Ms. Hogan’s Tape Detention (m/F) Part 14 Added

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Ms. Hogan’s Tape Detention (m/F) Part 14 Added

Post by TapeTurtle »

Part one:

“I just don’t see how that’s fair, Ms. Hogan. If you can’t tell me what I did wrong, I don’t think I deserve to miss this opportunity. I was a shoo-in for that scholarship — I even met with the selection committee before I applied. How do I explain this to my parents?”

Marshall sat across Rachel Hogan’s desk, arms folded, leaning back in disbelief. He had called Ms. Hogan in on this Saturday morning to deal with an emergency. His application for a Merit scholarship, a near full ride to Bennington College, his dream school, had been essentially shoved into a desk and forgotten by his English teacher and Recommender, Ms. Hogan. It wasn’t intentional, she assured him, but the level of carelessness she treated his dream with felt personal enough. The hours and weekends lost to drafting and revising essays, of stuffing his resume with extra curriculars, all began pressing down on the top of his head, making him turn red.

“I’m so, so, sorry Marshall. You’re right. You didn’t deserve this. It was my fault and completely unfair to you. I couldn’t be more sorry.” Ms. Hogan reached her hand across the desk toward Marshall in earnest regret. Marshall, in his anger, pulled away, but still noticed how thin her wrists were, and how they rested daintily at the bottom of her toned, well-shaped arms.

A first-year teacher, barely 23 years old, Ms. Hogan had quickly ascended to a minor celebrity on campus. Her female students trusted her and felt she both pushed and empathized with what it felt to grow up in the current age. Her male students felt disarmed and humbled by the confidence with which she needled them with questions and critique.

Admittedly, both students and other teachers on campus couldn’t help but love looking at her. Every day she glided down the hall in some sort of boot or high heel, sporting on some days a wide range of sleek, bright dresses, on others, darker hues of blouses and pants. Whatever she wore, it always accentuated her figure. She was tall, standing around 5’9 in modest heels, with a thin waist, toned, muscular legs, and a D-sized chest that she tried and failed to conceal with each outfit. Today, she sported a light blue sundress and black boots, her dark brown hair pulled up into a messy bun. Her black glasses rested lightly on her soft cheek bones.

Despite her status on campus amongst the faculty and students, Rachel hid a secret, mortifying fear of administration, of losing her job due to some silly mistake, as many teachers have in the current education climate. This fear began filling her chest and head as she stared at Marshall, who could, she was sure, use this as a reason to get her dismissed.

“I think I have to tell the principal about this. Maybe he can reach out to the university. I’m sorry, Ms. Hogan. I really love you as a teacher, but this has really ruined something important to me. I don’t know how to stop feeling mad at you right now.”

Rachel stood up suddenly, beginning to pace slowly around the room. Her hands nervously touched every piece of school supplies on the shelves and tables she passed.

“Is there anything I can say that would help Marshall? I really care that I’ve hurt you, and admittedly, I’d prefer if we can figure out a way past this between just the two of us.”

“I can’t imagine anything you say really helping, Ms. Hogan. And I’m sorry, but I kind of want you to stop talking entirely right now.”

Rachel stopped in her tracks, pausing above an art supplies table. She could feel the meeting coming to a close, which surely, in her head, meant she was soon to be fired.

“I understand. Really, I do.” Rachel’s hand stopped on a particular bin in front of her. Suddenly, she had an idea. Not a good one, but it was something. With her back to Marshall, she began fiddling with the supplies in front of her.

“What about…Would this help?”

Marshall looked up. Ms. Hogan spun quickly toward him. Her head tilted to the side slightly, revealing a slight grin. Or at least, it looked like a grin to Marshall. He couldn’t quite tell, as his English’s teacher’s mouth was now covered completely by several strips of black tape.

“Mmmmmmmph?” She said into the gag.

Marshall lost his breath.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“Hmmmph mmmmmph.” Ms. Hogan replied, shrugging her shoulders, striding slowly toward him with the tape in her hands. She sat back down at her desk, sliding the roll across to Marshall.

“What do you want me to do with this?”

“Hmmmmph.” Rachel answered, holding out her hands.

“I don’t understand.”

Sighing, she stood up and went to the whiteboard. In green marker, she wrote out the following:

“I don’t have anything to say to make you less angry. But you have a whole Saturday and me and a whole bin of supplies to take out your anger. Whatever you feel you need to do — I’m game.”

Marshall stood up, confused, still angry, and holding a roll of tape in his hands he didn’t remember picking up.

“Fine. Your way then.”
Last edited by TapeTurtle 5 months ago, edited 15 times in total.
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Post by gaggedrock29 »

Where were teachers like that when I was in school? 😂
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Post by charliesmith »

Great start, hoping to read more :D
Please feel free to read and comment your thoughts.
My ongoing stories:

Roadtrip of Dreams (M/F) Chapter 14 Added.
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Post by Caesar73 »

A fine start :) A classic scenario :)
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Post by GreyLord »

gaggedrock29 wrote: 11 months ago Where were teachers like that when I was in school? 😂
That is exactly how I feel, [mention]gaggedrock29[/mention].
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Post by GagFan96 »

I'm loving this story so far, hope to read more.
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Post by TapeTurtle »

Part Two:

“Mmmph!” Ms. Hogan yelped as her back hit the classroom wall. Wide, black electrical tape secured her wrists behind her back. Tape was wrapped above and below her chest, wrinkling the fabric of her bright blue dress, and betraying the impressive size of her breasts underneath. Using her fingers, she pressed against the wall, regaining her balance, her ankles bound above her black boots, as well as her lower thighs “Mmmmmm” she breathed out, righting herself and looking at Marshall, waiting for whatever it was he would do next.

Marshall stared at his English teacher, who stood unsteadily against the white plaster wall, a mere foot or so from his face. She looked uneasy, but not scared, clearly trying to hide whatever nerves she had by upturning her cheeks into a labored smile behind the tape. Marshall knew she needed him to leave the room happy, and was doing her best to make it happen. In many ways, he couldn’t believe his luck — the unquestionable most attractive woman in his life had written him a blank check to do what he wanted with her, and had made the mistake of suggesting bondage, his most frequent fantasy. In other ways, Marshall became angrier, feeling insulted at Ms. Hogan’s belief that a mere afternoon of inappropriate behavior would make him forget what happened. He didn’t know what to do in the long run, but knew he couldn’t leave her off the hook for suggesting this solution.

“Okay. Stay here, I’ll be right back.” Marshall darted out of the classroom, snatching the red, magnetically hung rag off of the whiteboard. “Hmmmmmph???” Rachel asked, not wanting him to walk out the door and do God knows what.

Moments later, Marshall re-entered the room, the rag in his hand still, but dripping wet.

“Sit down in that chair.” He commanded, following behind Ms. Hogan as she hopped toward one of her students’ desks. Briefly losing her balance, she leaned forward, her back making a near-90 degree angle with her legs, sticking her round backside out to steady herself, not realizing she had inadvertently pushed completely into the front of Marshall’s pants.

“Hmmmph!” She cried, embarrassed, quickly moving forward and sitting in the chair as directed. She settled into her new seat, peering back up at Marshall.

“Here,” said Marshall, slowly peeling the tape from his teacher’s mouth.

“Ugh. Thank you, Marshall. I’m glad you’re finally ready to talk — you think it’s about time we undid some of —“

“Not ready yet” Marshall cut Ms. Hogan off. “I rinsed this off. Here.” He extended the damp rag toward her mouth, causing her to pull back.

“What? No…we don’t need that I think.” Rachel locked onto her student’s eyes, noticing a slow shade of annoyance build up in his face. She looked down, sighed deeply, and forced a pained, soft smile to spread across her face.

“But if it would make you feel better…” She said, holding open her mouth, leaning forward hesitantly, not breaking eyes with Marshall.

Saying nothing, Marshall pressed the rag slowly into Ms. Hogans mouth, forcing her lips to close around it.

“Hmmmmph.” She continued looking at him, holding her lips tightly together, her cheeks bulging as she labored to keep it in.

For some reason, she tried then to be funny, grunting with the gag in her mouth with the cadence of someone talking, tilting her head side in playful dips, unaware Marshall was not done.

“And here.” Marshall grabbed the electrical tape, peeling off the end and pressing it over his teacher’s mouth. He wrapped the roll three times around her head, making it impossible for Ms. Hogan to move her lips over the rag, let alone to say anything.

“Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmph.” Rachel moaned, notably unhappy, but not fighting her student’s hands as they pushed and pulled her face and head.

“Now. I’ll make you a deal. If you can get out of that, I’ll make up some story for my parents, apply to other schools, and this will be the end of it. If not, we’ll do this again next weekend, and the weekend after that, until either you escape, or school ends. Agreed?”

Ms. Hogan peered up at Marshall, now uncomfortable and unsure about what she had brought upon herself. She tried talking earnestly through the rag and tape, posing questions and suggesting alternatives that Marshall would never understand. Running out of breath, out of strength, and out of other ways forward that allowed her to keep her job, the English teacher grunted twice, nodding her head, not attempting a smile.

“Great. One more thing,” Marshall said, causing his Ms. Hogan to moan in disbelief.

“You have 30 minutes. So you’d better get going.”
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Post by GreyLord »

Is Marshall a super negotiator or what? It seems to be that he has the deal of a lifetime. This deal should be well worth considering changing schools. And poor Miss Hogan, she doesn't act as though she is too unhappy with the situation. Looking forward to your next installment.
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Post by Gaggedcowgirl »

My gosh, what I would do to be in either of their positions!
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Post by TapeTurtle »

Part Three:

Marshall watched on as his English teacher struggled to slip out of the tape pinning her wrists behind her back, though he honestly was a little underwhelmed by her effort, or lack thereof. Ms. Hogan twisted and turned slowly, almost cautiously in her seat, breathing steadily and without hurry. Her posture remained perfect in her seat as she continued on, notably without progress.

“Hmmmmph.” She sighed, checking the clock to gauge her remaining time.

“At this rate, it looks like we’ll be spending a lot of time together for the rest of the year,” Marshall teased. “I’m going to have to start researching different ways to tie you up, so I don’t get bored.”

“Hmmmmmmmmph.” Ms. Hogan glared at Marshall, growling into the wet rag taped into her mouth. She took a strong, deep breath than exhaled quickly through her nose. “Mmmpfhmn” she said, rolling her shoulders. She cracked her neck in both directions, clearly in preparation for a real try at escaping. With ten minutes left on the clock, she stood up from her seat, hopped into the empty rug at the front of the room near Marshall, and maneuvered herself onto her knees. Marshall’s heart hit the floor of his stomach.

“What are you doing?” Marshall asked in earnest.

Realizing what was running through her student’s mind, Ms. Hogan grunted loudly in anger, disgusted his head would even go there. She rolled herself into the rug, and began thrashing and kicking violently on the floor.

“Mph!” She released quick bursts of sound as she jerked her hands in different directions. Marshall could tell she was giving the last few minutes her all, sweat now beading on her face and arms.

“Much more like it!” Marshall cheered, earning an annoyed grunt from his teacher.

With a little over a minute left, Marshall began fantasizing about how he would leave his teacher bound next weekend. He pictured rolling around as she was now, and then pictured her hopping around the room wherever he directed. He imagined her taped to a chair like a real hostage, bound with her hands pulled up behind her in strappado, like a slave. Coming to, he sat down in a nearby chair, crossing his legs.

To her credit, Ms. Hogan was maybe another minute or so from escaping when the time ran out. The sweat on her hands had nearly allowed her to slip one out of the tape around her wrists. She knew this, kicking herself for wasting time early on.

“HMMMMMMPHHHHH. HMPH HMPHHH.” She moaned loudly into her gag, appearing to talk angrily to herself.

“It was a noble effort Ms. Hogan. Truly. Noble. Grabbing a pair of scissors from a bin nearby, Marshall kneeled down next to his teacher and began cutting her free. He started with her ankles, and took his time working his way up the different binds on her body. As Ms. Hogan’s pronounced chest heaved beneath her blue dress, Marshall could feel heat coming off of her skin. Before he had reached her hands, she began grunting hurriedly.

“Mph! Mmmph hmmph hmmhmmph!” She tried getting his attention, waving her hands, before holding up two fingers behind her back. “Hmmph hmmph mmf.”

“Two what? You want another pair of scissors?”

Exasperated, Ms. Hogan shook her head, now pointing one finger and twirling it in a circle behind her.

“Do over? Is that what you’re saying?” His teacher nodded, pleading with a forced, covered smile.

“Hmmphmmmmmf” she responded, pitching her voice up high and sing-songy in pretended sweetness.

“No do overs. Sorry.” Ms. Hogan sighed in defeat. “Well — I might be open to double or nothing.”

“Hmmpf?” His teacher did not like where this was going.

“I’ll cut you loose, tie you again, and give you more time. If you get out, we’re all done here. If you don’t…” he paused. “I choose your outfit each week for our little conferences.”

“Mm mm.” Ms. Hogan shook her head instantly, wanting to hear none of this. She held out her hands to Marshall to be released.

“Figured. Oh well, at least have next week to look forward to. I think I’ll maybe have to use two rolls of tape then, since you got so close this time. That’s a good idea. I’ll keep adding each week until the end of the school year. Oh this will be fun!” His smile was palpably, almost cartoonishly malicious.

Ms. Hogan knew what he was doing, but in her exhaustion and strung-out nerves, the images of herself back on this floor for weeks and weeks to come began piling up on her chest. She found herself panicking, and came to a quick, brash decision.

“Hmmmph.” She nodded toward Marshall, ready to take the bet.

— — — — — — — — — — — — —

Knowing he was about to tie his teacher up again, Marshall made quick work cutting off the rest of her tape. With her head and mouth still wrapped tightly in electrical tape Ms. Hogan stood up, beginning to reach her hands toward her lips.

“Wait. Keep that on,” Marshall directed.

“Mmmph!?” Ms. Hogan huffed in disbelief, stomping her foot, punching her hands quickly down to her sides before placing them back on her hips. She stared at Marshall hotly, with her head tilted to the side, clearly angry.

“What? It’s not like you won’t be needing it anymore.” The English teacher shook her head slightly, keeping her eyes fixed on her student, shocked at sudden nerve he had found. Marshall stared right back, looking her up and down several times. Somehow, though slightly disheveled and sweaty, the woman standing before him was still the sexiest thing Marshall had ever seen in person. She raised her eyebrows, waiting for Marshall to say something, since she obviously couldn’t. Marshall decided to keep staring, letting her wait.

Eventually, he walked over toward the desk, picked up the roll of tape, and headed back to Ms. Hogan. “Well. Let’s try this again. Turn around.”

Ms. Hogan held up a finger to Marshall’s chest, asking him to wait. She scurried to the whiteboard, quickly scribbling out a small phrase in red ink.

“No tape this time? Something else?” It read.

“I don’t know what else we could use — if you can find something in here, then sure. I’ll throw you a bone.” He grinned in her direction.

“Hmmmf.” Ms. Hogan placed the marker back and began frantically searching the cabinets and shelves of her classroom, and after several minutes, turned back to Marshall, with nothing in her hands.

“Hmmmf!” She said, clearly getting an idea. She hurried toward the door, Marshall stopping her before she could exit. An annoyed Ms. Hogan hurried back to the board.

“One minute, going to car, be right back!” The exclamation point noted a slight change of tone and attitude in the teacher, which excited Marshall. He stepped out of the way to let her pass.

She soon came back into the room, completely out of breath, most likely sprinting to her car and back to avoid being seen with her mouth completely taped. She grunted, placing two large bags on a nearby desk. One was a tent, and the other a hammock.

“Mmmmmmph.” Ms Hogan dug her hand into each bag, pulling out in messy wads two large bundles of black cord.

“Mmmph!” She reached out, offering me both bundles. “Mmmmpf mmmph.” She turned around, placing her hands behind her back, almost enthusiastically, as if excited she had found some small measure of this game she could be in control of.

— — — — — — — — — — — — —

“HMMMMMMMMMMMMPPPHHHH!” Fully bound in the black cord, Ms. Hogan new she had made a mistake. Somehow, this was worse. Marshall had bound her in the same places as before, her wrists behind her back, her ankles and knees and thighs, her chest, and this time, her elbows as well. With the Sun beginning to set, the shadow of her tied silhouette was cast into the wall. She was mortified at what the cord had done to her figure, shaping and framing her breasts above her her slight stomach, making them bulge out into the air. Even she didn’t know they could look this big.

“HMMMPH HMMF HMMMHMMF.” She pleaded with Marshall to let her take the bet back. “HMMMMMMMMMFMMMPH.”

“No possible way, Ms. Hogan. A deal is a deal. I’ll give you ten extra minutes time. You start working your way out of that. I’ll start picturing you in some more…creative outfits. Ready, go!”

Ms. Hogan wrestled violently with her bonds, standing in the center of the room. She began hopping around the classroom, looking for something to cut the cord on. Even in her thick, structured dress, Marshall loved watching the way her chest rose and fell as she moved. Unable to find anything sharp enough to free her, Ms. Hogan fell to the ground, kicking even harder than before, sweating and moaning and grunting as time ticked on. After a while Marshall noticed her dress slowly starting to ride up her legs, catching on something just before reaching her pelvis. Looking closer, Marshall believed he saw a hint of his English teachers incredible backside. Realizing this, Ms. Hogan had no choice but to ignore it, picturing even worse looks on herself that she was sure this 18 year old boy would have her wearing. Thinking the same thing, Marshall began playfully taunting his teacher with 2 minutes left on the clock.

“Does a tank top sound good for next week? What about some running shorts? Does a bathing suit count as an outfit?” Marshall laughed, watching his Ms. Hogan fight harder with each suggestion he made. “Does a BRA count as an outfit? What about NOTHING! Nothing can be an outfit in some cultures.”

Running out of time, and long past exhausting her strength, Ms. Hogan kicked one final time, letting loose a long, intense scream of frustration into her gag. She surrendered, letting the seconds run out on her chances of freedom.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Ms. Hogan spent the next week avoiding her student. She passed him in the hallway without making eye contact, she refused to call on him in class, fearing what he might say to her. To her surprise, Marshall didn’t try anything. He was polite. He didn’t press or try and mess with Ms. Hogan at all, even going as far as to help push chairs in quietly as he left her classroom each day. Over several days, Ms. Hogan talked herself into believing that the ordeal might be over. Marshall was a good kid, always had been. She knew that. It’s why, before this, she truly did care for him, forging a bond with the young man that had carried her through more than a few hard days at her job. By Friday, she began smiling at Marshall again. She started calling on him to share his thoughts during class, which were always sharp, and kind, and mature. She was ready to love him as a student again, wanting to go up and hug him for forgiving her, ready to help him find a mother way forward with his college plans.

As the final bell shook the school open, students poured through the hallway past Ms. Hogan’s door as she gathered her things. As the stream of kids slowed to a trickle, Marshall stuck his head into her room.

“Have a great weekend!” He called out.

“Thank you Marshall, you too.” She reached out her hand, smiling.

Smiling bashfully at the ground before looking up, Marshall shook his teachers hand and walked out the door. Ms. Hogan could have cried at the weight that lifted from her chest. She brought her hand back toward her collarbone. Slowly, the English teacher looked down at her fingers. In between the tips of her middle and index finger was a small piece of paper, folded tightly several times. She opened it carefully, looking down to read it.

“Have a great weekend. 8:30 tomorrow morning, same place.” the note read. Ms. Hogan couldn’t breathe. She looked at the bottom of the note. “Wear something to swim in. See backside for suggestions.”

Mortified, she flipped over the note. Pasted on the other side were pictures of several women, all incredibly busty and fit, each donned in a series of tight, small bikinis.
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Post by GagFan96 »

This story keeps getting better, I love that she's gotten herself into an even worse situation then before.
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Post by GreyLord »

Marshall acts with wisdom far beyond his years. Will Miss Hogan follow instruction and wear a bathing suit? Will it be a one-piece or will she go for a bikini? You continue with your excellent work.
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Post by TapeTurtle »

Part Four:

At around 8:45, Ms. Hogan pulled up to the school, steering har car into the faculty parking lot around a corner of the building, out of view of passers by on the main road. The lot was small, due to the small nature of the school, which only enrolled about 70 students per grade. Noting only one other car parked, she exhaled into her steering wheel before pulling in next to it. Marshall exited a beat up, beige Buick to greet her, holding the strap of a gym bag over bud shoulder. Noting the bag, Ms. Hogan grimaced, figuring she would find out its contents soon enough.

“Good morning! Beautiful day!” Marshall saluted his teacher.

“Umm yep. Morning.” Ms. Hogan stepped out of her car. She was wearing a gray blank sweatshirt and jeans. Her dark brown hair was pulled into a tight pony tail. She too pulled a gym bag out of her car, throwing it over her shoulder. She reached in a second time, pulling out a thermos of coffee, which she held in two hands to her lips as she turned to face Marshall. The sky was overcast and the air chilly, throwing a damp gray film over the two of them.

“I don’t think that was on the list of suggestions I gave you…” said, looking Ms. Hogan up and down. “Are we going to start the day off on a bad foot?”

“It is 8:30 in the morning Marshall. It is cold. And I am not driving around town in a…whatever.” She held her bag out to Marshall, implying that inside was what he had requested. “Anyway, it’s early and I’m here and about to do whatever it is you’re about to have me do, so I think it’s pretty safe to say yes, one of us starting the day on a pretty terrible foot.”

“Fair point.” Marshall said. “Let’s head inside, shall we?”

Marshall followed Ms. Hogan to the side entrance of the building, watching as she unlocked the door and held it open for him.

“Thank you kindly. I can almost forgive you for being late. Almost.” Ms. Hogan had hoped he hadn’t noticed, but walked ahead without saying anything, her mind already full of plenty of other things that were about to go wrong. The two stepped into the 12th grade English classroom, where one week earlier they had spent their first of many Saturdays together. Ms. Hogan dropped her bag in her desk, and began fidgeting and organizing small pieces of the room, pencils and stacks of paper, hoping to distract herself.

“I think we have plenty of time to put the room back together later.” Marshall said. “You should probably change.”

“Fine.” Ms. Hogan stared at Marshall. “Aren’t you going to step out?”

“I think you should use the bathroom to change. I need to set up in here.”

“I’m not prancing around the school hallways in a bathing suit. You can set up later.”

“No one’s here. We can’t afford security cameras. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“You’re unbelievable.” Ms. Hogan snatched her bag off of her desk and stomped angrily out of the room. Marshall began laying out the contents of his bag on what would have been his desk, had they been in class. A few minutes later, he heard a series flat footsteps echoing toward the door.

“Here. I’m ready.” Ms. Hogan stood in the doorway, with one hand on the jamb. Her hair had been re-done into a bun, held together by a pencil she had run through it. Over her full, hourglass body was a dark green one-piece bathing suit. The neckline plunged from her pronounced collarbone down deep enough to show the very top of her cleavage. The rest clung to her taut stomach and back. She looked lean, and toned. She looked absolutely beautiful. Still, there was an element of dismay in Marshall’s voice as he commented on her appearance.

“That’s nice.” He felt the sudden, immature need to understate. “But doesn’t look much like the pictures I gave you.”

“You said something to swim in. This is what I go swimming in. I know this works, Marshall, based strictly on the words you used. This is what I’m wearing.” Ms. Hogan strode into the room defiantly, stopping on a dime in front of him, spinning, and putting her hands behind her back. “Now let’s get this over with.”

Marshall sighed, disappointed, and picked up a roll of tape from the desk. He paused for a moment, looking off to the side, then smiling, turned back toward his teacher. “What are you waiting for?” She called over her shoulder. “Tie me up!”

“We’ll get to that. That is technically what I said in the note, sure. But I also know that you need this to go well to keep your job. So there’s no way you’d leave even a small chance that I wouldn’t be happy with the suit. You can’t afford me walking away. Why don’t you head back and change into the *actual* outfit you brought for the day.”

From behind, Marshall watched in satisfaction as Ms. Hogan, clearly stunned, hung her head in resignation.

“I really wish you were dumber,” she said, walking slowly back into the hall. Marshall began touching and organizing the supplies he brought, brimming with confidence. Tapped his finger anxiously on the desk, waiting. Eventually, the footsteps began to echo back toward the room again, albeit slower this time.

Ms. Hogan walked solemnly back into the classroom, putting her right arm up and leaning on the door, refusing to make eye contact with Marshall.

The English teacher stood just there, sporting a small, white bikini, dotted with bright red splotches. Looking closer, Marshall could pick them out as apples. He also noticed, for the first time, his teachers completely flat stomach, the soft pale white of her uncovered skin, her chest, with nowhere to hide, clearly surpassing the D-sized approximation pinned to her by whispers among the students, spilling forward and swaying slightly in the white fabric even after she had stopped moving. Ms. Hogan slumped her shoulders in embarrassment, only letting her chest hang further down, to Marshalls delight.

“Much better. Looking sharp Ms. Hogan.”

Shooting Marshall a deathly glare, Ms. Hogan strode past her student, trying and failing to keep her body from bouncing in front of him. She turned around once more, placing her hands behind her back. This time, she found herself facing the desk her former favorite student normally sat at. Glancing down, she learned what it was in Marshall’s bag, and gasping, felt a hand clamp down over her mouth.
Last edited by TapeTurtle 11 months ago, edited 1 time in total.
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Post by Gaggedcowgirl »

The power! The helplessness!
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Post by some_wanderer »

This is turning into a fun story.

Did she bring more outfits to wear?
If your story has a little sister tied up by their brother,

I'll be there with comment and rating 👍
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Post by Caesar73 »

A truly fantastic story! My compliments!
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Post by GreyLord »

All of the above comments are so very true, [mention]TapeTurtle[/mention], Kudos!
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Post by Bigballgag1 »

This is a very good story and well written. Look forward to what happens next! :D
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Post by TapeTurtle »

Part Five:

“Mmmmmpf!” Ms. Hogan reeled as her head was pulled back and a strip red tape was pulled over her mouth. Marshall grabbed her right wrist and began pulling it behind her.

Spinning around, she wrenched her wrist away from Marshall with a stern swing of her arm. She pulled the tape off of her mouth.

“Don’t do that. You need to give me a warning.” Marshall stared at her, and while he wanted to let his eyes roam the bikini-clad body of his teacher, he couldn’t look away from her eyes, which were furrowed in true anger. He decided this wasn’t the hill he wanted to die on, and conceded.

“You’re right. Not cool. I’m sorry.”

Ms. Hogan turned back around to the desk, crossing her arms under her enormous, skimpily covered chest. Lying across the wooden surface were a bevy of objects that sat in a somewhat sinister silence. There were several colored rolls of duct tape, a large bag of ropes and cord bundles, a pair of handcuffs, zip ties, several boxes of Saran Wrap, a pair of socks, a pair of royal blue high heels, a Polaroid camera, and a handheld camcorder.

“Marshall…you can’t use all of this on me. You just can’t. A camcorder? You’re not serious. Images of what we’re doing can never leave this room or else both of our lives will be over. What are you thinking?”

Marshall sneered playfully. “I know that, Ms. Hogan. Which is why i have no intention on making a single soul aware of this. I’m taking this to my grave.” He stepped toward the table. “And I know so can’t use all of this at once. That would look just terrible.”

“Then why did you bring so much of it??” Ms. Hogan responded, stepping closer to Marshall. Her body trembled slightly as she spoke.

“Simple.” Marshall gestures toward the table. “Pick three. ”

Standing there in front of her student, Ms. Hogan felt a draft of cool air sweep through the room and drag across her un protected body. She felt goosebumps lift off of her arms and legs. She folded her arms again, never feeling more exposed. She felt she had no time to react in shock at the lengths this student had gone to in tormenting her. She quickly switched into strategizing, passing her eyes over the items on the desk.

— — — — — — — — — — — — —

“I don’t understand how you can keep making this tighter. I feel like my legs are about to fuse together.” Ms. Hogan looked down toward Marshall as he finished taping her thighs together, but was unable to see his face below her protruding bikini top. She nearly fell trying to shift in place and see what he had done to her, finding it hard to balance in the blue high heels with her wrists taped heavily behind her.

Marshall ripped the roll of royal blue duct tape away from his teacher’s bare, tighty shaped thighs, whistling in satisfaction. He took a step back to admire his work, and the woman wearing it. He had taped Ms. Hogan in most of the same ways as the first time he had managed to do it. Her wrists crossed and taped behind her back. Tape was wrapped excruciatingly tight above and below her white top, as well as around her waist, drawing her wrists into her back. Her ankles knees and upper legs were all secured as well. The blue tape made Ms. Hogan look like an American Flag, Marshall thought to himself, contrasting with the blue heels, the white bikini, and the red apples dotted across it. He felt she would be flattered if he pointed this out to her. Her body seemed to explode out past the places where she was taped, and she seemed reluctantly aware of it, hanging her head, shifting in place, trying to find a way to stand that granted her a small token of modesty. Unable to do so, she gave up, facing Marshall once more in defiance.

“Alright. 30 minutes.” Ms. Hogan said, taking a quick breath in and out as she braced herself. She looked toward Marshall for confirmation, but he gave her none. Sighing, Ms. Hogan grimaced.

“You’re going to tape my mouth up again aren’t you…”

“It’s called a gag, Ms. Hogan. Words matter.”

“I KNOW WHAT IT’S CALLED YOU LITTLE JERK.” The bound English teacher had run out of patience.

“I’d like to hear the story about WHY you know it’s called later. But you’re right. We should start.” He stepped toward his teacher, blue tape in hand, raising the tape to her lips. Ms. Hogan closed her eyes as well as her lips, and leaned forward.

Remembering something, Marshall reached into his pocket, pulled out the sock, and held it in front of her closed mouth, ordering her to open it. Ms. Hogan obeyed, sighing and staring in heavy disdain at Marshall through the top of her glasses as she watched him stuff her mouth. She nearly fell over again as he pressed deeper into her cheeks than she expected. Marshall made quick work the rest, sealing several strips onto his teachers newly filled face.

“Mmmmmpfffffff.” Ms. Hogan tested her gag. “Mmmf mmmmf.” She nodded toward Marshall to start the clock.

“Ready? Thirty minutes. Here we go.”

Ms. Hogan realized something.

“MMMMMPFFFF” she screamed into her gag, hopping in place, hoping to catch her students attention before he could hit start in his watch. Marshall noticed her.

“Mmmmpf Mmmph hhmmmmph hummmoh hmm.” The English teacher tried talking in vain. Marshall ripped the tape from her face, pulling the sock from her mouth.

“I need more time. You gave me forty minutes last time. Can I have fifty?” She smiled at Marshall falsely. “You’ve clearly done a good enough job tying me up Marshall.” Marshall liked the way his name sounded coming off of the bound teacher’s lips.

“No way. That’s almost an hour. The challenge was 30 minutes originally. That’s the deal. Raising it to 40 is part of what has you in the predicament you’re in now.”

Ms. Hogan looked down at the way her her body bulged in the tape. She knew if she let this go she’d be signing up for a session next week with Marshall. She also knew that if this is what she had to wear in week two, she didn’t want to find out what it would be in week three. She looked back up, hopping once slightly toward her student.”

“Okay — we’ll what do you want in exchange?”
Last edited by TapeTurtle 11 months ago, edited 1 time in total.
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Post by GagFan96 »

I have been loving this story so far keep up the awesome work.
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Post by Caesar73 »

GagFan96 wrote: 11 months ago I have been loving this story so far keep up the awesome work.
Absolutely!
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Post by GreyLord »

This remains a most interesting story, [mention]TapeTurtle[/mention]. The delectable Miss Hogan seems to sink deeper into trouble.
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Tale of an Archer Completed
The Bandit Scout on Newhome updated 05/30/23
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Post by TapeTurtle »

Part Six

“Come on now, name your price.” Ms. Hogan rotated gently back and fourth in place, waiting for her student to make up his mind. “I need more time if we’re going to keep doing this.” She took another small hop toward Marshall, emphasizing the blue tape constricting her body. She smiled. “Show some mercy. What about 90 minutes. I can get out in 90 minutes I think.”

Marshall laughed. “You don’t want to know what 90 minutes would cost you, Ms. Hogan. That’s triple our original agreement!”

The noticing the straps holding her bikini top starting to stretch around the tape on her chest, Ms. Hogan persisted. “Try me.”

Marshall began to consider the request, and began thinking out loud. “Well first I definitely would need a few pictures of you like this. Don’t worry—they would stay between us.”

Ms. Hogan had anticipated this much, and calculated the risk was worth the reward of ending the saga. “Done.” She said sharply. “What else.”Not expecting such a quick acceptance, Marshall began to get more creative.

“And you’d only get a total of 20 minutes of time to sit down or be on the ground. The rest, you’re standing.”

“Weird. But. Done.” Ms. Hogan figured it didn’t matter since freeing her hands would be her focus for the entire 90 minutes, which she could do standing.

“And finally — I’m going to add 30 more minutes. So it would be two hours.”

“Really!? Done!” Ms. Hogan’s face brightened, certain she could free herself from the blue duct tape in that long span. She began to visualize the end of her ordeal.

“BUT!” Marshall interrupted her. “For 10 of the 120 minutes, I get to try and tickle you, with this.” Marshall walked toward his desk, and pulled out a feather duster from his gym bag. “I brought it from home. Figured there’s no way you’d choose it so I didn’t bother putting it out. If you’d rather, I can use my hands to do it.”

“WHAT!? Why do you want to do that???” Ms. Hogan loathed the idea of her students hands anywhere near her body while it was in this state, spilling out of her small bathing suit. “Fine. But I don’t have to let you. But you can TRY.”

“It’s a deal! Let’s renegotiate more often. I love how it always turns out. Next week, we can agree to some more rules too.”

“There’s not going to be a next week, Marshall,” Ms. Hogan said cooly, leaning a good distance forward toward her student, who she noticed looking down at her drooping, heavy chest. “Gag me. See? I know the word. I think it’s time we finished this.” Ms. Hogan grinned menacingly at Marshall, holding her mouth open.

“You seem confident. I love it. It’ll be so much funnier when we’re back here next week.” His teacher stood back up, sneered at him, then bent toward him again, opening wide and accepting the sock he shoved into her mouth. Pressing her lips all the way shut over the sock with his fingers, Marshall began wrapping her mouth and head 8 or 9 times in the royal blue tape. Finished, he put his hand out on her face, grabbing both of her cheeks and squeezing. “I think this will make you sound a lot more humble,” he mocked. Clearly past any kind of student-teacher decorum, Ms. Hogan hopped in place, turning her backside to Marshall, and showing him her middle finger. “Hmmmmpf,” she grunted in defiance.

“We’ll then! If that’s how we’re going to play it, fine by me! Marshall reached out toward the back of his teacher, giving a hard slap to her barely covered butt.

“HMMMMMPFF!?!?!” Ms. Hogan hopped back around, incensed and rubbing her backside with her bound hands. She stood still, staring hotly at her student. Her quickened breath pushed her chest into the tape even harder. Seeing Marshall, she froze.

The Polaroid camera flashed into the bound Ms. Hogan’s face. “Mmmmmmmpf,” She growled.

Marshall pulled the photo from the camera and placed it on the desk. He held the it up to his eye once more. “How about a smile this time?” He could feel the heat pouring from from his teacher’s narrowed eyes. “Say cheese. We’re not starting until I get my pictures.”

Ms. Hogan took a deep breath in to calm herself, then smiled behind her taped mouth, tilting her head slightly, opening her eyes innocently for the camera. She knew Marshall, and was learning it was getting faster to just give the young man what he wants. Marshall clicked the camera several more times.

“Fantastic.” Marshall stacked the Polaroids in a small pile on the desk, Ms. Hogans’s bikini starting to form in the top one as it developed. He put his finger in his watch.

“Ready? Go!”

— — — — — — — — — — —

Marshall checked his watch completely lost as to how long he had been watching his teacher hop around the room, taped up tightly in heels and her skimpy bikini.

“Hmf. Hmf. Hmf. Hmf.” Ms. Hogan grunted softly into her gag each time she landed. Making very little progress in the first hour and 15 minutes, she began to scan the room, searching for a new strategy, and very happy she had bought herself some more time. Suddenly, her eyes found a possible solution. The metal door handle looked strong, and could hook in between her hands, and might give her the leverage needed to slip out of her binds. “Hmmmf!” She let out a celebratory moan and hopped toward the door. Spinning toward Marshall, she began fumbling with the handle, trying to hook it into her wrists. Her body moved up and down, side to side as she worked, no doubt putting on a show for her student as she looked his way. She almost was fine with him staring at her, becoming increasingly confident her new plan would work. “Hmmmpf? Hmm Mmmph hmm.” She raised her eyebrow, asking her student if he was impressed at her new strategy.

“That’s pretty good Ms. Hogan. You might just make it. Oh yeah — do you remember our final rule? Do you want to do that now? Or closer the end?” Marshall grabbed the feather duster from the desk, walking toward her. Ms. Hogan checked the door handle and her wrists. She hadn’t made much progress, but could tell it was going to work. Confidently, and smiling proudly at having figured it out, she nodded once toward Marshall. “Hmmpf,” she said, clearly meaning “Now.”

Satisfied at her answer, Marshall crept toward his teacher, holding out his feathered weapon menacingly. Ms. Hogan stood up straight, and narrowing her eyes, trying to plan an escape route, not wanting to let this student get his hands or that duster on her sensitive, exposed skin.

“Hmmmmpf!!!” The English teacher made a break for the corner of the room, hopping furiously and with no attempt to control her booming body as it bounced. Marshall trapped her on one side of a table. At a stalemate, Ms. Hogan began hopping the in the opposite direction of which way Marshall went around the table, letting loose a series of muffled screams and grunts. Marshall swore he detected a hint of laughter in her indecipherable exclamations.
Finally, running out of patience, Marshall sprinted around the right side of the table, flushing his bouncing teacher into the room, where she span around several times, looking for a place to run to escape.

“MMMMMPHHHHHH!!!!” She began to panic, clearly laughing now. Marshall was excited at the sound of his teacher giggling into her gag. Peered out the door, wondering what her laughter would sound like echoing off the walls of the hallway. With a grin, gripped the duster, and raced toward his teacher, herding her out the door and into the unlit hallway.

“Hmmph!! HMMMPHHMM!” Ms. Hogan looked around, realizing she was now standing half-nude, bulging against her taped up limbs, in the middle of her high school’s hallway. She turned back toward Marshall, who began walking now, holding the feather duster out like a knife.

“It’s like that movie “Halloween,” Ms. Hogan! You better get moving!”

Laughing hysterically now, Ms. Hogan had no choice but to keep on her course down the hallway, noticing the echo her heels made against the walls and floor as she hopped in her swimsuit through the school. From behind, couldn’t keep his eyes off of her, nearly drooling as her bare legs and strong backside jiggled and strained against gravity and layers of tape. It took everything in him to resist running up behind her and grabbing her, perhaps even pushing her up against the wall. With Ms. Hogans laughing “Mmphs!” and clicking heels in his ears, he continued on, pushing her further and further away from the door, as was his plan all along.

By the time the second timer on Marshall’s ten minutes of attempted tickling finally rang out, Ms. Hogan had successfully hopped her way to the opposite wing of the school.

“MMMHMMPH!” She span around, sweating and completely out of breath, but in her head, victorious over Marshall. When she had fully turned, Marshall was standing there, only an inch from her taped mouth and body. Ms. Hogan chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath. “Hmmm hmmm!” She said to Marshall, clearly mocking him for failing to catch her.

“You really know how to move like that, Ms. Hogan. I’m impressed.” Marshall grinned maliciously as he glanced back down the hallway. “Now it appears you have about 20 minutes left. Good luck getting back to the classroom in time to use that neat trick with the door handle.” Ms. Hogan’s face went pale. “I’d carry you, but that would probably be inappropriate, you being my teacher and all.”

“HHMMMMMMMPPFFF!! Hhhhmmpff Mhmmmmph!”

Realizing what she had inadvertently done, Ms. Hogan screamed down the hall, hopping in her blue high heels as fast as she could. On her way back to the class, however, she felt the muscles in her legs starting to fail. She felt like her chest was filled with acid. She kept hopping, but slowly now, taking deep breaths before each one, hoping maybe there was a small chance she could back in time to end this.

There wasn’t. Ms. Hogan, completely spent, exhausted, and on the verge of tears, could see the light of her classroom on the floor of the hallway when she heard the timer go off. Defeated, she slumped against a bulletin board on the wall, leaving an imprint of sweat in her figure briefly on the cork.

“Hmmmmmppppoffffffff…..Hmmmmmppppffffff…”

Marshall couldn’t tell if his teacher was crying, gasping, or cursing, so he made his way closer to find out.

“That was really really impressive Ms. Hogan. I respect not giving up. Really, I do. I’ll keep that in mind next week.”

Ms. Hogan hung her head, letting her wet, sweat-drenched hair stick to her bulging chest, which had started to become completely visible through the thin white fabric of her swim suit.
Last edited by TapeTurtle 11 months ago, edited 1 time in total.
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Post by GagFan96 »

This story keeps getting better, I eagerly await the next part.
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Post by GreyLord »

Someone with the looks and body of Miss Hogan surely deserves a break. I know. That doesn't mean that she will get one.
ImageA List of my stories:
An Unlikely Savior Completed
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Tale of an Archer Completed
The Bandit Scout on Newhome updated 05/30/23
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