follow your orders she must have done it on the way to school.

As you pull into the school parking lot you hope this meeting doesn't have anything to do with that order. Maybe her grades have been slipping or she got into a typical teenage girl fight. The first thing you notice when you enter the office of school principal Sandra Moore is Ashley bedecked not in the slutty clothes she left for school in, but instead school sweat pants and a sweat shirt. Your stomach flips as you look at the desk and see a plastic baggy and in it - a purple butt plug. Ashley's eyes are squarely at her feet. She doesn't even look up to greet you.

"I'm so sorry you had to come in under these circumstances, Mr. Doe." Ms. Moore has a very sincere look of concern on her face. "Ashley has typically been one of our better students, so I'm not sure what's come over her in the last weeks."

You look at Ashley and back at Ms. Moore. "What seems to be the problem?"

Ms. Moore lets out a long sigh. "Well, the first issue is the way she's been dressing. We give a great deal of latitude to the desire of our students to express their personalities through their clothes, but Ashley, frankly, has been coming in dressed like a street walker. It's one of the reasons she's in school sweats. Today's outfit was simply too...distracting."

Ashley makes a sound. You aren't sure if it's a sniffle or a giggle.

Ms. Moore continues, "And there's the greater issue of this." She pushes the plastic baggy toward you. "Do you know what this is, Mr. Doe?"

You know what it is. And you know she probably knows you know what it is, but for some reason you lie anyway and say "a doorstop?"

Ms. Moore shakes her head. "No, I'm afraid this is a...butt...plug. Mr. Doyle was walking behind Ashley earlier today and in the middle of the hall...this...fell out from under her very short skirt."

Ashley lies. "I told you Ms. Moore, someone must have thrown it out in the hall behind me and it only looked like it fell out of me."

"Yes, Ashley. You keep saying that. We took the liberty of searching her purse and locker for ****. We believed we had probable cause. We didn't find any, but we did find in her purse..." Ms. Moore clears her throat and looks flush "dirty panties. We believe the object fell out of her because she wasn't wearing any panties."

Well, that's an interesting development you hadn't told her to go pantyless. You look at Ashley. "Is this true?"

She fidgets in her seat and bites her lip. She lies again. "It was a dare, Daddy! Some of the other kids said they'd, um, do things if I didn't wear the butt plug without panties."

Ms. Moore bites on the lie, clearly not willing to believe this behavior shift in a typically well-behaved student is by choice. "Thank you, Ashley. That's what we suspected. We hope you know that this constitutes sexual harassment...if not ****...just tell us who made you do these things and the school will take appropriate action."

You're curious to see how Ashley's going to dig herself out of this predicament. "Yes, please sweetie, just tell us and I'll be sure to call the cops and have the little bastard arrested."

Ashley is trembling in her seat. She mumbles "it was...it was...it was..." over and over again trying to figure out if there's a way to save herself until she finally says, "no one."

Ms. Moore's face turns to disappointment. "Ashley, if you're afraid of retaliation we can protect you. There's only a few weeks left to the school year anyway."

She looks up with a wild look in her eyes. "I did it, because I wanted to Ms. Moore. I love dressing like a slut so everyone looks at me. I love having things up my ass. I did it to myself, Ms. Moore. I'M A DIRTY SLUT!"

You stand up and put a hand on her shoulder, "Ashley, calm down."

She pulls away from you and yells "NO, DADDY! THIS IS ME! IT'S WHO I AM NOW! I LOVE FEELING MY ASS FILLED!" She grabs the baggy off the desk and takes the plug out of it. You watch in horror as she pulls down the sweat pants.

"ASHLEY!" Ms. Moore yells. "Put your pants back on this instant!"

Ashley turns and faces the wall. She bends forward bracing herself with one hand. "Look how much I love it!" She proceeds to press the tip of the plug between her cheeks while gritting her teeth.

You lunge at Ashley knocking the plug out of her hand. You yank her pants up and hold her tightly against you. "Calm down, baby. You need to stop this."

"NO! I HAVE TO DO IT! NO ONE UNDERSTANDS!" Finally, she breaks down in tears.

"Mr. Doe," Ms. Moore says coming around her desk with a box of tissues, "I'm afraid that until Ashley can pull herself together we're going to need to suspend her from school."

You shake your head. "You can't do that to her! It's almost graduation. What about college?"

"I'm sorry, but she's creating too much of a disturbance. The school has a number of therapists on file that can work with Ashley and find out what's going on with the poor girl. It's also close enough to the end of the school year that we might be able to coordinate something with her teachers, so she can finish with the rest of her peers. But right now, I need you to keep her at home and get her help."

There isn't much else you can do. After taking the name of some therapists you escort Ashley out of the school and drive her home. She silent the entire way with the exception of an occasional sob. As soon as she enters the house she strips off all of her clothes, as required, and heads up stairs without a word.

You phone vibrates. You look and see only one word from your blackmailer, "Oops."

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