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Extorting the English Teacher

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All of the characters in this work of fiction are age 18 or older.

The plot of this story was given to me by zurustru. I have never tried to flesh out someone else's plot in this manner, so please be patient with the tale. This story contains reluctance, forced sexual activity and humiliation.

Thanks, as always, to my Beta Reader, FangsAnarchy, for remaining vigilant against my proclivities towards rushing the good parts.

Votes and comments are welcome. Please keep it polite. Thank you.

*****

The stories were legendary. There were descriptions from trusted sources. Students who used to go to Overbrook High School, but were now in college, had seen Mrs. Flick jogging near Clementon Water Park during the summer. Due to the heat, she wore very little. Despite being forty she was, according to the tales, slim with an amazing ass and enormous naturally firm boobs. All the teenage boys of the Pine Hill area prayed for the day they might catch a glimpse of Mrs. Flick's angelic body. They knew it would never happen where she worked. Mrs. Flick dressed so conservatively, she made nuns look like strippers.

Samantha Flick was an English Teacher at Overbrook High School. She had a firm reputation as a good teacher. She cared about her students. She never wore makeup to school, but anyone could tell she was beautiful. She rarely bared any skin. Her blouses were always buttoned all the way and topped with a blazer. Her slacks were always full length. Her shoes were always practical for a woman who spent the majority of the day on her feet. Her ebony hair was always in a tight bun and her thick rimmed glasses were always perfectly in place. If the rumors of how hot she looked when jogging hadn't wafted through the halls of the school, very few people ever would have thought of her sexually. She was certainly pretty, but she was far too covered up for most people to invest their imaginations.

Once the word goddess was used, however, the boys started paying attention. All the seniors at Overbrook knew where Mrs. Flick lived. Her son, Tom, was their classmate. Most of the seniors liked Tom. He was a regular guy and decent looking. Tom's friends often spoke about how sexy his mom was. They knew how angry he got to hear this, but they would say it all the time anyway. Tom did not want to think about his mom like that. She was Mom. She never acted sexy, Tom thought. She worked all day. She cooked. She occasionally helped Tom with his homework and she read a ton of books. Tom honestly could not understand what his classmates saw in her.

Tom was not in his mother's English class but his friend, Tucker, was. Tucker could never shut up about how sexy he thought she was. He was always talking about it to Tom and their friend, Jeff. Jeff was in the same English class as Tom.

"Man," Tucker would say, "she was writing on the board today and she had this little wiggle going on. I got so fucking hard watching her. It was unreal!"

"Dude!" Tom would shout. "For the last time, I don't want to hear about you getting a boner looking at my mother. It's sick. My mom is a dowdy teacher. Drool over the French teacher like everyone else, for fuck's sake!"

"Oh, come on, bro!" Tucker would retort. "Your mom is way hotter than Ms. Price. Ms. Price just dresses better."

Jeff usually didn't get involved in the arguments but he did spend quite a bit of time checking Mrs. Flick out. He was a frequent dinner guest since Mr. Flick usually ate before getting home.

Mr. Flick left early every day for his commute to New York City. He was a wealthy day trader on Wall Street. He loved his wife and son but felt determined to work hard and make even more money. He was never quite satisfied with his bank account.

Tom hated to hear his friends refer to his mother as a MILF. It was something that always got him angry. They knew it and yet Jeff and Tucker seemed to go out of their way on a daily basis to call her that. His classmates at school were even worse. They said MILF all the time when they referred to her. They would often wonder aloud if she was a nasty slut.

Male students from her English class loved to tell the story of the first day of class. She wrote her name, Mrs. Flick, in all capital letters on the board. The l and the i were written very closely together and to several students in the back it looked, instead, like a u. Those students, from that day on, began secretly calling her Mrs. Fuck. Soon, almost all of the male seniors were talking about wanting to fuck Mrs. Fuck.

Tom did his best to ignore all the scandalous things being said about his mother. It wasn't easy. His hormone-crazed colleagues seemed to get worse every day. Tom felt stress at school having to bear the remarks of classmates who didn't realize he could hear them. He asked his friends for ways to get his mind off the things guys said about his mom.

Tom, Tucker and Jeff started going out skateboarding at night. They would attempt jumps, rail grinds and other tricks. It worked at first, but Tom needed a bigger diversion.

One night in March, the boys broke into the school. They found an unlocked window on the ground floor and slid in. It was harmless fun. They went into classrooms and drew dirty pictures on the boards. They broke the lock on the trophy case outside the main office and ran around with the school's pride and joy: a huge football trophy for being division champions. Tucker was riding the trophy as though it were a horse when it slipped out of his hands and smashed on the floor. The boys panicked. They ran out one of the side doors, not realizing they would set off the fire alarm.

They jumped into Tucker's car and zoomed away from the high school. They were so shaken up, it wasn't until much later - when he was home and getting ready for bed - that Tom realized he was no longer wearing his ball cap. He shrugged his shoulders and concluded he had already taken it off without realizing.

The next morning, Saturday, Samantha got a call from the school. The three intruders were caught on the school's closed circuit television system and the Vice Principal thought that one of the culprits bore a striking resemblance to Tom. Abe, the Vice Principal, asked Samantha to come in to look at the footage.

What she saw appalled her. It was clear enough to her that Tom was one of the three individuals caught on the CCTV. She could tell by his posture and the way he moved. She couldn't tell who the other two were. They were all wearing ball caps and never looked up at any of the cameras.

Abe showed her something the perpetrators left behind. It was a ball cap. It was the same school logo ball cap that half the boys wore but Samantha was sure in her heart that this ball cap belonged to Tom. Samantha admitted that the boy on the video screen resembled Tom and she promised to ask him.

"It's too late for that," said Abe.

"What do you mean?" Samantha asked.

"I've already called the police," he replied.

"Why did you do that?" she asked, concerned for her son.

"Sam, it's school policy. We have a break in and we call the police. That's how it works. I just thought you should see this. I didn't want you to get caught blindsided by this."

Samantha thanked Abe and, shortly thereafter, returned home. She called for Tom who had slept in.

"Tom?!?"

"Yeah, Mom?"

"Where's your school baseball cap?"

"Uh, I'm not sure. I misplaced it before I went to bed last night. Why?"

"Did you possibly misplace it outside the school office last night after destroying the division championship trophy?"

Tom's eyes were wide open in terror. Had his mother suddenly become psychic? He wanted to tell her it was an accident. He wanted to say he didn't even do it. It was Tucker! He wanted to say a lot of things but Tucker and Jeff had sworn him to secrecy.

"W-what are you talking about?"

"Abe Klein called me into school this morning. The fire alarms were set off last night. They checked the security cameras and found a lot of footage of three boys running around the halls and smashing into the trophy case. Abe also found a baseball cap at the scene. Do you have anything you want to say to me, young man?"

"Not really." He looked into his mother's angry eyes. "Ok, ok. It was me..."

"'It was I,'" his mother corrected. Inwardly, she growled at herself. Her son had committed a crime and she was worried about his grammar. It was ludicrous.

"Right. It was I. I've been really stressed out at school lately. I really hate some of the things the guys have been saying and I needed a release."

"Let me get this straight," Samantha said. "Some boys at school tease you so you break into the school, draw naked women on the boards, and destroy a trophy so you can feel better? Did it work? Do you feel better now?"

Bill Flick had heard the arguing and went to Tom's room to check. He heard Samantha describe the things Tom did. Before he could make his presence known, Tom answered his mother.

"They weren't teasing me," he said. "They were talking about how hot you are. They were saying a lot of filthy things about you and I just can't take it anymore."

Bill said, "So that gave you the right to destroy school property?"

"Dad!" Tom cried out in surprise. "No, sir. I never meant to break anything. It was an accident."

Samantha asked, "Who were the two other boys?"

Tom shook his head.

"What's this?" Samantha asked in a threateningly angry tone.

Tom folded his arms and said, "I'm not a snitch. I gave my word I wouldn't tell anyone."

"It's so nice to know there's honor among thieves," Samantha said sarcastically.

"I'm not a thief," Tom said with a hint of anger in his voice.

"You destroyed school property," Samantha retorted. "You took away their trophy."

There was a knock on the door. Bill went to answer it and was surprised to see a police detective on his doorstep.

The detective identified himself and explained why he was there. He spoke to Tom, with his parents present, for a little over an hour. The detective wrote down a lot of notes in his little book. He thanked the parents for their time and left.

The police investigation went on for two weeks. The police could not prove Tom had been there. All they had was a cap and some grainy footage. There was nothing ironclad. The District Attorney decided not to pursue it. The case was dropped.

Tom felt wonderful. Only his parents and his friends knew he'd been there that night. For what seemed like the first time in his life, Tom got away with something. He would be happy when this would be nothing but a vague memory.

In April, Samantha got a text message on her iPhone from a number she didn't know.

"ik what ur son did"

Samantha's eyes opened in fear and she texted back, "Who is this?"

The reply was, "nvm. do what i tell u or ill tell"

"What do you want?" Samantha texted in return.

"i want u 2 b sexy 4 skool. like this." There were four pictures sent with the text. The women in the pictures showed a lot of cleavage. They wore their hair down or in a ponytail. They wore short skirts that revealed thongs underneath. The women in the pictures wore stockings paired with 5 inch stiletto heels. The two who wore glasses had them on the tips of their noses. They all wore heavy makeup.

"I don't own any sexy clothes," she typed into her phone.

"ubest go shopin bitch"

"That's all you want? For me to dress sexy at school?"

"look at the hair 2 dumb bitch. nd glasses. u gotta do what i say too in ur class 2 or ill tell. dont tell any1 or ill tell."

She replied, "I don't think I could do that."

"lol ill tell the cops then."

Samantha was crying. She loved Tom. She couldn't let his life be destroyed when she had the power to stop it. This stranger was asking her to do some embarrassing things, but she knew that Tom was worth it. Samantha looked at the horrible spelling in the texts. This was obviously a student. Was it someone in her class? Was that why she had to do things in class as well? None of her students had spelling that was quite this execrable. Was this person intentionally spelling things badly to cover up their identity? She couldn't agree to this. She didn't really know what she'd be agreeing to.

"How long would I have to do all these things?"

"4now do what i say till i say stop"

"When will that be?"

"end of skool year"

Two and a half months, Samantha quickly realized. This bastard wanted her to look and act like a tramp at work for ten weeks. Ten weeks. It wasn't that long but it was also an eternity. Her reputation would be destroyed. Who was more important, she had to decide. Tom or herself? Tom, of course. Samantha really had no idea who this could be. Who had her cell phone number? One of the other teachers? One of the administrators? One of the students she tutored? There were enough people who had legitimate reasons for having her number to make guessing impossible.

"What, exactly, do you know about my son?"

"ik were his hat is"

That decided it. This person knew what Tom had done. He knew about the hat. Samantha thought about going to the police but she really didn't have anything to tell them. What would she say? An anonymous person was blackmailing her to dress in sexy clothing at work for ten weeks? That would be ridiculous. She couldn't believe she was agreeing to this, but she couldn't think of a way out.

"When do I have to start?"

"2morow"

"Fine. I'll do it."

"lol. good. ubetter look sexy 2"

Samantha drove to Delsea. She went to the mall and bought a ton of slutty clothing. The sales girl at one shop saw all the things Samantha was picking out and suggested getting a top that was one size too small. Samantha looked at the girl strangely. The sales girl explained that it took dressing slutty to the next level.

The next morning was chilly enough to justify wearing an overcoat on top of the outfit she was dressed in. Samantha wasn't ready to wear this sort of clothing and drive Tom in to school. Under her coat she had a low cut red pullover blouse that was one size too small for her. She also wore a black short skirt that ended about mid thigh, a red bra, a red thong, black stockings and black stilettos with 5 inch heels. Tom didn't seem to notice that she was suddenly taller than he.

Samantha went through her morning routine and did not shed her coat until she was safely in her homeroom. She sat at the desk and sorted through some paperwork. Some of the students noticed the ponytail but no one commented on it. It looked nicer than the usual bun. Her outfit was fairly well covered by the desk and the stack of papers she was reading. The only major difference the students could detect is that she was wearing makeup.

Mrs. Flick had lined her eyes and had lips as red as her top.

As absurd as she felt in these clothes, she was glad no one was saying anything about her metamorphosis. The bell declaring the start of homeroom rang and Samantha began to relax.

Her cell phone vibrated on the desk. She had forgotten she left it there. She glanced at the screen to see she'd gotten a text.

"stand up 2 call attendance"

A cold chill ran up Samantha's spine. Her blackmailer could see her. She glanced at the door to see if anyone was looking in from the hall. She saw no one. She looked for phones on the students' desks. She couldn't see any from where she was seated. She was given an order. This was the moment of truth. Would she actually go through with this? She sat there for a very long minute and shook her head in disbelief. She stood up and lifted the attendance list. She called the first name and heard, "Here," in reply. Then, apparently, students looked up and saw her because she heard an onslaught of wolf whistles and cat calls.

The students could not believe how hot Mrs. Flick looked. She had legs! They were toned and firm. She had cleavage! She looked amazing. Many kids wondered what the occasion was. She certainly had everyone's attention as she called the roll.

She got through the roll call and returned to her seat. It wasn't too terrifying. That hadn't been as embarrassing as she thought it would be. Samantha let out a small sigh of relief just before her phone vibrated.

"sit on the front of ur desk and spread ur legs"

Her shoulders sagged a little as she read the text. Her eyes searched for someone in the class with a phone and found no one. She pushed her chair slowly away from the desk and stood up. There were eyes on her this time. She walked around the desk and sat on the edge. Many pairs of eyes followed her movements. Samantha cleared her throat because she was having trouble breathing. Her legs parted and she felt the short skirt ride up her thighs. She paused. This felt too obvious to her. She slowed her movements down to make it look like a happy accident and not a grown woman exposing her barely covered crotch to a room full of teenagers. Her phone vibrated. She tried to discreetly read the new text.

"knock ur pen off ur desk and pick it up slowly"

Samantha didn't even think about it. She bumped the pen with the back of her hand as it left her phone. The pen clanked to the floor. She walked over to the pen and bent over. She didn't realize there was anything naughty about this request until she heard the gasp from one of the students. She felt the coolness on her bottom and understood what she'd done. She was wearing a very short skirt and a thong. She had just flashed her ass to her homeroom class. She stood up straight and went towards the safety of her desk. She kept an eye on her phone. She waited for it to betray her again with a new embarrassing order. She had just pulled out her chair when she heard the bell which ended homeroom. Seconds later, there was a text on her phone.

"lol. good job. i thought ud face the other way. ill c more of u soon" She felt relieved it was over for now but she understood the last text clearly. This was just the beginning.

Her first period class was Sophomore English. She enjoyed the class more than she normally would because her iPhone remained silent for the duration of the class. The students all paid attention to her lecture and there was only a small disruptive element. Samantha never bent over or turned her back to the class and felt it went as well as it could. She had just gotten to the point where she convinced herself she could do this when something she didn't anticipate happened.

Tom passed a woman in the hall who bore a striking resemblance to his mother. His smiling face had contorted into a look of sheer horror after a better look at her. Tom was shocked when he recognized his mother's face on the body of this sexy woman in a short skirt and a low cut top. He tried blinking, hoping the mirage would go away. It did not. His mother was... sexy. He would never hear the end of it. Things were bad enough when she was pretty.

Samantha settled in for her English Literature class. These were seniors. She had hoped that, since the sophomores were fairly respectful, she would have an easy time with her mature students. She was behind the desk before the students arrived. As before, the ponytail was noticed but not commented on by the students. The bell rang to begin the class and, seconds later, her phone vibrated. She moved as nonchalantly as possible to check the text.

"sit on ur desk. keep the phone on ur lap."

Samantha welcomed the class and walked to the front of her desk. She sat down and crossed her legs at the ankles. She could hear some murmuring in the class, but there were no overtly sexual remarks made. She felt the vibration on her thighs and glanced at the new text.

"arch ur back"

It seemed like a weird request but Samantha thought it was harmless. She still had not been able to find anyone in the class using a cell phone. Whoever this was, if it was someone in this classroom, they were very good at being sneaky. She put her left hand behind her for support and arched her back as she'd been ordered. She waited for the gasp like she received in her homeroom class. No one seemed overly concerned with this pose. The class had an open discussion on the works of William Blake. There was a new text.

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