Ms. Hogan’s Tape Detention (m/F) Part 16 Added 5/3
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Thank you all for the feedback — still very new to this type of storytelling and am all ears for any ideas of what Marshall and Ms. Hogan might get up to in the future.
What a fun update, but I think you’re going a good job already, new it this story telling or not, as for ideas and suggestions, once more I think you’re doing fine, although there’s always twists and turns you could add in there, what with already mentioning rope, zip ties etc, maybe a change of venue, the choices should be yours, the fun for everyone but most of all yourself
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I would love if he had her wear a school girl outfit with knee high socks and high heeled pumps and tied her up. Or if he made her dress sexy for work
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Both are great ideas
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- Location: East Coast, U.S.
Part Seven:
Walking the halls the following schools, among the clamoring and chaos of normal high school ecology, Ms. Hogan found herself unable to hear anything else but the click of her own heels reverberating off the walls, pulling her back into the previous weekend each time she stepped outside her classroom. She began to feel different moving about her daily life as a teacher, a touch more distant from her students and fellow faculty, the growing secret she carried raking up more and more space in the back of her head.
Her best friend and confidant on campus, Bella Strand, the school’s PE teacher and athletic director, invited her to have lunch on Friday, and to check in. “Just having a rough few weeks,” Ms. Hogan insisted again and again, eventually packing up her lunch heading to last period, where she knew Marshall would be, waiting to give her instructions for the weekend to come.
To her surprise, Marshall wasn’t in class, in fact no one had seen him since lunch. As the bell rang and school released, Ms. Hogan knew that her ordeal wasn’t over, but she looked forward to the thought of having a break this weekend from having her body gripped and wrapped and studied by a teenager.
Ready to go home for the weekend, She opened up her drawer to retrieve her car keys, finding a small envelope waiting below the keys. Ms. Hogan knew immediately she had been foolish to hope that she’d be free for even a single weekend. She knew what was in the envelope before she brought the contents to her face to read it. In her hand was a single Polaroid of herself, six days earlier, tightly taped up in that very classroom in her white and red bikini. Seeing herself from this angle, her cheeks flushed. She was mortified at the way her body’s curved were pushed out further by the bikini and the bondage. Over her gagged lips, her wide eyes stared back at Ms. Hogan from the picture. Her mind was shaken with the knowledge that Marshall had taken this image of her home with him that afternoon, and undoubtedly imagined he was, in many ways, taking her actual body home with him, bound, open and helpless, and his to use.
Half dazed, she flipped the picture over. “8:30 again. Don’t be late this time. Sun dress. Low cut. High heels.”
Almost accustomed to this new, terrible sinking in her stomach, Ms. Hogan drove home, stopping by the local outlet mall to find Marshall’s dress.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — —
Pulling in besides Marshall’s car again, Ms. Hogan noticed the weather brightening up significantly since the previous week. Even at 8:50 in the morning, the time she arrived, she hardly felt a chill as she stepped out of her car to greet her soon to be captor.
“Good morning! Another fine day! What a shame to go inside!” Marshall walked around his car to get a better view of his teacher as she extended her long, bare leg out of her car. Ms. Hogan was dressed in a bright yellow sun dress with spaghetti straps, which allowed the neckline to plunge dangerously low on her chest, revealing more of her seemingly infinite cleavage than even Marshall had hoped for. It was clear she hadn’t brought a bra with her. The breezy dress stopped about three to four inches from her knees, making it well under the limit the school would seem “appropriate.” She stepped out of the car, her red heels clicking on the pavement.
“You look…I didn’t expect you to be this…you look really nice Ms. Hogan.” Marshall stammered, bringing his teacher a brief rush id satisfaction. It was encouraging to see she still had some ways to make this teenage boy feel out of his depth.
“Well. You know. It’s not a bikini, but I’m sure this will work for you, right Marshall?” she played up a false submissive tone with her voice. Marshall nodded his head, and the two headed inside.
Ms. Hogan sat across from Marshall at her desk, leaning back with her arms folded, one leg dangling over a knee. “Two hours again. I would have had it last time. What do you want?”
“That depends, any preferences on what you want to be tied with?”
“No handcuffs, no cord.”
“Will tape ruin that dress?”
“Marshall. Look at me. I only brought this dress to be tied up in. I’m not wearing this anywhere else.”
“Fair enough. Gag?”
“Why do you even need to gag me? It’s not like I want talk to you after you’ve tied me up in my own classroom.” Ms. Hogan could see she had made Marshall annoyed. He started reaching for his gym bag — she thought to try and disarm him again before he found whatever it was he was looking for. “Are you afraid I’m going to spit on you? Or give you a kiss? I promise not to if you leave off the gag.”
Marshall, red faced, retracted his hand from the bag, much to his teacher’s relief.
“Do you have a preference on how to gag me? You seem to love doing that,” Ms. Hogan said, going on the offensive. “The tape and sock did a great job shutting me up. I worry sometimes that the ball gag you brought would make me drool on my chest. Though that I’m sure you wouldn’t mind.”
She had discovered something — Marshall shied away from his domineering persona with every word Ms. Hogan said. He felt embarrassed. She began to wonder if she pretended to be excited or into the new bet, if maybe she could get him to make a mistake. She pressed on.
“You can gag me however you want Marshall. I’m just really glad I won’t be in a swimsuit again. I didn’t enjoy having my backside and breasts on display like that, especially the way they looked when I was taped up, and especially especially in front of my student. Who knows what you were thinking when you saw me like that? In fact, what *were* you thinking Marshall? I’m curious. Did I look like your dream kidnapping victim? It seemed toward the end like you were considering taking me home with you all bound and gagged like that.” Her student sat, speechless, much to her delight.
Marshall, beet red, tried changing the subject. “Fine. 2 hours. But here’s what will happen.” Marshall stood up, and began pacing across the room, clearly thinking out loud in real time. Ms. Hogan smiled, leaning back more, convinced she was in the process of sabotaging her way out of this.
“I want to go on a field trip with you. Nowhere public, but it’s getting stuffy in here.” Marshall grinned, turning back to Ms. Hogan, whose body flinched at the sound of the words “field trip”. Ms. Hogan weighed her options, knowing that time was the most valuable asset she could try and earn at that moment.
“You’ll be sure that nobody sees me? Then fine. Where are we going?”
“That we’ll figure out later. Why don’t you go ahead and stand up though — let’s get you in your restraints Ms. Hogan.”
— — — — — — — — — — —
Almost instantly, Ms. Hogan knew that she had miscalculated something within her student. Instead of being too embarrassed to properly bind her, Marshall was more rough with her as he worked, grabbing and spinning, squeezing and pulling tight as he he folded her hands across each other between her shoulder blades, wrapping her wrists incredibly tightly in a green, nylon length of rope, leaving her elbows pointing sharply downward like spear tips at both of her sides.
“What is this??” Ms. Hogan complained, unable to see however Marshall had rigged her thin arms behind her.
“It’s called a reverse prayer. Like it?” Marshall waited for a response — he didn’t get one. Shrugging, he continued on, binding Ms. Hogans legs like he had already done several times. For no reason other than a curious urge, he reached down one of her legs and fan his thumb across her outer ankle. His teacher pretended not to notice.
Making another attempt at her strategy to embarrass Marshall into making some sort of mistake with the rope, Ms. Hogan smile at her captor. “I know it’s just for this, but what do you think of the dress? Does it work on me? Or does it only look good on someone who’s been tied up?” She swayed back and forth, pushing her chest out slightly and locking eyes with Marshall. “I might want to wear something like this again if I don’t win.” Marshall couldn’t help but look down the low cut neckline. Looking up at Ms. Hogan, he smiled.
“You always look great. But it’s hard to tell without finishing the job.” He pointed the variety of gags laid out on the desk beside him. “I picked this one out special for our trip,” Marshall said, holding a roll of clear tape and a red ball of fabric.
“Where are we going?” Ms. Hogan tried to feign excitement, but could tell she was failing. “That’s need to know,” replied Marshall. And right now you don’t need to know.”
“Just don’t let anyone see me,” the English teacher said, opening her mouth for Marshall, who was impressed she had grown so accustomed to the procedure of things.
Marshall shoved the red rag into his teacher’s mouth, hard and without much care. Shocked a little, Ms. Hogan chewed the rag for a few moments to settle it comfortably inside her mouth before meaning forward to let her student wrap layer after layer of transparent tape around her lips and head. “Mmmph!” Ms. Hogan looked up at her student and smiled behind her gag, which revealed the shape and color of her newly locked lips. If the lights were off, you might not know she’s even gagged, Marshall thought to himself. “Mmhhmf hmmm?” Ms. Hogan swayed even stronger now, making her yellow sundress twirl and breasts swing, barely supported and barely covered by the spaghetti strap and chest of her dress. Marshall’s face changed in an instant, signaling to his teacher that her cute, submissive approach had been a terrible mistake.
“Now I can really look at you.” Marshall grabbed his teacher by the shoulders and span her, several times, letting his hand rove and land over all parts of her body. “Hmmmpff!!!!!” Ms. Hogan felt him steal a few squeezes of her chest as she span in front of him.
“Now let’s get moving.” Marshall put a hand on the small of his teacher’s back and began escorting her hopping figure out the side door of the school.
— — — — —
“Hmm hmm.” Ms. Hogan shook her head, leering at Marshall as he held open the passenger door open on his old Buick. “Hmmf hm hmhmmfhm hm hmmph.” Resolute that she would not be getting into a car with her student while she couldn’t move or talk.
“Fine — we’ll, I’m getting in the car. Good luck out here finding someone to untie you *and* keep a secret. I’ll be off!” Marshall stepped into the old car, starting it and shifting to reverse. He began backing out of his parking spot.
“HMMMMMMMMMPF!!! Hmmf! Mmmmf!”
Ms. Hogan hopped frantically to the passenger side of the car, staring in at at Marshall through the window. “Mmmmmumnnph!” She knocked on the door with the side of the hips.
“Too late! I’ve got places to be!” Marshall toyed with his teacher, pretending to shift the car into drive.”
Annoyed and tired of standing on the uneven asphalt in her bound ankles and high heels, Ms. Hogan knew what to do. Leaning forward into the passenger window, she pressed her chest into the glass, letting herself spread out against the surface. She stood there for a moment, letting Marshall study her. “Hmmmmpf.” She commanded.
Marshall parked the car and sprinted to the passenger side, opening the door for his teacher. “Your chariot, ma’am.” Ms. Hogan glared at him. Unable to get in herself, the English teacher nodded with her head toward the seat, clearly directing him to help her inside. Marshall took Ms. Hogan in his arms, lifting her off the ground, and placing her softly in the passenger seat. He was gentle, the teacher noticed.
“Now. I don’t think anyone would notice the clear tape you’re wearing so wonderfully, but let’s be extra careful.” Marshall reclined Ms. Hogan’s seat until she was laying all the way back, nearly completely horizontal. Her whole body lying bound tightly several inches below the window. Shifting her shoulders in the chair, settling herself, before looking up at Marshall. “Comfortable?” He asked, standing over her. “Mmm,” she responded, rolling her eyes and nodding.
Buckling his bound, yellow-dressed teacher into her seat, Marshall walked around the car and took his seat, buckling himself, and looking over to Ms. Hogan. Taking a moment before he started the car, he reclined his own seat, making himself level with her. The two stared at each other for several moments. As Ms. Hogan struggled lightly in her seat, pushing and pulling behind her back to find a loose knot she could take advantage of when her time started, she simultaneously studied Marshall, glaring at him silently, watching his focus drift back and forth between her legs, her softly jiggling chest, and her narrowed eyes. There was something uneasy in Ms. Hogan’s mind — it felt intimate, lying beside each other like this. Marshall sensed this as well, smiling toward his teacher, studying her flattened lips’ spreading across the transparent tape. He liked the way her eyes looked at this angle, and imagined her lying down like this with him other places.
“Hmmmmmpf.” Ms. Hogan broke the silence, furrowing her eye brows and pointing her chin toward the steering wheel.
“You’re right. We should get going.” Marshall turned the key in the ignition, and steered the car, and his curvy, kidnapped teacher, off of the school grounds, and onto the road.
Walking the halls the following schools, among the clamoring and chaos of normal high school ecology, Ms. Hogan found herself unable to hear anything else but the click of her own heels reverberating off the walls, pulling her back into the previous weekend each time she stepped outside her classroom. She began to feel different moving about her daily life as a teacher, a touch more distant from her students and fellow faculty, the growing secret she carried raking up more and more space in the back of her head.
Her best friend and confidant on campus, Bella Strand, the school’s PE teacher and athletic director, invited her to have lunch on Friday, and to check in. “Just having a rough few weeks,” Ms. Hogan insisted again and again, eventually packing up her lunch heading to last period, where she knew Marshall would be, waiting to give her instructions for the weekend to come.
To her surprise, Marshall wasn’t in class, in fact no one had seen him since lunch. As the bell rang and school released, Ms. Hogan knew that her ordeal wasn’t over, but she looked forward to the thought of having a break this weekend from having her body gripped and wrapped and studied by a teenager.
Ready to go home for the weekend, She opened up her drawer to retrieve her car keys, finding a small envelope waiting below the keys. Ms. Hogan knew immediately she had been foolish to hope that she’d be free for even a single weekend. She knew what was in the envelope before she brought the contents to her face to read it. In her hand was a single Polaroid of herself, six days earlier, tightly taped up in that very classroom in her white and red bikini. Seeing herself from this angle, her cheeks flushed. She was mortified at the way her body’s curved were pushed out further by the bikini and the bondage. Over her gagged lips, her wide eyes stared back at Ms. Hogan from the picture. Her mind was shaken with the knowledge that Marshall had taken this image of her home with him that afternoon, and undoubtedly imagined he was, in many ways, taking her actual body home with him, bound, open and helpless, and his to use.
Half dazed, she flipped the picture over. “8:30 again. Don’t be late this time. Sun dress. Low cut. High heels.”
Almost accustomed to this new, terrible sinking in her stomach, Ms. Hogan drove home, stopping by the local outlet mall to find Marshall’s dress.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — —
Pulling in besides Marshall’s car again, Ms. Hogan noticed the weather brightening up significantly since the previous week. Even at 8:50 in the morning, the time she arrived, she hardly felt a chill as she stepped out of her car to greet her soon to be captor.
“Good morning! Another fine day! What a shame to go inside!” Marshall walked around his car to get a better view of his teacher as she extended her long, bare leg out of her car. Ms. Hogan was dressed in a bright yellow sun dress with spaghetti straps, which allowed the neckline to plunge dangerously low on her chest, revealing more of her seemingly infinite cleavage than even Marshall had hoped for. It was clear she hadn’t brought a bra with her. The breezy dress stopped about three to four inches from her knees, making it well under the limit the school would seem “appropriate.” She stepped out of the car, her red heels clicking on the pavement.
“You look…I didn’t expect you to be this…you look really nice Ms. Hogan.” Marshall stammered, bringing his teacher a brief rush id satisfaction. It was encouraging to see she still had some ways to make this teenage boy feel out of his depth.
“Well. You know. It’s not a bikini, but I’m sure this will work for you, right Marshall?” she played up a false submissive tone with her voice. Marshall nodded his head, and the two headed inside.
Ms. Hogan sat across from Marshall at her desk, leaning back with her arms folded, one leg dangling over a knee. “Two hours again. I would have had it last time. What do you want?”
“That depends, any preferences on what you want to be tied with?”
“No handcuffs, no cord.”
“Will tape ruin that dress?”
“Marshall. Look at me. I only brought this dress to be tied up in. I’m not wearing this anywhere else.”
“Fair enough. Gag?”
“Why do you even need to gag me? It’s not like I want talk to you after you’ve tied me up in my own classroom.” Ms. Hogan could see she had made Marshall annoyed. He started reaching for his gym bag — she thought to try and disarm him again before he found whatever it was he was looking for. “Are you afraid I’m going to spit on you? Or give you a kiss? I promise not to if you leave off the gag.”
Marshall, red faced, retracted his hand from the bag, much to his teacher’s relief.
“Do you have a preference on how to gag me? You seem to love doing that,” Ms. Hogan said, going on the offensive. “The tape and sock did a great job shutting me up. I worry sometimes that the ball gag you brought would make me drool on my chest. Though that I’m sure you wouldn’t mind.”
She had discovered something — Marshall shied away from his domineering persona with every word Ms. Hogan said. He felt embarrassed. She began to wonder if she pretended to be excited or into the new bet, if maybe she could get him to make a mistake. She pressed on.
“You can gag me however you want Marshall. I’m just really glad I won’t be in a swimsuit again. I didn’t enjoy having my backside and breasts on display like that, especially the way they looked when I was taped up, and especially especially in front of my student. Who knows what you were thinking when you saw me like that? In fact, what *were* you thinking Marshall? I’m curious. Did I look like your dream kidnapping victim? It seemed toward the end like you were considering taking me home with you all bound and gagged like that.” Her student sat, speechless, much to her delight.
Marshall, beet red, tried changing the subject. “Fine. 2 hours. But here’s what will happen.” Marshall stood up, and began pacing across the room, clearly thinking out loud in real time. Ms. Hogan smiled, leaning back more, convinced she was in the process of sabotaging her way out of this.
“I want to go on a field trip with you. Nowhere public, but it’s getting stuffy in here.” Marshall grinned, turning back to Ms. Hogan, whose body flinched at the sound of the words “field trip”. Ms. Hogan weighed her options, knowing that time was the most valuable asset she could try and earn at that moment.
“You’ll be sure that nobody sees me? Then fine. Where are we going?”
“That we’ll figure out later. Why don’t you go ahead and stand up though — let’s get you in your restraints Ms. Hogan.”
— — — — — — — — — — —
Almost instantly, Ms. Hogan knew that she had miscalculated something within her student. Instead of being too embarrassed to properly bind her, Marshall was more rough with her as he worked, grabbing and spinning, squeezing and pulling tight as he he folded her hands across each other between her shoulder blades, wrapping her wrists incredibly tightly in a green, nylon length of rope, leaving her elbows pointing sharply downward like spear tips at both of her sides.
“What is this??” Ms. Hogan complained, unable to see however Marshall had rigged her thin arms behind her.
“It’s called a reverse prayer. Like it?” Marshall waited for a response — he didn’t get one. Shrugging, he continued on, binding Ms. Hogans legs like he had already done several times. For no reason other than a curious urge, he reached down one of her legs and fan his thumb across her outer ankle. His teacher pretended not to notice.
Making another attempt at her strategy to embarrass Marshall into making some sort of mistake with the rope, Ms. Hogan smile at her captor. “I know it’s just for this, but what do you think of the dress? Does it work on me? Or does it only look good on someone who’s been tied up?” She swayed back and forth, pushing her chest out slightly and locking eyes with Marshall. “I might want to wear something like this again if I don’t win.” Marshall couldn’t help but look down the low cut neckline. Looking up at Ms. Hogan, he smiled.
“You always look great. But it’s hard to tell without finishing the job.” He pointed the variety of gags laid out on the desk beside him. “I picked this one out special for our trip,” Marshall said, holding a roll of clear tape and a red ball of fabric.
“Where are we going?” Ms. Hogan tried to feign excitement, but could tell she was failing. “That’s need to know,” replied Marshall. And right now you don’t need to know.”
“Just don’t let anyone see me,” the English teacher said, opening her mouth for Marshall, who was impressed she had grown so accustomed to the procedure of things.
Marshall shoved the red rag into his teacher’s mouth, hard and without much care. Shocked a little, Ms. Hogan chewed the rag for a few moments to settle it comfortably inside her mouth before meaning forward to let her student wrap layer after layer of transparent tape around her lips and head. “Mmmph!” Ms. Hogan looked up at her student and smiled behind her gag, which revealed the shape and color of her newly locked lips. If the lights were off, you might not know she’s even gagged, Marshall thought to himself. “Mmhhmf hmmm?” Ms. Hogan swayed even stronger now, making her yellow sundress twirl and breasts swing, barely supported and barely covered by the spaghetti strap and chest of her dress. Marshall’s face changed in an instant, signaling to his teacher that her cute, submissive approach had been a terrible mistake.
“Now I can really look at you.” Marshall grabbed his teacher by the shoulders and span her, several times, letting his hand rove and land over all parts of her body. “Hmmmpff!!!!!” Ms. Hogan felt him steal a few squeezes of her chest as she span in front of him.
“Now let’s get moving.” Marshall put a hand on the small of his teacher’s back and began escorting her hopping figure out the side door of the school.
— — — — —
“Hmm hmm.” Ms. Hogan shook her head, leering at Marshall as he held open the passenger door open on his old Buick. “Hmmf hm hmhmmfhm hm hmmph.” Resolute that she would not be getting into a car with her student while she couldn’t move or talk.
“Fine — we’ll, I’m getting in the car. Good luck out here finding someone to untie you *and* keep a secret. I’ll be off!” Marshall stepped into the old car, starting it and shifting to reverse. He began backing out of his parking spot.
“HMMMMMMMMMPF!!! Hmmf! Mmmmf!”
Ms. Hogan hopped frantically to the passenger side of the car, staring in at at Marshall through the window. “Mmmmmumnnph!” She knocked on the door with the side of the hips.
“Too late! I’ve got places to be!” Marshall toyed with his teacher, pretending to shift the car into drive.”
Annoyed and tired of standing on the uneven asphalt in her bound ankles and high heels, Ms. Hogan knew what to do. Leaning forward into the passenger window, she pressed her chest into the glass, letting herself spread out against the surface. She stood there for a moment, letting Marshall study her. “Hmmmmpf.” She commanded.
Marshall parked the car and sprinted to the passenger side, opening the door for his teacher. “Your chariot, ma’am.” Ms. Hogan glared at him. Unable to get in herself, the English teacher nodded with her head toward the seat, clearly directing him to help her inside. Marshall took Ms. Hogan in his arms, lifting her off the ground, and placing her softly in the passenger seat. He was gentle, the teacher noticed.
“Now. I don’t think anyone would notice the clear tape you’re wearing so wonderfully, but let’s be extra careful.” Marshall reclined Ms. Hogan’s seat until she was laying all the way back, nearly completely horizontal. Her whole body lying bound tightly several inches below the window. Shifting her shoulders in the chair, settling herself, before looking up at Marshall. “Comfortable?” He asked, standing over her. “Mmm,” she responded, rolling her eyes and nodding.
Buckling his bound, yellow-dressed teacher into her seat, Marshall walked around the car and took his seat, buckling himself, and looking over to Ms. Hogan. Taking a moment before he started the car, he reclined his own seat, making himself level with her. The two stared at each other for several moments. As Ms. Hogan struggled lightly in her seat, pushing and pulling behind her back to find a loose knot she could take advantage of when her time started, she simultaneously studied Marshall, glaring at him silently, watching his focus drift back and forth between her legs, her softly jiggling chest, and her narrowed eyes. There was something uneasy in Ms. Hogan’s mind — it felt intimate, lying beside each other like this. Marshall sensed this as well, smiling toward his teacher, studying her flattened lips’ spreading across the transparent tape. He liked the way her eyes looked at this angle, and imagined her lying down like this with him other places.
“Hmmmmmpf.” Ms. Hogan broke the silence, furrowing her eye brows and pointing her chin toward the steering wheel.
“You’re right. We should get going.” Marshall turned the key in the ignition, and steered the car, and his curvy, kidnapped teacher, off of the school grounds, and onto the road.
Happily, Ms. Hogan cannot get a break. She makes a fine picture, tied in a reverse prayer and strapped in a reclining seat.
![Image](https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/51935021448_8459ac441e_o.jpg)
An Unlikely Savior Completed
Spy Task Force Completed
Tale of an Archer Completed
The Bandit Scout on Newhome updated 05/30/23
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Enjoyed this latest chapter, look forward to seeing where they are heading! ![Smile :)](./images/smilies/icon_e_smile.gif)
![Smile :)](./images/smilies/icon_e_smile.gif)
A truly excellent tale! I love the interaction between teacher and student - and the way you describe it. Keep up the good work!
Your writing is fantastic! I'm loving your stories so far!
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Thanks all for following along so far. I am brainstorming what happens after this chapter now, and love trying to make stories work around ideas that I didn’t come up with. Reply or PM me if you have any thoughts about how Marshall should continue toying with Ms. Hogan.
Part Eight:
The drive up onto the Blue Ridge Parkway was largely without incident. At a stoplight before the on-ramp into the mountain road, Marshall noticed the man stopped beside him peering over, able to see the top of Ms. Hogan’s head as she shifted to make herself comfortable. Smiling at me, he shrugged and kept driving.
“What would you like to listen to, Ms. Hogan?” Marshall looked at his bound teacher, who had been staring out the window. She turned her head back to him, staring blankly over her clear wrap gag, not even attempting to say anything. Apparently she did not think she was in much a physical position to recommend a band.
“Frank Ocean it is.” Marshall turned the volume up on the dial, glancing over at Ms. Hogan. Hearing her favorite artist fill the car cabin softly, she nodded her approval at Marshall, maybe grinning her smushed lips behind the tight transparent tape, and then again, maybe not.
After cruising through the parkway for a few more minutes, Marshall turned his car onto a small side road for a few moments, before pulling off the side road and into a barren stretch of woods. For the first time that ride, Ms. Hogan shifted nervously in her reclined seat. “Mmmmpff hmmph hmm?” She asked in earnest to her student.
“Just a few more seconds. You’re gonna like this.” Marshall beamed down at his teacher, who did not appear to smile back.
Finally bringing the car to a full stop, Marshall leaned over the bound Ms. Hogan, reaching down on the other side of her and pulling up on her seat, lifting her into a normal seated position. “Hmmmpf!” Ms. Hogan gasped at what she saw through the windshield as her head rose above the dashboard. Marshall has parked the car at the edge of a small clearing of trees on a small hill. From there, was one of the most breathtaking views of the Blue Ridge Mountains that she had seen since moving to Virginia. The mountains folded on top of each other, crowned with long streaks of cloud and standing tall and impossibly silent before them.
“Hmmmpf mhhhmmm.” Ms. Hogan gestured toward Marshall, clearly wanting to step outside and get a better look. Marshall stepped out of the car. Walking over the passenger side, he opened the door, unbuckled his tied teacher, and picked her up in his arms. He carried Ms. Hogan toward the front of the car, letting her down gently. Her heels shifted on the uneven ground. “Hmmmpff!!!” She reached her fingers out from her reverse-prayer, asking for help balancing, which Marshall gave her, standing next to her and letting her lean slightly against his shoulder.
“I’m the only one I know of who knows this place exists. I’ve been coming here every week for about two years and have never seen another soul. It’s perfect for a lot of things when you need some quiet.” He looked down at Ms. Hogan, who looked up, listening intently. “I thought it would be cool if I finally brought someone else to see this.” Ms. Hogan exhaled through her nose softly, turning her head back to the incredible view.
Marshall snapped back into focus. “It’s also perfect for what we’ll be doing.”
“Mmmmmpf.” His teacher hung her head, unsurprised at the change in topic. She looked at her bound ankles and thin heels shifting in the loose dirt, looking back up at Marshall. “Mmf hmmm Hmmpf.”
“I see that. I was going to have you try and escape out here, but it seems as though you’ve decided to wear the most impractical footwear for that.” Ms. Hogan growled back in reply.
“Let’s get you back in the car. You can give it a go in there.”
— — — — — — — — — — — — — —
Back in the car, fully reclined in the passenger seat, Ms. Hogan glared at Marshall. Having been quietly testing her bonds the whole car ride, she knew already that today likely wasn’t going to be her day. Still, when Marshall hit the start button on his watch, she gave it everything she had.
Marshall was surprised at how hard his teacher worked to escape his best tie yet. He was even more surprised at how little she seemed to guard her own body this time, seeming not to care at all what Marshall could or could not see as she worked. The spaghetti straps keeping her plunging dress in place seemed to scream as they held on while Ms. Hogan struggled, rocking in place, turning from one side to the other in the reclined seat, shaking and jerking as vibrating ripples shot up into the skin of her chest. “HHHMMMMMPPPHHHH!!!” Ms. Hogan kicked furiously as she arched her back up each time, trying to gain some sort of angle with her twirling fingers. At one point, she kicked the passenger door of the car, shooting herself over to the drivers side, and landing her upper body square on Marshall’s lap. The tightly gagged English teacher didn’t even flinch at this, as she continued fighting her bonds feverishly.
After enough time, however, something changed in Ms. Hogan’s struggling. It slowed, becoming more desperate with each jerk, and notably decreasing in strength. Ms. Hogan stopped altogether, rolling on her back, her head still on Marshall’s lap, her flushed, sweaty torso directly beneath him.
“Hmmph mmphhhhhh.” Ms. Hogan gasped into her gag, struggling to catch her breath. “Hmm mmphhh hmm.” She stared at Marshall with her bright blue eyes, clearly pleading with him for something.
“There’s still an hour left, you can do this!” Marshall smiled down at the teacher resting on his legs. Ms. Hogan shook her head, staring up at Marshall, breathing heavily through her nose.
“Are you giving up?”
Ms. Hogan nodded her head.
“So that means you’re coming back next weekend. And I get to choose your clothes again.”
“Mmmmmmphhhh.” Ms. Hogan nodded desperately, clearly wanting to be let out as soon as possible.
“Okay — but I can’t untie you completely. You could use that against me and say you got out by tricking me.” Ms. Hogan closed her eyes. She shook her head softly.
“I’ll take you out of the tie you’re in and just tape your hands in front of you for the rest of the hour. If you don’t fight it I won’t add any more. That should make you more comfortable. Deal?”
“Hmmmpf.” His teacher nodded, rolling face down on her students lap, so he could reach her bound arms behind her.
— — — — — — — — — — — —
Feeling bad he had maybe made this week’s challenge a bit too hard, Marshall tried being kind to his tied up teacher for the remaining our, untying her ankles,
taking her heels off, helping her back outside, letting her lean against him as they took in the view together. More or less comfortable now, Ms. Hogan began to relax, appreciating the vista of the mountains in front of her.
“I’ve always imagined bringing a girl up here,” Marshall said after a while. Ms. Hogan laughed into her gag, holding up her newly taped hands to her student and grunting, as if to say “So you can do this??”
“No! Not like that. For a picnic or something. Bennington has views like this up there. That’s one reason why I picked it.”
“Hmmmpf mmmf hmmph mmmm?” Ms. Hogan tried to ask a question.
Marshall unwrapped his teacher’s head and mouth, pulling the rag from her mouth.
“Phew. Thank you. You were going to college for the view??”
“No, that’s silly. There’s a fiction professor I wanted to study under. I’ve been emailing her for a while and she’s seen some of my writing. She encouraged me to apply and offered to accept me into advanced fiction if I could find a way to pay for tuition.” Ms. Hogan looked down again, a ripple of guilt making its way through her.
“But there are plenty of programs. With plenty of teachers. It’ll be okay.” Marshall tried to alleviate some of Ms. Hogan’s sudden sullenness as he felt the timer go off in his pocket.
“That’s time, I’m afraid you lose.”
“Darn.” Ms. Hogan walked back to the passenger seat, opening the door with her two taped hands and getting inside. Marshall followed suit and stepped into the drivers seat.
“I hate doing this every week Marshall. I do. But I also do still feel bad about what happened. And want you to feel better about your future. You’re gonna amount to some pretty incredible things.” Ms. Hogan smiled earnestly. “But until then, I’m going to stay angry at you until I find a way to beat you next weekend. So don’t think me saying this is the same as me liking you anymore.”
Marshall grinned back at his teacher. “Don’t try to make me like you either, Ms. Hogan. Because I won’t be taking it easy on you anytime soon. Next week is going to be a doozy.”
The two drove back to the school, listening to music, in a calm, earned quiet.
Part Eight:
The drive up onto the Blue Ridge Parkway was largely without incident. At a stoplight before the on-ramp into the mountain road, Marshall noticed the man stopped beside him peering over, able to see the top of Ms. Hogan’s head as she shifted to make herself comfortable. Smiling at me, he shrugged and kept driving.
“What would you like to listen to, Ms. Hogan?” Marshall looked at his bound teacher, who had been staring out the window. She turned her head back to him, staring blankly over her clear wrap gag, not even attempting to say anything. Apparently she did not think she was in much a physical position to recommend a band.
“Frank Ocean it is.” Marshall turned the volume up on the dial, glancing over at Ms. Hogan. Hearing her favorite artist fill the car cabin softly, she nodded her approval at Marshall, maybe grinning her smushed lips behind the tight transparent tape, and then again, maybe not.
After cruising through the parkway for a few more minutes, Marshall turned his car onto a small side road for a few moments, before pulling off the side road and into a barren stretch of woods. For the first time that ride, Ms. Hogan shifted nervously in her reclined seat. “Mmmmpff hmmph hmm?” She asked in earnest to her student.
“Just a few more seconds. You’re gonna like this.” Marshall beamed down at his teacher, who did not appear to smile back.
Finally bringing the car to a full stop, Marshall leaned over the bound Ms. Hogan, reaching down on the other side of her and pulling up on her seat, lifting her into a normal seated position. “Hmmmpf!” Ms. Hogan gasped at what she saw through the windshield as her head rose above the dashboard. Marshall has parked the car at the edge of a small clearing of trees on a small hill. From there, was one of the most breathtaking views of the Blue Ridge Mountains that she had seen since moving to Virginia. The mountains folded on top of each other, crowned with long streaks of cloud and standing tall and impossibly silent before them.
“Hmmmpf mhhhmmm.” Ms. Hogan gestured toward Marshall, clearly wanting to step outside and get a better look. Marshall stepped out of the car. Walking over the passenger side, he opened the door, unbuckled his tied teacher, and picked her up in his arms. He carried Ms. Hogan toward the front of the car, letting her down gently. Her heels shifted on the uneven ground. “Hmmmpff!!!” She reached her fingers out from her reverse-prayer, asking for help balancing, which Marshall gave her, standing next to her and letting her lean slightly against his shoulder.
“I’m the only one I know of who knows this place exists. I’ve been coming here every week for about two years and have never seen another soul. It’s perfect for a lot of things when you need some quiet.” He looked down at Ms. Hogan, who looked up, listening intently. “I thought it would be cool if I finally brought someone else to see this.” Ms. Hogan exhaled through her nose softly, turning her head back to the incredible view.
Marshall snapped back into focus. “It’s also perfect for what we’ll be doing.”
“Mmmmmpf.” His teacher hung her head, unsurprised at the change in topic. She looked at her bound ankles and thin heels shifting in the loose dirt, looking back up at Marshall. “Mmf hmmm Hmmpf.”
“I see that. I was going to have you try and escape out here, but it seems as though you’ve decided to wear the most impractical footwear for that.” Ms. Hogan growled back in reply.
“Let’s get you back in the car. You can give it a go in there.”
— — — — — — — — — — — — — —
Back in the car, fully reclined in the passenger seat, Ms. Hogan glared at Marshall. Having been quietly testing her bonds the whole car ride, she knew already that today likely wasn’t going to be her day. Still, when Marshall hit the start button on his watch, she gave it everything she had.
Marshall was surprised at how hard his teacher worked to escape his best tie yet. He was even more surprised at how little she seemed to guard her own body this time, seeming not to care at all what Marshall could or could not see as she worked. The spaghetti straps keeping her plunging dress in place seemed to scream as they held on while Ms. Hogan struggled, rocking in place, turning from one side to the other in the reclined seat, shaking and jerking as vibrating ripples shot up into the skin of her chest. “HHHMMMMMPPPHHHH!!!” Ms. Hogan kicked furiously as she arched her back up each time, trying to gain some sort of angle with her twirling fingers. At one point, she kicked the passenger door of the car, shooting herself over to the drivers side, and landing her upper body square on Marshall’s lap. The tightly gagged English teacher didn’t even flinch at this, as she continued fighting her bonds feverishly.
After enough time, however, something changed in Ms. Hogan’s struggling. It slowed, becoming more desperate with each jerk, and notably decreasing in strength. Ms. Hogan stopped altogether, rolling on her back, her head still on Marshall’s lap, her flushed, sweaty torso directly beneath him.
“Hmmph mmphhhhhh.” Ms. Hogan gasped into her gag, struggling to catch her breath. “Hmm mmphhh hmm.” She stared at Marshall with her bright blue eyes, clearly pleading with him for something.
“There’s still an hour left, you can do this!” Marshall smiled down at the teacher resting on his legs. Ms. Hogan shook her head, staring up at Marshall, breathing heavily through her nose.
“Are you giving up?”
Ms. Hogan nodded her head.
“So that means you’re coming back next weekend. And I get to choose your clothes again.”
“Mmmmmmphhhh.” Ms. Hogan nodded desperately, clearly wanting to be let out as soon as possible.
“Okay — but I can’t untie you completely. You could use that against me and say you got out by tricking me.” Ms. Hogan closed her eyes. She shook her head softly.
“I’ll take you out of the tie you’re in and just tape your hands in front of you for the rest of the hour. If you don’t fight it I won’t add any more. That should make you more comfortable. Deal?”
“Hmmmpf.” His teacher nodded, rolling face down on her students lap, so he could reach her bound arms behind her.
— — — — — — — — — — — —
Feeling bad he had maybe made this week’s challenge a bit too hard, Marshall tried being kind to his tied up teacher for the remaining our, untying her ankles,
taking her heels off, helping her back outside, letting her lean against him as they took in the view together. More or less comfortable now, Ms. Hogan began to relax, appreciating the vista of the mountains in front of her.
“I’ve always imagined bringing a girl up here,” Marshall said after a while. Ms. Hogan laughed into her gag, holding up her newly taped hands to her student and grunting, as if to say “So you can do this??”
“No! Not like that. For a picnic or something. Bennington has views like this up there. That’s one reason why I picked it.”
“Hmmmpf mmmf hmmph mmmm?” Ms. Hogan tried to ask a question.
Marshall unwrapped his teacher’s head and mouth, pulling the rag from her mouth.
“Phew. Thank you. You were going to college for the view??”
“No, that’s silly. There’s a fiction professor I wanted to study under. I’ve been emailing her for a while and she’s seen some of my writing. She encouraged me to apply and offered to accept me into advanced fiction if I could find a way to pay for tuition.” Ms. Hogan looked down again, a ripple of guilt making its way through her.
“But there are plenty of programs. With plenty of teachers. It’ll be okay.” Marshall tried to alleviate some of Ms. Hogan’s sudden sullenness as he felt the timer go off in his pocket.
“That’s time, I’m afraid you lose.”
“Darn.” Ms. Hogan walked back to the passenger seat, opening the door with her two taped hands and getting inside. Marshall followed suit and stepped into the drivers seat.
“I hate doing this every week Marshall. I do. But I also do still feel bad about what happened. And want you to feel better about your future. You’re gonna amount to some pretty incredible things.” Ms. Hogan smiled earnestly. “But until then, I’m going to stay angry at you until I find a way to beat you next weekend. So don’t think me saying this is the same as me liking you anymore.”
Marshall grinned back at his teacher. “Don’t try to make me like you either, Ms. Hogan. Because I won’t be taking it easy on you anytime soon. Next week is going to be a doozy.”
The two drove back to the school, listening to music, in a calm, earned quiet.
I have been loving this story, although maybe Ms. Hogan need to experience a hogtie.
Your great story continues. Is it possible that something other than revenge and acceptance is brewing between these two?
![Image](https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/51935021448_8459ac441e_o.jpg)
An Unlikely Savior Completed
Spy Task Force Completed
Tale of an Archer Completed
The Bandit Scout on Newhome updated 05/30/23
great story. great chapter.
Needs revenge where she turns the tables on him, she ties and gags her student, becomes a F/m story.
Although I am more fond of F/M, [mention]Gluba[/mention] is right. Unless they become a D/S couple.
![Image](https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/51935021448_8459ac441e_o.jpg)
An Unlikely Savior Completed
Spy Task Force Completed
Tale of an Archer Completed
The Bandit Scout on Newhome updated 05/30/23
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I personally think it stays m/F and that the relationship ends up developing where they both enjoy each upcoming challenge (most of said development would obviously be on Ms. Hogan's part ha).
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Part Nine:
It was the first week that Ms. Hogan had felt normal at school in nearly a month. As much as it confused and sometimes unnerved her, she found a rhythm to this new part of her life, asking fewer questions of herself, feeling less angry and more resigned to her weekend obligations with Marshall. This opened up space in her mind each day to be warm with students again, or to check in and ask how her coworkers had been during her mental absence from work.
It was this awakening that led Ms. Hogan to ask her best work friend Bella to have lunch on the Friday before finishing up the week and heading home. She had noticed that Bella, the PE teacher and athletic director for the school, had seemed downtrodden throughout the entire week, and for the first time in awhile, felt she had the mental capacity to check in. She and Ms. Hogan had made a weekly routine of this stemming from an incident earlier that year and in which the two teachers had been the subject of some suggestive drawings passed around by students. The drawings were caricatures of the two adults, depicting them naked, and emphasizing their individual physical attributes tremendously: Ms. Hogan’s long legs and stunning chest, and Bella’s (or Coach Bella’s) breathtaking backside, blonde hair, and piercing blue eyes. Ms. Hogan had missed having lunch with her friend, and felt like herself enough to try and help.
“It’s nothing. Just a rough week.” Was all she got from her coworker. After pressing harder for awhile, she found out that Bella’s car had been totaled. Pushing harder, she discovered that nearly $9,000 had been stolen from the athletic department’s cash box last week, leaving her friend completely strapped for uniforms and other vital needs here at the cusp of soccer and basketball season.
“Is there anything I can do to help? Want to get brunch in Sunday?”
“It’s nothing. We’ll figure it out. Can’t do brunch, I’m sorry.”
Ms. Hogan felt terrible walking away from Bella, feeling as though the space that Marshall’s games had taken up in her mind had led her to be a truly absent friend to Bella. Resolving to make a better effort next week, Ms. Hogan finished the day, packed her things, and reached into her desk drawer for the new envelope from Marshall she could tell would be there. It was. Ms. Hogan pulled out and inspected another picture of her bound and gagged in a small bikini from two weeks prior. This one was taken at an angle, her neck poised and head looking away from the camera. “I look pretty in this one,” the English teacher nearly thought to herself.
On the other side of the picture, again, were instructions: “Same time. Pretend we’re going on our first date to a club or nice restaurant. Dress to impress me. — M.” Ms. Hogan folded the envelope and placed it in her bag, not even flinching.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
As Ms. Hogan pulled into the school lot, she saw her student’s car there, but not her student. After stepping out of her car, Ms. Hogan waited a few minutes before the school side door was flung open and Marshall stepped out.
“Good mo—“ Marshall stopped short, taking in the sight of his teacher. Ms. Hogan stood there in the parking lot with her hands folded across her stomach. She was wearing a small, short black dress, which was held up by thin dental-floss-style black straps. The dress was made from a material that almost shined in the early light. It fit her curves dramatically, and fell a full five inches or so above knees, but didn’t come across as cheap. The cut was low, and showed an enticing length of her cleavage, but was still classy, and dignified. Ms. Hogan had straightened her hair entirely, so it fell down symmetrically a little beyond her shoulders. She had put a small touch of make up, and a muted, red shade of lipstick.
Reading her student’s mind, Ms. Hogan laughed to herself. “Glad this works. Let’s head inside.”
Ms. Hogan entered her classroom, sauntered onto her desk, then sat down, turning to face Marshall.
“I’m guessing you want two hours again?”
The English teacher considered it for a moment, then replied: “What would three cost me?”
Marshall grinned devilishly at the floor.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — —
Marshall pointed his camcorder at Ms. Hogan’s feet, and began panning up. Emerging slowly above her red high heels was a tight cinching of dark red rope, pulling her ankles close together with little consideration for her comfort. As Marshall kept panning, he glided the camera past Ms. Hogans glistening calves toward the red rope binding the area above and below teacher’s bare knees, continuing up toward the rope around her waist, bunching slightly her black dress around her stomach. Marshall kept panning, hovering the lens on Ms. Hogan’s chest, which was framed excruciatingly tight on the upper and lower sides, pulling the black dress into her sternum and rib bones, and forcing her breasts to push almost all the way through the fabric itself. Marshall lifted the camera just below Ms. Hogan’s chin before circling around behind her to show the red rope that fused her elbows and wrists behind her. Circling back, Marshall panned up again, focusing in on his teacher’s long, elegant neck, and then eventually, the giant black ball gag wedged between her red lips. Marshall fixed the camera on Ms. Hogan’s face, and smiled as she stared blankly back at him.
“How are you feeling?” Marshall asked his teacher in the objective tone of a documentary interview. Ms. Hogan only stared back at him.
“Remember, the three hours doesn’t start until we complete the pre-game interview…”
“Hmmmmph.” Ms. Hogan groaned and rolled her eyes, before eventually nodding. She straightened her shoulders as best she could, standing ready for Marshall’s questions.
“How are you feeling Ms. Hogan?”
“Mmmmphhmm hmm phmmm hm hmmmpf.” The teacher tried and failed to get a single discernible syllable. Still, she spoke into her gag with a played-up cadence of someone responding in earnest.
“How is the ball gag treating you?”
“Hmmph phmmmmm hmm.”
“Do you like being tied up?”
“Mmphhmm.” Ms. Hogan shook her head.
“Not even at home? Live a little!”
“Mmmmmmmph…” the gagged English teacher groaned in sarcastic disgust.
“What’s your strategy for escaping today? Those look pretty tight.”
“Hmmm mmmphhmmm phmmm fmmmhmmmoh hmmmph mmmm.” Ms. Hogan turned around, holding up her hands and gurgling a reply into her gag.
“Ms. Hogan, who is your favorite student you’ve had in your career?”
“Hmmph hmmm mphhmm.”
“Aww thank you. You’re my favorite English teacher as well.”
“HMMMPHH HMM!” Ms. Hogan shook her head, laughing a little. Clearly not identify long Marshall as her favorite, perhaps even identifying anyone *but* Marshall.
“Alright alright fine. I’ll remember that. Now I’m going to set up the camera on my mini-tripod. You hop over to your desk. I cleared it off for you. Today you’ll be failing to escape from a hogtie.”
“Hmmmmmpffff….” Ms. Hogan stooped her shoulders, threw her head up, and let loose a weak, gargled moan. Dismayed, she still followed orders, hopping in her shirt black dress and tangle of red rope over to the desk, where she sat herself down on the long wooden surface. She turned toward Marshall, waiting for him.
“Perfect. Camera is set. I just need to check on something real quick.” Marshall darted out of the room, eliciting a confused mumble from the bound and ball-gagged teacher in the classroom. After a minute, Marshall resurfaced.
“Great! We’re all ready!”
“Mmmph hm hmmph mhhhhm?”
“Oh don’t worry about it. Let’s get you hogtied!”
Marshall lifted his teacher’s bare, tied legs onto the desk, rolling the rest of her body on the side, leaving her chest out at an angle where he could still inspect it as he worked. Grabbing a shorter coil of red rope, he quickly connected Ms. Hogan’s ankles to her wrists, pulling tight.
“MHHMMMMPH!” Ms. Hogan was not expecting to feel her arms pulled back so hard.
Knotting the rope, Marshall walked around his helpless English teacher, admiring his work.
“Mmmph hmmph hm?” Ms. Hogan mumbled a sarcastic question into her gag.
“I’m enjoying myself a lot actually.”
Ms. Hogan laughed, getting herself comfortable, noticing her student’s eyes all over, and for the first time, feeling at ease, and not worried about whether or not this game was going to end soon.
Before her fingers began fidgeting around the knots in the rope, Ms. Higan felt her sense of calm sink slightly as she noticed a change in Marshall’s expression.
Marshall, taking in the sight of his teacher, smiled wryly, before looking toward the classroom door. “I’m going to enjoy this too.”
Marshall stepped toward the door, peered into the hallway, and shouted. “Alright! I think we’re ready for your in here!”
Hogtied, gagged, and helpless in her revealing black dress, Ms. Hogan’s heart stopped as she trained her eyes on the mounted camera in the corner of the room, and then on the door.
It was the first week that Ms. Hogan had felt normal at school in nearly a month. As much as it confused and sometimes unnerved her, she found a rhythm to this new part of her life, asking fewer questions of herself, feeling less angry and more resigned to her weekend obligations with Marshall. This opened up space in her mind each day to be warm with students again, or to check in and ask how her coworkers had been during her mental absence from work.
It was this awakening that led Ms. Hogan to ask her best work friend Bella to have lunch on the Friday before finishing up the week and heading home. She had noticed that Bella, the PE teacher and athletic director for the school, had seemed downtrodden throughout the entire week, and for the first time in awhile, felt she had the mental capacity to check in. She and Ms. Hogan had made a weekly routine of this stemming from an incident earlier that year and in which the two teachers had been the subject of some suggestive drawings passed around by students. The drawings were caricatures of the two adults, depicting them naked, and emphasizing their individual physical attributes tremendously: Ms. Hogan’s long legs and stunning chest, and Bella’s (or Coach Bella’s) breathtaking backside, blonde hair, and piercing blue eyes. Ms. Hogan had missed having lunch with her friend, and felt like herself enough to try and help.
“It’s nothing. Just a rough week.” Was all she got from her coworker. After pressing harder for awhile, she found out that Bella’s car had been totaled. Pushing harder, she discovered that nearly $9,000 had been stolen from the athletic department’s cash box last week, leaving her friend completely strapped for uniforms and other vital needs here at the cusp of soccer and basketball season.
“Is there anything I can do to help? Want to get brunch in Sunday?”
“It’s nothing. We’ll figure it out. Can’t do brunch, I’m sorry.”
Ms. Hogan felt terrible walking away from Bella, feeling as though the space that Marshall’s games had taken up in her mind had led her to be a truly absent friend to Bella. Resolving to make a better effort next week, Ms. Hogan finished the day, packed her things, and reached into her desk drawer for the new envelope from Marshall she could tell would be there. It was. Ms. Hogan pulled out and inspected another picture of her bound and gagged in a small bikini from two weeks prior. This one was taken at an angle, her neck poised and head looking away from the camera. “I look pretty in this one,” the English teacher nearly thought to herself.
On the other side of the picture, again, were instructions: “Same time. Pretend we’re going on our first date to a club or nice restaurant. Dress to impress me. — M.” Ms. Hogan folded the envelope and placed it in her bag, not even flinching.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
As Ms. Hogan pulled into the school lot, she saw her student’s car there, but not her student. After stepping out of her car, Ms. Hogan waited a few minutes before the school side door was flung open and Marshall stepped out.
“Good mo—“ Marshall stopped short, taking in the sight of his teacher. Ms. Hogan stood there in the parking lot with her hands folded across her stomach. She was wearing a small, short black dress, which was held up by thin dental-floss-style black straps. The dress was made from a material that almost shined in the early light. It fit her curves dramatically, and fell a full five inches or so above knees, but didn’t come across as cheap. The cut was low, and showed an enticing length of her cleavage, but was still classy, and dignified. Ms. Hogan had straightened her hair entirely, so it fell down symmetrically a little beyond her shoulders. She had put a small touch of make up, and a muted, red shade of lipstick.
Reading her student’s mind, Ms. Hogan laughed to herself. “Glad this works. Let’s head inside.”
Ms. Hogan entered her classroom, sauntered onto her desk, then sat down, turning to face Marshall.
“I’m guessing you want two hours again?”
The English teacher considered it for a moment, then replied: “What would three cost me?”
Marshall grinned devilishly at the floor.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — —
Marshall pointed his camcorder at Ms. Hogan’s feet, and began panning up. Emerging slowly above her red high heels was a tight cinching of dark red rope, pulling her ankles close together with little consideration for her comfort. As Marshall kept panning, he glided the camera past Ms. Hogans glistening calves toward the red rope binding the area above and below teacher’s bare knees, continuing up toward the rope around her waist, bunching slightly her black dress around her stomach. Marshall kept panning, hovering the lens on Ms. Hogan’s chest, which was framed excruciatingly tight on the upper and lower sides, pulling the black dress into her sternum and rib bones, and forcing her breasts to push almost all the way through the fabric itself. Marshall lifted the camera just below Ms. Hogan’s chin before circling around behind her to show the red rope that fused her elbows and wrists behind her. Circling back, Marshall panned up again, focusing in on his teacher’s long, elegant neck, and then eventually, the giant black ball gag wedged between her red lips. Marshall fixed the camera on Ms. Hogan’s face, and smiled as she stared blankly back at him.
“How are you feeling?” Marshall asked his teacher in the objective tone of a documentary interview. Ms. Hogan only stared back at him.
“Remember, the three hours doesn’t start until we complete the pre-game interview…”
“Hmmmmph.” Ms. Hogan groaned and rolled her eyes, before eventually nodding. She straightened her shoulders as best she could, standing ready for Marshall’s questions.
“How are you feeling Ms. Hogan?”
“Mmmmphhmm hmm phmmm hm hmmmpf.” The teacher tried and failed to get a single discernible syllable. Still, she spoke into her gag with a played-up cadence of someone responding in earnest.
“How is the ball gag treating you?”
“Hmmph phmmmmm hmm.”
“Do you like being tied up?”
“Mmphhmm.” Ms. Hogan shook her head.
“Not even at home? Live a little!”
“Mmmmmmmph…” the gagged English teacher groaned in sarcastic disgust.
“What’s your strategy for escaping today? Those look pretty tight.”
“Hmmm mmmphhmmm phmmm fmmmhmmmoh hmmmph mmmm.” Ms. Hogan turned around, holding up her hands and gurgling a reply into her gag.
“Ms. Hogan, who is your favorite student you’ve had in your career?”
“Hmmph hmmm mphhmm.”
“Aww thank you. You’re my favorite English teacher as well.”
“HMMMPHH HMM!” Ms. Hogan shook her head, laughing a little. Clearly not identify long Marshall as her favorite, perhaps even identifying anyone *but* Marshall.
“Alright alright fine. I’ll remember that. Now I’m going to set up the camera on my mini-tripod. You hop over to your desk. I cleared it off for you. Today you’ll be failing to escape from a hogtie.”
“Hmmmmmpffff….” Ms. Hogan stooped her shoulders, threw her head up, and let loose a weak, gargled moan. Dismayed, she still followed orders, hopping in her shirt black dress and tangle of red rope over to the desk, where she sat herself down on the long wooden surface. She turned toward Marshall, waiting for him.
“Perfect. Camera is set. I just need to check on something real quick.” Marshall darted out of the room, eliciting a confused mumble from the bound and ball-gagged teacher in the classroom. After a minute, Marshall resurfaced.
“Great! We’re all ready!”
“Mmmph hm hmmph mhhhhm?”
“Oh don’t worry about it. Let’s get you hogtied!”
Marshall lifted his teacher’s bare, tied legs onto the desk, rolling the rest of her body on the side, leaving her chest out at an angle where he could still inspect it as he worked. Grabbing a shorter coil of red rope, he quickly connected Ms. Hogan’s ankles to her wrists, pulling tight.
“MHHMMMMPH!” Ms. Hogan was not expecting to feel her arms pulled back so hard.
Knotting the rope, Marshall walked around his helpless English teacher, admiring his work.
“Mmmph hmmph hm?” Ms. Hogan mumbled a sarcastic question into her gag.
“I’m enjoying myself a lot actually.”
Ms. Hogan laughed, getting herself comfortable, noticing her student’s eyes all over, and for the first time, feeling at ease, and not worried about whether or not this game was going to end soon.
Before her fingers began fidgeting around the knots in the rope, Ms. Higan felt her sense of calm sink slightly as she noticed a change in Marshall’s expression.
Marshall, taking in the sight of his teacher, smiled wryly, before looking toward the classroom door. “I’m going to enjoy this too.”
Marshall stepped toward the door, peered into the hallway, and shouted. “Alright! I think we’re ready for your in here!”
Hogtied, gagged, and helpless in her revealing black dress, Ms. Hogan’s heart stopped as she trained her eyes on the mounted camera in the corner of the room, and then on the door.
You put five interesting twists in this segment, [mention]TapeTurtle[/mention]. First, we are dangling over where you might be going with Bela. And I might call the theft of her funds a second twist. For a third one, Miss Hogan appears to be very accepting of her situation. That is a little but not completely surprising. Fourth, perhaps I shouldn't call the hogtie a twist. A hogtie is always so welcomed. It is nice the way Miss Hogan reacted to it. And your cliffhanger at the end is the fifth. Very well done!
![Image](https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/51935021448_8459ac441e_o.jpg)
An Unlikely Savior Completed
Spy Task Force Completed
Tale of an Archer Completed
The Bandit Scout on Newhome updated 05/30/23
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- Centennial Club
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This latest part was a very enjoyable read. So many twists!
Look forward to the next part! ![Very Happy :D](./images/smilies/icon_e_biggrin.gif)
![Wink ;)](./images/smilies/icon_e_wink.gif)
![Very Happy :D](./images/smilies/icon_e_biggrin.gif)
You are writing the story for yourself, 1st and foremost and it's your story @TapeTurtle. You can write it how you want too but if it turns into yet another revenge story [there are way too many here already] I most likely won't continue to read it. Now I need to read part nine.
Last edited by laz 1 year ago, edited 2 times in total.
part nine is a great chapter, I think it is your best work to date. @TapeTurtle well done