The Agreement
Copyright© 2025 by HappyComet
Chapter 2
Coming of Age Sex Story: Chapter 2 - Melissa agrees the help out her boyfriend and comes to an agreement...
Caution: This Coming of Age Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Coercion Drunk/Drugged Reluctant Humiliation Spanking Anal Sex First Masturbation Oral Sex Sex Toys
“Is that you, dear?” Melissa’s mother called from the pantry.
“Yes, Mom,” the pretty teenager replied. She winced slightly when she turned a little too quickly to shut the kitchen door behind herself.
She had to move fast though, if she wanted to make it through the kitchen and into the relative safety of the hallway before her mom emerged from the pantry. She much preferred not to have to face her mother just now. Melissa breathed a sigh of relief when after three or four rather ungraceful waddling steps she made it into the hall and proceeded in the direction of her room.
“Trevor called. He wanted you to call him back as soon as you got home,” Melissa heard her mother say as she reached her bedroom door.
“O ... OK, Mom,” Melissa answered, opening the door and disappearing inside. Stepping gingerly, she crossed the room and fell face down into the pile of stuffed animals atop the fluffy comforter on her bed.
“How could she talk to Trevor? How could she talk to Trevor ever again?” she thought miserably. Then after a good cry, Melissa fell into a fitful sleep.
Her dreams were dark and filled with disturbing images and confusing, helter-skelter, scenes in which, incredible as it may seem, she was having sex with Mr. Johnson, her American History teacher, but that simply couldn’t be! In her dream the man’s hands were everywhere, and then suddenly he was making love to her.
“No, that wasn’t exactly correct, was it?”
As her nightmare progressed, Melissa slowly came to the realization that it was she who was in motion. As though she was having an out of body experience she saw herself standing with her hands braced against a table or a desk of some sort, and in horror she looked on as her other self rocked back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.
“Oh, no! God, no!” Melissa cried in her subconscious mind, for suddenly it became abundantly clear to the beautiful fifteen-year-old that it was she who was doing all the love making and not her shadowy lover. It was she who was fucking him!
In her slumbering state, Melissa groaned softly. Unconsciously one hand crept down to her lower abdomen, while the other moved to her breast.
“Ohhh,” she groaned aloud. He was so big! And he was hurting her.
Her tummy ached terribly with a deep, throbbing ... what? Desire?
Mindlessly Melissa rolled from side to side on her bed, while in her dreams the pain in her abdomen intensified. Then as will often happen in a dreamscape, the scene changed. Suddenly Trevor was there, seated cross-legged on the desk right in front of her. He was watching her, studying her actually, while she made love.
“Oh, Trev,” Melissa whimpered. Then she gasped abruptly when her lover’s huge engine invaded her once again. “I’m ss ... sorry, Trev,”
Melissa said dejectedly.
Her handsome beau looked so very sad. Then Trevor was speaking to her, but Melissa couldn’t understand him, and suddenly he didn’t seem at all upset about the situation.
“Why doesn’t he help me?” she thought angrily. “Doesn’t he care that another man is having his way with me?” Melissa thought indignantly.
Then once again the dreamscape shifted, and Melissa found herself seated beside Trevor on the tabletop, facing herself and her older lover. She watched as the man who looked a lot like Mr. Johnson used one hand to press downward on the small of her back, forcing her to arch for him. It was utterly mortifying, and when Melissa looked toward Trevor to see what his reaction would be to the way she was being treated, she was astounded to see that her beau gave no sign that he objected in the least to what was being done to her. Melissa heard herself groan loudly and turned to see that her lover had reached up under her torso and was squeezing and kneading her tender breasts as the hazy ordeal continued. It was then that Melissa’s attention was drawn to her facial expression as she watched herself writhe wantonly in the older man’s hands. She fully expecting to see distress and anguish etched upon her face, so you can imagine her shock when what Melissa saw was anything but a look of pain or suffering.
As she looked on with growing horror, Melissa perceived her facial expressions changing much like a slide presentation. Seated beside her silent boyfriend, Melissa watched her clear blue eyes open wide with wonder, then slowly they became hazy and distant. Her cheeks were flushed, and a sheen of perspiration glowed upon her forehead and upper lip. She was breathing heavily, her ribs plainly visible beneath her flawless skin with each gasping breath. Melissa watched herself slowly lower her head between her arms, allowing her soft blond locks to sway freely to the timing of her lover’s cadence.
Dream time passed. It could have been minutes ... or hours ... or even days that she rocked to and fro in the hands of her phantom lover.
Melissa raised her head and looked to her left to where Trevor was seated and was startled to discover that she was now witnessing the scene through his eyes. The real shock came, however, when she realized that what she saw through Trevor’s eyes was her dreaming of herself becoming aroused and even passionate.
“No!” Melissa cried and awoke with a start. At first, she was disoriented and shaken, but gradually her breathing slowed as she realized that she was lying in her own bed in her own room. For a few seconds the pretty teen lay bathed in blessed relief, believing that it had all been a ghastly dream. She glanced at the digital alarm clock on her bedside table. It was almost eight-thirty. She’d missed dinner, but perhaps there were some leftovers in the fridge that she could use to whip together a quick meal for herself. “I’m starving,” she thought to herself as she raised up and rolled onto her side.
No sooner did Melissa swing her legs over the edge of her bed and shift her weight forward in an effort to stand, than she received a sharp reminder of the reality of the afternoon she’d spent with Mr.
Benjamin Johnson. “Ugghh,” the pretty teen grunted then jumped to her feet to relieve the sudden pain and pressure in her nether region.
She reached back and touched the hard plastic flange. The feel of it, and its foreignness made her cringe as slowly memories and images began to form in her mind.
Melissa recalled how her history teacher, had initially inserted the despicable device into her vagina in order to lubricate it, then after removing it from there, he’d proceeded to push the small torpedo shaped appliance up into her rear end. Then to add to her humiliation, Mr. Johnson had informed her that he wanted her to leave the hideous object in place until the next day. Naturally, Melissa had argued the point, but Mr. Johnson wasn’t about to capitulate. In the end, Melissa had left his office and the scene of her first sexual undoing, panty less and bearing a small memento of her newly established relationship with her history teacher.
The thought of it made her skin crawl. At first it had hurt like hell, but in a surprisingly short time, her body had adjusted to the foreign object, leaving Melissa with a dull sensation of fullness back there, kind of like she needed to use the toilet. It hadn’t taken long for her to figure out that if she moved slowly, the dull pain the thing produced in her belly was at least tolerable.
Melissa wanted nothing more than to take a nice hot bath. She felt dirty all over, and when she took a moment to inspect herself, she found a sticky mess between her legs. Her soft public curls were all matted together, and there was a viscous, musky odor which hung about her like a shroud. She felt disgusting. In addition, Melissa remembered that she’d been rather short with her mom earlier that afternoon. Melissa was never rude to her mother and felt badly about it. It wasn’t quite nine o’clock, and she knew she had time before the rest of the family turned in for the night. She would apologize to her mom right after her bath.
Melissa waddled toward the bathroom, shedding her clothing along the way. Pausing briefly, she studied her reflection in the full length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. She didn’t look that much worse for wear, actually. Her breasts were a little red and sore, as Mr. Johnson had taken great pleasure in mauling those smallish cones with his big hands. Other than that, there were no visible signs what so ever of Melissa’s afternoon engagement with her history teacher.
The real effects of her first coupling were internal, and to Melissa, they were very noticeable. She’d never experienced that particular kind of soreness before. It was a dull, penetrating sort of ache that Melissa found to be not altogether unpleasant in spite of the circumstances of her liaison with Mr. Johnson. Although she hated the man for what he’d done to her, subconsciously Melissa felt a peculiar sense of completeness, and this presented a new and thoroughly confusing emotional conflict for her.
She turned to the side to view her profile, and there it was. The flange of the anal plug that Melissa bore was in the shape of a rounded rectangle about two inches by one inch and was nestled snugly between her buttocks such that her soft flesh was indented around it.
Melissa frowned and touched the thing again. The idea that she could be forced at the whim of a total stranger to endure having a foreign object placed into her body was utterly abhorrent to her, but if the truth be known, deep down in her subconscious where her “inner female” resided, Melissa felt mild excitement at the site of the hard plastic pressed between her fleshy globes.
The barrel of device lay completely hidden from view, occupying the first three inches of Melissa’s rectal passage. It was rounded at the tip and approximately three quarters of an inch in diameter except where it narrowed at its neck. The design caused the appliance to interact with the first anal sphincter, allowing the rubbery toroidal muscle to actually draw the device inward, holding it firmly in place.
For those of you who have joined our story late, Melissa Carpenter, age fifteen, has just recently entered into an obligatory relationship with her American History teacher, Mr. Benjamin Johnson. Ben Johnson had been admiring Melissa from afar for quite some time and recently was fortunate enough to have discovered the means by which he could convince the vivacious little blond to spend some quality time with him.
At the time Melissa was dating a very popular student by the name of Trevor Williams, and the young couple were always together. Trevor was a fine young man, the son any father could be proud of. He was a talented athlete, an exceptional student, and he was totally devoted to Melissa Carpenter.
Trevor Williams also had the reputation of being impeccably honest.
So when Melissa came to him, begging him to help her pass her mid-term exams by supplying her with the answers to her American History test, Trevor was, needless to say, torn between his strong morals and his desire to please Melissa.
In the end Melissa was able to win the young man over, but in Trevor’s defense you will wish to note that she was and is an exquisitely lovely young lady. And at the tender age of sixteen, Trevor Williams was ill equipped to resist the kind of allure and enchantment that the beautiful Melissa Carpenter brought to bear upon him.
Melissa Carpenter was 5’-5” tall and weighed approximately 116 pounds.
She had strawberry blond hair that she was in the habit of wearing up with straight bangs and a short pony-tail. The immaculate shape of her nubile young body was the stuff that wars are fought over. At age twelve Melissa began turning heads, and by the time of this writing she occupied the secret dreams and desires of virtually every male she encountered, young and old alike. With square shoulders, broad hips and a slender waist, Melissa was perfectly proportioned for her height and weight. Her breasts, although a little on the small side, were none the less delicately shaped cones of flawless flesh, firm and every so slightly pointed at the tips. And her derriere, now there was a dream maker. When Melissa Carpenter strode the hallways of her school there were always numerous collisions between distracted males in her wake, turning their heads to get a better look.
In addition, Melissa had a face that Michael Angelo would kill for.
At a fairly young age, she discovered “the power of pretty”, and in relatively short period of time she’d developed it into an art form.
Melissa knew exactly how to glance at a boy in order to bend him to her will. Her lips were full and her mouth slightly pouty and extremely expressive. Melissa knew precisely how to flash her big blue eyes in order to get her way. On the other hand those same sensual blue pools could instantly turn the grey-green color of a storm swept sea if she was displeased.
In short, Melissa Carpenter was, in the minds of many, an absolute work of art.
Ironically, it was her ability to sway the hearts and minds of men that landed Melissa in her current predicament. She managed without a great deal of difficulty to convince her boyfriend, Trevor, that the rewards at which she hinted would be well worth the sacrifice of his honor and integrity, and that’s how Melissa came by the answers to the exam. As it turned out, her tactics were sound, but her strategy wasn’t well thought out at all.
Melissa wasn’t a stupid child by any stretch of the imagination, but she tended to be somewhat impulsive. For example, she’d been turning in barely passing grades the entire semester, then suddenly she practically aces the mid-term. Highly suspicious, I’d say, and so said Benjamin Johnson, her teacher. After confronting Melissa with what amounted to irrefutable evidence of cheating, Benjamin devised a method by which she could make restitution for her wrong doings. The plan naturally involved Melissa consenting to have sex with him which understandably was not at all popular with the pretty teenager.
Fortunately though, Mr. Johnson had a little extra leverage in the form of Trevor’s involvement in Melissa’s transgressions, which he used to encourage her to cooperate.
Melissa was still exhausted, and as she slid into the warm water, she found that she needed to turn slightly to one side, reclining on one hip lest she bring pressure to bear against the exposed end of the device buried in her rectum. But the bath water was so wonderfully soothing that after thirty minutes she began to feel almost human again...
More than once, Melissa toyed with the idea of removing the repulsive device. “How would he ever know?” she reasoned. One time she even reached back, and with some difficulty grasped the flange of the imbedded anal appliance and gave it a gentle tug. Melissa quickly discovered that the thing was in there pretty tight. She found she could twist the device one way or the other without causing herself too much discomfort, but when she tried to pull on it, she instantly got this really “yucky” feeling in her belly. It wasn’t painful exactly, just “yucky”. Melissa decided to leave it alone for the time being, discovering that unless she messed with it or sat on it, the thing really wasn’t all that noticeable anymore.
“Are you alright, Melissa?” her mother asked when the pretty teenager wandered into the kitchen. The older woman’s concern for her daughter was obvious in both her voice and her expression. “I looked in on you last night, but you were sleeping so soundly that I didn’t want to wake you.”
Melissa gave her mother a puzzled look? “Wha ... What do you mean, Mom?
It’s only nine o’clock.”
Melissa’s mother stopped what she was doing and turned to face her lovely teenage daughter. She looked very worried now. “It’s nine o’clock in the morning, Melissa,” she said. “Are you sure you’re feeling OK, dear?” her mom asked as she dried her hands on a dish towel then went to her young daughter.
“Yeah, Mom, really,” Melissa insisted as her mother took her by the shoulders.
“You don’t look sick,” the older woman said, placing her hand on Melissa’s forehead. “And you don’t appear to have a fever.”
Melissa’s mother put her fingers under her daughter’s chin and made her look up at her. Then gazing into the pretty teenager’s eyes, she asked in a sterner voice, “You haven’t been drinking or anything have you young lady?”
Melissa squirmed and turned away. She didn’t appreciate being scrutinized in such a manner, even though she knew that her mother was genuinely concerned about her wellbeing. “Noo, Mother!” she huffed in a decidedly exasperated tone of voice. “You know I wouldn’t do that,” she said, acting insulted that her mom would suggest such a thing.
Melissa had never touched alcohol or drugs, or even tobacco, and she took great pride in the way she conducted her personal affairs. She thought of herself as a good, wholesome, American teenager. “Why I’ve never even had sex,” she thought to herself. Then with a start, she brought a hand to her mouth, and her eyes stared unseeing.
Her mother noticed her pretty daughter’s face grow paler, and her expression became dark and distant. “What is it, Melissa? Tell me, dear,” the older woman insisted and shook her daughter gently.
For at least a minute Melissa remained lost in sullen thought. Then eventually she snapped out of it and tried to put on a brave face for her mother’s benefit, but only after concluding that from this moment on, she would have to adopt a new self-image.
“I’m alright, Mom, really,” she said and tried to smile, even though that was the last thing on Earth Melissa felt like doing. “I just have a little headache, that’s all, and yesterday, I was feeling kind of nauseous. Maybe I had a twenty-four-hour flu bug or something,” she offered, praying her mother would cease and desist with her interrogation, well intentioned as it might have been. “Can you make me something to eat. I’m really starving,” the pretty teen said in an effort to change the subject once and for all.
Her mother continued to stare at her for several rather uncomfortable seconds before at last she said, “Well, alright then. If you’re sure you’re OK.”
“I’m alright, Mother. I promise,” Melissa insisted with just a hint of impatience. “But I’m really famished.”
“I guess you are,” her mom said in a little bit brighter tone of voice. “You missed dinner last night, you know,” she scolded as she turned toward the refrigerator. “That’s just not like you, dear.”
“Don’t start again, please, Mom,” Melissa pleaded as she went to the kitchen table and plopped down into a chair.
The pretty teenager was barely able to suppress an audible groan when the disgusting thing that Mr. Johnson had placed into her rear end jabbed upward into some very tender tissues, and practically knocked the wind out of her. Melissa shot a quick glance in her mother’s direction, and thankfully her back was turned, or she most certainly would have noticed the color drain from her young daughter’s face and a distinct line of perspiration spring to her forehead.
“A Mr. Johnson called for you about thirty minutes ago, dear,”
Melissa’s mother said, as she rummaged about in the refrigerator. “He said he’s your history teacher. Is that right?”
Melissa’s blood ran cold, and she had to concentrate to keep her voice steady. “Y ... yeah, Mom, he’s, my teacher. W ... what did he want? Did he say?” the teenager asked, fearing the worst.
“Well, he said that he’ll be tutoring you each week, something about advanced social studies or the like,” her mother prattled on as she set a Tupperware container on the counter. “Anyway, he said that Trevor’s involved too, and that he wants the two of you to come to his home this evening to begin your studies,” the older woman went on, not noticing the expression of growing alarm on her pretty daughter’s face. “He said you can stay for dinner, and that you might be quite late getting home, which is fine with me, dear, since your father and I have plans anyway.”
Melissa’s heart was going ninety miles an hour, and she tried desperately to appear calm as her mother turned and set a bowl of cantaloupe wedges in front of her. Melissa couldn’t think of anything to say, so she sat staring at the bowl of fruit while her thoughts raced.
“What wickedness does he have planned?” the distressed teenager wondered. “And why involve Trevor?”
“Anyway, dear, Mr. Johnson said to be at his home at around five and to come as you are, whatever that means.”
Melissa almost choked on a piece of cantaloupe. She knew exactly what her history teacher meant, as her mind’s eye was tugged inward to the dull throbbing presence in her backside. “O ... OK, Mom,” Melissa managed after regaining her composure.
The ride to the home of Mr. Benjamin Johnson was one of the most uncomfortable experiences Melissa had ever been through to date, barring one, of course. Trevor’s Jeep Wrangler had an extra heavy duty suspension, and the custom bucket seats just happened to be shaped such that every little bump or dip in the road caused shock waves to be transmitted from the Jeep’s big knobby tires directly into Melissa’s lower abdomen by way of the hard rubber device secreted away inside of her. To Melissa, it felt as though she were being kicked in the belly from the inside every few minutes or so. The knuckles of her right hand were white where she clung to the side roll cage bar above the passenger door in an effort to raise her shapely bottom up off the hard seat and attenuate at least a few of the blows.
“Ugghh, God!” Melissa groaned under her breath when Trevor, in his usual driving fashion, brought the vehicle to an abrupt stop at a traffic light, causing Melissa to rock suddenly forward then back and down onto the hateful anal plug. Beads of perspiration adorned her forehead and her mood was anything but cordial as the pretty teen turned to her boyfriend and hissed, “Can’t you take it easy, please!”
Trevor didn’t know what to make of Melissa’s attitude recently.
“Hell, he’d done what she’d asked and gotten her the test questions.
She’d passed her exams with flying colors, and she ought to be happy,” the perplexed young man thought to himself. “Then she goes and breaks our date yesterday with no explanation or anything, and tonight she’s acting like she doesn’t want me around even though Mr. Johnson invited us both over for dinner. Probably to celebrate Melissa passing his mid-term,” Trevor surmised. “If he only knew,” the young man muttered to himself, referring to his theft of the history exam questions.
Trevor liked Mr. Johnson, both as a teacher and a person, and he felt badly about what he’d done, but that was all water under the bridge now. Melissa had passed the mid-terms, and that was that, as they say. “Now if only she’d be a little nicer to me, like she promised,”
Trevor thought, glancing surreptitiously over at his pretty girlfriend. Melissa stared straight ahead, ignoring him entirely.
She looked upset and even angry, Trevor noted. “Hell, it’s probably just that time of the month,” the trusting teenager concluded.
For the past couple of years, Trevor Williams, like the rest of us, had been forced to learn about the vagaries of the emotional female during menstrual cycles, and his pretty girlfriend had introduced him firsthand to the joys of PMS. Trevor caught on quickly, discovering that once every month there would come a time when nothing he could say or do that would count for anything, and once every month he learned to keep his distance. “But this is different, somehow,”
Trevor reflected and was about to turn his attention back to his driving, when just then the Wrangler hit a fairly deep pothole in the road. Trevor couldn’t remember ever having seen the kind of expression that appeared on Melissa’s face. “Are you OK, Mel?” he asked when he saw her eyes grow suddenly wide and staring. He thought also that he’d heard her make a grunting noise of some sort.
Melissa wouldn’t look at him. She didn’t care about what Trevor thought right now. For a second or two all she could think about was catching her breath which had been temporarily knocked out of her as though she’d been punched in the gut. Then as she struggled to maintain at least some semblance of composure, Melissa’s thoughts were occupied with trying to figure out a way that she could gracefully exit the Jeep and make it into her history teacher’s house when they arrived without Trevor noticing the growing wet spot on the back of her dress. You see, just before the Jeep hit that last big pothole, Melissa’s bladder had been relatively full. It no longer was.
Melissa knew that her panties were soaked, and she prayed that she wouldn’t leave a puddle in the seat as Trevor pulled up in front of the home of Benjamin Johnson. At the last minute, a thought occurred to her, and Melissa asked Trevor if she might borrow his letter sweater that was in the back seat, claiming that it might be cold in the house. Stealthily the pretty teenager tied the arms of the sweater around her waist so that it covered the back of her dress to her knees as she slid from the Jeep. Glancing back as the door closed, Melissa noticed the distinct sheen of moisture on the car seat she’d just exited but didn’t think that Trevor had seen it. “Thank God they’re vinyl!” she thought as she began the uncomfortable walk to the front door.
“Well, well, well!” Ben Johnson said in a very congenial tone of voice to the two young people standing on his front steps. “How nice it is to see you both. Do come right in,” he added sticking out his hand to Trevor, but all the while he had his eye on the young man’s pretty girlfriend. When Trevor took his offered hand, Johnson practically drug him through the front door and into the foyer, before the polite high school student could step aside and allow his girlfriend to precede him. “And good evening to you, Miss Carpenter,” Johnson said, turning to Melissa. “You do look lovely tonight, my dear,” he said reaching for her and placing a hand onto her shoulder. Melissa refused to look the man in the eye, averting her gaze as she allowed him to draw her into his residence.
Feeling it was one of the least provocative things she owned, Melissa had chosen to wear a simple cotton, sleeveless sun dress, knee length and teal in color. Besides, summer was almost here, and the nights were getting warmer. And although she strongly suspected from his message that Mr. Johnson preferred that she not wear panties, Melissa had worn a pair anyway, and right now she was very glad she had. The absorbent cotton had helped to trap at least a part of the flood resulting from the pothole incident, and in addition Melissa had included a panty liner due to the persistent vaginal oozing she was experiencing. She was sure that her dress was spotted in spite of the added protection, and she only hoped that Trevor’s sweater would conceal it.
Benjamin Johnson noted the sweater right away, thinking it a little incongruous with the rest of her ensemble, and as he guided Melissa into the foyer, he glanced down at her pretty little rear end which he enjoyed looking at but which was obscured by the heavy sweater.
Johnson thought about the anal appliance that he’d placed into the lovely girl many hours ago, and hoped that she’d obeyed him and left it in place. He imagined the dark rubber torpedo shaped plug surrounded by moist and tender tissues which shifted around it as she walked past him. Lost in this pleasant daydream, Ben Johnson almost missed it, but at the last second before she turned, his sharp eyes spotted the darker color of Melissa’s dress where it peaked out from under her boyfriend’s letter sweater.
“Her dress is wet,” he correctly deduced. Then glancing quickly in Trevor’s direction, Ben Johnson concluded from the young man’s good natured expression that he was clueless. Looking then at Melissa as she sought to maneuver herself nearer the wall, Johnson raised an eyebrow and smiled when at last he caught her eye. “We’ve had a little accident, haven’t we,” the older man mused when Melissa blushed hotly, thereby confirming his suspicions. “And we haven’t told Trevor about it,” he reasoned, winking covertly at the obviously uncomfortable young lady.
Then with a gracious flare, Ben Johnson held out a hand, indicating the way and saying, “Let’s retire to the library for a while until dinner’s ready, shall we.” Moving to Trevor’s side, Mr. Johnson placed his hand onto the shoulder of his former student, urging him forward. Then unexpectedly he turned to Melissa at the last moment and asked, “May I take your sweater, my dear?”
“N ... no thank you,” Melissa responded a little too quickly and looking decidedly uncomfortable as she stared at her history teacher. She quickly averted her gaze when he grinned at her.
“Wow, you’ve got a lot of books!” Trevor marveled, turning in a circle and gazing at the ceiling high walnut bookcases filled with rare volumes. Melissa remained silent. Her panties were cold and clammy and very uncomfortable.
“Yes, well. I’ve been collecting them since my college days,”