Chapter 1

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Mult, NonConsensual, Coercion, Blackmail, Heterosexual, Fiction, MaleDom, Humiliation, Interracial, Black Male, White Female, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Masturbation, Exhibitionism, Body Modification, .

Desc: Sex Story: Chapter 1 - A young woman, fresh out of college, begins her teaching career at the only school that would employ her. The pretty but very spoiled young blonde, accustomed to a life of privilege, soon learns that she is the only white person at an all black high school attempting to teach English to students that aren't interested in what she has to say. But they are interested in something else. She soon finds herself at the mercy of her students.

I was so scared I could hardly breathe. It wasn't just that I had recently graduated from college and was on my way to my first day of work as a teacher, although that was certainly a large part of it. I hate to admit this about myself, but I am from a well off, well, very upper middle class background and until I came to interview for this position at the absolute last school I would have chosen to teach in, I had probably never seen more than two or three black people together in one place. It was embarrassing. I know it's wrong. I can't help it. But I am very intimidated by large, surly, young, black males.

If it were up to me I would have been teaching third or fourth grade in a nice, upper middle class school. That is how I had always seen myself. Completely in charge in a classroom full of respectful, well dressed, well behaved, white, eight or nine year old children.

There were several reasons why I was about to start teaching in this loud, dirty, overcrowded school full of belligerent teenagers not much younger than me. And those reasons were all on me.

I had the education that I needed, though I had let my grades slip and in the end I had just squeaked by. One reason that my options were so limited was that I had been engaged and when we broke up at the start of my last year of college I was devastated for a long time and it was hard for me to concentrate on my studies.

Another reason was that I counted on help finding a good position from my influential father. But my father and I weren't talking now. We have not spoken to each other in more than six months. That's my fault, too. But I don't want to go into that right now. He continued to pay for my education and my living expenses at the end. But as soon as I got my diploma I was on my own. He didn't even attend my graduation!

My final grades had been poor. And I waited until the very last moment to apply for a position. Now I was paying the price for being spoiled rotten all of my life. I was broke and I had no other options. This was the job of last resort. This was the only position that was offered to me. I was about to start teaching ninth and tenth grade English to a classroom full of rowdy teenagers that for the most part sneered at education and couldn't care less about English. After all, they hardly spoke it!

It didn't help that I was a very attractive blonde with a very sexy body and that my students and I were almost the same age. I hadn't even been in the classroom with them yet. But I knew that they were going to sense my fear.

I kept telling myself that it was time for me to grow up and face my fears. It was time and past time for me to take responsibility for myself. But god! If only I could breathe! I kept telling myself that it would be a good experience for me. I didn't believe me.

I made my way through the throng of young black students outside of the school and tried to ignore the crude remarks that followed me all the way into the building. I knew that my face was bright red and that every one of those kids knew that I was afraid of them.

More than once as I struggled through the crowd, making my way to the front door of the school, I felt a hand slide down over my butt. I had no idea how to react. I only knew that if I stopped and said anything they would laugh in my face. I had to reach the door and get out of this mob. I couldn't have been more scared if I was walking across a prison yard.

I was so scared, and so upset with myself because I couldn't control my fear, that I had to fight desperately to hold back the tears. I knew that it would be all over if I broke down in front of them and cried. I finally arrived at the door and the big black security guard at the door saw right away that I was not one of the students. He opened the door and let me in. I tried not to see the leer on his face, the smirk as his eyes wandered over my body. I didn't need ESP to know what he was thinking. I was used to being ogled by the males with whom I came into contact. But not so blatantly or so inappropriately.

I ignored the rude guard, just as I ignored the throng outside. I brushed past him and rushed to the office and checked in. I picked up my schedule and my attendance forms and tried not to see the looks on the faces of the staff. I knew what they were thinking. They knew I was out of place here and they didn't think I'd last a whole day.

I was beginning to think that they were right. Except for one thing, I had no choice. I had to make it through the day. I had to make it through the year. If I could just survive one year in this prison-like school then I could apply for something else, anything else, anywhere else. I had to do this. I had to do it so that I could rub my father's nose in it. This was my Declaration of Independence.

I left the office without even speaking to anyone. I had not seen another white face since I got out of my car. I wondered if I was the only white person in this entire school. I had already met the principal and his assistant and they were both very nice gentlemen. They were black. Everyone in the office was black. All of the students that I had seen were black.

When he interviewed me for the job the principal had been very skeptical. He really didn't think that I could handle working here. But he was having as much trouble getting qualified teachers as I was having finding a position to accept me. He had no choice but to give me a chance and I had no choice but to take it.

I walked quickly through the empty hallway to my classroom. My heels echoed loudly as I hurried to the room where I would be expected to educate and maintain order. I had been coming in for a week now, getting ready. I had my lesson plans made out. I had my teaching aids ready. But I was terrified of what was going to come out of my mouth the first time I tried to speak in front of the class.

I wrote my name in flowing script on the blackboard and prepared for my first class. I had my lesson plan ready and the attendance sheet on my desk and now I was trying very hard to regulate my breathing and not pass out from fear.

I jumped when the bell rang and in seconds the hallways were filled with the noise from hundreds of screaming, all but out of control teenagers. I stood behind my desk and watched as the students in my first class came filing in. They were loud and rowdy and they were using horrible language, when I could understand them at all. They stared at me as if I was food and they hadn't eaten in a week. I tried to ignore their behavior, hoping that when the bell rang they would all suddenly settle down and pay attention. I knew that wouldn't happen. But I could hope.

Only half of them were seated when the bell rang. The others were standing around talking loudly to their friends and totally ignoring me. I went over and closed the door and asked everyone to take their seats. I heard myself talking to them and even I thought that I sounded like a terrified little girl.

I tried again, louder this time and slowly, a few at a time they started sitting down. One of the last ones standing was one of the larger, rowdier boys. He stopped talking finally and turned to face me with a sneer on his face. I tried to stare him down but he won that battle before it even started.

He smirked at me. Then, after pausing long enough that everyone knew who was really in charge, he walked to the front of the room. I didn't know what he had in mind but I was so scared that I almost ran from the room.

He walked up to a boy that was seated in the first row, right in front of where I would stand when I was teaching. He popped the boy on the back of his head and said, "Get up, dude. I want to sit up front so I can be teacher's pet."

Everyone seemed to find that amusing. Even the boy who was forced to give up his seat chuckled and got up. This was apparently someone who was used to getting what he wanted. He was big and he was scary and he was much more in control of what happened in this room than I was. I was terrified and this situation was out of my control. Every person in the room knew it.

I introduced myself and then I took attendance. I had to keep asking for quiet but by the time I had finished with the attendance my voice had almost stopped quaking in fear.

All in all it was a horrible experience. I constantly had to ask them to quiet down and sit down. Every statement, every answer, every question out of those boy's mouths, and most of the girls too, was some sort of double entendre, dripping with sexual innuendo.

I struggled through that first class and the next and the next until finally it was lunch hour. I closed my door and got out my lunch. I sat at my desk, put my head in my hands and cried for the longest time. I had no idea how I could continue to do this. I only knew that I had no choice. I had nothing to fall back on.

I finally pulled myself together and repaired my make-up. I stared at my lunch for a few minutes but I couldn't eat. I put it away. I sat waiting for the terror to begin again. I told myself that it would get better. A week from now I would be used to this and I would know the kids and it would just be a job. I didn't believe me, but that was what I kept telling myself.

It wasn't any better in the afternoon. I gathered from the remarks I kept overhearing that I was a major topic of discussion in the school. The boys were all checking me out, leering, making off color remarks. I wanted nothing more than to rush home after my final class and hide in my closet, curl up in the dark on the floor and cry.

As the last class of the day was filing out of the room the principal came in to my classroom and asked how bad my first day had been.

I shrugged and pointed out that I had survived. It had been rough. But I guess it would have been rough anywhere. It was my first day in my first class out of college. I had expected it to be difficult. Maybe not this difficult, I was not as strong willed a person as I thought I was. I had made it all the way through the first day, though. I just had to try not to think of how many more days there were between now and the end of the school year.

The principal, Mr. Wigfall, gave me a little pep talk and then he left. I dropped my attendance records off in the office and headed out to my car. I noticed that the teachers were in just as big a hurry to leave at the end of the day as the students. My talk with Mr. Wigfall had held me up long enough that mine was one of the few cars left in the employee parking area.

As I walked across the nearly empty lot I was suddenly surrounded by a pack of large boys. They walked with me towards my car and I didn't know what to do. They weren't touching me or threatening me. They were not even talking among themselves. But the silence was ominous. I glanced around nervously. Some of them looked familiar from my classes. But I can't really say that I recognized them.

When we got to my car I waited to see what they were going to do. One of them, one of the largest of them, stood in front of me and smiled down at me. At first he was just one of the sea of black faces I had been swimming in since I arrived here this morning. He didn't say anything for a minute. But then he said, "I bet you've never kissed a black man, have you?"

As soon as he spoke I recognized him. He was the boy in my first class that had made another student move so that he could be teacher's pet.

I felt myself blush. I ignored his impertinent question, or threat. I said, "Please get out of my way."

I heard the fear in my voice and I hated myself for it.

Several of the boys laughed derisively. The boy in front of me mocked me. He reached out and his hand caressed my long blonde hair. Then his fingertips gently traced a path down my neck.

I shivered in terror and looked back up at his sneering face just as he said, "I asked you a question. Have you ever been kissed by a black man?"

I heard the fear in my voice when I said, "Let me go! Get out of my way!"

It was as if I had not spoken at all. His hand moved to my shoulder and suddenly he pulled me against his body forcefully. One of his hands went behind my head and before I could even scream he was kissing me savagely.

I finally came to my senses and struggled to get away. He ignored my futile attempts to pull away and I realized just how helpless I was. I finally stopped struggling and let him kiss me. As soon as I quit fighting him his tongue forced its way between my lips and I felt his hand slide down my back and grip my ass confidently.

I screamed into his mouth in fear and frustration. But he ignored that too. He kissed me for a long time. As we kissed he held me in place with his hand on my ass while his other hand began to explore my body. I started to use my hands then. I tried to hit him but it was like I was hitting a rock. I tried to push him away but when I did my arms were grabbed and held at my sides by another boy who was standing behind me.

Some of the boys were making crude comments. But most of them were just watching silently as I was kissed and groped by the large boy who was obviously the leader of this pack.

His suspicions had been correct, of course. I had never kissed a black boy, or man. Actually, I had hardly kissed anyone. I wasn't a virgin. But I didn't miss it by much. I had been a virgin when I started college. I fell deeply in love with someone in college and finally gave up my virginity. I had done it gladly and enjoyed it immensely. We dated all the way through the first three years of college.

Just after the start of my junior year he asked me to marry him. I was head over heels in love and that is why I was so devastated when I got back to my room late one night near the end of my junior year and caught him having sex with my roommate. He tried to apologize. But I just could not forgive him. The memory of them naked in my bed was seared into my brain. I would never be able to forget what I saw that night.

Later though, as I was looking back on it, after the anger died away I always had a nagging doubt in the back of my mind. I had gotten over it pretty fast. I sometimes wondered if I was just a little bit happy that I had been given an excuse to break it off. Could it be that I had not been as deeply in love as I thought?

The boy finally broke the kiss and backed away, still smirking at me. The look on his face just emphasized how helpless I was. I thought it was over when he took his hands off of me and stepped back. Before I could take a deep breath, though, another boy took his place. In a matter of seconds I was forced to endure yet another boy sticking his tongue in my mouth, squeezing my ass and groping my breast.

I tried to pull away again. But two large boys grabbed my arms and once more I was helpless.

At first I had been afraid that I was going to be gang raped right here in the parking lot. Now I didn't know what was going on. Was this some sort of initiation?! I was being groped and kissed passionately by each of the half dozen boys in the gang that had surrounded me.

What I found most disturbing though, was that the deep, passionate kisses had started to affect me! Don't get me wrong. I was not about to start panting and cry out, "Take me, I'm yours!"

But to my eternal shame I discovered that my body was reacting to this terrifying molestation.

As unbelievable as it sounds I was actually starting to feel ... I don't know. I wouldn't say that I was aroused. I was feeling something, though. I had never felt so helpless. It disturbed me when I realized that a large part of what I was reacting to was that feeling of helplessness. More than the kissing, more than the groping, I was dismayed to realize that the feeling of helplessness was exciting!

When the last of the boys, I finally counted, there were seven of them. When the last of them had taken a turn kissing and feeling me up they let me go. The one who had been first, the largest of them, turned me to face him again and said, "Wasn't that fun? See you tomorrow, Miss Wilson."

Then they all just turned and casually walked away! I took a couple of steps and collapsed against the fender of my car and tried to calm myself. I took a few deep breaths, leaned on my car and waited until I stopped shaking.

When I finally stopped trembling I turned around and saw my purse and my brief case on the ground where I had been standing. I picked them up and unlocked my car. I got in and sat there with my eyes closed for a very long time, waiting for my heartbeat to slow down and my blurred vision to clear.

My eyes snapped open when I heard a tapping on my window. I saw the principal looking in with a concerned look on his face. When he saw me open my eyes he asked, "Are you alright, Miss Wilson?"

I nodded my head rapidly and then pulled myself together. I fastened my seatbelt and started my car. I looked at the clock on my dashboard. I was shocked to discover that it was after four o'clock! Between the assault and the time I had spent sitting in my car recuperating I had been out here in the parking lot for nearly an hour!

As I put my car in drive and slowly pulled away I asked myself why I had not reported what had just happened to Mr. Wigfall. I had been assaulted, nearly raped! Not only that, but they had left me with the impression that it was going to happen again! I looked in my mirror, wondering if I should go back and tell the principal what had happened.

I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I could just hear myself saying to him, "Mr. Wigfall, I was kissed!"

Somehow it didn't sound all that traumatic. Not even to me! The words just didn't convey the trauma I had just experienced.

I was still pretty shaky. I had to force myself to concentrate on my driving as I made my way out of town to my small apartment about five miles away. I made it to my apartment in an almost trance like state. I went into the bathroom and turned on the hot water in the shower. While it was warming up I undressed quickly.

I took a long, hot shower. I stood there under the hot spray and forced myself not to think. I kept my mind totally blank. When the water started running cold I finally got out and dried myself off.

I stood in front of the mirror and looked at my body. I stared at my lips and thought of the seven boys that had kissed me this afternoon. I looked at my breasts and thought of all the hands that had groped me over my modest blouse and bra. I was sure that some of those boys, if not all of them, were in my classes. I knew that the leader was. I didn't know about the others. I was in shock by the time the first one had finished assaulting me.

Oh god! What would I do? How could I face them in my classes? What would I do tomorrow afternoon? Would they assault me like that again? Would they go further? Had this been a prelude to rape?

I needed a drink! I dressed quickly in shorts and a top and walked a short distance to the end of the street. There was a small strip mall there with a liquor store in it. I bought a bottle of whiskey, an extravagance that I could not really afford, and I walked home.

I realized that I had my head down as I walked. Even now I couldn't face anyone. It was like I was afraid that if I met their gaze, strangers on the street would know what had happened to me. For some reason I felt guilty!

I hurried home, poured a large glass of whiskey over ice and topped it off with a little bit of ginger ale. I sat alone in my small living area and gulped it down quickly as I wracked my brain for some way to get out of going back to that school tomorrow. It seemed that I was even more trapped in my situation than I had been before I was hired. I couldn't quit now. I couldn't say to people that I had been forced to quit because I had been kissed!

I knew that I had to somehow become more assertive overnight. I could not quit that job. I could not go to my parents for help. Not only could I not bring myself to grovel before my father, I was reasonably certain that if I did he would insist that I stand on my own two feet and face my problems like an adult.

I struggled to my feet and went to look in the refrigerator. I wasn't really hungry, though. So I poured myself another drink instead, a slightly smaller one this time. When I finished it I went in and threw myself on my bed and lay on my back. I stared at the ceiling, fighting the urge to cry in despair until I fell into a nightmare filled sleep.

I woke up at about four the next morning with a terrible headache. I took some Tylenol and lay back down. By six o'clock my headache was just about gone. I took a quick shower and got dressed.

I hadn't eaten at all yesterday. But I still wasn't hungry. At the last minute, though, I forced myself to eat a small bowl of cold cereal. I sat at the table eating it while staring off into space and trying desperately not to think of the terror filled day that stretched out before me.

I finished the cereal and put the bowl in the sink. I grabbed my purse and my brief case and reluctantly drove back to that horrible school.

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