Rewards (and Punishments) for Perversion

Following her without being seen is no small mission: I stash myself in the little enclaves made by classroom doorways as I stalk my trembling English teacher and only barely get out of view before she snaps a nervous glance back to make sure she isn't being seen. When at last she's in the ladies' room, I stash myself into the neighboring bathroom, pretend to use a wall urinal, and whip my phone out. The bathroom walls are thick enough that regular speaking voices can't come through... but that's not what I'm intent on here. With no idea what her current position even is, I have her bend over.

A bang as if someone just slammed into a stall door or wall. A good sign, presuming she wasn't knocked out. I make her squeeze her tits to test it, and the moan that escapes from her tells me I've got her right where I need her: stuck in the bathroom, unable to confirm I had also left, and also unable to figure out that I was gone at the same time. With my dick in hand, I continue molesting her remotely and imagining her state.

Ms. Lia isn't equipped to deal with the shocking, slippery moisture flowing so freely from her panties and now staining parts of her skirt. She had barely managed to get to a bathroom stall before she was driven to bend over again and slam her pretty face against the plastic-lined wood. Without the benefit of her hands--of course they returned to mauling her breasts--she barely managed to shove the door closed while still bent over and with her moist rump pressed against it. The vaginal lubrication flowed and dripped down until she felt it tickling the sides of her ankles; she is an absolute mess, and she can't even imagine how she'd continue teaching for the rest of the day. Moreover: would her new compulsion, her irresistible desire to work and teach, give her pause at least for this? She knows the answer in her heart: it won't, and she needs to make her peace with that.

At least, that's what some rational part of her brain is telling her. The rest of it is engulfed in the bliss of a second orgasm--of the day, and of her adulthood--and the raw sensitivity between her legs that came from her pussy clenching desperately at nothing. Her breasts apparently ran out of milk, finally, but the damage was done insofar as her shirt was concerned. She thought to the humiliating walk to the bathroom past all the classroom doors and their large windows: dozens of bored students let their eyes trail to her virtually naked body and gawked in ways that made Ms. Lia's cheeks burn in humiliation. Two other security guards had seen her state beyond the one she recruited to watch her class; the forty-something in her class, meanwhile, had watched the entire thing; and no doubt the goons watching the hallway cameras had taken stills or recordings, enough to ruin her-

Ms. Lia wants very badly to be upset about the devastating embarrassment she has suffered, but the third orgasm was coming quicker now as her heightened sensitivity found its home. A bit of drool slid down her chin, she was starting to cry from a mixture of frustration and bliss, and her ankles feel wet the first droplets down from her inner-thighs reach them. She was suddenly very hungry and thirsty, but the feeling of her moist tits folding over one another in a squishy, milky dance was proving too much. She worked her bra up and off until her painful nipples were freed in the privacy of the stall, and soon her shirt's buttons had popped open due to her ministrations. If any walked into the stall now--the audacity!--they'd see an absolute, mewling pervert was put in charge of high school education. The dread and despair she feels from that isn't enough to stop her from crying out as her body is racked by a fourth orgasm.

A bit later...

I almost worry that the jig is up when I hear the girl's bathroom door open in a hurry. We've been standing here for almost twenty minutes now, and I've been drawing spike after audible spike from the trembling mess that I no doubt created just a few feet away. Who was investigating the cries that someone else must have heard? It probably didn't matter: what did matter was that I needed to get back to class soon before Ms. Lia is **** to return.

I have been so busy spamming my commands to her that I only now notice the small, red number next to the support button: another notification? I tap it quickly, almost sure I'd be dismissing it before it could take any more time away from hearing Ms. Lia through the wall.

Your achievement button has been unlocked! All previous milestones are credited towards achieving new ones in the future.

Achievements? In a stamina-based mobile game? I know enough about what this usually means that I actually pause to appreciate it. Sure enough, the tiny star near the top of the screen is newly added and is now pulsing with light. A careful tap, and I'm whisked away to a menu of black silhouettes, each reminiscent of a Roman column. Down the length of each of these outlines are row after row of question marks, save two.

MASTER OF PLEASURE

The stylized text sits atop the pillar, and its entries descend from there:

Cause ten orgasms: COMPLETE. 10 GEMS AWARDED.
Cause twenty orgasms: 13/20. 15 GEM AWARD.

A tap on the award puts the ten gems in my bank, as promised! I look to the second pillar I've apparently discovered.

TORTURER OF DRIVES
Arouse or frustrate at least 10 people in a day: COMPLETE. +1 DAILY GEM AWARDED.
Arouse or frustrate at least 20 people in a day: COMPLETE. +1 DAILY GEM AWARDED.
Arouse or frustrate at least one 100 people in a day: COMPLETE. +2 DAILY GEM AWARDED.
Arouse or frustrate at least 200 people in a day: 104/200. +2 DAILY GEM AWARD.

Tapping the pillar gives me no immediately apparent award, but the promise is made: at midnight, I'd be getting 14 gems instead of 10. This is huge! The one-time award of ten gems is nice--easy, even, given the combo I've managed--but the greater reward and challenge demanded that I do my best to turn on each of Ms. Lia's classes.

"What the- Sophia! Is that you in there?" Sophia? I'm pretty sure that's Ms. Lia's first name... and the only one who'd use a teacher's first name would be a staffer or fellow teacher, right? I strain to hear the voice through the wall.

"GO.... AAH... AWAY!"

The voice comes in clear the second time, "What the... what the FUCK are you doing?!"

Catherine Hatts. I could have guessed that it was going to be a female security officer or teacher who'd dare chase after my English teacher in the bathroom, but I did not expect it to be that bulldog of an assistant principal. She is WAY low on my list of targets for Custom Girls: big ol' knockers, sure, but that's because she's heavy-set and big-boned, not to mention in her late thirties. She's also the female soccer team coach, a weight lifter, and the one in charge of security, so she's just about the last person I want interrupting these twenty-or-so minutes of Heaven I've carved out.

"Shut the... go away!"

"Who the FUCK do you think you're talking to?! I'll have you f-!" Ms. Hatts is also known for bullying the teachers into submission with threats of termination, career ruination, and so on... but my other command for Ms. Lia seems to have stopped her words dead. "I'll... have you... written up if you continue to masturbate on school property!"

"I-I can't help it!"

I'm barely able to make out the last, tersely spat words from the AP, "Then you can see me in my office during lunch and we'll see what we can't help!"