Note 1: All characters are at least 18 years old.
Note 2: Although I recommend you read parts 1 and 2 first, here is a summary of this series so far...
Part 1-Megan, a dominant but caring lesbian, seduced her cute and innocent babysitter Jenny.
Part 2-Megan takes her new submissive lesbian shopping, makes a fantasy come true with a cheerleader that Jenny had dreamed about forever and took her to a special lesbian only bar.
Bedding the Babysitter: A Cheerleader’s Recruit
What a weekend. Jenny had become a perfect little submissive. Seeing her glow as she came to grips with who she really is was very rewarding. Anyhow, many people have asked dying to know what happened after this first glorious weekend. Well the best way to tell you about it is to let my young babysitter slave tell you about it herself. So if you want to know about Jenny’s journey to popularity, her submission at hands of the head cheerleader Karen, her seduction of a teacher and falling in love please read on.
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Hi,
My name is Jenny. Mistress Megan has demanded I retell my past week’s occurrences. Of course, I will obey. If you have read the first two parts of my Mistress’ Bedding the Babysitter series (which I highly recommend reading if you have not) you already know how I came to be a submissive slave. If not, let’s just say before that eventful and life- altering weekend, I was a closet lesbian who had no real experience to know for sure if I was an actual lesbian.
But within just one weekend with my beautiful Mistress, I had a new job, had my fantasy of being with Karen, the head cheerleader, come true, and had been to a lesbian club. There I had begun to really experiment with my sexuality and my obedience.
The following story is the first week of the rest of my life, in which I have another adventure with my mistress, I attempt to seduce a teacher, I become an obedient cheerleader’s servant and, oddly enough, become a cheerleader myself...oh, and I fall in love.
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SUNDAY FEBRUARY 2ND: A Reflection and Babysitting Again
It actually began on Sunday afternoon, the day after my brief submission to Karen at her workplace. I was exhausted from my long night at the La Chateau Club, a special club that caters to lesbian women, and an evening pleasing the governor of our state. I won’t get into the details, as mistress has instructed me to focus on my cheerleader submission. Let’s just say that our governor is one very demanding and kinky lady.
I got a call around 2:30 from Karen Pepper and here, as best as I can recall is the conversation:
“Hello is Jenny there?” a girl’s voiced asked.
“Speaking,” I responded, unaware it was Karen.
“This is Karen,” she informed me.
“Oh,” I said, slightly surprised and instantly out of my comfort zone. It was one thing to submit to her in front of Mistress Megan, as I was only obeying my mistress, and felt safe when she was with me, but it was completely another to actually speak for myself. Instantly, I became the shy closet lesbian I had always been, the wallflower no one knew or noticed, insecure and unsure of myself. Now don’t get me wrong; I had friends, but they were all just shy geeks like I was. We lived in our pond, they lived in theirs. In reality, they were royalty, we were the peasants.
“Is that any way to react to someone who is going to make you popular?” Karen asked, slightly annoyed.
“Popular,” I repeated in a haze.
“Yes,” She said, “I put a lot of thought into this all last night as I reflected on how great it was to have you between my legs. I came up with a great plan.”
“You did?” I asked, unable to put a full complete and intelligent sentence together.
“Yes, I have decided you will be a PomPom.”
This shocked me. The PomPoms were always freshman or second year cheerleader wannabes who were pretty much servants for the actual cheerleaders. They carried their trays for them at lunch, did their homework for them, and so forth. No senior had ever been a PomPom. It would be humiliating. A long pause followed as I reflected on this revelation.
The silence was broken by Karen who said, “You don’t want to be a PomPom?”
I collected myself before responding with a stutter, “I-I-I thought only f-f-freshmen were PomPoms?”
Karen responded, “Well, that is usually the case, and the odd second-year. But as Head Cheerleader, I really can do whatever I want and,” she paused her tone changing ever so slightly, “I want you to be a PomPom.”
“But what will others think?” I asked, worried for the first time in my life about my reputation.”
“Well the other PomPoms will be furious and will do whatever they have to do to crush you. My fellow cheerleaders will be slightly confused, but they won’t question me and the rest of the school will finally know who you are,” she said logically, before adding, “Although I imagine the gossip about you will range from mean to inquiry to sarcastic to who knows what.”
Again, I had nothing to say. I was unsure what Karen had in store for me. “I don’t want the whole school to know I am a...” I started.
“Lesbian?” she asked and then continued, “Dyke?”
“Yes,” I whispered, ashamed.
“Well that secret can remain a secret for the most part. I won’t announce it to the school if that is what you mean. But I will expect you to be a good little girl when asked.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, just beginning to understand the full reality of yesterday’s submission.
“Well, I plan to use you over and over and over and over again, and my two co-captains will also be allowed to use your services, understood?”
My face went white with fear as I realized what her plans were; although my pussy also went wet with excitement at the same time. Now, while Karen was a redhead, with green eyes, large breasts and rather compact at 5’2, Ashley Swanson and Sabrina McCafferty were her perfect counterparts.
Sabrina, strangely quite chunky, for a cheerleader, I thought, with breasts way too big for any girl; she was about 5’4 and had an odd air of confidence in herself for a girl who was not particularly attractive. On the other hand, Ashley Swanson was almost 6 feet tall, a brunette, with long, long legs, brown eyes and very small breasts. She was pretty, but in a conservative way, if that makes any sense.
I attempted to respond, but nothing came out of my mouth. Karen, clearly getting tired of waiting, said, “Jenny, I know you want this, so don’t pretend you don’t. I have one question to ask you; if you say yes, then I expect you to do as you’re told. If you say no, then I understand and will not bother you ever again, nor tell anyone about yesterday’s fun excursion. Ready for the question?”
Anxiety filled me as I realized I did not want to displease her. I responded nervously, “Yes, I am.”
“Good girl,” she said like a mother would say to her little daughter when she did as she was told. She paused, leaving me hanging over what seemed like an eternity, “Do you ever want to taste my pussy again?”
My spine had a chill go down it and my pussy got a little wetter just by the question. My answer was obvious; of course I wanted to please her again. She was my fantasy girl. Yet, at what cost? If I said yes, everything in my life changed; the whole school would know who I was and keeping my secret a secret would be a lot harder. That said, if I said no, I would never be allowed to please Karen again and I would remain the unpopular nobody I currently was. As my hand began to rub my clit, I answered, “Yes.”
“Yes, what?” Karen asked leadingly.
Knowing that what she wanted was my ultimate submission, I said, “Yes, I want to eat your pussy again.”
“You will obey?”
“Yes, Mistress Karen, I will obey,” I responded like a good little slave. I then pleaded “But please don’t humiliate me in public.”
“Mistress Karen, I like that. If you are a good lesbian pussy slave, I will make sure you are protected, my precious,” Karen reassured.
“Thank you, Mistress Karen,” I said sincerely.
“I will pick you up at 8 o’clock tomorrow morning. I have your PomPom outfit ready for you,” she instructed.
“Understood, Mistress Karen,” I obediently answered.
“You are getting my pussy wet,” Karen said surprisingly. She then continued, “Be sure to wear those sexy stockings you were wearing on Saturday.”
“Yes, Mistress Karen,” I said, but asked, “Won’t they be visible with the PomPom outfit?”
“Yes they will,” Karen said causally.
“Oh,” I said slightly worried.
“Do you have a problem with that?” Karen asked.
“No, Mistress Karen,” I responded, “It’s just, I don’t want all the school to think I am a tramp.”
Karen let out a soft laugh, getting more excited as she talked, “I will have the other PomPom girls and cheerleaders wearing the same thing. That way you won’t stand out. Plus, I found them to be a turn on. The entire cheerleader’s squad will be wearing them as well; we are going to start a new fashion revolution. Out with the old knee high socks and in with the thigh highs. You should feel special my pet, you are going to start a fashion craze.”
“I am?” I asked, confused.
“Yes,” she answered, “When others see the cheerleaders and me, the queen of the school, wearing thigh highs, others will copy us. You watch.”
“OK,” I said, believing her, “I will be ready and dressed as you requested, Mistress Karen.”
“Fuck, I love being called that,” Karen said, giving a soft moan.
I asked, “Mistress Karen, are you masturbating because of me?”
“Yes,” she moaned, “Tell me a story my little lez, get me off.”
I considered briefly before saying, “So you are at school, Mistress Karen, and your pussy is all fired up. You text me while I am in class, demanding I go to the bathroom. I ask to be excused from my class and quickly head towards the bathroom. I knock on the door and you say ‘get in here, slut’. I walk in and close the door, being sure to lock it. You then demand, ‘Eat my pussy, my lez whore’ and I get on my knees and dive into your pussy. You call me all sorts of dirty names as I get you off like a good slave should.”
“Aaaaaaaaaah,” Karen screamed into the phone as she had an orgasm from my dirty talk. Inside I felt a great joy and a spreading of warmth in my pussy as I knew I had pleased my mistress.
“Did I make you cum, Mistress Karen?” I asked, knowing the answer.
“Yes,” she breathed into the phone, still breathing heavily.
“Thank you, Mistress Karen, for allowing me to help you cum. It is an honour to be responsible for your pleasure,” I said honestly, my hand now rubbing my own clit softly. “Mistress Karen,” I said in a questioning tone.
“Yes, my slave,” she asked, almost recovered from her orgasm.
“Do I have your permission to cum?” I requested.
“Yes my little tramp, cum for your mistress, do it now,” she demanded.
I quickly rubbed my clit, faster and faster as I fantasized about all the things she would make me do. It took less than a minute and I moaned, “I’m cumming,” and let out an orgasmic moan.
Karen asked, “Did you cum my dyke?”
“Yes Mistress Karen, thank you for letting your lezzie cunt have an orgasm,” I responded blissfully.
“That wasn’t much of a scream, a good lesbian would scream so the whole world knew she was having an orgasm.”
“Sorry, Mistress Karen, but my mother is downstairs and I would hate for them to hear me in such a compromising position. She thinks I am her innocent, sweet, pure daughter and not a lesbian cunt slave,” I explained.
“Fair enough,” Karen said, “But when you cum for me when we are together, I expect the walls to shake.”
“Of course, Mistress Karen,” I agreed, “I will do whatever you ask of me.”
“You are such a good little lez. What about Megan?” she asked.
“Yes?” I asked.
“Is she your mistress as well?” she asked,
“Yes Mistress Karen, Mistress Megan is my Head Mistress and I believe if I understand her completely, your mistress as well,” I explained.
“Oh,” she said thoughtfully, “Do you think Megan would take me as a slave?”
“Oh yes,” I said, thinking I was right.
“Well, when do you plan to see Mistress Megan?”
“She texted me this morning, asking me to come over at five to babysit. I don’t know if she means babysit or something else,” I said, unsure of Mistress Megan’s purpose and Mistress Karen’s questioning.
“I see,” Karen said, “Please tell Mistress Megan that I would love to see her again.”
“Yes Mistress Karen,” I said, “I am sure she will be glad to hear it.”
“What is your cell number?” she asked. I gave her mine and she gave me her digits back. I put them in my cell phone instantly under my favourite five.
“I will see you at eight tomorrow morning my slut,” Karen confirmed once again.
“Yes Mistress Karen, I will be ready,” I responded.
“Goodbye Jenny,” she said using my name for the first time in a long while.
“Goodbye Mistress Karen,” I responded, and she hung up the phone. I did the same and reflected about our conversation. Karen was submissive to Megan and dominant to me which I thought was strange. I went to my desk and actually did some Calculus homework for a while and then began to write my Pride and Prejudice essay that was due in a couple of weeks.
At ten to five I put on white thigh high stockings, a red sweatshirt, and a long skirt, as mother was home and would think it odd for me to leave in my school outfit. I arrived at Megan’s and saw her dressed casually in jeans, a blouse, open toe heels that showed she had tan stockings on underneath. She gave me a hug and said, “You didn’t know if this was actual babysitting did you?”
“No,” I said slightly disappointed.
“Sorry to disappoint. I am going out for supper with a couple of friends of mine and then to a movie. I should be home around 9:30 or so.”
“OK,” I said, trying to be my usual bubbly self, although inside I was greatly devastated. Trying to get her interest back I said, “Karen called me, she was hoping to be able to see you again.”
“Oh,” Megan said, “Well that could be arranged. Do you have her number?”
“Yes, Mistress Megan,” I said as I grabbed my cell phone. I handed her my cell phone and she hit dial.
“Hi Karen,” Megan said, “It is Megan.” There is a pause before she continued, “So Jenny here says you are interested in seeing me again.” After a brief pause she said, “Good, well I am free on Tuesday evening; understand if you come over, you are mine for the night.” After a brief pause Megan gave me a wink, as she said, “And I expect you to treat my little Jenny well. Learn to be a good mistress to her. In return she will be a perfect slave.” Megan laughed from something Karen said as she then added, “Yes, she is very obedient. I will see you on Tuesday at seven PM, do not be late.”
Megan handed me back the phone and said, “Are you free on Tuesday?”
“Oh yes Mistress Megan,” I said a little too eagerly.
“Great, I am going to train Karen how to be a good mistress to you,” Megan said as an explanation.
“Thank you,” Mistress Megan I responded gratefully.
Megan came up to me and kissed me on the lips gently. She then broke the kiss and said, “I will always look after you, my sweet.” She began to leave and then said, “Max is in the basement watching Toy Story 3, for the 100th time in a row. Be sure to put him to bed at eight o’clock. After he is asleep, there is a reward in the envelope on the kitchen table.”
I looked over to a vanilla coloured envelope on the table. She smiled and said sternly, “Do not open it until Max is asleep.”
Max ran up the steps at that moment and so I changed my response to “Yes, Miss Cameron.”
Max gave his mother a big hug and then ran to me and said, “Jen play hide and seek with me.”
I bent down and said, “Of course, Max.”
Max said, “I get to hide first.”
I smiled and started counting, “1-2...” Max immediately ran away to hide.
Megan smiled and said, “Jenny, you really are the perfect all around babysitter.”
“I aim to please,” I said, awkwardly seductive.
“That you do my precious,” Megan said as she headed out her front door.
I spent the next couple of hours playing with Max, who is a funny, funny boy. We watched Toy Story again, played games, had a snack, cleaned up his snack mess and I read him three books. He eventually fell asleep, way later than he was supposed to, while I eagerly anticipated what was in the envelope. As soon as I knew he was asleep, I went to the envelope and opened it quickly.
It was a letter. It said, “Dear Jenny. Go to my computer and log in. When you do, go to my files, go to the bin called ‘my stories’ and click on Bedding the Babysitter. Read it.”
I followed Mistress Megan’s instructions and, after a few minutes, I was face to face with my story. I went ruby red, I imagine, as I realized she had documented my submission. I read the story, learning exactly how I was seduced. I was in awe. I then relived my first time and began to rub myself. I took my time, just teasing myself. As I read about Saturday, a flood of memories washed over me. Each detail made me smile, made me cringe, made me want to relive it again and again. I finished the story and was surprised to learn that Mistress Megan had lined up to please Rosie.
I was still rubbing myself when Megan walked into her room. I was so immersed in her story that I did not hear her come home. She said, “I see you are enjoying your story.”
“Very much so,” I said.
“Guess what?” she asked as she pulled me up from the chair.
I looked into her eyes and asked, “What Mistress?”
“That story you read,” she began teasingly.
“Yes, Mistress Megan,” I queried.
She kissed me and then began, “I plan...”
Another kiss as she teased, “To.” Her mouth moved to my right ear as she whispered, “submit this story,” she continued as she moved to my other ear and finished the sentence, her hot breath on my ear, “to Literotica.”
Her lips went to my neck as I said, “Oh my.”
“Think very soon” she whispered, her hand sliding to my pussy, “the whole world will know your story.” I moaned as she rubbed my clit. “Pervs, dykes, young eighteen year old girls like you.”
“Whatever you wish, Mistress Megan,” I breathed heavily.
“Good,” she said, “As I plan to send it to my online friend Jasmine who will take the story and make it all erotic and so forth. Have you read any of her stories on literotica? She goes under the name silkstockinglover.”
I recognized the name as I continued to moan, “The name sounds familiar.”
Megan then abruptly quit touching my pussy and moved to the bed. “You can read all her stories tonight when you get home. She is one crazy bitch.”
I stood there unsure what to do. I finally asked, “Can I please cum, Mistress Megan?”
“No,” was all she said.
I waited for her to say more but she just stared at me with an unreadable expression on her face. It then turned into a slight smirk. This frustrated me greatly until I finally asked, “Why, Mistress Megan?”
“All good things come to those who wait,” she said philosophically. Seeing my confused, frustrated and annoyed expression she added, “You are not allowed to cum until Tuesday. If Karen tries to force you, you tell her you are forbidden.” She paused and then said, “Actually, give me your phone again.”
I handed it to her.
She hit the speed-dial and after a few seconds she said, “Hi Karen, it is Mistress Megan.” After a couple of seconds she continued, “Neither you nor Jenny are allowed to have an orgasm until I see you two together Tuesday evening, is that understood?” A second later she said, “Goodbye slut,” and handed me back the phone. She then finished, “Don’t worry my sweet, I won’t touch myself until then too.” She walked over kissed me sweetly one last time and said, “You better get going home. You have school tomorrow.”
“Yes, Mistress Megan,” I said, and feeling and depressed, left and returned home.
I did not look up the stories Mistress mentioned for fear of them getting me horny. Instead I did my homework, struggling to start that stupid English essay. I didn’t get too far before deciding to just go to bed. It took forever as I often masturbate myself to sleep and I kept wondering what Karen had in store for me tomorrow. I considered so many options, I fantasized about so many more. Yet what happened the next few days was so much sexier, so much dirtier and so much crazier than I could even begin to imagine.
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MONDAY FEBRUARY 3RD: Being Noticed
The day started early as I spent way more time than I usually do getting ready. I wanted to look presentable for Karen. I had on beige thigh highs and with my skirt anyone could see what I was wearing. I was surprised, the first of many the next week, when Karen appeared in my doorway a few minutes before eight. She was wearing her usual cheerleading outfit, the only girls who were allowed to not wear the school uniform, and dark beige thigh highs, the lace tops in clear view, were the cheerleaders. The red and white school colours were brought more to life with the dark beige stockings. She said, without any sort of greeting, “Take off the skirt, I have your new outfit.” She handed me a bag.
I opened the bag and saw the cheerleader’s red skirt and the usual tight white t-shirt, with red arms, that had the word ‘Trainee’ on the back. I went to go to the bathroom to change when Karen demanded, “No put it on here.”
“OK,” I said and quickly switched skirts. I then took off my blouse and put on the new t-shirt, which was very tight and showcased every curve of my breasts and hips. I looked in the mirror and my mouth dropped open. “I can’t wear this to school,” I explained.
Karen said dismissively, “You look good, hot actually.” She then said, “But let’s make this even hotter and put your hair in pigtails.”
“Pigtails?” I asked.
“Yep,” she said, and in a flash my hair was in pigtails. As she finished my make-over she breathed into my ear, “You are going to be one hot little lez trainee, aren’t you?”
A light moan escaped my lips as I responded quietly, “Yes Mistress Karen.”
Karen then grabbed my hand and led me down the stairs, where my mom saw my new appearance. She gave a long puzzled look before she asked, “What are you wearing?”
Mistress Karen turned on the charm and explained, “Hi Mrs. Wyatt, I am Karen; Jenny has decided to try out for the cheerleading squad.
“She has?” my mother questioned with a completely mystified look on her face. “My daughter wants to be a cheerleader?”
“Yes Mom,” I said, “Is that ok?”
My Mom quickly recovered from this extreme change in her daughter as she said, “Oh no. no honey, it is fine. It is just a bit of a surprise.”
Karen slyly added, “Oh Jenny is full of surprises, aren’t you, Jenny?”
My face went red as I feared that Karen would reveal my new submissive lifestyle to my prudish mother. Luckily, Karen said, “Nice meeting you, Mrs. Wyatt, but if we don’t leave now we will be late for school.”
Karen grabbed my hand and led me out the door as my Mom called out, “Have a great day honey.”
As we reached the car, Karen said, “Your Mom is pretty hot.”
I blushed, never really thinking of her in any way other than my mother. “You think?”
“Yes,’ Karen said, “and you look just like her.”
A chill went up my spine as I realized she was giving me a compliment on the sly. I got in the Karen’s car and sat silently as she put the car in drive. I waited patiently for Karen to speak, but she kept silent as she drove. Oddly, I felt a tingle between my legs and the beginning of dampness forming. I silently cursed to myself.
Karen finally broke the silence as she asked, “So my slave, are you ready for your climb to popularity?”
I looked at her, stared actually at her pure beauty, and said, with an immense amount of trepidation, “Yes, Mistress Karen.”
“You don’t sound too convincing, my little pussy pleaser,” Karen said with concern.
“I really don’t know what to expect,” I began, “Last week my life made sense. I went to school, sat with my couple of my friends, and lived a simple wall flower life.”
“Did you like that life?” Karen asked.
“I don’t know. It was the life I knew. It was who I was. I accepted long ago I would never be popular and would just live my high school life as a ghost. Seeing everything, but not being allowed to partake,” I said allowing my deepest insecurities to spill out like water when a dam bursts.
Karen gave a sympathetic smile as she said, “You know, being popular isn’t all people think it is. It turns you into someone you are not. For example, everyone looks up to me to lead and somehow my persona has turned into one that is often bitchy and arrogant. But…”
I looked at her, she had a tear in her eye, “It’s ok,” I said, my hand going on her leg as we stopped at a red light.
She grabbed my hand, gave it a squeeze, and said, “People only see what they want to see.”
I laughed and said, “Isn’t that the truth.”
As the light went green, she let go of my hand and said with a smirk, “Don’t think that means I won’t use you as my little submissive.”
“I wouldn’t even consider it, Mistress Karen,” I replied.
Karen smiled, “I just want you between my legs right now,” she said frustrated, knowing we were not allowed to cum.
“I would love nothing more,” I flirted back, with just a slight tone of frustration. I didn’t even know I knew how to flirt.
Karen smiled as we pulled up to the school and into the grade 12 parking lot, “Well,” she began, “Are you ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I said unsure but willing to begin my new life and obey my new mistress.
“OK,” Karen said, “Let’s go, my little dyke.” She then opened the door and strode out, and I, after letting out one last sigh of resignation, did the same.
Karen came around to my side of the car and handed me her books and I carried them, walking three feet behind her as all PomPoms did. I felt humiliation burning inside me as I got a plethora of odd looks from the other grade 12s in the parking lot. I looked down, trying to avoid eye contact, as I heard the odd rumbling.
Mike, a basketball player, asked Karen, “Who is the new recruit?”
Karen smiled, “Don’t you recognize her? This is Jenny Wyatt. She is in our English class.”
As Mike looked me up and down like a piece of meat, I tried to show confidence in my new look and gave him a smile. “A grade 12 recruit, nice,” he said.
Karen said with an innuendo only I understood, “Yes, she is a real eager beaver.” I am sure my cheeks went a fire red. Finally Karen said, “Let’s go, PomPom.” As we began walking she looked back and must have seen my embarrassment as she, walked over to me and whispered, “Jenny, you are a PomPom girl now. Everybody wants to be a cheerleader. You are now the envy of most girls here and will become the focus of many boys’ late night all alone stroke sessions.”
I looked at her confused, “Stroke sessions?”
“You really are innocent, aren’t you,” she said with a chuckle, “Stroke sessions, whacking off, beating the stick, cranking the love pump, fist fucking.”
Finally the light bulb goes clicks and I say shocked, “Boys will masturbate about me?”
“Girls too, I imagine,” she informed me and began walking again.
I followed behind her. It was then I saw Sally, my best friend at school, although not someone I did much with out of school. She had a perplexed look on her face as she saw me. I gave her a ‘I know this is weird’ look and then said, “Hi Sally,” without stopping.
We entered the school and I followed Karen to her locker. I held her books as she gave Sabrina, who was wearing thigh highs as Karen said she would, a hug. Sabrina gave me a look, not overly impressed, and then asked, “So this is your new recruit?”
Karen smiled but said with a ‘don’t mess with me’ tone, “Yes, this is Jenny; she will be our newest PomPom.”
Sabrina shrugged, showing indifference, as she said, “So why the thigh highs?”
Karen said, “It was time for a change. Plus they are sexier than knee high socks, don’t you think?.” Karen then did a diva pose which made my cunt drip a little, and a few boys stopped to stare. She then asked Sabrina, “What do you think?”
“Well they are hotter and sluttier,” Sabrina agreed. “Don’t you think Principal Dictator will make us change?”
“No, he loves checking us out,” Karen said matter-of-factly.
“Ho.”
“Slut.”
Their riveting banter had me bored but I pretended to care. The bell then rang and I walked Karen to her Biology class before I rushed to my Chemistry class. I got a lot of odd looks but I just sat in my regular seat as if nothing was different.
The rest of the morning was a blur of the surreal. Teachers gave me peculiar looks, girls gave me jealous glares and boys gave me horny stares. The attention was so strange after a lifetime of being a nobody that lived on the fringes of the school hierarchy.
I liked it---it was exhilarating.
I hated it---it was awkward.
I loved it---it was addictive.
All these feelings overwhelmed me. It was great to be noticed, yet I quickly resented being seen as an object. In History class I noticed Wilson, a kid who was a poster boy for nerds, gawking at my legs. I don’t know why I did it, but I looked at him and winked seductively. He blushed and looked away. I felt a perverse joy from embarrassing him and from being stared at.
Lunchtime finally arrived and I quickly and eagerly, like a puppy looking for his master, went to find Karen. She was at her locker with Ashley, who towered over me. Unlike Sabrina who looked down at me, Ashley was very nice to me. She said, “Hi Jenny, you are in my History class right?”
I smiled, happy that she knew who I was, and responded, “Yes.”
“What is your essay topic on?” she asked.
“The rights of women in third-world countries,” I replied.
“Are you a feminist?” she asked.
Karen laughed and said, ‘Trust me; she is not a feminist, although she does have an appetite for women.” I went red I’m sure as Ashley gave a confused look. Karen handed me her lunch and we went to the cafeteria. I looked over at my usual outsider table and waved to Sally and my other friend Eleanor. They gave an awkward wave back as they attempted to figure out why I was now a PomPom girl.
During lunch I was asked to get dessert for all three of the captains and was lambasted by Sabrina when there was no strawberry jello so I got her cherry instead. She said, “PomPom, how useless are you? I asked for strawberry; is this strawberry?”
“No,” I responded explaining, “They were out of strawberry so I got you cherry.”
She looked at Karen, greatly perturbed and said, “Really? Why her?”
Karen didn’t defend me, just responded, “Oh, she has very special talents. Trust me.” I blushed; worried that she may announce my special talents to the group. But she didn’t.
The table of cheerleaders talked about the upcoming Valentine’s Dance; what they were wearing and who was taking them. The conversations were hard to follow as it seemed ten girls were all talking at once, while myself and the other four PomPoms, all freshman by the way, listened intently. As the bell rang, I walked Karen to her class and then I headed to Advanced Calculus class, which I suppose really did showcase why I was a geek. I love numbers.
I arrived in class and took my usual seat at a table, in-between Sally and Eleanor. I had been dreading this all lunch hour, what was I going to say to the two of them. I couldn’t tell them I was a lesbian and that Karen was my mistress, and I had never once in my life even given the slightest notion I wanted to be a cheerleader, and of course no grade 12 just suddenly, part way through the school year, decided to become a cheerleader. So I had to come up with a lie. I sat down and said, “Hi girls.”
They both said hi back and both seemed too nervous to ask the question they were assumedly dying to ask. So I began as I asked, “I guess you are probably wondering how I ended up being a PomPom?”
Sally, the sarcastic one, responded, “I assumed you lost a bet.”
I gave a chuckle and said, “Funny. No, I went shopping at a store where Karen Pepper works and before I knew it she asked if I wanted to be a PomPom. I was so flattered I said yes and then on Sunday I panicked. What if she is setting me up to embarrass me? I decided to not do it, but she showed up at my house this morning and ta-da here I am.”
They both looked at me as if I was an alien speaking in some intergalatical language. Finally Eleanor asked shyly, “So you want to be a cheerleader?”
Thinking of Karen’s advice I responded, “Yes, I do.”
“Oh,” Eleanor said, almost speechless.
Sally added, “Well it does make you look s...,” she paused for a long time before rewording and finishing “prettier.”
I think she wanted to say sexier, which instantly made me wonder if she was a lesbian. But that thought quickly faded as Mr. Hermanson began class. The class ended and I surprised myself and Sally by giving her a squeeze on the leg and saying, “Later ladies.” I then rushed again to find Karen and went with her to the one class I had with her, Advanced English.
On the walk there Karen asked, “So, how has your day been, what with living in the spotlight and all?”
“Great,” I responded, which was partly true and partly a lie. It was great in that as I enjoyed the looks, mostly, but it wasn’t all great as I balanced my new found popularity with the fact that I was only popular because I was dressed differently and not because of who I was as a person.
“Good to hear,” Karen said and then informed me, “By the way, the first rumour about you has already hit gossip alley.”
“W-w-what?” I stuttered, fearing what she would say next.
“Supposedly, you slept with a couple basketball players in return for the privilege to be a PomPom.”
“No,” I said, tears already forming in my eyes.
Karen rubbed my back gently as she explained, “Oh Jenny, get used to it. How many rumours have you heard about me?”
I thought about it and realized I had heard many from she blew off quarterback Aiden Smith before every game, to she had slept with the hot gym teacher Mr. Parker, to she was in rehab this past summer for drug and alcohol abuse. “Lots,” I answered honestly.
“And trust me; almost none of them are true; we are the celebrities at the high school. And rumours are like the tabloids, they feed the masses information regardless of its truth. People want to live vicariously through us.”
I considered her explanation as I said, “But people will think I am a slut.”
“True, but at least people will know who you are,” she said.
At this moment, Troy Sparks, a 6 foot 3 black basketball player, walked over to us and said, “Hi Karen, Hi Jenny.”
I blushed; stunned that Troy Sparks had any clue who I was. I didn’t hear the next part of the conversation, but they both looked at me waiting for a response. “Sorry, what?” I asked like a confused idiot.
Troy asked again, “Are you going to the Valentine’s Dance?”
“Oh, no, I don’t go to dances,” I began, until I saw Karen shaking her head yes, so I quickly recovered and said with a sly smile on my face “but there is always a first time for everything.”
Troy, all confident, informed me, “Great, so you will be my date?”
A slight gasp escaped my lips as I realized he was asking me to be his date at a dance. I wanted to say no but looked at Karen who was shaking her head yes. So reluctantly, very reluctantly, I said, “Sounds great.”
The warning bell signalling class would begin in a minute rang and Troy said, “Great, I’ll be in contact,” and headed to whatever class he had.
I stood there stunned as Karen grabbed my hand and said, “Geez you really are turning into a whore.”
This brought me back to reality and we got to class just as the bell rang. Now all the other teachers noticed my new look, as they all gave a questioning glance or two, but none said anything. But that changed as soon as I walked into Miss Morgan’s advanced English class. Miss Morgan gave me her usual bright smile but this time said, “Wow, Jenny you are a PomPom girl?”
“Yes ma’am,” I responded politely.
“That is a real surprise,” she said, then added, “Although you look adorable in your new outfit.” I blushed and my pussy leaked just a smidge as I got such a compliment from a teacher I had spent many late nights fantasizing about. Miss Morgan is a first year teacher and easily one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. She has hypnotic ocean blue eyes, long straight blonde hair, large breasts that she does not hide with the tight sweaters she usually wears, and long luscious legs that are always showed off in pantyhose (although deep down I hoped they were stockings or thigh highs). Her smile always made me melt and her voice, so sweet and innocent, was the icing on an already perfect cupcake.
I got out with a mutter, “Thank you,” and sat down in my front row seat. I didn’t know at first if it was a coincidence or not, but it seemed to me that Miss Morgan would often take a glimpse of my legs. By the end of the class I was convinced I was right as the looks came often enough that it could no longer be just coincidence. As she talked about Langston Hughes and how he was a voice of a minority, I tuned out and wondered if Miss Morgan was a lesbian. I had to close my legs tight as to not get too excited and desperately attempted to listen to her lecture.
Just before the bell was to ring she gave us a brief assignment; Miss Morgan explained, “We are all a minority in some way. Some of you come from a minority racial background, some of you have unique family situations, and some of you may be insecure about something.” She paused before finishing, “So your assignment, due tomorrow, is to write a poem, in the style of Langston Hughes, in other words simplistic in word usage, but deep in message, about being a minority. Get personal, get passionate, dig deep to find how you are a minority in this class, this school, this city, this country or this world.”
Someone asked how long and she said, “This is poetry, the length is irrelevant, write until the message shines through. You are dismissed.” She sat on top of her desk and watched as we got ready to leave. She then said, “Jenny, can you please stay for a minute?”
“Sure, Miss Morgan,” I responded, both eager to hear what she had to say and scared of what she may discover.
As the class dispersed, she said, “I would like you to write about this whole PomPom situation.”
“Excuse me?” I asked confused.
“Well, you are a minority of one. I don’t think any grade 12 has ever been a PomPom before, have they?”
“I don’t think so,” I responded.
“Well then, it is done,” she said and stood up and went to her desk.
“Thanks Miss Morgan,” I said politely and began to leave. As I was at the door I looked back, and she was still watching me. So unlike me, I gave her a wink and a smile; she instantly put her head down, but I was now pretty convinced Miss Morgan was a lesbian or at least girl curious.
After I left, I was instantly confronted by Karen who said, “Miss Morgan was so into you.”
I blushed and said, “She did seem to be checking me out.”
“Checking you out? She wanted to have you for supper,” Karen announced.
“Well that may be extreme,” I said.
“We may just have to have you seduce her,” Karen concluded as we headed for the gym. Others quickly joined us, so the conversation would have to wait. The next two hours were insane. I had never put a second of thought into what cheerleaders do. I had never considered them athletes or skilled, but after watching one practice, my whole respect for them changed.
My whole body ached fifteen minutes in and that was just from the stretching. Miss Hopkins, the cheerleading coach, was a slave driver and a complete bitch. She was a perfectly fit, black woman, in her early thirties I would guess, who was pretty much Sue from Glee if you have ever watched it. She yelled, she criticized, and she humiliated all of us. Sweat poured off my whole body by the time the workout was done. The last hour was cheer after cheer and dance move after dance move. I learned I had no memory for the cheers, but I actually caught on to the dances pretty quickly. When practice ended, I was pleasantly surprised to get what I assume passes as a compliment in Miss Hopkins world as she said, “Jenny, you don’t suck as much as I assumed you would.”
“Um thanks,” I responded, but she had already begun walking away. I showered and changed and was then asked by Sabrina to give her a neck massage, which she criticized the whole time. I was not massaging hard enough and then I was massaging too hard. I could never get it just right for her. She finally got up and said to me in a condescending tone, “You will never be a real cheerleader.” She then walked away.
On the drive home Karen said, “Sabrina will come around. She is not one to accept change or any threat to her perceived power. And she sees you as a threat.”
“Why?” I asked, stunned.
“Don’t you see? You are a diamond in the rough.”
“What?”
“You are smart, cute, sexy, sweet, and I have taken a liking to you,” she said, her right hand dropping to my leg. “In other words, she feels like you may replace her.” She then paused as she moved her hand up my leg and under my skirt. “And she should be worried, because she is right; I hate that bitch.”
I gave a soft moan as her finger touched my pussy over my underwear as she drove. As she reached my house she said, “So I think we are going to test a theory tomorrow.”
“What theory?” I asked.
“That Miss Morgan is a dyke,” she blurted out, her finger tracing my pussy lips through my underwear.
“How so?” I moaned.
“Wear a pair of heels and throughout class tomorrow, dangle your shoe. Let it fall to the floor. I will watch to see her reactions,” she said as she formulated the plan, her finger still teasing my now extremely damp pussy.
I finally said, “Please stop or I will cum.”
“So?” she teased.
“Mistress Megan said we can’t.”
“She would never know,” she whispered her finger putting pressure on my clit.
“But I could never lie to her,” I whimpered.
“Suit yourself,” Karen said and withdrew her hand from under my skirt. I was disappointed and relieved as I got ready to leave. “What are you going to write your poem about?”
“Miss Morgan asked me to write it about how I became a PomPom girl,” I said.
“Fuck off,” Karen said shocked.
“Seriously, but I have no idea what to write.”
“This is perfect,” Karen said enthusiastically.
“How so?” I asked.
“You will write a poem in which you come out to her,” Karen said confidently.
“What?” I said horrified.
“ If she is a dyke, this will be a perfect play.”
“For what?” I asked freaking out inside.
“For you to fuck her,” Karen said casually.
“You want me to fuck Miss Morgan?” I asked.
“Don’t you?” she asked back.
I paused for a long time, knowing deep down I would love to pleasure Miss Morgan, before I answered shyly, “Yes.”
Karen responded, “Jenny, you need to stop being so insecure and shy. You are a PomPom girl now. You are in. Be aggressive, be confident.”
“OK,” I said rather unconvincingly.
Karen’s tone dripped with frustration as she said, “Now tell me what you want to do to Miss Morgan?”
I responded after a few seconds, “I want to eat her pussy.”
“Well, that is a bit better, but be more aggressive,” she said.
I contemplated this for a bit before finally releasing my real feelings as I said, “I want to eat her pussy until she cums all over my slut face and then I want her to fuck my pussy till I cum like the little dyke I am. I want to be under her desk licking her cunt as she has a parent interview with my Mom. I want her to share me with the entire girl teaching staff in the school. I want to be her lez whore.”
Karen’s mouth dropped a little as she said, “Well, there we go; I knew you had it in you.”
I looked at my watch and said I should get inside.
“OK,” Karen said.
I said, “Goodbye, Mistress Karen.”
Karen leaned in and kissed me. The kiss sent electric shocks throughout my whole body as it was so unexpected and tender. She parted my lips with her tongue and we French kissed for a couple of minutes. She then broke the kiss and said, “I will pick you up tomorrow at the same time.”
“Ok,” I said.
The night was uneventful, as I tried not to think of tomorrow; that said, writing my poem was difficult and frightening, yet when it was done, I felt relieved; it seemed to wash away any insecurities or doubts I had. I was a lesbian and that was not going to change...although I was still not ready to reveal such news to my mother. In case you are curious, here is the poem...
ACCEPTANCE: FINDING MY WAY
Have you ever
Wondered
Who
You
Are
?
I
Have
Every
Single
Day
Felt
Shame
For
My
Sexuality
Hid
It
Deep
Down
Inside
I
Was
A
Wallflower
Always
On
The
Outside
Looking
In
But...
That
All
Changed
When
She
Found
Me
That
Day
When
She
Kissed
Me
Gently
When
I
Fell
To
My
Knees
Desperate
To
Please
Her
Between
Her
Stocking
Covered
Legs
I
Accepted
Who
I
Was
As
I
Extended
My
Tongue
I
Had
A
Loving
Mistress
And
I
Would
Become
The
Perfect
Submissive
Obedient
Lesbian
Slave...
TUESDAY FEBRUARY 4th: A Power Shift
I woke up excited, knowing that tonight was a special night with Mistress Megan and that I probably would be able to cum…if I didn’t soon I might just explode. I wore my PomPom Outfit, red thigh thighs which I thought were really hot, since we have red as a school colour, and hip as I will definitely stand out. As instructed by Mistress Karen, I also wore heels. The only pair I owned were a lame pair with a tiny one inch heel. I was waiting by the door and as soon as Karen pulled up I rushed out of the house, before Mom could see today’s outfit.
The look on Karen’s face was indescribable as she saw the red stockings. She said flattering me, “Wow that is fucking hot. I have got to get some of those.” Her hand moved to my leg to touch the silk fabric.
“Thanks,” I responded, very happy to please her, “I thought you would like them.”
“Your shoes, on the other hand,” she said with disapproval, “Have got to go.”
“It is all I have,” I said with a sigh.
“What size are you?” Karen asked, “A six?”
“Yes,” I said back.
“We have the same size,” she said, as she started driving and did a u-turn. “We are going back to my place.”
She started driving and asked how the poem went. I read it to her and she gasped as it got dirtier as I read it. “Wow,” she said amazed, “That is hot. You really are turning into a sex machine, aren’t you?”
I shrugged and said, “It seems so.”
We arrived at Karen’s mansion, I assumed she was rich and now that assumption became a fact. She said, “Wait here,” and went inside. She came out a couple of minutes later with a pair of three inch pumps. She handed them to me and said, “Put these on.”
I took them and put them on as Karen drove us to school. As I got out of the car I realized I had never had three inch heels on before. I almost stumbled twice early, but then got the hang of it. As we entered the school I got even more looks than yesterday. The red stockings I wore stood out so much that everyone who saw them seemed to do a double take. When we arrived at Karen’s locker Sabrina shook her head in disgust and said, “Jenny, could you look like a bigger slut?”
Karen quickly defended me when she said, “Tomorrow we will all be wearing red stockings, it is a brilliant idea. Secondly, calling Jenny a slut is a bit ironic, don’t you think?” Karen glared at Sabrina, who was seething, but said nothing in response to being called a slut by the head cheerleader.
Ashley came up behind me and said, “Wow, Jenny, red stockings are a great idea. Why didn’t any of us think about this?”
