Heads-up: it's Smokey BDSM time again. Clearly, you've clicked to read, and so—fair warning: this is intense. You've seen a number of elements like this in earlier stories of mine. But as always, the core story and plot are unique. Some of you will love it, some will not. And in both camps, you know who you are. Either way, this story is dedicated to anyone who's ever been bullied.

ADDITIONAL CATEGORIES: Fetish, First Time, Lesbian, NonConsent/Reluctance, Toys/Masturbation

*****

Harassment Something To Me

Thursday, November 7th, 2013, 3:17 p.m.

Autumn was two months into reverse-bloom. Also in swing was the new year at Juniper High. Proud Mom and community leader Lorraine Knowles multitasked at home, watching TV and networking online. It was about time for her daughter Regan to get home from school. Her husband, Regan's father Stephen, was away on business until the following week. It was a brisk 53° outside, and the 16½-year-old Regan was indeed en route back. She'd recently acquired her driver's license, she did well academically, and the rebelliousness of her adolescence reached to a short degree. She respected her folks and teachers, treated her peers as she wished to be treated, and was a fine girl on the whole. In fact, all but ideal. A model kiddo. Lorraine couldn't ask for a more fantastic daughter.

Regan pulled up mere seconds later. Quite frankly, she hoped her mother was not home. But she saw Lorraine's own car in the driveway. Sigh. She knew it was a bit much to ask. She parked, wondering how to go about this. She could've stopped elsewhere first, but that would only delay the inevitable. She tossed her backpack over her shoulders, approached and peered to the window.

Yep, there she was. And Regan knew her sunglasses wouldn't help. They couldn't hide something like this. Regan just didn't want her Mom to know. It would lead to more of a situation than she felt like dealing with right now. But she couldn't just stand out here the whole rest of the day either. She reluctantly slid her key in the lock, placed a paw over the side of her face, and stepped inside.

"Hey sweetie, how was school."

The pleasantry ended with a period, not a question mark, signifying mere rhetoric. Out came her key, slam went the door, and Regan promptly picked up her pace. Her hand stayed discreetly where she'd put it as she hastened by. "Hi Mom."

Lorraine watched her cross quickly through the living room. Regan got about two thirds of the way before Lorraine halted her.

"Uh, hold it."

Regan stopped moving, but didn't turn around. Her mother heard her emit a sigh.

"Back up, young lady. This way, please."

Regan did as told, keeping her face concealed. But of course she knew exactly what her Mom would say next.

"Hand down."

Regan obeyed, revealing a black eye and a concrete-scraped cheek.

Gasp. "Oh, Regan!" Lorraine exclaimed. "Oh honey! Not again!"

Her daughter omitted the plain "Yes, again." She hated this part. Indeed, it was not the first time she'd been beaten up at school, nor the first time at the hands of the same girl. Regan had a bully she only knew was named Mikayla. On other occasions Mikayla'd sent Regan on her way with a bloody nose, a busted lip, and/or spit in her hair. And Regan'd have to go home to show her folks. She hated this part so much firstly because it displeased them, but moreover because it never accomplished, changed or fixed a thing.

"God..." Lorraine groaned. "That Mikayla girl again?"

"She's the only one who beats me up, Mom. And apparently thinks I'm gay. She keeps calling me a dyke, and a girl-...'f.'"

"Well isn't that nice. It's Mikayla what now again?"

Sigh. "I told you, Mom, I dunno her last name. We're not in the same grade. I'm a junior, she's a senior. And not for the first time. She was supposed to be gone by now, but she flunked."

Mikayla Shithead, probably, thought Lorraine. "Well, Regan, honey, she's just angry and jealous of you. You're a great student."

Regan rolled her eyes, feeling the pain in the blackened right one. "Yeah, Mom...knowing what her problem is is not the problem. I'm sure it's all the typical bully clichés. But that doesn't help me much at school, now does it."

Another rhetorical statement, punctuated with a period and some attitude Regan regretted. But Lorraine understood.

"I know, hon. Look...why don't you go wash your face, put some antiseptic on it, and...

"Well, I won't force this, 'cause I don't wanna treat you like a little girl...but if you want, we can have some cookies and ice cream."

*****

Mikayla: A 4-1-1

fall 2011 and forward

Regan Knowles was enrolled and began attending Juniper High School in August of 2011, the same year Mikayla became a junior. For the first few months, nothing happened between them. They were two years apart, and neither knew the other existed. Then a buzz began to spread about the studious new kid who got great grades and wore glasses when she read. Regan wasn't exactly a teacher's pet, but had always been a good girl who played by the rules. While this sat okay with most classmates, not all of them left well enough alone. Some teased her. Some mocked her. Regan's feelings were a bit wounded, but it wasn't the first time she'd been jeered in school, and kids tended to behave this way. It wasn't in her nature to do so. So she was different. Oh well.

Around February of '12, Regan's rep as a goody two-shoes reached beyond the freshman class. And soon enough to the attention of one Mikayla Jae Wagner. Mikayla was a tall, slim but strong girl, who elected not to hang with those physically beneath her—i.e., shorter and weaker. She disliked intellectual strength in peers, and wasn't crazy about those who excelled scholastically either. Mikayla'd been given brawn, but fell short when it came to brains. And when this became apparent, it made her angry. Her fortes were lesser in school than those of bright, diligent kids. Mikayla didn't like that. She didn't care one bit to be bested and one-upped by those she deemed "scrawny nerds." Her philosophy was more along the lines of "the bigger the better, the smaller whatever."

And so catching wind of this smart freshman kid, Mikayla took an instant disliking to her. It turned out Mikayla was an angrier young woman than she herself knew. She was tall and strong, but not extremely smart or model-gorgeous. Boys didn't take to her, but she neither cared about them. And if she couldn't be sharp or hot, she wanted to be intimidating. And if she couldn't intimidate others so much as she wished, insecurity set in. She did fit traits of the archetypal bully: she was self-conscious, and refused to let that self-consciousness surface. And so she maintained control by pushing around those smaller than she. Only figuratively at first.

Beginning in the spring of 2012, Mikayla took it upon herself to torment and pick on Regan. Her shenanigans began—compared to the present day—relatively mild, and as well in the spirit of a secret..."admirer." She left smeared peanut butter and stale bologna in Regan's locker. She placed chewed gum and tacks in the seat Regan chose in the cafeteria. And indeed, to Regan's complete obliviousness, Mikayla began spreading a rumor that she was in fact queer.

The worst thing Regan had done to her the first year by this unknown bully (or bullies) happened after a phys ed class, while Regan was showering. Her locker was broken into and her clothes stolen, leaving her reluctant to take any more showers. Naturally and indignantly curious who was doing these things to her, Regan got her answer the next year, after summer vacation.

As Regan took on sophomore year and Mikayla became a senior, the latter made her harassing presence known. She cornered Regan with her cronies throughout the '12-'13 year, carrying on her troublesome ways. She smacked Regan's books and papers out of her hands as they traversed the halls. She pantsed her. She shoved her against the lockers. She and the accomplices played keep-away with Regan's belongings. Or trapped her in the girls' room, took one said belonging, dunked it in the toilet and returned it. Mikayla logically refused to explain who she was, or why she'd singled Regan out as a target. Later the same year, something nice and also frightening happened to Regan. She'd been chatting up a girl called Betheny in one of her classes, with whom she struck a friendship. Betheny invited Regan over to her house. She lived on one end of Johnston Farm Drive in Andrewsville County. On the other end of the same street lived someone else by now familiar to Regan, going by with her cronies. On this day she greeted her as follows.

"Hey, dyke! Fuckin' skank dyke! Girl-faggot queer-ass dyke! That your girlfriend, dyke?!"

She punctuated by spitting at her, and they were on their way. Regan and Betheny only walked on, until out of one another's earshot.

Scoff. "What is that bitch's problem??" Regan demanded.

"'S Mikayla," Betheny told her.

"You know her?"

"Well, I just know her first name. She's a real asshole, but not to everybody. Mostly just to people who get good grades."

"Oh, great!" Regan threw her hands in the air. "So if I want her to leave me alone, my choices are, flunk on purpose, or push her in front of the bus!... And what makes her think I'm...y'know, queer? I'm pretty sure I'm not queer. But even if I was, so what?"

"Dunno," Betheny shrugged. "Maybe she just hates queers. Real mature for a senior."

"She's a senior? Oh. Well...that's good anyway. Next year she'll be gone and I'll be free of her...'assholishness.'"

Or so she thought. Unfortunately, both Regan and Mikayla would come to regret this assumption. As Regan passed sophomore year with proverbial flying colors, Mikayla proceeded to fail senior year. And to her own chagrin, and Regan's utter consternation...come August '13, back into Juniper High slithered a secretly abashed, but ever angrier, vengeance-vowing Mikayla Wagner.

Her previous year's cronies had graduated, and it wasn't as easy on her own. Especially as new seniors who were no longer intimidated taunted Mikayla: "Oh, what're ya doin' back?? Forget somethin'?" Imaginably feeling nastier than ever, Mikayla now abhorred the well-performing students with white-hot hatred. And with one innocent target on her metaphorical "shit list," she set about to be the ultimate thorn in the side of poor Regan Knowles.

Caring less and less what ramifications might threaten, she held nothing back. When not figuratively doing so, she literally shoved Regan about. She punched her, tripped her, shoulder-checked her, kicked her legs from under her. She threw eggs at her. She shook up containers of soda or sour milk and let them loose on her. She stuck her gum in Regan's hair. She snatched her backpack, unzipped it, and flung it down the hall. Or more innovatively, held it above Regan, emptied it and brought it down to encase Regan's head. She waited for Regan to come outside after school and impeded to attack her. Or attack her car. The ante just kept being upped. When she didn't get in trouble one day, Mikayla poured it on and treated Regan more ruthlessly the next.

It bore repeating through all this that Regan never summoned the guts and gumption to report her to Principal Garver. On one level, she questioned how much he could or would do. And whether anything done could be a year-term solution. In addition, conveniently the harassment was witnessed only by classmates. Even left with bruises and stains, it was her word against Mikayla's. Finally, she was too terrified. If she told Mr. Garver, and someone ratted her out as a snitch...there was no telling what could befall her. She was already coming home with black eyes and bloody noses. She didn't know how much worse it could get, but didn't want to find out.

Which brought her back to today. She was afraid to let the admins know, but couldn't hide it from her folks. Which was almost as bad in a way. She'd rather they cared than not, but it felt as if even when she wasn't around, Mikayla humiliated her still. While grateful for the sympathy, having to go home and (figuratively (most of the time)) cry to Mommy and Daddy made her feel even smaller. She wanted to feel more grown-up, not less. She was becoming a woman. She couldn't just go through life being scared. She wished she were tougher, able to stand up to Mikayla. But such was the frustrating nature of bullies. The girl was bigger, stronger, and meaner. While she was too scared to confront or attack Mikayla in person...oh, was it ever sweet to imagine.

Regan was not a violent girl. And yet, Mikayla's never-provoked assaults brought out her fiery side. On this November Thursday, after her Mom let her go to her room, she left her books and homework untouched for a while. She clutched an unfortunate but inanimate pillow, and let it take the brunt of her rage, as she recalled one particular encounter with her bully outside of school.

One day after she'd begun hanging with Betheny—but before getting her driver's license—she thought she'd walk over to Betheny's house and see if she was home. It was close enough to her own home to stroll there and back. And she knew Mikayla lived nearby too, but...well, she just hoped she wouldn't have to run into her. She should be able to walk down her friend's street, to ends or not, without an issue. However, her hope was in vain. Betheny was not home, and neither were her folks. Regan was a bit bummed about this, but not nearly as much as on the return trip. In the other direction, sauntering back Regan's way...there she was.

"Hey, girl-fag dyke!" shouted Mikayla, nicely surprised to see her today.

Oh, fuck me.

The street, though secluded and never busy, was without sidewalks. Regan occupied the right side. Mikayla assumed her left—Regan's right—so they were walking directly towards each other.

"Get the fuck outta my way, dykewad," Mikayla shouted.

What exactly was it that made Mikayla call her a dyke anyway? Was it like picking on boys by calling them "fag" even if it had nothing to do with being gay? Did "dyke" work the same way? Did...oh, who cared. She could've run the other way, but Mikayla'd easily outrun and catch her. Besides, Regan couldn't stomach giving her the satisfaction. She moved to her left side of the street.

Mikayla moved to her right, so they were again facing each other.

"I told ya get outta my way, queer-ass cunt!"

So this was her game. Regan felt pretty compelled to "play along" another round, though they were getting close. She moved back over. Predictably, so did Mikayla.

"'The fuck's the matter with ya, fuckin' pussy-ass dyke?! I said get outta my way!"

Oooh, did Regan's angry side long to haul off and deck her. And to see where it led. But...but...she just couldn't. She moved one more time, and so did Mikayla...as they stopped, five feet from each other. Mikayla leered with piercing eyes, flashing an evil grin. Regan cautiously wandered by. They maintained steady, unblinking eye contact as she passed. To her relief, Mikayla let her go unharmed.

"Hm!" Regan heard her chuckle, knowing that even if not beating her up, Mikayla kept the girl in fear of her. She'd managed not to get her ass kicked that day, but this didn't make the meeting any more fun. It felt still as if Mikayla'd "won," getting away once more with tormenting her and calling her crude names. Oh well, she tried to tell herself, remembering she was safely back in her room.

Let's get some homework done, that'll take my mind off it.

And...yeah, come to think of it, Mom, I would kinda like some cookies and ice cream.

*****

Media Uncoverage

Thursday, November 7th, 2013, 8:32 p.m.

"Regan? C'mere a sec."

Bowl in hand, Regan took another dip of ice cream with her cookie and another yummy bite of each, scooting over beside her Mom.

"Yuhrrf? Wuhhff ub?"

Regan's food-nestled belly turned as she registered the image her Mom had brought to the laptop screen.

"Is that Mikayla?"

Her daughter swallowed. "...Yeah."

"A-ha," Lorraine nodded. "...Mikayla, Wagner."

Regan scooted back away.

"Yippee. Now I know her last name."

"You'll have to forgive a nosy Mom's curiosity, sweetie."

Regan went on watching TV and finished her dessert. Unbeknownst to her, curious Mom did some surreptitious, incognito detective work on the notorious Mikayla. Once confirmed, Lorraine dug up her dirt. She checked out Mikayla's social media, finding out the girl was going on 19 in a few more months, had dark green eyes, stringy brunette hair, was also an only child, sported a number of tattoos and piercings, and quite a few other things. From here it was a hop, skip and a jump to her few other digital stops, and...

...All right, I believe my curiosity's been satisfied, thank you.

*****

Cheese, Sleaze

Friday, November 8th, 2013, 9:25 a.m.

Lorraine Knowles was a well-known and respected community leader throughout Andrewsville and Tudorville County. Her husband Stephen went off semi-often on business, like this week. Regan was their only kid, a teenager, but not a load of trouble to support. Looking after their home took up a good chunk of Lorraine's time and energy. And so what was left was spent on her community and volunteer work. She socialized, schmoozed, and organized events for other community members to do the same. And while she didn't care to (ab)use her stature for ulterior or underhanded purposes...she loved her daughter more than anything in the world. They spent lots of time together, just the two of them, and felt like more than Mom and daughter. They were almost like best friends.

Cut back to Juniper High, where per the norm, Mikayla proceeded to pour it on and make Regan's academic life a living hell. Lately she'd been really socking it to her on Fridays, providing her with enough mistreatment to last the weekend. She kicked today off by silently stalking Regan into the girls' lavatory, slipping into the adjacent stall, waiting till just the right moment...climbing atop her toilet with her iPhone at the ready...and snapping a rapid photo of Regan sitting on hers. She menacingly remarked to Regan that this would look fucking dynamite online. She then jumped down and departed the bathroom laughing.

Regan couldn't believe it. Two hours into school, and her entire day already felt ruined. How humiliating!... And what a bitch! She couldn't help but wonder what she'd done to deserve all this...but also didn't think she could take it anymore. As a high schooler, she really wasn't supposed to do this...but she waited just till the next periods began, exited the restroom herself, skulked to one of the doors, snuck outside and ditched class. She'd never do this under "normal" circumstances, but she was just too upset to learn. She felt like a baby and a tattletale, but simply had to hear her Mom's voice to ease her mind. She called and told her what had happened.

"...Regan, are you serious?" Lorraine gravely asked her.

"Mom, I wouldn't call you and make this up!" insisted Regan, narrowly keeping in mind to omit the cutting class part.
There was a silence on the other end of the line.

"...Mom?...Mom!"

"...Regan, if you're serious, then this is serious. You have to go to the principal."

Sigh. "Mom, he's not gonna do anything! And besides, if she finds out I told on her, who knows how much worse this could get!"

"Regan, how much worse could it get now? Sweetheart, you have to promise me you'll go see Mr. Garver. Right now. Go."

"...Fine," Regan acquiesced, figuring her Mom must've known she cut class to call her. And this adamant advice made sense. As long as she was already not in class, and right now when no one would see her, it was kind of the ideal time. She did as Lorraine said.

Back at home, Lorraine had been cyber-networking. She was putting together a new, particularly...eventful event, at which she herself would not be in attendance, but which would serve a number of purposes. It would require participation from several fellow community leaders and members, and be quite the little enterprise...and now she had to get on it.

In the pause Regan had heard on the phone, Lorraine felt herself seethe inside at the obnoxity of this little snake Mikayla, this slime ball, this...no. No. This was beyond obnoxious. This crossed a new line. She'd gone too far now. Lorraine would not stand for it, and there was no way she was letting her get away with it. Regan may have been right about the principal not really taking action, but she hoped at least she'd gone to speak to him, as she'd told her. Maybe Al Garver couldn't do anything about it.

...But Lorraine Knowles could.

*****

Trousers And Funds...

Sunday, November 10th, 2013, 5:32 p.m.

Regan took advantage of her principal visit, making way to her next class just before it started so she wouldn't run into anyone in the halls. The talk with Mr. Garver turned out about as she'd expected, not extremely fruitful. But she did feel better having followed through. At least now he was aware. And maybe it wasn't just her word; maybe others had complained about Mikayla too.

The other peril to befall her on this particular Friday happened at lunch. Surprisingly enough, with all the things Mikayla'd done to this point, she'd never really stolen Regan's lunch money. But this didn't mean she was automatically off the bully hook. Today the two-time senior waited for the one-time junior to come from the lunch line with her tray, grabbed hold of her pants hem at the sides, yanked—not down but up—and wedgied her. But she wasn't done. To the entertainment of their fellow students, Mikayla then dragged her to the wall, where stood one of the garbage cans, swiftly and forcefully positioned Regan in front of it, and deposited her butt in. Some were more amused than others, but most of them got a kick out of it. Mikayla turned to them and took a bow.

At least she made it to her car Friday afternoon and got home without another scratch. She and Mom had a more or less usual Friday night leading into a three-day weekend, sharing a pizza for supper and more TV. What Regan was not privy to was the special project Lorraine worked on the rest of Friday night, and all of Saturday. It took a lot of well-placed phone calls and negotiating. But to Lorraine's pride and genius, she got it all thrown together and planned out for Sunday night. She was quite skilled at this kind of thing, but fortune was on her side as well. And then there was the entire reason—well, one big reason—to pull it off in the first place.

And so the event was on. At 6:00 p.m. Sunday, November 10th, a huge parent-teacher fundraiser was scheduled at the Juniper multipurpose and rec center, just a mile or two south of Minneapolis. As Lorraine explained to everyone on the phone, it was for the parents and teachers—no students—and though some found it odd Lorraine wouldn't be there herself, she assured them she'd be in spirit, keeping things going from the background, as it were. The fundraiser was also scheduled—by design—to go on for several hours. This worked out well as tomorrow was Veterans Day, so Juniper's public schools and most businesses would be closed. Lorraine had them cook up a raffle, and get some reps from Denmore College to attend, for possible scholarship opportunities. Naturally, every parent could hardly resist. Including the two Lorraine phoned on Friday and Saturday to specifically convince...

Mr. and Mrs. Andrew and Kim Wagner.

There was no need to lie to her daughter about going to the fundraiser; Lorraine merely told Regan she was on her own for the night. Lorraine, of course, had a different destination for herself. That destination was 654 Johnston Farm Drive. She arrived just a bit before 5:00, nestled the car in a semi-secluded spot across the street, set her sights on the house, and waited. She didn't know when they'd be leaving, so she figured she'd better give herself plenty of time. Half an hour later, her peeled eyes took in the sight they wanted. A semi-formally dolled Kim and Andrew Wagner exited. Lorraine watched them climb in the car, start up, drive off, and head towards Minneapolis. They left her line of sight. Lorraine took a deep breath. Okay, here goes...she'd better be there.

She vacated her own vehicle, hefted out the large, cumbersome bag from the trunk, and lugged it up to the front door. Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, she removed the first item.

Knock-knock-knock!

Sitting just inside staring at the tube, Mikayla heard the knock, threw a glance, and tossed down the remote. When she unlocked and opened the door, she found herself face-to-face with an older woman who almost looked a little familiar...but she couldn't say from where. She gazed intently at her. Her hands were behind her back. As for Lorraine, she needed mere confirmation of Mikayla's face. It was her all right. She recognized the piercings in her ears, right eyebrow and bottom lip. Lorraine asked out of formality.

"Mikayla Wagner?..."

There was something about the way the woman said her name Mikayla didn't like. She crossed her arms.

"...Who wants to know?"

Lorraine whipped her hands from behind her back, letting the girl note just for a moment what she held in the right one.

"Your worst nightmare does."

With that, she activated the stun gun, and connected in one fluid motion. Next thing Mikayla knew, everything went red and black.

*****

...And Hell (Oh My!)

Sunday, November 10th, 2013, 6:11 p.m.

While Lorraine did not love using a stun gun to incapacitate someone—not even an asshole who made it her mission in life to terrorize her daughter—she needed a quick, easy and relatively harmless method of knocking her out. She was neither crazy about letting herself into the Wagners' home uninvited, nor letting Mikayla's parents go to the fundraiser thinking everything was fine at home. However, their daughter needed to learn a harsh lesson. And tonight...Mrs. Lorraine Knowles was the teacher.

She dragged her heavy bag inside, shut the door, found the remote control, turned the TV off, and got to business. The stun would shut Mikayla down and put her to sleep for about half an hour. So Lorraine started by undressing her. Top, jeans, bra, panties. There were all her colorful tattoos, some of them in "naughty" spots. Now, thought Lorraine, looking around, she needed something to restrain her to. Preferably up in or near the ceiling, something high enough to...

Oh, look at that! How convenient! A nice steel ceiling hook...hanging...thingy! With a wind chime on it. Well, thank you, Kim and Andrew! You won't mind if I take that wind chime off there and replace it with your daughter for a while, of course!

Mikayla, Lorraine noted, was indeed a big girl—5'8", to be precise—as tall as she herself was. But the first-floor ceiling of her folks' house was an accommodating nine feet high. Though Lorraine couldn't measure it exactly, she figured this would work fine. She wanted something to which she could truss Mikayla, and be able to circumnavigate and "access" her on all sides. So first, she removed two bath towels and unfurled them flat under the hook for a protective square. Then she dragged the now totally naked girl beneath the spot in the ceiling this hook hanger called home, laid her down, and adjourned to her bag.

Now she needed the spool of twine and scissors. Taking Mikayla's hands over her head, Lorraine bound her wrists together, quietly took the wind chime, placed it on the sofa, brought the other end of the twine up to thread in the hook, snaked and snaked and snaked it through, and snipped it off at a length that would do for now.

Next to immobilize would be her feet. She'd fetched a pair of two-foot-long hollowed-out metal bars from her husband's workshop which she'd be putting to use as spreaders. She thought of Stephen, and knew he'd wholeheartedly approve of the "lesson" she was about to teach. Hell, he loved Regan just as much if not more than she did. If he wasn't away, he'd probably be here helping her.

She fed the twine through the bars, and tied Mikayla's ankles to either end. This brought her to the tougher part. She pulled on the twine through the ceiling hook, tugging and hoisting Mikayla up bit by bit. When she'd gotten her high enough, she collected Mikayla around the middle, took a deep breath, whispered, "UPsy-daisy..." and lifted her to her feet. Mikayla remained unconscious, but Lorraine knew it was just a matter of moments now. With the girl standing (more or less) upright, Lorraine straightened out the twine to give Mikayla's arms a nice no slack whatsoever, re-snipped it and tied it off.

"Whew!" Now just about all of her work work was done. The next she retrieved out of her bag was the long red strip of cloth she slipped over Mikayla's eyes and tied behind her head. Finally, she crouched between Mikayla's feet, and adjusted them so they stood flat and flush on the floor. Then, she stepped back to admire the result.

"Hee hee hee..." she lowly chuckled. "I may not have met you before this moment, Mikayla, but you've never looked better to me."

It went all but without saying that the cautious conscience-like voice inside her was going ballistic. What are you doing??! it screamed. This is insane!! Do you realize how dangerous this could be?! The intensity of fire we're playing with here?! If someone caught us right now, we'd be ruined! Forget being drummed out of the community; we'd be behind bars!

This did bother her, she had to admit. To put this part of her mind at ease, she dug out her cell and called the Wagners.

"...Kim! Hi! Lorraine Knowles!...Ye—thank you, good to hear yours too!...Oh, yeah, I'm really sorry I was unable to be there tonight. But since I'm not, I just wanted to check in with you and see how you're getting along?...Uh-huh?...Oh, wonderful! Did you get your raffle tickets yet?...Oh, absolutely! By all means! Yes, get those tickets, and of course mingle with as many folks as possible! I want you to have a good shot at those scholarships!" HA! Yeah, right. "Remember, the longer you stay, the more you can accomplish!...Oh, naturally!...Aw, you're welcome...yeah—okay, you go get 'em now!...Right!...Okay. Love to Andrew. Bye."

Click. Lorraine hung up and reapproached the still unconscious strung-up Mikayla.

"That was your Mom-my..." she told her patronizingly, as if the eighteen-year-old were three. "She says they're having a lovely time at the fundraiser I sent them off to so we could be alone tonight. Isn't that nice?"

Unsurprisingly, the still anesthetized Mikayla did not answer. But it was time for her to wake up. Back went Lorraine into her bag of tricks, and produced a spray bottle filled with soapy water.

"Wakey wakey, little snake-y..." Squirt-squirt-squirt-squirt.

Mikayla reflexively twitched as she came to. Feeling something lightly splash her face, she tried to wipe it away. But found herself unable to do so. A further evaluation of her situation revealed that she could neither move, nor see a thing. She panicked.

"...Wh—...what th—...hey, wh—...d—...FUCK!...What the...fuckin' fuck!!"

"That's some salty language, my dear," she heard.

"Wh—...what—who the fuck're you?! What'd you do to me?!"

"Those are excellent questions. And they're really two different questions. So, I'll answer them one at a time. First of all, as I am an adult, and you...are a five-year high school student...at least five years so far, that is..."

Struggling against the twine, Mikayla felt embarrassment drip over her.

"...You may address me as Mrs. Knowles."

Again, just as when she'd opened the door to see her face, that last name sounded only vaguely familiar. Lorraine saw that she needed an additional clue. She sauntered in on her.

"I believe you've met and had a number of interactions with my daughter, Regan...or as I believe you like to refer to her..."

She abruptly clutched Mikayla's chin, commanding her undivided attention.

"...'Dyke'? ...Or more colorfully, 'girl-fag dyke'?"

Mikayla's blood suddenly froze with fear, as if being locked in a giant block of ice. But she refused to give the woman the satisfaction.

"...Ehr?...Sho wha?"

Lorraine let go of her chin. "Well now, you see, that brings us to your second question: what did I do to you. First of all, I arranged the fundraiser for tonight, so that your parents would go, and you and I could spend this lovely evening together."

Mikayla went on struggling, not putting it together in her head just yet.

"Now, I realize you're not exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer, so I'll go on."

"What?! D—"

Lorraine placed a hand over her mouth. "Oh, you hush. Now, your parents'll be out for the remainder of the night, my foolish young friend. And while they are futilely attempting to vie for your academic 'future'...you have currently been enjoying three days free from school. But not anymore, Mikayla. You're in my classroom now. And I'm gonna teach you one helluva harsh lesson.

"...And I am a tough 'teacher.'"

Mikayla kept struggling. "...So, fuckin' what? This s'posed to scare me? I ain't scared of you, bitch."

"Hm!" Lorraine returned to her bag and dragged it over to where they stood.

"You're even less smart than I thought. No wonder you failed last year."

Mikayla tried still to act unintimidated, but it was getting hard. She didn't like this. How did this woman know this stuff about her?

"Now!" Mrs. Knowles clapped her hands. "Since you're naked, let's play dress-up. Not too much, of course; just a little accessory..."

I'm "What??!"

"But yes. You didn't realize? Here." Lorraine pinched her left nipple. "See?"

"OWWWW! Owwch! You bitch! That hurt!"

"Oh-ho-ho..." Lorraine chuckled. "If you thought that hurt, you've got a long night ahead of you, young lady."

"Lemme the fuck outta this, you old cunt! Fuckin' now!"

"No, no no...that won't do. If you're big enough to make someone else's life a living hell, you're big enough to pay for it."

Young Miss Mikayla Wagner was about to discover a side of Lorraine Knowles that her daughter didn't know existed. And that the members of her communities certainly weren't privy to. An unusual side. An exceptional side.

A dark... sinister... twisted... kinky side. Into the bag she went once more...

And out came the banded nipple clips.

"Now. Let's start with these beauties. They're a little painful too. But if you be good and hold still, they won't hurt as much."

She knew there was no way Mikayla'd be able to stand still through this, and she loved that she was right. She attached the first clip to the girl's right nipple. Mikayla freaked out. She yelled and cursed so loud, Lorraine cringed. She clamped her paw back over Mikayla's trap and forced on the other clip. Mikayla jumped and screamed again, trying to bite Lorraine's hand.

"OH, SIMMER DOWN," Lorraine shouted over her, giving her cheek a series of light baps. "It's only gonna get worse."

"Oh my fuckin' god!" snarled Mikayla. "You sick dyke! You're both dykes! You're insane, fuckin' bitch!"

"A'right," Lorraine went back into the bag. "Have it your way. I didn't wanna have to use this, but you asked for it."

She pulled out a ball gag and made it live up to its name.

"Hey! Hnnmmmmfff!"

"There!" said Lorraine. "You see? If you wanna behave like a pig, you're gonna get treated like one."

Mikayla tried as hard as she could to bite through the gag, but just as she knew it wouldn't be, Lorraine was not fazed in the least.

"Go ahead, kiddo. Do your worst. You'll chip a tooth before you break that sucker."

She waited out Mikayla's little dental tantrum on the ball gag, till the girl inevitably gave up and had to catch her breath.

"Now then! Let's get down to business." Mrs. Knowles marched in till Mikayla could feel her breath. Her voice lowered to a murmur.

"So. You like terrorizing folks' daughters, and kids smaller than you, hmm?"

Mikayla refused still to let the impudent woman know she was shaking inside, though she suspected she couldn't hide it much longer. She could already feel goosebumps creeping up her skin. Mrs. Knowles' voice rose.

"You like calling them faggots and dykes?"

The girl let her head droop, staring—were she allowed to stare—at the floor. She groaned and grumbled lowly through the gag.

"Well, I don't like that sort of behavior," Lorraine informed her, raising her chin to look her in the face. "Not one bit, in fact."

She watched the girl's face crease in apprehension, as she again gripped her under the chin with one hand...

"You wanna pick on someone?...Huh?..."

...And smacked the side of Mikayla's left breast with the other. The girl muffledly growled in pain.

"...Why don'tcha try me?"

Her right titty received a harder, more severe smack.

"AAOWWWRRR! FUHHHHHR!"

Lorraine next dealt a series of slaps across the face, back and forth. These didn't so much hurt, but served more to make her point.

"'Fuck' is right, you little rat. You see what happens when you bully someone smaller?..."

She picked the spray bottle back up, rotated the nozzle, and presented Mikayla several sudsy squirts to the face. Just to annoy her.

"Pluhhhhr! Hwahwih!" she exclaimed, yelling at Mrs. Knowles to stop it. Lorraine rotated the nozzle back to spray mode and spritzed down Mikayla's front, from her neck and torso, to her tits, belly, pussy and legs. She slipped behind her subsequently and gave her back side an equal treatment. She then returned to her front, put down the bottle, and readdressed her.

"...Someone bigger bullies you." She placed a hand on Mikayla's sternum and shoved her.

"Hmm? Huh? Huh??..." She fed the girl a taste of her own medicine. A smack to the head, a finger flick on the nose, a tug on her face piercings, a handful of her own spit in the face and hair, a (slightly pulled) punch to her belly. "Doesn't feel so great now, does it?"

She stopped. Mikayla hung her head. So this was how it felt. So she'd found her way to the business end. It did not feel good.

"So what'cha think, Mikayla? Think you're ready to take that ball gag out? Hm? Think you can behave yourself?"
Mikayla nodded. She wasn't ready to fully cooperate, but she really did want this thing out of her mouth.

"Very well..." Lorraine plucked it loose, letting it drop to her neck. Mikayla threw out a desperate breath.

"Fuckin' bitch..." Lorraine believed she heard after just a second. She picked the bottle back up, returning it to squirt mode.

"Uh, I'm sorry? What was that now?"

Mikayla began to open her mouth to fib that she said nothing. But Lorraine squirted her soap water into it.

"I didn—errrggh! PTUH! Ptuh!" she spat. "Ugh! What the fuck!"

"If you're gonna be a potty mouth, you're gonna get it washed out...you little piss worm. Now you see, I am an adult, and I respect the situations I can and cannot use profanity, and so I shall not have my mouth soaped out. So! Learning our lessons thus far?"

Mikayla expelled another mouthful of soap and H2O, but said nil. Lorraine paused, scoffed at her, then returned to her bag of supplies. This time she took out a box of stick-on fingernails, which she popped open and began affixing.

"Fine, fine. In that case, we'll get on with the next portion of our evening. This'll be a particularly fun one..."

Mikayla didn't think she liked the sound of that.

"But before we do that," mused Lorraine, biding time as she applied the nails. "I'd like you to tell me where your phone is."

The girl furrowed her brows under the blindfold. "Why?"

"Because, we, my young friend, are going to erase and delete that picture you so crudely and putridly took, of my daughter on the john Friday. I'm sure you remember that, yes?"

All ten nails now nicely and firmly attached to her digits, Lorraine waited for a response she didn't expect. It did not come. She waggled her artificially nailed fingers before Mikayla's clamped, plump 36 boobs.

"...Unless, of course, you've already uploaded it online, in which case I might just have to fucking kill you, you little piece of rat shit!"

"Aaaaaaaaahhhhh!..." Mikayla cried out in agony, feeling Mrs. Knowles dig the nails into her fragile titties.

"I didn't! I didn't!" she insisted. Lorraine gave it another second and released her, leaving ten little red marks in her breasts.

"If I find out you're lying to me, you are gonna be one sorry puppy, young lady. And I will find out. I am much smarter than you. I've checked out your social media, and I know my way around the web. If it's there, I'll find it."

"It's not! I fuckin' swear!"

"Good. Then I'll choose to believe you. Now then: phone."

"I'm not tellin' you where my phone is."

A chuckle. "You really are a dunce, aren't you. Fine then..."

She returned to Mikayla's backside... "...We'll do it the hard way. Just remember—"

...Lowered herself to a squat...

"You brought this on yourself." ...And grazed the girl's pussy with her nails, through her soft, tufty bush.

Gasp. "AAAAAHHHHHEY! NO!!" Mikayla shrieked, jumping and kicking as best she could. "Don't touch me, you sick dyke freak!"

The next sounds she was forced to make were a hissing of air through her teeth, and another croaking moan of sickening pain...as Lorraine all but stabbed her, grasping, and sinking the nails into her cunt. Mikayla felt tears coerced to her eyes.

"I don't wanna hear that word outta you," Mrs. Knowles hollered. "Ever again. In fact, I don't wanna hear a lot of words outta you.

"Not that it's your beeswax, but f.y.i., I do not happen to be gay; only persuasive. I'm married to a lovely man, my daughter's father. And furthermore, my daughter has dated a number of times, all of which have been with boys. But if either of us did happen to be gay, it's no one's concern but our own. Now we can do this one of two ways. You can have the gag back, and I'll torture your ass..."

Mikayla felt the release once more, and the pain slowly went away. Mrs. Knowles' voice settled back to cordial again.

"Or...you can speak to me respectfully, like the grown-up you think you are...and I'll be a little nicer. By which I mean tease and mess with you, but not hurt you. Those're your choices, little girl. Wanna act like an adult? Or be admonished like a brat?"

As much as she absolutely hated to...Mikayla had no choice. She relinquished her tough-girl attitude, and began to cry. Lorraine stood up, just behind her, leaning close to whisper in her ear.

"That's what I thought."

"Please just lemme go," blubbered Mikayla.

"Not a chance. You've still got a lot to learn."

"Oh, come on! I'm...look, I'm sorry, okay? Is 'at what you wanna hear me say? I'm sorry! I won't be a bully anymore!"

"Oh no no no...'fraid not. Nice try, Mikayla. But see, pipsqueak...you don't get it. Here's the thing..."

She heard Mrs. Knowles' voice lower as she crouched behind her again. Another moment later, once more, she felt the overwhelming tingly sensation...of those nails gently scraping her pussy.

"When you take it upon yourself to be a bully...some people're gonna go along with it, and be submissive to you, 'cause they're scared. Some people, both kids and adults, don't like confrontation. Some're downright terrified of it. And so if you're gonna be a bully, you'll be more successful in pushing around these folks."

Mikayla only half-listened to Mrs. Knowles' words. She started to slowly, quietly whimper, and shiver. This woman and her infernal nails down there, gliding along and tickling her pussy and taint...were starting to do something to her. Something she didn't like.

...Something she hated, in fact.

"But then on the other hand..." came the strict voice, like a chill up her spine, "There'll also be people who won't stand for it. You see, there're two types of people in this regard: submissives, and dominants. Submissives'll kowtow and give in, and let you bully them."

Mikayla saw where this was going. But she failed to anticipate Mrs. Knowles start to burrow one of her long-nailed digits further up...slowly, very slowly making its way inside her. She gave a yelp, but forced herself to stay quiet. She still didn't want to seem frightened—sailed though this proverbial ship may already have—and also didn't want any more pain.

"Dominants won't, Mikayla. They'll give it back to you, and this is where you run into an altercation. When two or more 'alphas,' as they're sometimes called, come together. A battle of sorts ensues. Unless, that is, one alpha is far more shrewd, more clever, more intelligent than the other. Say, one is a sharp, cunning grown woman...and the other is a naïve, dumb little 18-year-old girl, who tries to act tough and thinks she knows it all, but really doesn't suspect a thing about the actually tough world out there waiting for her."

Mikayla lowly groaned, quivering a bit more, rattling the bars between her feet. She didn't know what some of these words meant that Mrs. Knowles was tossing at her, but she did know that she was getting the basic idea...and feeling the point made on her pussy as well—no pun intended. She clenched her cunt and her butt, trying to hold back from becoming excited.

"And when the grown-up alpha—or 'bully,' if you will—outwits and overpowers the teenage one...she doesn't know what to do. She's not used to this type of reaction. She likes to feel strong, and in control. But if she's not...then she's in over her head. So to speak. If someone turns the tables on her, and harasses and torments her for a change...

"...Not entirely unlike the way I'm harassing and tormenting you right now."

Mikayla struggled hard again, like when Lorraine first woke her after tying her up. She gasped, tried to breathe and let out a grunt of desperation. But Mrs. Knowles didn't let up...and the stimulation proved effective. Mikayla couldn't deny it. She was turned on, against her will...by another woman, to her horror...and her budding wetness seeped through the pores of her cunt. It was petrifying.

"Now, on a somewhat separate, but not unrelated issue," Lorraine matter-of-factly continued. "We've got one particular class of bullies in the world we're gonna focus on, who're known as homophobes. D'you know what a homophobe is?"

Mikayla cringed and grimaced, feeling one of the rogue nails slip back, behind, and up a bit...and toy with her asshole. She yelled.

Lorraine laughed. "Oops!" she feigned. "Little slip there! Forgot, that's exit only, huh? Girls don't like that, do they?"

She cleared her throat. "Anyway, as I was saying. A homophobe, Mikayla, is a person who hates gay people simply for being gay. And enjoys calling them hurtful names, like 'fag' and 'dyke.' Even unaware if they're actually gay or not. Sound familiar, kiddo?"

She let a nail of each hand give each of Mikayla's pussy lips a strong, deliberate stroke. The girl gasped out loud.

"OH fuck!..."

"It's very wrong, dear Mikayla, to hate a person because of a trait they've no control over...such as being gay," Lorraine told her, repeating the tantalizing nail stroke.

Mikayla leaked a bit of helpless cunt moisture into Lorraine's hands. "Oh god-fuckin'-fuck..." she reiterated.

"Well now, and THIS is interesting..." Lorraine loudly remarked, extra audibly to get Mikayla to process every word—and to strengthen her point. "It would seem that I, a female, am touching you, another female, in just such a way as to cause sexual arousal. A hypothesis confirmed, incidentally, by the wetness generating from your vagina."

Mikayla felt herself humiliated quite literally at the hands of Mrs. Knowles. She wanted to speak, but Lorraine forced her to keep groaning with her sensual nail scratches. Her legs shook, rapidly losing blood sucked magnetically to her pussy. She was powerless, and they both knew it. Just as surely as they knew Lorraine wasn't about to have a shred of mercy on her. She pushed up on her toes. Lorraine slid her nails up the soles of her feet, making her burst out laughing. "You can run, but you can't hide," she chided.

"You know, Mikayla, there's a theory..." Scritch. "...That certain homophobes, deep down, are actually repressedly gay themselves."

A blast of forced pleasure surged through Mikayla, as Lorraine culled her labia open, and fondled her inside.

"Hm," chuckled Lorraine. "Silly little fool. Giving my daughter such a helluva time because you think she's gay, only to find it turned back around on you. Appears as though you're gay, young Mikayla. Does that not strike you as a bit..."

She poked Mikayla inside her cunt, making her scream.

"...Hypocritical?"

She shook her head, t'sking Mikayla as she slowly, methodically started to frig her.

"Shame on you, Mikayla. Such wretched, wretched shame."

Feeling sweat start dripping down her head and face, Mikayla was a bit too infused with unwanted lust to feel ashamed. Lorraine had her—again, quite literally—in the palm of her hand. And she wasn't going anywhere for a good while. Mikayla threw a new tantrum, lifting her feet the tiny bit she was able, stamping them in the floor and digging in her curling toes. She tried her best to wriggle and squirm free, but Lorraine held on—and in—tight, more forcefully pumping and thrusting her first two fingers, into Mikayla's now soaked cunt. Mikayla went on dropping desperate swear bombs left and right, being driven into oblivion.

"How 'bout it, young lady??" Lorraine hollered up at her. "Huh?? Gonna be a good girl and have an orgasm for Mrs. Knowles??"

Lorraine kept the jilling to a moderate pace, scratching her red hot on the inside, caressing and massaging her cuntal walls with her fingertips. She slid her other five nails down Mikayla's taint, back towards her asshole, keeping her on edge. But quite frankly, she'd shoved Mikayla far enough...that not even some rude, invasive assplay could dent the experience. Her head whipped back and forward, face trapped between ecstasy and agony. She couldn't describe the sensations overcoming her. She didn't know if she liked the taint tickling so much, but who cared, what with the insane pussy frigging mayhem rocking her world. And again, talking and acting tough, she'd have others believe she was already well-versed in the life of sex, at 18. But if the truth be told, she was a virgin.

Was.

Her eyes rolled back and crossed, as Mrs. Knowles jilled and thrust her on the fast track to climax. Mikayla roared like Katy Perry in her brand-new hit song. Finally, her breath caught in her throat, her limbs flexed, as each finger and toe knuckle turned white, and everything clenched. Lorraine felt her press in and contract on her fingers...and felt the release. Mikayla came. She threw out breath in puffs of relief, letting her eyes re-focus. So this was what being bullied felt like. An extreme example, of course, but Mikayla found herself having fallen all the way down, clinging to the business end. So now she had an idea how this lady's daughter must've felt.

"Well! There we are..."

Mrs. Knowles slowly extracted her fingers from Mikayla's pussy. Mikayla cringed and wept. The woman's digits now felt slimy, intrusive and very unwelcome. Mikayla couldn't help it; she felt violated. She cried.

"You...you raped me."

Lorraine shrugged. "Yes..." she agreed matter-of-factly. "A manual variation, if you will, but you got the basic gist."

Mikayla shook her wet head. "I don't fuckin' believe this...I hate you," she blubbered.

Mrs. Knowles nodded. "That's fine. My feelings aren't hurt. 'F it makes ya feel any better, I'm still not exactly crazy about you either."

Mikayla thought, You are so fucking dead, but thought better than to say it. Instead, she said—

"My parents ain't gonna be too happy to hear about this, lady."

Lorraine countered without a lost beat.

"Oh, I'd hardly think so. Of course, seeing as they're not gonna find out, that point's moot. Besides, I highly doubt they'd believe it."

Mikayla tried to process what the woman had just said.

"Wh—...what the...what the hell're you talkin' about, they're not gonna find out?! You really think I'm not gonna tell 'em?!"

Lorraine ambled up to her face, letting the girl feel her breath on it.

"Tell them what, Mikayla?..."

Something about the woman's tone haunted, taunted and daunted her. She paused. Lorraine went on.

"Hmm? Go on, tell them what, exactly? That one of the most beloved, respected, well-known pillars of the community came into your home, to strip you naked, tie you up and rape you...just to teach you a lesson? That she or anyone would risk the consequences? To say nothing of a person the entire town adores? A wife, a mother, a successful, upstanding citizen? Stack such credentials against those of a failed 18-year-old kid with a reputation for bullying, and, eh...just what do you think's gonna happen, Mikayla?... Huh?...

"You know, Friday, when you took that picture of Regan, she called and told me. Then she went to Mr. Garver, just as I told her to."

Mikayla's blinded eyes widened. She gulped.

"She was concerned to tell the principal, Mikayla. Besides feeling that you'd be even more of a bully to her, it was very simply her word against yours. Similarly, as to what's happened here tonight, it's your word against mine. You see where I'm going with this?..."

Silence fell over them like an abrupt shadow. Eventually, Mikayla spoke again.

"My parents love me, lady. And I l—...llllll—... I love them too. They'll believe me."

Lorraine returned to her bag.

"Well, that's very sweet. Though, I can't help but wonder how they'd react to these charming little messages and Tweets of yours."

She now retrieved a couple pages of paper she'd printed out, unfolded them and cleared her throat.

"April 3rd: 'my dads such a douche prick.. dipshit wont let me go clubbin w the girls.. go the fuck 2 hell pops'. Very nice.

"July 28th: 'fight w parents.. fuckin assholes.. cant stand em n cant wait 2 move out this shithole dump'. Lovely.

"September 4th: 'god is my mom a loser.. yells at me 4 doin the same shit she does.. gonna bitch slap her next time'. ...Hm."

She placed the printed pages down as Mikayla hung her head. Damn it, this woman really was good. She seemed able to rebuff and refute Mikayla at every turn. It made her so frustrated. Mrs. Knowles was right. Mikayla wasn't used to being controlled, pushed around and taken advantage of like this...and she hated it. She heard her own "bully" speak again.

"And more colorful doozies where those came from. Interesting way to show such alleged love for your parents, Mikayla."

Mikayla remained angry, but started to see that her anger wasn't getting her anywhere. Not in this situation...and maybe not so much out and about in real life either. The epiphany was gradually dawning on her that like all her fellow students...she herself was still just a kid. And that deep inside, she was insecure—and in fact terrified—that she wouldn't make anything of herself in life. That the kids she now picked on, like Mrs. Knowles' daughter, would grow up and surpass her in the successes and feasts of life. Maybe she actually was learning a lesson here. This still didn't make her like it any more. Mrs. Knowles spoke.

"...Nothing to say now, kiddo?...No tough remarks from the big talker?"

Mikayla replied with only further silence. Lorraine nodded, adjourning to her bag o' fun once more.

"Very well then, let's continue."

"We're not done?..."

"Oh, certainly not." Her next plaything was the Hitachi. Into a nearby socket it went, and Lorraine resumed post at Mikayla's side.

"What we're doing now, my friend, is discouraging you from sexual harassment. Such as taking a picture of someone while they're trying to use the bathroom. You wouldn't like that, would you? Of course not. Now. What I just did was take you through what in females is called a vaginal orgasm. Now I'm gonna show you how that is distinguished from what we refer to as a clitoral orgasm."

She licked her fingers. Mikayla did not like the sound of a single word in those sentences. But she didn't think she had much say in the matter either. She felt Lorraine reach down her front, below her waist, beneath her pelvis...and rub the top of her slit.

"Oh god, come on, quit molestin' me."

"Absolutely not. Why do you think I tied you up, silly? Now hush. I don't think either of us wants to have to put that gag back in your mouth. Just stand there and be...educated."

As Lorraine worked her up to rearousal, Mikayla whined and whimpered some more, again feeling herself get wet on Mrs. Knowles' fingers. The woman advised her that her clit was swelling, becoming erect, prepping them for phase two. When she felt Mikayla was ready, she parted the girl's cunt lips at the anterior, switched on the Hitachi to setting one, and placed it on her.

Gasp. "WHOOOOOAH!" Mikayla hollered, feeling her mind yanked in a drastically different direction. It was now much tougher to care or be upset what was being done to her. Electric hot goodness gripped and seized her in a binding hold. Lorraine made the executive decision to remain silent during this portion of their evening; there would be time to finish the verbal lesson later. The first minutes of clit play washed by. Mikayla's blood was re-rerouted, to her clit, filling it erect. Lorraine listened with satisfaction as the girl moaned and groaned, watching her body shake and lurch. After another moment, she upped the setting.
Mikayla choked a gasp, catching saliva in her throat. She threw her head back, overwhelmed by the sizzle. Her pussy again leaked, dripping and seeping down her thighs, though it now received no direct attention. She started seeing things under her blindfold she'd never seen before. Things she couldn't identify. Things only accented by the incredible sensations her pussy and clit relished. Mikayla's brain may not have known how to feel, but her cunt was in teenage erotic heaven.

Lorraine took hold of the band connecting the clips on Mikayla's nipples, and tugged. Repeatedly.

"AAAAhhhhh..." Mikayla grimaced, her erogenous zones flushing pinkish-red. The woman clearly knew what she was doing, as while it ached, the pulling on her pinched nipples somehow enhanced her pleasure. Soon, up went the magic wand another setting. Mikayla began to lose it, going nuts while stuck in place. With every new surge of passion, she couldn't believe the intensity. Lorraine gingerly shook and massaged the Hitachi up and down, coaxing her engorged, hardened clit from under its hood.

"FUCK!..." croaked Mikayla, sweat raining off her flushed flesh. She couldn't describe how goddamned amazing it felt. She wished she was able to achieve these hidden plateaus on her own. Minute after minute crawled on, drawing her further along the way. Mikayla's poor dizzy head flung back and forth, to and fro just as before, but yet more adamantly. She wrenched on her bonds out of reflex, but with no clue what she'd do if she actually broke free.

The experience remained unfathomable, only in exponential increase. Mikayla could swear she'd been swallowed by fire. She began unleashing steady, powerful shrieks, one after another after another, unable to do anything else. She lost feel of everything: the twine on her joints, the cloth on her eyes, the clips on her heaving girls, the bath towels on her soles. Nothing existed anymore. Not her surroundings, her company, the outside world; nothing. Just her...and this truly magic wand.

She was about to erupt, like the upside-down volcano she essentially was. She did not, however, realize the physical form which this orgasm would take. Having put down the towels, Lorraine hoped to get this result, and it looked like she would, reading the reactions and signs Mikayla was giving her. The girl couldn't take another minute. She wouldn't be able to hold back for fifteen more seconds, let alone sixty. She veritably departed the Earth and its atmosphere. Lorraine could count her down in her head. It radiated through every inch of Mikayla's body, making her rumble and quake in wild anticipation. Finally...at last...at long last...

Boom. Fireworks blew everywhere in the girl's eyes. The last, fiercest flames ran rampant, stoked on by vicious orgasmic lightning. Mikayla was awestruck, dumbstruck, thunderstruck. She shrieked, she bellowed, she howled, she bawled. As Lorraine watched, she indeed got her desired product. Mikayla's pussy floodgates shattered. Gravity took over, and she gushed loose. She sprayed and squirted all the excess her cunt could hold. Her screams raged on until her lungs went hoarse. Her voice suddenly cut off.

Once satisfied—both herself, and that Mikayla was as well—Lorraine released her from the Hitachi's spellbinding hold. Mikayla promptly relinquished what stamina she had left, and let her frame go limp and slump in place. Letting her rest, Lorraine removed the nipple clips, unplugged the Hitachi, wandered the house a bit till she located one of the Wagners' bathrooms, and cleaned it off. This taken care of, she returned to the living room, slipped the Hitachi back into her bag and swapped it out for one more item.

Mikayla, reduced to a perspiring, sopping mess, stood half-asleep by only her wrists. But Lorraine wasn't done with her yet. She picked up the spray bottle and misted her awake a second time. It took a few moments, but Mikayla got her bearings back.

"A'right, young lady," Lorraine addressed her. "We're gonna play one more little...torture game together."

"OH!...Oh, for fuck's sake!" Mikayla laryngitically rasped. "Haven't you done enough to me already??"

"Almost," said Lorraine, twirling the long stiff gray feather she'd brought for last. "We're just gonna review our lessons."

Sigh. "Lady, I'm sorry. I mean it. I'm really really sorry. I hate myself, but I'm not gonna act like that anymore. Okay?"

Lorraine nodded. "I appreciate that, Mikayla. And I don't disbelieve you. I just feel it's important you understand the severity of your actions. And how vital it is that you do stop behaving this way, and that you do commit."

With that, she slipped the feather beneath Mikayla's still red, swollen pussy, and sawed the blade between her labia in one slow glide.

Mikayla jumped. "Yaaaaahh!"

She tried to recover, but Lorraine immediately repeated the action.

"EEEEEERRRGH!"

Lorraine arched an eyebrow. "Tickle?"

Mikayla winced, inhaled, and shook her head.

"Hm." Another saw of the feather. Fffffffflick. "Feel good?"

"OWWWCH!"

Mikayla vehemently shook her head again. It did not feel good. At all. It hurt! It stung, ached and even sort of...pinched. Mikayla's young, fragile, virgin pussy had been thoroughly put through the wringer. After two orgasms—the latter a huge, cunt-wrecking gusher—it was spent, drained, and very tender. It was in no shape for any more activity this evening. It now needed rest, and if deprived that rest, would become grumpy and cause its owner pain. But Lorraine still had a bit more of a score to settle with her.

"Well, that's too bad. Lucky for you, I'm a nice lady, and I do feel you've learned a few things tonight. So I won't do this for too long."

"OW! Ooh! Ouch!"

"Now...where's your phone?"

Mikayla exhaled. "...If I tell you, will you quit it and lemme outta here?"

Ffffffffffflick. "Aaaaaah! Fuck!"

"Tell me. Where is it?"

"Fine...it's in my purse. In my room. Upstairs."

"Well, I don't imagine I'll have too much trouble finding it. If you'll excuse me..."

Mikayla listened as Lorraine ascended the steps. As the sound of her footsteps faded, Mikayla resumed quietly sobbing. She felt terrible. Not just because of what this girl's Mom had done to her, but because she'd also summoned Mikayla's conscience. She was a bully. She'd picked on and mistreated this poor girl Regan for so long, out of petty, immature jealousy. And insecurity. It was to feel better about herself. To feel like she was truly good at something. And it was out of anger at being scholastically inferior.

...She's right. ...I'm a bad person. ...I'm a creep.

Eventually, Lorraine found the room, the purse, the phone, and returned downstairs with it.

"Here we are. Now, let's find your pictures...ah, right there...mm. Yep. There she is. Nice angle, Mikayla. Quite the photographer."

Mikayla abashedly dropped her head.

"Options...and...delete. Sure? Damn straight. I'd think twice before trying that again, kiddo."

She put down the phone, and picked the damp-bladed feather back up. Mikayla attempted to speak, but wasn't granted the chance.

"It's not online, right?"

"Right."

Ffffffffflick. "You sure about that?"

"Oooch! Yes! Yes."

Fffffflick. "Still hurt?"

"MMMM! Yeah."

"Hm. Want it on your armpits? Backs of your knees, bottoms of your feet? People're actually a little more ticklish after orgasm."

Mikayla nodded. She'd take forced laughter over forced agony any day. Lorraine chuckled.

"Heh! Maybe next time." Fffffffflick. "How 'bout under the nose? Tell me what your vagina smells like."

She wiggled and twirled the feather in her nostrils. Mikayla didn't like that. She wordlessly twitched and whipped her head away.

"Fine, fine." Lorraine took a deep breath, and let out a long, satisfied sigh.

"Just remember a few things, Mikayla," she told her, letting the artificial nails glide across her belly.

"First of all..." Lorraine slowly encircled her. "...You mess with the daughter...you mess with the Mom.

"And you mess with the Mom...you lose."

Mikayla felt Mrs. Knowles give her a poke in the spine.

"...And..." And spank her tush. "...You pay. Not a great idea to challenge or test ol' Mom."

She grazed Mikayla's underarm, torso, side and ribs, making her titter. She completed the 360° and again regarded her face to face.

"Think about that. Smart, clever, shrewd grown woman, versus simple, dimwitted flunky teenager?...No, contest."

Yeah, you don't have to keep reminding me I flunked, lady.

"See what happened? I win, you lose. Say it."

"Huh?"

"I win, you lose." Ffffflick. "Say it."

"Ooooh!...Okay. You win, I lose."

"Very good. Say bullies are losers."

"Bullies're losers."

"Say no means no."

"No means no."

"'Atta girl. Remember that. Mom wins every time. She'll getcha every single damn time. Moms always win, you see, against silly..."

Fffffffffffflick. "...Insecure...foolish..."

Fffffflick. "...Scared...susceptible...

"...Little naked girls."

As her pussy recovered, the feather blade didn't sting as much anymore, but remained unpleasant. Fortunately for her, Lorraine was done. She dropped it with the rest of her belongings in the bag, slipped her nails under the blindfold, and allowed Mikayla to see for the first time since her visit. She bored into the girl's eyes with her own. Mikayla gazed back, her eyes frightened, shamed, and teary.

"Got it?"

A nod. "Yeah...yes ma'am. Yes, Mrs...uh...I-I forgot your name."

"Knowles. Mrs. Knowles. Like Beyoncé. No relation."

"Yeah. Uh-huh. Got it."

"Wonderful! So then. This...is what's going to happen." She reached up to begin untying Mikayla's hands from the ceiling hook.

"First of all, obviously, as we established, no one is to hear of this. At any point. You got that?"

Mikayla nodded adamantly. "Yeah."

"Well, make sure you mean it. I don't want you thinking when I leave you can just run and squeal. If you try it, you'll be very sorry. That is a promise. Now. Aside from that, when you go back to school Tuesday, you're gonna apologize to my daughter. And all this harassment stops. For good. Any questions? Didn't think so. Gonna be a good girl now, and do as I say, once I'm done untying you?"

More nodding. "Uh-huh. Definitely. Please untie me. I really gotta go to the bathroom."

"Very well. Y—oh. Just one more little thing."

Lorraine took Mikayla's chin in her hand. Her expression and tone abruptly turned very hostile.

"If I ever...EVER...hear that you've been treating my daughter, or anyone else, like such dirt or slime again...next time, I won't be so nice. You mark my words, young lady. I can make life quite difficult for you. I would think you'd know something about that, hmm?"

Mikayla suddenly had to keep from peeing herself. She nodded, on the verge of another dread-induced cry.

"Good." Lorraine let go. "Go to the bathroom."

Mikayla gathered her discarded clothes and staggered up the stairs to the second-floor john. Mrs. Knowles called up to her.

"When you come back out, I'll be gone. Just remember our agreement. You know what'll happen if you don't. I'll see you around."

Back went the twine, the bars, the towels...and the lesson was concluded. And onto the hook hanger went the innocent wind chime.

Slam.

*****

Afternoon Aftermath

Tuesday, November 12th, 2013, 3:11 p.m.

Autumn was two months into reverse-bloom. Also in swing was the new year at Juniper High. Proud Mom and community leader Lorraine Knowles multitasked at home, watching TV and networking online. She heard the key click and unlock the door. Inside came Regan. She was free of stains, cuts and bruises, and seemed in much better spirits today than she had last week.

"Mom!" Slam! "Mom, you're not gonna believe this," she announced. "The weirdest thing happened today."

"Oh? What's that?"

"Mikayla apologized to me!" exclaimed Regan. "She said she's really really sorry, and she's never gonna bully me again!"

"You're kidding!"

"No, I swear!"

"Wow. Well, that's fantastic! Good for you, sweetie!"

"Mom, what happened? Mr. Garver couldn't have just...made her like that!"

Lorraine shrugged. "...The world's an elusive, enigmatic place, Regan. There's a lot we'll never understand. Sometimes people change, almost inexplicably so...under the most improbable circumstances. Whether less than mature teenagers, or the elderly. Epiphany? Conscience? Change of heart due to any number of things?...Who can say, really?"

Regan took off her backpack, tossed it on the couch and plopped down herself.

"Well, I still can't believe it!"

Hmmm... Lorraine returned to her networking, a subtle smile playing up her lips. Funny; somehow, I can.

...I wonder why?