Invisible Girl: An Erotic Romance, Part Five

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Chapter Nine“Have you ever wanted to be invisible?”Jane had been waiting in line to get into the cafeteria for lunch when the sound of his voice made her start and turn around…to find him standing behind her and pretending to read the book he held open in his hands.She had never told him about being the Invisible Girl.  She still often felt invisible when she wasn’t with him, especially when she was at home.  But it seemed to her that lately, she was gradually, if sporadically, becoming more visible.  She had, of course, started paying more attention to her clothing for his sake.  Recently, however, she had also started removing her glasses when she didn’t absolutely need them, such as between classes, or now, at lunchtime.  She had even started wearing a lighter version of the make-up she had worn the night of the dance.And somehow that had been enough to bring her into focus for some people.  Two girlfriends with whom she had hardly spoken since high school had sat down with her at lunch and begun talking with her as if no time at all had passed, and had even invited her to a slumber party one of them was having.  Boys she hardly knew sometimes said hello to her in the hallway, greeting her by name, which shocked her.  Another girl she knew had come up to her and told her that a certain boy had asked her to find out if Jane was going out with anyone.  She‘d had no idea how to reply and had finally muttered something vaguely meant to be discouraging.And just yesterday she had stood in front of her English class and read an essay, and while she still found the experience unnerving it hadn’t been absolutely petrifying.  The teacher had even complimented her on the improvement in her delivery.  As she sat down, she’d noticed that she was actually breathing somewhat normally.  She’d wondered, half-seriously, if being a slave could somehow give a person more confidence.But her relationship with Peter was something she definitely wanted to keep invisible.  So it seemed a violation of their agreement to hear him speak to her in public like this, even if he was pretending he hadn’t. But it was kind of fun, too, like spies pretending not to know each other as they exchanged secret codes.  There was no one behind him and, checking, she saw that the two girls in front of her were engaged in animated discussion.  She moved away from them somewhat, turned her head slightly as if looking at something down the hall, and replied, barely moving her lips:  “Sometimes.  Why?”Without looking up from his book, he replied, in the same fashion, “Oh, I was just thinking how cool it would be if you and I were both invisible right now.”“Why?”He darted a quick glance and smile at her.  “Because then you could lift up your dress, right here in front of everybody.  And I could get down in front of you…and kiss your thighs…pull down your panties…and lick your pussy.  You look very nice, by the way.”And with that, he had closed his book and walked casually away, as if he’d suddenly decided the line was too long, leaving her as red-faced with embarrassment—and desire—as if he’d spoken loud enough for everyone around her to hear.Later that afternoon she found him in the library, sitting in her favorite place.  She thought for a moment.  Then she walked towards him as if she were going to speak to him—she saw him glance up at her in surprise—but instead swerved all the way behind him and continued on until she was in the part of the room that was hidden from the rest of the library by bookshelves.  This area was, as usual, deserted.  She stopped and turned towards where he was sitting.  She saw him shift his position so that he could see her while still appearing to be reading his book.Then, holding his gaze, she reached down with both hands and slowly began to lift up her dress, watching his expression as she gradually exposed first şişli escort her panties, then her belly, and finally her bra.  She cupped her breasts with both hands and toyed with them for a moment, then continued to hold up her dress with one hand while the other slid sensuously down over her belly to slide slowly in and out between her legs a few times.Then she simply let her dress fall back into place and walked out of the library.Chapter TenThe next morning as Jane walked into her first class of the day her teacher handed her an envelope.  It was official Ridgeton Community College stationery—the return address was embossed in the upper left-hand corner—and her name was typed in the address section. Inside it was a form letter telling Jane that she was scheduled for a “Disciplinary Hearing” with her Student Advisor that afternoon.For a moment her mind went completely blank.  She hadn’t known there was such a thing as a Student Advisor at Ridgeton and could not for the life of her recall anything she had done that would require a meeting with this one.  When she examined the form more closely, however, she saw that she was to report to a “Mr. Peters”.  And in the section marked “Reason for Meeting” was written, “Being a very bad little girl.”Oh god, he was going to punish her again.  Make her do humiliating things.  Spank her.  Or worse.  She could hardly wait.All day long—and the day seemed extremely long, crawling by with excruciating slowness—she would suddenly snap back to the present and realize that she had again drifted off into a fantasy, combining elements of things he had done to her with feverish imaginings of things that he might do, or make her do.  She had to restrain herself from sneaking off into the girls’ bathroom to touch herself; she wanted to let the anticipation build.  Near the end of the day, she did allow herself to visit there, but only to use the toilet and to check her appearance.  She hoped he would like the way she was dressed (He was so cute to say that yesterday, right after talking so dirty to her.) in a rose-print blouse, matching dark red skirt and a wide black belt, plus her usual penny loafers and white knee socks.When the school day finally ended she had to force herself to dawdle, to take her time closing up her books and putting away her notebooks and pens and glasses while the classroom emptied out when what she wanted to do was simply jump up and run to find the room designated on the meeting form.  She wanted to see him looking at her as she took her clothes off…hear him telling her to do things she shouldn’t do…feel him violating her with his fingers and his cock.  When she finally stood up to leave she could hardly walk for the quivering sensation between her legs.She made her way with deliberate slowness down the hall to her locker and stored all her books and supplies there.  Then she followed the classroom numbers until she reached the back part of the building, where she found the one she was looking for.The window in the door was covered over from the inside with pink construction paper, on which the words “Yearbook Staff” had been scrawled in black magic marker.  Ah.  Peter had been on the yearbook staff, and although the yearbook was now complete he would still have a key.  After quickly making sure there was no one around, she knocked.When the door opened, though, she thought she must have come to the wrong room by mistake.  The man who opened the door was obviously college faculty, judging by the badly fitting blue suit and striped tie, the slicked-down hair, and the heavy, black-framed eyeglasses.  She wondered for one panic-stricken moment if this really was Mr. Peters, a faculty member she hadn’t seen before.But then she remembered the “bad little girl” line on her form and simultaneously noticed that the somber glasses frames had mecidiyeköy escort no lenses in them.  Oh god, it was…“Miss Harkin?  I’m Mr. Peters.  Come in, please.”He held the door open for her and shut it behind her as she walked in.  The front half of the room looked like any classroom in the school: an old wooden desk and chair; a blackboard running the length of the wall behind them; and facing them, several rows of combination chair-desks.  The back of the room held the only residual evidence of yearbook activity: several long tables littered with layout sheets, rulers, scissors, marking pencils, and glue.  The back wall held a chaotic montage of black that no one else could see what she was doing.  But then, without knowing why, she surrendered to it, allowed it to fill her mind and take her over: she was standing in front of her English class, holding up her skirt, letting them all see…   She couldn’t bear it!  Tears running down her face, throat tight with shame, she turned her head and said, nearly sobbing, “P-please…Mr. Peters…”“I’ll tell you when to stop, Miss Harkin.  Go on.  Show them what you were doing.”She began to sob in earnest as she held her skirt up with her left hand and, moving her legs apart, began stroking herself between her legs with her right.  She imagined the shocked look on her classmates’ faces.  Then she pictured several of the boys trying stealthily to touch the sudden bulge in their pants as they watched her.  This made her smile, even as she continued to cry.  And she found that it excited her as well.“Are you all right, Jane?” It was Peter’s normal voice: concerned, not knowing how much of what she was doing was pretend.  She nodded twice, vigorously, still sobbing. “Very well,” came the cold voice of Mr. Peters.  “Continue, Miss Harkin.”She continued, now filled with a curious blend of shame and excitement.  In her imagination, she saw some of the girls in the back row sneaking a hand under their skirts, their knees slightly apart, as they watched her.Then ‘Mr. Peters’ walked out from behind his desk and went to stand behind the last row, hands behind his back as if observing her effect on the class.  Jane stared into his eyes as she continued to stroke herself, her mouth open, tears still running down her face, the crotch of her panties beginning to moisten beneath her touch.“I don’t believe the class can see what you’re doing very clearly, Miss Harkin.  Take off your skirt.  And your blouse.”She dropped her skirt and covered her face with her hands.  “No, Mr. Peters!  Please don’t make me!  I’ll do anything…”“Indeed you will, Miss Harkin.  And right now, you will take off your skirt and your blouse.  Or shall I ask the class to help you?”She saw herself with her classmates clustered around her—holding her arms, unbuttoning her blouse, pulling off her skirt, their hands all over her. She moaned out loud with excitement…and came. She fell back against the desk, grasping the edge with both hands.  She kept her gaze fixed on him, letting him see her shuddering in orgasm.  Somehow, having him look at her while she came–plus the fact that she was still, amazingly, fully dressed–seemed to multiply the intensity, as if she were not only experiencing it but could see herself as he must be seeing her: chest heaving, pelvis twitching, eyes half-closed and mouth wide open, gasping.  Oh god…‘Mr. Peters’ walked through the rows of chairs and stood in front of her, arms crossed over his chest.  He shook his head as if disappointed, and said, “Really, Miss Harkin—what are we going to do with you?  You are not only a very bad little girl; you are disobedient as well.  I’ve told you twice to take off your skirt and blouse and you still have not done so.  I’m going to give you one more chance.  And to be sure you make the most of it I want you to go to the blackboard and write ten times: ‘I will take off my clothes whenever Mr. Peters tells me to.’  Go on.”She turned and slowly walked around the desk to the blackboard.  She picked up a piece of chalk and began to write, as close to the top as she could reach: I will take off my clothes whenever Mr. Peters tells me to.  She knew that Peter was just giving her some time to recover, but still, there was something deliciously bad about writing such a thing on a school blackboard where anyone could see it.  Not that anyone else would know who had written it—but she knew.I will take off my clothes whenever Mr. Peters tells me to.She imagined the class watching her write; wondering if she was really going to do it.  The boys staring at her back, excited, trying to imagine her in just her underwear.I will take off my clothes whenever Mr. Peters tells me to.Whenever Mr. Peters tells me to.  She imagined Mr. Peters walking up to her in the supermarket and saying, “Take off your skirt and blouse, Miss Harkin.”  Saw herself taking them off in the middle of the aisle and placing them in her basket.  Continuing to shop in her bra and panties, customers staring at her.I will take off my clothes whenever Mr. Peters tells me to.From the corner of her eye, she could see Peter—sitting at the desk and reading his book, pretending to be Mr. Peters—and felt a surge of affection for him.  She loved him: loved the sexy, secret things they did together, loved that he found her exciting, loved that she could please him.  She wanted to go over and whisper in his ear, “Peter, I’ll take off my clothes whenever you tell me to.”  She wanted to see the bulge in his pants and know that she had created it.  She forced herself to continue writing.I will take off my clothes whenever Mr. Peters tells me to.She felt herself beginning to become excited again.  She wanted to find out what would happen next.  She wrote faster.I will take off my clothes whenever Mr. Peters tells me to.I will take off my clothes whenever Mr. Peters tells me to.I will take off my clothes whenever Mr. Peters tells me to.I will take off my clothes whenever Mr. Peters tells me to.I will take off my clothes whenever Mr. Peters tells me to.She put the chalk down in the tray and went to stand in front of the desk, facing him.He continued to read.This time she knew better than to wait.  She turned to face the classroom.  She undid her black leather belt and dropped it on the floor.  She reached behind her and opened the back of her red skirt, unzipped it, and tugged it down until it fell loosely around her ankles.  She stepped out of it and nudged it aside with her foot.  In her mind’s eye, she saw the class leaning forward, felt the intensity of their stares.  She unbuttoned the sleeves, and then the front of her rose-print blouse, then pulled it back off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor behind her. She saw one of the boys, a pudgy kid with glasses, try to muffle his mouth with one hand as he said ‘Ohhh!’ and clutched at himself frantically with the other hand—and knew that she had made him come.  She smiled directly at him to let him know she knew, as he tried to cover the spreading wet spot on the front of his pants.Then she stood with her feet apart, slowly raised her arms, and clasped her hands behind her head, feeling her breasts rise as she did so, enjoying the effect she knew this would have on the boys. She saw that several of them were now rubbing themselves with only minimal attempts at concealment—a notebook held over the lap; a shirt front pulled out—as they stared at her breasts, at the wetness between her legs.  It made her feel like the sexiest girl on earth.  She saw one boy in the back row trying to surreptitiously edge his chair closer to the girl sitting next to his.  Saw his hand join hers under her skirt.  Saw her suddenly sit straight up, eyes wide, as if she’d received an electric shock.  Saw her look sideways at the boy, alarmed…then slowly close her eyes.  Saw her knees drift a little further apart.  Jane smiled.

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