As usual, I had to excuse myself from class in order to masturbate in the boy's room after the incident. I took the opportunity to sniff my thumb, the one part of my body that came closest to that wondrous thing I lusted after so much. I wasn't sure, but I imagined the sweet scent of her body, or perhaps the perfume she used. All I know is that I shot my largest wad ever at that moment; it was as though I hadn't cum in a week, though it had only really been a few hours.



Nothing happened that day or the next, so I assumed I was in the clear. I even resumed intentionally brushing up against girls in the hallway, sliding my palm across a particularly cute ass or leg on occasion. To my knowledge, none of my victims even noticed they were being violated. I think I set a record for jacking off that day, at least five times during the school day that I can recall. I remember that I masturbated, but not to the point of orgasm, after gym - my last class of the day - because I wanted to get home. I always liked spreading out on my bed, jerking off to porn magazines and watching my cum spurt in the air before landing on my chest and belly. I knew by teasing myself after gym, my orgasm would be that much more powerful. I also knew that by hiding in the restroom, everyone else would be gone by the time I got dressed. Since it was Friday, I'd be taking my gym clothes home, and I could hide my jockey shorts inside the roll. Walking around without underwear on always made me all that much more hornier. Today, I decided to do the same with my undershirt and socks.



I'd just walked out of the boy's locker room when it happened. Both locker rooms were adjacent each other, with L-shaped walls keeping prying eyes from seeing inside when the doors were open. Of course, this also blocked the view of the outside from anyone exiting either door. Just as I passed the end of the wall, my shoulders were grabbed from behind, hands clamping my arms to my side. A bag of some sort was placed over my head, and I was dragged backwards across the front of the building. Since the two L-shaped walls opened at opposite ends, I could tell when we made an abrupt U-turn that I was being pulled into the girl's locker room. My jeans were unfastened and pulled down to my ankles, and then I was forced to my knees. A pair of strong arms pushing down on my shoulders kept me in place as my head was uncovered.



"Hello, faggot. Remember me?" I blinked, looking up at the angry face of my Goddess, the girl I'd so brazenly touched a little over 24 hours ago. As I began to lower my head, a bright flash of light went off. I turned and saw another girl with a camera, smiling. I'd just been photographed, kneeling with my pants down, on the floor of the girl's locker, at the feet of the most beautiful girl in the school. As I thought about the position I was in, my cock began to harden.



"Look at this, girls! He likes it! The little faggot likes being on his knees at the feet of his superiors!" she laughed. "Too bad his little weenie can't compare to my boyfriend's beautiful cock, but I have to admit, it is cute. Like my little brother's, when he was about three."



I blushed at the verbal abuse, knowing that she was at least partially right. Kneeling here like this was exciting to me. The thought of being forced to do their bidding, of being humiliated, was turning me on. I lowered my head again, and could see that I was now rock hard, a drip of pre-cum forming.



"Stand up, faggot!" she yelled. The hands were removed from my shoulders, and I quickly jumped to my feet, standing with my head bowed submissively. "Strip him," she said in a quiet, matter-of-fact tone to her conspirators. My shirt and shoes were quickly removed, leaving me standing naked in front of them. My Goddess walked to the far side of the locker room, over to the toilets, and then called for me.



"Get down on your belly, worm, and crawl to my feet!" she commanded. I felt my balls tighten as though I was about to cum. I fell to the floor and slithered over to her as quickly as I could, my dick rubbing painfully against the cold concrete floor. I barely noticed as more photos were taken.



My Goddess was sitting on the toilet, fully clothed, when I stopped at her feet. I prayed to myself that the abuse would continue, but hoping at the same time that it would soon end.



"I need a foot massage, faggot. Take my shoes and socks off.without using your hands."



I hesitated only a moment before reaching carefully forward, taking the lace of her petite sneaker in my mouth and tugging gently on it. It came untied without effort. I wasn't sure how to get the shoe off her foot, however. She solved my dilemma by lifting her foot up slightly so that the back of her ankle was at my face. Taking the heel in my mouth, I gingerly pulled the back down until it was off, the shoe dangling from her delicate, sock-clad toes. Her admonishment to not leave teeth marks caused me to cover my teeth with my lips before I carefully took the toe in my mouth, pulling her shoe off the rest of the way. All the while, flashes and the sounds of the camera shutter were constant reminders that this humiliating act was being recorded for posterity.



After the second shoe came off, I tackled her white, ankle high athletic socks. This was easier, since all I had to do was grasp the top between my teeth and roll them down. However, right at the very end, she curled her toes, making it necessary for me to pull them off from the front. Thankfully, her socks were clean, if damp from perspiration. I could taste the sweat of her feet; it wasn't all that disgusting, and not nearly as terrible as I'd imagined.



"You may wash my feet now," she commanded, sliding the whole front of her foot into my mouth as soon as I opened it. "Work the tongue all over the toes," she directed, "and make sure you get between them as well."



I worked on her oh-so-sexy feet for the next twenty minutes or so, slavering them with my tongue, sucking each tiny, delicate toe into my mouth, until she was satisfied. When she had enough, she simply used the ball of her foot against my mouth and pushed me backwards, knocking me backwards.



"I'm going to go get ready for my date now," she pronounced. "I'm so horny that I just might let Jason fuck me tonight. As for you, worm, I don't want to ever hear that you've touched another girl without her permission again. And don't think your punishment is over yet, either. Monday after school, I want you waiting outside the girl's locker room, on your knees, wearing nothing but your gym shorts. If you're not there.how many pictures do we have?" she asked, looking at her photographer friend.



"Two rolls, so 72. I'll have them developed tonight, too."



"Make copies so we have enough to post on the bulletin boards, and maybe send to his parents if he decides not to play. Understand what'll happen if you aren't there, faggot?" she said, turning her attention to me. I nodded my head.



"I can't hear the rocks rattling inside that empty skull of yours, worm! Answer me, do you understand?"



"Yes," I replied.



"Yes, Ma'am," she corrected.



"Yes, Ma'am," I recited.



"From now on, anyone on the cheerleading team is �Ma'am' to you, got it, worm? And any other girl is �Miss.'"



"Yes, Ma'am, I understand."



"Good then. See you Monday!" With a giggle, she turned her heels and marched out, her troupe of followers-on at her heels.