For at least the fourth time in only 10 minutes Denise glanced at the clock and then back into her mirror, hardly believing that she was going through with it. The reflection staring back at her betrayed not the slightest the terrible inner struggle she'd gone through over the weekend, but now that she'd made up her mind she might as well make the best of the situation. Self consciously she gave her skimpy red and black checked pleated skirt a tug, very aware that beneath it she was without panties.

Then, picking up her keys she turned, murmuring to herself she might as well get it over with. As she pulled up before the school she half expected Melcolm to be waiting for her and when he didn't appear a feeling of both relief and disappointment washed over her, confusing her. With a deep sigh of resignation, her head held high and looking neither right or left she walked through the crowd of students who were waiting until the last possible moment before rushing to their home rooms.

Despite her jumbled nerves and apprehension a smile touched the corners of her brightly painted lips as several whistles shrilled behind her but what caused her heart to flutter madly was an awe spoken remark of "That is one fine looking piece of tail!" Entering her class room she looked over her class, mentally taking in their number much as she'd done since starting two weeks earlier and then her eyes settled directly on Melcolm, who to her surprise seemed totally indifferent to her. Her attention shifted and her eyes again settled on the rest of the class as the sound of in drawn breaths and exclamations of "Holyyyyy shit! Teach be looking fine this morning" sounded abnormally loud in the otherwise quiet room.

Walking to her desk she asked if everyone had done their home work over the weekend and then she turned to look at her students who, to her heightened self-consciousness appeared to be undressing her with their eyes. Frightened, she stepped back, putting her desk between her and her students, wondering as she did so if she should make a run for the door when suddenly a questioning voice spoke her name causing her in her fright to jump like a startled rabbit.

Turning to where the voice had come from, her eyes fixed on Mr. Thurston the principal and she shuddered visibly as her inner voice smugly remarked "Now you've had it." For a moment he said not a word as his eyes traveled over the broadly grinning faces of her students and then his attention again centered on her. At first she didn't think she'd heard him correctly when he said he personally approved of her new wardrobe but he couldn't have her upsetting his students. Confused by his remark of upsetting his students she could only stare at him with opened mouth but her mind replied, "Upset, they're not upset! They're grinning like Cheshire cats. And what does he mean "his" students, they're mine."

Dumbfounded by his remark and not a little shocked and confused, she shifted her gaze to the still grinning faces her students, her eyes drawn like magnets to one in particular and then she turned to look back at Mr. Thurston whose eyes seemed to be undressing her. With a jerk of his head as an indication for her to follow him she stepped from behind her desk walking woodenly toward him as he said to the class in general that Melcolm was in charge while he and Ms. Maxwell discussed her attire. To her horror as she stepped beside him he reached out patting her buttocks muttering "Nice, very nice." and then together they stepped into the empty hallway but not before he told the class not to look for them any time soon.

In panic her mind shouted "I told you not to do it. I told you Melcolm was just toying with you. He doesn't care a twit about you. Didn't you see the mirthful smile on his face, you're nothing but a stupid cunt for doing what he said and you deserve what your going to get. You deserve to be fired." But another voice, a more tranquil almost laid-back voice whispered that everything was going to be all right. That Mr. Thurston was just going to talk to her, tell her she shouldn't dress quite so revealing. That it aroused and excited the students, especially the older ones, the ones in their sexual prime. As the voice kept whispering reassuringly she began to relax but tensed again as Mr. Thurston tightened his hold about her slim waist, pulling her tighter to him at the same time placing his hand lightly on her gently swaying hip.

She wanted to tell him to remove his hand but she was afraid to. She was already in trouble and if she upset or offended him things might go worse for her. With her mind racing a mile a minute about her predicament she hardly felt and paid little heed to his hand as it slipped from her hip to cup her gently rolling buttocks. Twice they were stopped by teachers who, after running their eyes over her as if inspecting a prime piece of meat and with broad smiles, uttered such remarks as it was about time a pretty white girl attended the school and it'll be a pleasure seeing to her education.

But the actions and remark that really shocked her was from the science teacher, who, after pushing his face to hers, inhaling deeply of her perfume and then without masking or trying to hide his intentions as to what he had in mind, had whispered in her ear that he was going to really enjoy shoving his cock in her young white snatch.

Denise was both shocked and relieved. To say she was shocked by Mr. Thurston's indifference to being seen with his hand on the ass of young white girl who these teachers assumed to be a new student was an understatement, but she was totally floored by the strong sexual hints and then the outright admission by one of their number of what would have been in store for her had she been a new student. But over-riding her shock was tremendous relief that she hadn't been recognized, not even by the science teacher when his face had only been an inch from hers. for she was afraid that if she had been, the men, instead of just hinting at sex with a young teenage white girl would have taken her somewhere, perhaps an empty classroom or down into the basement to repeatedly use her to satisfy their carnal depravity. Yet despite her fear of what might have happened if she had been recognized, her mind shifted once again to her as a teenager wondering if indeed the teachers would really have given her private tutoring, too, as they slyly said further her education or had their bravado and blustering only been talk and then her mind emptied of such thoughts as they stepped into his office.

For what seemed like an eternity, as she nervously stood before him, he simply looked at her, grinning broadly. Then he told her she had two choices to make. One was that she could spread around some of that pussy she was all but showing; the other was that she could wait for the authorities, whereupon she'd be arrested and very likely end up in jail, labeled a child molester. Flabbergasted, her mouth dropped open as he told her he suspected her of fucking one and possibly more of her students, for why else would she suddenly change her appearance.

He went on to say that he suspected that the boy or boys had suggested maybe even demanded that she dress in such skimpy clothes and that since she had complied her they were even now bragging to their cohorts that they had fucked her. Holding up his hand, silencing her feeble denial, he told her to strip. Then, dropping his hand to the phone as a reminder that he could call the cops, he smiled at her. A faint "No." came from her lips but seeing no way out other then to comply she began to slowly unbutton her blouse as a madly giggling voice inside her head gibbered, I told you so, I told you so!

As the last button popped loose and her blouse slid from her shoulders she struggled inwardly with herself to accept the fact that she was being blackmailed to make love to this overweight grotesque individual and with her mind occupied thus she barely heard his muttered, "No bra, nice, very nice, and her titties ain't bad either. Kinda small but they look nice and firm." For a moment she stood there unmoving letting his eyes feast on her rapidly rising and falling breasts, unsure as to what he expected her to do next but then he gave a slight gesture with his hand and obediently she reached behind her, unfastening her skirt letting it slip from her waist to pool about her feet.

Her mind was awash with fear, apprehension and though she hated to admit it, excitement. The similarity between what was happening now and what had happened Friday was almost scary and she strongly suspected that the outcome would be the same and she found this slightly amusing. She was snapped back into the present when her thoughts were interrupted by his exclamation of, "Holy shit the little bitch ain't wearing no panties either," but she had to strain to hear his mutterings of how he was really going to enjoy sticking it to her. That by the time he was through with her he'd have her begging for black cock." The idea, no, the reality that she was going to be made love to by yet another negro was inescapable.

What was it about black men? Were they always horny or was it the idea that they might get to fuck a white women that made it seem so. She kept telling herself that she didn't want this to happen, that she didn't want this fat old man to stick his penis between her legs to rut and wallow over her like a beached whale, repeatedly slamming his hot sweaty body against hers but her body told another story, for her breasts which had been rapidly rising and falling from anxiety began to tingle and her nipples hardened, swelling almost to the point of aching and she felt herself becoming wet for the second time in almost as many days.