Day 6 - Emily's Daydream 2

It was a quiet walk to Mr. Greenman's office. Students filed around, all heading back home. Everyone was oblivious to how I was following - no - I was being led by Mr. Greenman down this hallway, into his office. Just me.

"Hey, Emily!" one of my friends chirped.

"Hi!" I waved back, somewhat sheepishly.

Wait, stop it, Emily. You and your fantasies. What's gotten into you lately?

He probably has something trivial to say, like, can you help tutor this student or how's the student council, then I'd be on my way. Then I'd facepalm at all my stupid wild fantasies. Ugh.

Still...

His back was broad under his tight collared oxford shirt, and under that, formal work pants. He always wore formally, except for his blue bag that he carried everywhere - a normal computer bag, which totally didn't fit his overall style.

Soon we reached his door. I had been to his post at the teaching departments before, but never to his private office. It was a large corner office in the quieter part of the school. Mr. Greenman was also the disciplinarian, and they had more rooms than they had teachers so they gave him a his own office. His sleeves were rolled up his hard forearms as produced bundle of keys from his pocket and unlocked the door. I tried to read his expression, he seemed calm.

"Come in," he said, with a gentle smile.

When I walked through the doorframe I thought, _this is it. _I felt helpless. Like anything could happen to me inside this room, and nobody would know.

The room was spacious, and dimly lit - all the curtains were closed and nobody could look in from the outside. A large, neat desk stood in the middle, opposite to a black leather couch and bookshelves lined the walls. Mr. Greenman set his bag on the desk and took a seat. I stood before the desk. I could feel the blood rushing to my face and my body. Is it a little hot in here, or is it just me?

"So," Mr. Greenman began. "Is everything okay lately?"

"Yeah? Yeah. Everything's fine."

He responded with a quizzical look. Then he leaned forward, elbows on desk, and I could see his form ripple underneath his shirt.

"Are you sure? You don't look very fine."

I blushed. "No, yeah, I'm fine, thank you for your concern," I said, smiling. I just wish you would punish me, right now.

He leaned back with a disappointed sigh, making his chair creak. "Then do you care to explain what you did in class?"

"What?"

What did I do? In class?

"Emily," he said with concern, "if there's anything you need to tell me, anything at all, you can. You can trust me."

I stood, dumbfounded.

"What did I do?"

"I could see it, Emily. You thought you could hide it, but I could see every second of it. You'd better hope nobody else did. Your hand, under the table. I didn't want to embarrass you by pointing it out, hence why I asked you to come here, so if you need to come clean, now is your chance."

Hide? My hand? Under the table? "I'm sorry - I don't really understand, what - what did I do?"

This time Mr. Greenman showed visible frustration. I felt my heart stop.

"You were playing with yourself, Emily. In class."

I shook my head. "I - I was? I wasn't - I didn't -"

"So underneath all that 'model student' bravado of yours, this is who you really are?" Mr. Greenman stood up, making me jolt backward. "I'm going to give you one last chance, Emily Robinson. One last chance to come clean."

I thought back, hard, trying to recall what happened in class. I didn't do anything. I just had that one dream - oh no. Did I... whilst in the dream...

"I'm sorry!" I said. "I - I - let me explain." I realized I was crying. God, no. It wasn't because of fear - maybe it also was - but the thought of me, playing with myself, in class - the sheer embarrassment of Mr. Greenman seeing it was too much.

I took a deep breath, and took just a brief glance at Mr. Greenman through my teary eyes. I couldn't look any longer. He still looked mad, but also concerned, and that calmed me a little.

"I had this dream," I said. "I must have... fallen asleep - " I looked up to see if he took any offense, but he didn't.

"A dream?"

"Yes."

"Of what?"

I gulped. "Of... you..."

Shit. That was the wrong thing to say. " - telling me to strip... in front of the class."

Mr. Greenman was silent for a while. Which was the most torturous few seconds of my life. I stood there, waiting for a reaction, any reaction.

"And that got you off?" he said.

Why is he forcing me to say this? Was it disgust in his voice? Concern?

Curiosity?

"Y - yes," I said. I felt like such a slut.

"That you had to masturbate right there, on your seat, right in front of everyone?"

I swear, he's just pushing it at this point. I couldn't look him in the eye. I stared at the floor, his boots on the plain grey tiles, approaching me, stopping in front of me. "Y - yes," I said.

Was I going to get expelled?

His hand suddenly caressed my cheek, combing a strand of my hair behind my ear. Then he lifted my chin, gently, so that my eyes met his. He was tall. The ceiling light shined too bright behind his slightly tilted head, but I could make out a faint smile.

"Then strip," he said.

I couldn't move. A devastating cold ravaged through my body. Wasn't this what I had been expecting all along? Even wanting? But for some reason, I couldn't believe he just said that. I couldn't believe what was happening.

This couldn't be real.

"Emily," he said. Cold, stern. In control of me. "Strip."

When his hand left my chin. I didn't know what got into me. I was pulling my blouse over my head. I was slipping my pants down my legs, feeling the cold air on my body. I stood there in my bra and panties.

He just stood there, unmoving, arms crossed, too close in front of me. "Play with yourself."

My hands found their way to my breasts and mound. I was already a little wet, and Mr. Greenman was standing so close I thought of the room in my dream yesterday with John. We were almost touching. If he stood a little further I would be more comfortable.

While working up a massage with my fingers I thought about what I was going to do after this. I was going to report Mr. Greenman. Sue him, sue the school. But what if they didn't believe me? What if someone had seen me fingering myself in class? What if everybody had seen it? I was just going to be the slut that fucked the teacher. Not to mention...

Wasn't this what I wanted?

To feel used. To feel like I was someone else's to command. This couldn't happen with Mark.

Mr. Greenman was now stroking my hair, while my fingers twiddled on my nipples that were now protruding from my bra and rubbed on my clit through my panties.

"You like this, don't you?" Mr. Greenman said.

"Yes."

"Class president. Committee on the student council. Probably even your funny little relationship with Mark. Always on the top. You'd like someone else to be in charge for once."

"Y-yes."

His voice lowered to a whisper.

"In charge of you. Your body."

I moaned. "Y - yes."

"Take off your bra and panties, Emily. Put them inside my bag."

My hands reached to unhook and slip off my bra right away. How obedient I was. Then my soaked panties. I placed them inside the bag, and stood there completely naked. I tried looking at Mr. Greenman. I was ready to be used.

"I want your bra and panties in my bag on every day we have a class. You can have them back when you visit my office after school."

After school... I couldn't help but feel a spark of excitement.

I'm sorry, Mark. But he wouldn't know. Nobody would know of our secret little engagement.

"Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mr. Greenman!" I said, failing to hide my enthusiasm.

"Good girl. Now get on your knees."

***

I gasped. I was back in my seat, breathing heavily. My notebook was still in front of me. My doodle of a rose laid there, unfinished. Mr. Greenman was still teaching about - I don't care. I eyed his crotch with so much hunger then snapped out of it when I realized that was a dream again.

No, no!

I turned around. Everybody was still half-asleep.

"May I go to the bathroom," I gulped. "Mr. Greenman?"

"Yeah," he said, unenthusiastically.

I could feel the wetness of my panties as I walked. When I locked myself in a stall I did a quick check to see if there were any giveaways on my jeans. There was a small patch of wetness, but thankfully my jeans was black so it wasn't noticeable.

I fingered myself in that stall. It didn't take long. When I was done I cleaned myself up. The panties were already wet, so I figured, why not? And bundled them into my pocket. A minute later I put my bra in there too.

When the bell finally rang, I engaged Mr. Greenman in some small talk, asking him advice on issues with the student council and whatnot while every student rushed out of the classroom, eager to get home.

And when he wasn't looking, I slipped my underwear into his bag and continued my over-achieving student valedictorian facade.

"Those were very good questions, Emily," Mr. Greenman said with a friendly smile. "I'm glad you wanted my advice. Just let me know if you need anything else."

I thanked him, and smiled.