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Subject: {ASSM} Tennis Coach  (f/f, f/F humil)
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<1st attachment, "Tennis Coach 1-2 Rev.txt" begin>

Tennis Coach


By Chris and by Jane Parks


(f/f, f/F, Humil.)

Jane is responsible for Part One, and Chris is responsible for
Part Two.  Let Jane know if you think there should be a Part
Three.

This one is a bit rough.  Caution is advised.


Part One:

LeAnn Wells had to admit to herself that, on the whole, she had
been one lucky woman.  True, she had worked very hard at
perfecting her tennis skills ever since she was seven years old.
And true, she had made many, many sacrifices over the past thirty
years to further her amateur and professional tennis careers. 
But, despite all that, it was LeAnn's luck that had gotten her
where she was today.  She knew full well that lots of others had
worked just as hard as she had, and had made just as many
sacrifices as she had, but they had not possessed the good
fortune to succeed in the way that she had succeeded in the very
competitive sport of women's tennis.  

As it was, LeAnn had placed quite well in two NCAA championships
her freshman and sophomore years in college and had risen as high
as the top ten seed on the Sanex WTA Tour even as late as her
early thirties.  And when her professional career finally tanked
about five years ago, LeAnn had been lucky enough to be offered a
financially rewarding contract as head women's tennis coach at a
prominent West Coast university.  So taken all together, LeAnn
considered herself to be one lucky woman.

Even so, as she pondered her past and her probable future at age
37, LeAnn had to concede that she had been most definitely
unlucky in one aspect of her life.  She had been unlucky in her
fantasies.  The fates had cursed her with horrid, sick fantasies.
And LeAnn was both terrified and ashamed of them.

Truth to tell, ever since the onset of puberty, LeAnn had used
what ultimately became an almost obsessive commitment to her
sport all during high school and college, and then throughout her
professional tennis career, as a way to construct and maintain an
impenetrable wall to protect herself from her horrid fantasies;
from her own deepest and darkest longings, longings she could
only bring herself to face very late at night when she was all
alone, longings that she dare not expose to public scrutiny.

It seems that LeAnn had discovered during her middle school years
a horrible, terrible secret about herself.  Her secret was that,
despite anything she could do to the contrary, she was driven by
a perverse sexual craving to submit herself totally to the
overpowering will of another female.  LeAnn first learned of her
fascination with subservience when she found herself deriving
sick sexual pleasure from letting herself be bossed around by her
little middle school girlfriends.  She didn't know why she
tingled and itched deep inside her little sniz every time she
obeyed one of their "orders."  She just knew that she did.  It
frightened her so much that, by the time she got to high school,
she had isolated herself thoroughly from any further temptation
to surrender to her perverse craving by devoting all of her out
of school time to sublimating it through tennis.  She kept
herself aloof from relationships with other girls in school, and
insisted that her tennis coaches all be male.  

All during high school and well into college, Leann did
everything she could to keep her protective wall high and strong,
because she knew deep within her soul what awful, degrading
things would happen to her if she ever gave in to those sick
longings of hers.  And her struggles to sublimate her wanton
yearning for subservience had certainly paid off handsomely on
the tennis court.

Then, she encountered Jaycy Daily.

She met Jaycy at the beginning of a ten-week summer tennis camp
between her junior and senior year hosted by a large Mid-West
college.  From the very first time she saw her, LeAnn felt
something quiver into life deep inside.  It frightened her
because she had gotten used to not feeling "that way" for a long
time.  But it fascinated her, too.

It wasn't that Jaycy was all that physically attractive.  It had
to do much more than anything else with LeAnn's strong empathic
sense that Jaycy was just exactly the type of girl who would love
to order her around and make her submit.  Therefore, LeAnn tried
to stay as far away from Jaycy as she could, but there was
arrogance in her manner and an independence of spirit about Jaycy
that drew LeAnn to her like a strong magnet, despite herself.  

For her part, Jaycy immediately perceived that LeAnn was acting
unusually diffident around her.  This led Jaycy to want to
observe LeAnn more closely.  Within a very short time, Jaycy
determined that LeAnn, for all her drive, athletic skill, and
apparent self-confidence, was in realty a deeply dependent
personality type, sexually subservient by nature, repressed, and
profoundly deficient in true self-esteem.  LeAnn's actual
submissive character had been hidden from everyone else around
her over the years because they were always so focused on her
hard work, nearly obsessive dedication to her sport, and natural
talent.  Just as LeAnn had wanted them to be.  But, from the very
first, Jaycy had seen right through LeAnn's protective wall to
the insecure, submissive, sex hungry, scared little girl
underneath.

And Jaycy, being the manipulative little sociopath that she was,
determined to take fullest advantage of LeAnn's emotional
vulnerability.  Besides, Jaycy got off sexually by dominating
other girls.  She had since her early high school years.  And by
now, she was really good at it.

Over the course of the next couple weeks, Jaycy stalked LeAnn,
slowly but surely chipping away at the wall of psychic defenses
that the young woman had been erecting for years to protect
herself from herself.  Jaycy's demented plan was to insinuate
herself so deeply into LeAnn's psyche that the young woman would
be powerless to resist her.  Then, Jaycy would reap as much as
she could from her prey's dependent, submissive nature.  Jaycy
had always been a user and abuser of submissive little girls. 
Poor, vulnerable LeAnn would be her latest victim.  And Jaycy
would enjoy tormenting her no end.

At first, it was just simple things, like asking LeAnn to bring
over her water bottle or a towel to wipe the practice sweat from
her body.  Sensing that Jaycy was attempting to boss her around,
LeAnn tried her best to balk at these trivial requests.  But
Jaycy made such a deal of it in front of the other girls that
LeAnn couldn't really refuse without looking like some kind of a
prima donna who saw herself as just too good to do a favor when
asked.

Once she had persuaded LeAnn to obey her in small ways, Jaycy
moved her swiftly along to bigger things such as buying her meals
and even paying for certain articles of clothing that Jaycy
wanted.  Usually these articles of clothing consisted of sexy
bras and panties that Jaycy told LeAnn to help her pick out and
then pay for.  Jaycy made LeAnn accompany her to the mall and
then to the lingerie shop's dressing room where she had to watch
as Jaycy tried on all the bras and panties.  LeAnn was more than
a little embarrassed, but, again, she couldn't find a legitimate
reason to refuse.  She knew that lots of girls paired off at the
mall and helped each other pick out clothes.  So Jaycy's
insistence that she accompany her wasn't all that weird.  And as
for paying for Jaycy's bras and panties, Jaycy told her that,
since LeAnn had had the privilege of seeing her in the sexy
underwear, she should be glad to pay for it.  

By now, LeAnn was experiencing torrid little tremors of sex lust
every time Jaycy found an excuse to tantalize her with her nearly
naked body.  But LeAnn's long-standing fear of being overwhelmed
and losing herself to her submissive nature made her struggle to
retain her self-command.  LeAnn most certainly didn't want Jaycy
to know that she was sexually stimulated by having to help the
girl pick out sexy underwear and then having to pay for it.  But
Jaycy could see it anyway in the hot, hungry brightness of
LeAnn's eyes looking at her as she modeled for her.  Jaycy knew
that, despite herself, LeAnn was beginning to fall.

As Jaycy continued chipping away at LeAnn's defenses, LeAnn grew
more and more anxious.  Jaycy seemed to know all about her inner
needs and desires and she was exerting an ever-increasing
dominance over LeAnn's life in subtle ways that LeAnn just could
not seem to defend herself against.  LeAnn tried her best to
regain control.  But despite her desperate struggles to fend off
Jaycy's wanton advances, LeAnn just could not prevent herself
from submitting to a stronger personality than her own.  In the
end, LeAnn always bowed to whatever new request Jaycy made of
her.  

A part of LeAnn's mind sent out a continuous stream of near
hysterical warnings to her that submitting to Jaycy's
ever-increasing demands was becoming dangerous.  She knew that
she could very well lose everything she had worked so hard to
attain if she continued down the path Jaycy was leading her on. 
But another part of LeAnn's mind secretly hoped that Jaycy would
continue to dominate her until she owned her completely.  Maybe,
Jaycy would be the one to finally satisfy LeAnn's most repressed
desires.  Maybe.

At the end of the second week, Jaycy decided that the time was
right to begin the next phase of her campaign to trap LeAnn into
sexual subservience.  She began her next stage of conquest by
rewarding LeAnn's burgeoning submissiveness and docility with
those singular kinds of treats specifically designed to drag the
young woman even deeper down into the well of subservience.

At first, it was affectionate little pats on the bottom applied
by Jaycy when LeAnn had had an especially good tennis practice. 
None of the other girls who saw Jaycy thought that it was
anything other than the usual kind of camaraderie found in all
sports.  Since Jaycy patted all the girls' bottoms occasionally,
they thought 'what the hell.'

But LeAnn knew different.  She knew what it did to her to feel
Jaycy's warm, strong hand lightly caress her derrière just before
she patted her.  It felt simply wonderful.  After awhile, LeAnn
simply couldn't get enough.

When LeAnn didn't show any sign of resistance to Jaycy's butt
patting, Jaycy moved on to making LeAnn hold her hand
occasionally as they walked onto or off the tennis court for
doubles practice.  Truth to tell, LeAnn was really embarrassed by
this public display of intimacy and the little knowing smirks she
got from some of the other girls.  But she was becoming so
emotionally dependent upon Jaycy by this time that she didn't
want to say anything that might anger her.  Besides, LeAnn had to
admit to herself that Jaycy was really stirring up some of her
most deeply repressed desires.  And, despite her mounting
anxieties, Jaycy's handholding was only making the young woman
ravenous for even more intimate contact with the girl.  So LeAnn
finally concluded that holding hands with Jaycy out in public
might not be so bad after all.

During the third week of tennis camp, the part of LeAnn's mind
that still tried desperately to protect her from herself steadily
lost ground to the part that was finally being let loose by
Jaycy's oppressive treatment of her: the hungry part; the needy
part; the sick nasty part.

When she was sure that LeAnn had gotten used to the idea of being
made to hold hands with her, Jaycy started making LeAnn kiss her;
lightly on the lips at first and just when they were alone
together in Jaycy's dorm room.  LeAnn felt some real misgivings
about kissing Jaycy.  She knew she really liked it, wanted it,
and needed it.  But she didn't know where all this would
eventually lead or what Jaycy would demand of her next.  

Again, however, LeAnn's lust hunger overcame her fear.  As Jaycy
continued to acculturate LeAnn to the notion that she had the
right to make LeAnn kiss her in the privacy of her dorm room, the
part of LeAnn's mind that found itself reveling in the
salaciousness of being made to kiss another girl shouted down the
part that was afraid.

LeAnn rationalized her giving in to Jaycy's demands by telling
herself over and over again that girl/girl affairs no longer
carried the social stigma that they once had.  So she really had
nothing to be embarrassed about so long as they kept their
kissing private.  Despite all her rationalizing, however, there
was still a small part of LeAnn that worried a great deal about
her growing dependence upon Jaycy, even as she found herself
looking forward expectantly to the next time Jaycy would insist
upon a loving little kiss from her when they were alonetogether.

But then, Jaycy wanted LeAnn to kiss her right out in public. 
LeAnn turned red with embarrassment the first time Jaycy forced
her into kissing her in front of other people.  But, again, she
could not seem to bring herself to say 'no.' Besides, LeAnn was
really starting to like it.  Not just the kissing itself, but
even more that hot, itchy, sticky feeling she got deep inside
whenever Jaycy made her kiss her right out in front of other
people.  She was embarrassed and excited all at the same time.

Even after she had really embarrassed LeAnn in public several
times, Jaycy was not nearly satisfied enough with the small
degradations she had caused the young woman to endure by making
her hold hands with her and kiss her in public.  Jaycy just
couldn't wait to see exactly how far she could push the envelope;
how deeply she could get inside LeAnn's head.  She was now
certain that she could embarrass LeAnn and get away with it.  But
could she also really humiliate her with impunity? 

Jaycy shifted tactics.  She decided that the best way to
humiliate LeAnn was to make her perform a whole list of menial
chores for her.  She began by ordering LeAnn to do all of her
clothes washing, including hand washing her sweaty bra and
panties each day after practice, the very ones that she had
modeled for LeAnn and made her pay for.  She wanted LeAnn to get
used to holding Jaycy's underwear in her hands after she had worn
it all day long.  She was pretty sure that LeAnn was falling so
hard for her by then that she would take advantage of the
opportunity to sneak a quick little sniff before washing her
secretion-soaked panties.  And, sure enough, Jaycy caught LeAnn
doing just that on the second day.  LeAnn was mortified at being
caught with Jaycy's musk-soaked panty gusset held firmly to her
nose.  But instead of yelling at LeAnn or telling her just how
disgusting and sick she was, Jaycy merely caressed LeAnn's bottom
with her exploring hand, kissed her lips passionately, and
giggled.  LeAnn's lust-fogged mind took it all in and she
shivered all over her body.  So, it was OK for her to be a nasty
girl around Jaycy.  In fact, Jaycy wanted her to be.

When Jaycy was satisfied with LeAnn's progress at her current
level of degradation, she instructed LeAnn to do whatever was
necessary to keep her dorm room nice and tidy and picked up for
her.  Then she made Leann pack and carry her workout bag to and
from practice for her.  LeAnn didn't mind at all doing these
daily chores for Jaycy.  It was just another opportunity to
demonstrate her willingness to serve.  And that notion made LeAnn
all warm and runny inside.

To the other girls participating in the tennis camp it was
becoming very obvious that LeAnn had fallen completely under
Jaycy's spell.  Whenever the two girls came into contact with the
others, there was a great deal of smirking and snickering that
emanated from various ones of them.  LeAnn knew for certain that
she was the target of their derision, and it made her blush beet
red each time she heard them laugh at her.  But she also knew how
she felt inside when Jaycy forced her into each new indignity. 
It made her feel hot; so hot that all she could think about was
giving Jaycy whatever she wanted just to keep her erotic fire
stoked.

Jaycy shifted tactics again. She started scheduling what and even
when LeAnn could eat.  Then she set up a rigorous exercise
program that she made LeAnn follow religiously.  Jaycy explained
to LeAnn that she wanted the young woman to lose some of her
puppy fat so that Jaycy wouldn't be embarrassed to be seen in
public with her.  LeAnn knew that she was in excellent physical
shape already, with hardly an ounce of fat on her body.  But she
acquiesced to Jaycy's demands because it kept the erotic flame
burning deep inside her.

As the days went by, LeAnn found herself giving over more and
more control of her entire life to Jaycy.  There were still times
when she really tried to fight back and assert herself, but Jaycy
always won in the end.  Jaycy knew just what to do to push
LeAnn's buttons; to tease her with just a hint of erotic
possibilities without ever making good on them.  By the end of
the third week, Jaycy had LeAnn all tied up in nasty little
knots.

Gaining so much control over LeAnn's life was becoming an
incredible turn on for Jaycy.  It seemed to her after a while
that there was simply nothing she couldn't make the other girl do
for her.  The authority she exerted over LeAnn had become a
powerful aphrodisiac for Jaycy, and it was making her more than
just a little bit horny.  So finally, Friday night of the third
week of camp, Jaycy decided that it was the right time to turn
LeAnn completely into her own personal obedient little sextoy for
the duration of the summer tennis camp.  She was well aware of
LeAnn's increasing emotional dependence upon her, and of her
unfulfilled sexual needs, and of her hunger to serve.  She,
therefore, saw no reason whatsoever not to use LeAnn's depraved
cravings to her own wanton advantage.

That night in Jaycy's dorm room, after LeAnn had completed all
the chores that had been set for her, Jaycy sat down on the side
of her bed and told LeAnn to pull up a chair and sit beside her.
When LeAnn had obeyed, Jaycy told her she had hurt her foot
during practice and that she wanted LeAnn to massage it for her.
Jaycy held out her tennis-shoe-clad foot and placed it right in
LeAnn's lap.  Obediently, LeAnn untied the shoelaces and removed
the sneaker from Jaycy's foot.

Jaycy gave LeAnn a lewd little wink and said, "Well.  Don't just
sit there, silly.  Take off the sock, too."

LeAnn felt a twinge of erotic queasiness in the pit of her
stomach.  Was this the next step?  Perhaps Jaycy was finally
going to take pity on her and stop tormenting her.  She had tried
so hard to be a good girl.  She had done whatever Jaycy told her.
 Perhaps, just perhaps. 

LeAnn dutifully removed Jaycy's sweaty sock.  Then she began
tenderly massaging Jaycy's foot with her strong fingers.  The
other girl stretched her long, tanned leg out languidly as far as
it would go, pressing her bare foot against LeAnn's chest. 
LeAnn's anticipatory queasiness increased, and so did a little
itchy burning deep inside her loins.  Where was this going?  Was
this the night?

As LeAnn continued to apply her hands to Jaycy's foot, Jaycy
began slowly pressing her sole against LeAnn's breasts through
the material of her blouse.  

"See, LeAnn baby.  You massage my foot and I'll massage those
saggy little boobs of yours.  Isn't that a fair trade?"

LeAnn blushed at Jaycy's salacious words.

"Well.  Isn't it, baby?"

LeAnn could do nothing but nod her head in diffident agreement. 
She did not want to utter the words that would prove to Jaycy
that LeAnn really wanted to be touched.

Jaycy grinned over at her subservient girlfriend.  LeAnn's
silence was OK for the moment.  Because soon she wouldn't be able
to prevent herself from making all kinds of satisfying noises for
Jaycy.

"Well then, silly, why don't you just take off your blouse for me
like a good little girl so I can really massage your boobs for
you with my smelly old foot?"

LeAnn looked truly startled and taken aback at Jaycy's
suggestion.  Was Jaycy actually telling her to take off her
blouse?  Perhaps, just perhaps.  Oh, LeAnn hoped so.

"What, Jaycy?"

Jaycy jerked her foot away from LeAnn's chest and out of her
hand.

"I said, take off your blouse so I can massage your boobs, LeAnn.
 I know that you've been wanting me to touch them for such a long
time, and I've decided to be nice to you tonight and indulge your
sick little pervy desire."

LeAnn stammered out a reply.

"No I haven't, Jaycy.  I never...."

Jaycy sat up in her chair and took on a stern expression.

"Oh, don't try to lie to me LeAnn.  You've been wanting me to
feel you up ever since I started patting your bottom after
practice.  Didn't you think I could hear those little whimpering
noises you made whenever I put my hands on your butt?  And I
could sure feel the way you wiggled it around every time I
touched you.  Now, I've decided that since you've been such a
good little girl for me and did all the things I told you to do,
that I would be generous and do what you wanted."

Jaycy paused.

Now that the moment she had been praying for was at hand, LeAnn
suddenly was having second thoughts.  

"Of course, if you really don't want me to...."

LeAnn swallowed hard and tried to think.  Was Jaycy right about
her?  Did she really want to be felt up as a reward for being so
good and obedient for Jaycy?  She had better decide real soon. 
It was clear that Jaycy was waiting for an answer, and that she
wasn't going to wait long.

LeAnn's second thoughts evaporated in a haze of sex lust.

LeAnn blushed an even deeper shade of red and slowly began
unbuttoning her blouse

Jaycy giggled.

"That's my good little horn dog.  Now be a real good little slut
for me and show Jaycy your saggy little boobies."

As if in a trance, LeAnn completed unbuttoning her blouse.  Then
she shrugged the garment off her shoulders, exposing her large,
pert breasts to Jaycy's leering gaze.  Jaycy unconsciously licked
her lips.

Jaycy leaned forward and stared hard at LeAnn's breasts.  'Mine,
all mine,' kept running through her cruel brain, and she smiled.

"That's right, baby.  Now sit back for me and let Jaycy put her
nice, warm, sweaty foot on your squishy little boobs."

LeAnn slowly slid back in her chair and allowed Jaycy to glide
the sole of her foot sensuously across her breast.  Her nipples
became immediately erect at the touch of Jaycy's foot on her.  It
felt so wonderful and so nasty all at the same time.  Jaycy must
have been right about her after all:  right about what she needed
to set her aflame.  And what else was Jaycy right about?

"OK, baby.  Jaycy says to lean back all the way in that chair. 
Make yourself as flat as you can.  And that shouldn't be hard
considering how flat your chest is."

LeAnn knew she had large, firm breasts, but Jaycy's continuous
derision of her chest sent a hot flash of humiliation coursing
through her.  LeAnn made herself as flat in the chair as she
could.  Her new position allowed Jaycy to practically step on her
breast as she looked down at her sextoy from above.

As she lay there with Jaycy's foot pressing down on her breast,
LeAnn couldn't keep her eyes from traveling up Jaycy's smooth
tanned leg until her view was blocked by the girl's short tennis
skirt.  Jaycy noticed where LeAnn's eyes were roving as she
pressed down even harder on the girl's chest.

"Nasty, nasty, LeAnn.  Looking up my skirt like that.  You were
trying to sneak a peek at my panties.  Weren't you?  If anybody
saw you, they would know you for the kinky little lezzy slut you
are.  Wouldn't they?"

LeAnn could barely breath with Jaycy's foot pressing down on her.
 Her mind was a vortex of stark fear and gnawing lust.  Was she
nothing better than a kinky little lezzy slut like Jaycy said she
was?  Was she going to find out tonight?

"Well, wouldn't they?"

LeAnn nodded her head in agreement.  Jaycy must surely be right
about her after all.

"And you want to be my little lezzy subby slut.  Don't you,
LeAnn?"

LeAnn wanted more than anything in the world right then to be
Jaycy's plaything.  But she didn't want Jaycy to make her say it
out loud.

Jaycy continued to press her foot down on LeAnn's breast.

"Well, LeAnn?

LeAnn didn't want to say it.

"Please, Jaycy.  Please don't make me say it.  You know what I
want.  You know."

But Jaycy wasn't in a mood to let LeAnn off so easily.

"You better tell me right now, LeAnn, or I'll just leave you
there all high and dry with nothing to get you off but your own
nasty fingers."

LeAnn shuddered.  She knew that Jaycy would strand her in the
torment of sexual unfulfillment unless she obeyed.

"Yes, Jaycy," LeAnn said in a flat, small voice.

"Yes what, slut?"

LeAnn choked off a sob.

"Yes, LeAnn.  I want to be your little lezzy subby slut."

Jaycy laughed and slid her bare foot up LeAnn's chest until her
toes rested right on the girl's pursed lips.

"Lick those toes for me, nasty girl.  Clean 'em real good for
Jaycy."

Now that she had made her confession of subservience to Jaycy,
LeAnn didn't have to be told twice what she could do to prove it.
 Her long, pink tongue slid from between her parted lips and she
licked Jaycy's toes for all she was worth.  As she did, LeAnn
felt the burning itch in her loins spread to her chest.  Jaycy
was absolutely right about her.  She was nothing but a kinky
little submissive lezzy slut.  But that was OK 'cause Jaycy was
going to tell her exactly what to do from now on, and she was
going to do it.

After a time, Jaycy pulled her foot away from LeAnn's hungry
mouth.

"Now I want you to get naked for me, LeAnn.  I want to see that
slutty bare body of yours right now."

LeAnn immediately pulled off her shoes and socks, slid out of her
tennis skirt, and jerked off her panties.  In less than ten
seconds flat she was sitting there stark naked just as she had
been ordered.

"That's my obedient little subby slut," Jaycy said, a contented
smile on her face.  LeAnn could feel Jaycy's eyes devour her
naked body in an appraising stare.

"You'll do, I guess.  Though I sure do wish you were more
attractive, LeAnn.  You know, it always embarrasses me to be seen
in public with a pudgebutt like you.  But we'll rectify that. 
Won't we, pudgebutt?"

LeAnn was hurt and humiliated by Jaycy's hateful words.  Hot
tears began streaming down her cheeks.  She so desperately wanted
Jaycy not to reject her.  LeAnn had no choice now but to admit
that Jaycy had been so right about her being a submissive little
slut.  Wasn't it enough that she was lying here in front of
Jaycy, stark naked and vulnerable?  What more did she have to do
to satisfy Jaycy?

Jaycy sat down on her bed once more and took off her other tennis
shoe and sock.  Then she quickly removed her blouse and slid out
of her tennis skirt.  LeAnn's mouth began to water in lewd
anticipation as her hungry eyes roamed over her teen mistress's
semi-nude body standing there in just her sports bra and panties.
 Jaycy's silky smooth legs were long and well muscled from all
the tennis games she had played.  Her bubble butt pressed against
the thin material of her wispy panties.  Her breasts tautened the
fabric of her thin sports bra.  

As her tear-reddened eyes stared up at Jaycy, LeAnn realized that
she had probably bought and hand washed those self same
undergarments that she was ogling on Jaycy's body now.  Would
Jaycy reward her subservient obedience by taking them off so she
could finally feast her eyes on her mistress's naked charms?

"Oh, so you want me to show you my breasts and my pussy, do you,
you little LeAnn slut, you?

LeAnn closed her eyes in total humiliation. Jaycy could see right
through her.  Couldn't she?

"Well?"

LeAnn nodded her head shyly.  She could not meet Jaycy's eyes. 
She was just too embarrassed.

"Well, LeAnn.  You're going to have to earn the privilege.  Now
get up and lay that nasty girl body of yours down right here on
my bed.  Lie on your tummy, slut girl, and I'll give you a big
surprise.  And I do mean big."

Jaycy giggled as she said the words.

LeAnn hopped up off the chair and threw herself down onto Jaycy's
bed face down.  She peered over her shoulder, an anxious
expression on her tear-streaked face, to see just what the other
girl was going to do to her.  What she saw sacred LeAnn nearly to
death.

Jaycy walked purposefully over to her bookshelf, reached way in
the back, and pulled out a hugh black strap-on dildo.  When she
saw what Jaycy held in her hands, LeAnn cried out and tried to
scramble off the bed.  But Jaycy anticipated her sub's terrified
reaction, reached over, and popped her sharply on the butt.

SMACK.

"Lie still, nasty girl.  I know you've never been fucked before,
and I'm so looking forward to being your very first.  I'm going
to use big boy on your tight little virgin sniz so you'll
remember me for the rest of your life."

LeAnn lay stark still and began a low moaning sound deep in her
throat as a sign of her growing panic.  When she heard LeAnn's
moaning, Jaycy just giggled again and gave LeAnn a little pat on
her quivering butt.  Then she slid her hand up LeAnn's naked back
until her fingers curled around the nape of the girl's neck,
holding her down on the bed.

"It's gonna be OK, baby.  'Cause I'm gonna fuck you real good,
and then, when I get through fucking you, I'm gonna let you take
off my bra and panties for me like I know you really want to do.
And then I'm gonna let you have the privilege of putting that
long, nasty lezzy tongue of yours just exactly where you want to.
 And I just know you want to. Don't you, baby?"

LeAnn shivered all over her body.  Fear of the upcoming agony and
humiliation Jaycy was going to inflict upon her swirled all
around the irresistible lust hunger she felt at the thought of
finally being permitted to worship her mistress's body with her
tongue.  As she lay there in abject submission to Jaycy's
perverted will, LeAnn could sense the other girl sliding a pillow
under her loins with her free hand to raise her hips up off the
bed.

"That's just the right angle I need to really bust that hot
little cherry of yours, baby," Jaycy smirked as she allowed her
fingers to pet and probe LeAnn's moist labia.

"Such a wet little nasty baby she is for me.  I just know you
can't wait a second longer to feel my big old boy deep inside
that horny little virgin sniz of yours.  Isn't that right,baby?"

Jaycy gripped the strap-on by the shaft as she effortlessly
stepped into the straps.  She just loved fucking virgins.

LeAnn merely lay there submissively on Jaycy's bed, wriggling
just exactly like a worm on a hook in response to Jaycy's teasing
fingers and praying to God that she wouldn't scream when Jaycy
slammed the hugh dildo deep into her soppy pussy and raped her,
and tore her hymen apart. 

But her prayers weren't answered.  Jaycy wanted her to scream. 
Hearing LeAnn scream and squeal in pleasure pain as Jaycy
deflowered her was the main element of her wicked little turn on.
 So, with no preparation at all, Jaycy placed the head of the
enormous dildo at the very entrance to LeAnn's virgin pussy and
shoved her hips forward with all her might.  LeAnn's mouth flew
open and she let out a squeal of pain that turned into a long
wail of agony as the unyielding dildo battered against her hymen
and tightly clenched canal walls.

"That's right, baby.  Scream for Jaycy.  I want every girl on the
hall to know I'm fucking my submissive little lezzy subby slut
bitch."

Somewhere deep inside the explosion of raw pain that LeAnn felt
at being violated so ferociously by Jaycy, she heard the other
girl's sadistic command, and she experienced a flash of raw
despair deep in her soul.  So that's why Jaycy wanted her to
scream her lungs out: so that the other girls on the hall would
have incontrovertible proof that Jaycy was torment fucking her
exclusive little subby bitch, who now belonged to her, body and
soul.  God, she hoped that none of the girls recognized her
voice.  But even if they did, LeAnn really didn't care any more.
All she wanted to do right then was to stop hurting just long
enough to cum herself unconscious.

But when her hymen finally tore and the blinding pain began to be
replaced by growing hot pleasure, LeAnn's shattered mind finally
grasped the implications of what Jaycy wanted of her.  And she
screamed all the harder.  If she was going to be Jaycy's subby
little slutpuppy bitch, she had better go all the way.  So, with
each staggering thrust Jaycy made with her hips, LeAnn screamed
for all she was worth.  She suddenly wanted everyone within
hearing to know absolutely that Jaycy was fucking her senseless.

As Jaycy rode her subservient girlfriend harder and harder, she
began to sense that LeAnn was just about to explode in one big
overwhelming cum.  LeAnn's screams turned into little whimpering
squeals as she tried to let Jaycy know just what she hungered for
so badly.  But Jaycy already knew what LeAnn needed, and she also
knew that there was no way in the world that she was going to
allow her subby slut to climax.  And that's why, just before
LeAnn could get off, Jaycy pulled out of her all the way.  

LeAnn cried out in an absolute fit of forlorn sexual hunger.

"Please, Jaycy.  Please don't leave me like this.  Oh God.  I've
just got to CUMMMMMMMMM."

Jaycy laughed out loud as she sat back on her haunches and
watched LeAnn wriggle and writhe around on the bed, whimpering
and whining out her need for release.  Jaycy slid out of the
strap on, and brought the slick, sticky head even with LeAnn's
pleading mouth.  

"Put it in your mouth, cumslut," Jaycy screamed out as she
slapped the other girl's wriggling butt cheeks.

SLAP.

Totally beyond caring at this point, LeAnn opened her mouth as
wide as she could and began slurping and sucking on the black
dildo which was absolutely covered with her sex mucus and even a
few drops of her blood.  Jaycy jammed the hugh dong deep into
LeAnn's mouth; as far as it would go.  LeAnn grunted like a pig
around the slime-covered dildo, licking and sucking in a frenzy
of lust heat.

When Jaycy's own lust began to boil over at the lewd sight of
LeAnn's degrading performance, she jerked the dildo from LeAnn's
mouth and threw it down on the floor.  Then she tore open the
material of her sports bra and wrestled her panties down off her
hips.

"OK, baby.  You did just great being my fuckable little subby
cumslut.  Now, I'm going to reward you by letting you use that
long, sweet tongue of yours on my breasts and my hot little sniz.
 Would you like that, baby?"

LeAnn nodded her head in agreement as fast as it would go.

"Well then, tell me, baby girl."

LeAnn shivered.

"I want to lick your breasts all over Jaycy; and I want to stick
my tongue deep inside you.  Please, Jaycy.  Please let me."

Jaycy placed one hand on LeAnn's naked back, pressing her hard
against the bed to keep her from moving.

"Say it louder, slutface.  So every horny little girl down the
hall can hear you and envy me for having such a submissive little
lezzy bitch like you.  

LeAnn choked off a sob of humiliation.  God, why was Jaycy being
so cruel to her?  And why must her body betray her into making
her obey?"

"I really want to lick your breasts and stick my long, hungry
tongue deep inside your pussy.  Please let me, Jaycy.  Please."

LeAnn was screaming again at the top of her lungs.  And this time
every other girl on the hall knew with absolute certainty what
depraved things this nasty girl so desperately wanted to do to
Jaycy's body.

Jaycy was now completely satisfied that she had most totally
degraded LeAnn.  So she nodded her head in regal assent and, for
the next hour or so, she allowed LeAnn to pleasure her with her
licking tongue and her sucking lips, and even her stroking hands.
 And then, when Jaycy couldn't hold out any longer, she clasped
her strong thighs around LeAnn's head.  LeAnn, knowing what was
expected of her, pressed her hungry mouth against Jaycy's oozing
slit until she came, and came, and came, and came.

When she had finally cummed herself out, Jaycy commanded LeAnn to
lie back on her bed and entertain her with a lewd demonstration
of self-masturbation.  LeAnn complied with each and every wanton
instruction that Jaycy gave her.  She didn't care about anything
anymore except doing what Jaycy told her to do.  After a while,
Jaycy finally tired of the girl's degrading performance and
permitted her subby slut to cum.  By this time, LeAnn had reached
a state of near unconsciousness, her brain totally befogged with
a desperate need for release.  She didn't care about anything in
this world except getting herself off.  She would, at that point,
have done absolutely anything in the world to persuade Jaycy to
let her find her sensual peace at last.  And when it finally
arrived, LeAnn's climax shook the bed upon which she was writhing
almost apart.

Later, a diffident LeAnn meekly asked Jaycy if she had been a
good little girl for her.  Jaycy, who was absentmindedly fondling
one of LeAnn's naked breasts, leaned back on the bed and assured
her that she had been a very good little obedient slut indeed. 
At Jaycy's erotically comforting words and equally comforting
touch, Leann sighed and drifted off to sleep knowing that Jaycy
was truly happy with her, and that was what mattered to hermost.

By next morning, however, LeAnn found herself almost completely
overwhelmed by a horrible sense of humiliated anxiety.  What if
one of the other girls on the hall had recognized her voice last
night when she was screaming out all those obscene pleas for
Jaycy to fuck her?  Or what if any of the girls knew it was she
who had implored Jaycy so piteously to allow her the privilege of
licking her pussy?  And even if they didn't know it was she, how
could LeAnn prevent Jaycy from giving away her dirty little
secret?

In a state of utter panic, LeAnn woke Jaycy up, and begged her as
hard as she could not to tell anyone that it had been LeAnn in
her room last night.  Jaycy yawned, stretched her sensuous body,
and laughed out loud.

"So my little subby bitchslut doesn't want anyone to know that
she belongs to me, huh?"

LeAnn nodded her head imploringly.

"Please, Jaycy.  You know I want to be your little subby bitch. 
I proved to you last night that that's what I am.  But I don't
want any of the other girls to know it.  I just couldn't face
them if any of them knew that it was me last night saying all
those horrible, nasty things you made me say."

Jaycy placed her fingertips against LeAnn's parted lips and LeAnn
immediately began to lick them with her soft, pink tongue.

"That's my good little nasty girl," Jaycy cooed.

LeAnn began to hope, just a little.

"Well, baby.  I won't tell anybody your nasty little secret as
long as you promise to do anything I tell you from now until the
end of camp."

As she continued to lick Jaycy's fingertips, LeAnn nodded her
head in abject agreement.  She would do anything Jaycy told her
to do until tennis camp was over if Jaycy would keep her
perverted little secret.

As soon as she was sure that she had affected LeAnn's promise of
total obedience, Jaycy moved her hand away from the girl's lips
until her palm caressed LeAnn's tear-streaked cheek.  Then she
slowly pushed LeAnn's head down her naked young body until the
side of her face rested on Jaycy's naked mons.

"OK, baby.  First test.  And you better remember your promise if
you don't want every girl at camp to know just what kind of a
nasty little slut girl you are."

LeAnn knew exactly what Jaycy wanted from her.  Without any
further instruction, she slid her face between Jaycy's opening
thighs and began to lick.  After a while, Jaycy allowed herself a
nice brace of sweet little morning orgasms to get her day started
just right.  Then she rewarded her little cumslut with her first
pee of the day.  And LeAnn drank her mistress like she had been
doing it all her life.


Part Two:


And so it went for the rest of the summer.  Jaycy kept LeAnn's
terrible secret despite the constant attempts of some of the
other girls at the tennis camp to prove to themselves that it was
in fact LeAnn that she had so thoroughly turned into her
subservient little worship slut.  These other girls most
certainly had their suspicions about LeAnn, but Jaycy would never
confirm them.  She just smiled knowingly at their smutty
questions and went on her way.

And LeAnn kept her promise to do whatever Jaycy told her to do. 
There were many times during the final weeks of tennis camp when
LeAnn desperately regretted having made such a promise to her
cruel and hateful mistress.  But she knew that she was trapped;
trapped by Jaycy and trapped by her own dark needs.  She could do
nothing but obey and pray for the end of summer.

After tennis camp finally ended and Jaycy and LeAnn had departed
for their respective colleges, LeAnn become resigned to the fact
that she probably never was going to have any kind of normal love
life at all.  She most certainly wanted no more of the kind of
sexual subservience to another person that Jaycy had put her
through.  Jaycy had definitely driven that desire right out of
her as a consequence of all the humiliating, degrading, painful
things she had made LeAnn do to entertain and amuse her.  LeAnn
determined to concentrate on finishing college and honing her
tennis talents to the utter exclusion of all else in her life.  

And she had succeeded for the past fifteen years in doing just
that.  These days she had pretty much stopped thinking about the
subject of sex all together.

Recently, the Director of Women's Athletics at LeAnn's university
had decided to expand all women's programs to increase visibility
in the community.  She informed LeAnn and the other women's
coaches that she had coordinated with the chairman of the county
board of education to set up weekly training programs for middle
school and high school girls to encourage them to continue their
particular sports interests once they got to college. In addition
to the community service aspect of this project, there was also a
clear tie in between the community coaching program and
recruitment for the university.  And besides, the women's' AD
told her coaches that she was really good friends with the county
board chairman, and she was farming them out for the summer as a
personal favor to her friend. Her last words to her coaches,
including LeAnn, contained an admonition not to cause her friend
any trouble over the summer.

LeAnn was given her assignment directly by the county board
office along with the other coaches.  So while she didn't
actually get to meet her boss's friend - she didn't even know her
name--, she knew that the summer girls' sports program was being
scrutinized at highest levels.  LeAnn also knew that even if she
didn't know the county board chairman's name, the woman would
certainly know hers if anything went wrong.  And if anything did
go wrong, LeAnn was sure that the county board chairman would
pass the information along to her good friend, LeAnn's boss.

Specifically, LeAnn's instructions indicated that she was to set
aside three hours once a week to coach a group of local middle
school and high school girls who had already shown some promise
on the tennis court.  Despite the extra workload, LeAnn welcomed
the assignment as an opportunity to teach young girls the finer
points of tennis at a time in their lives when that training
would do them the most good.

The first session, LeAnn met with a group of almost twenty girls
from all over the county who had signed up for the coaching. 
But, by the third week, that number had dwindled down to just
four girls who seemed dedicated enough and serious enough to
continue the rigorous training regimen that LeAnn had laid on. 
She worked those four girls until they were exhausted each week,
with rigorous exercises, high-energy singles and doubles matches,
and some one on one with her as well.  

Three of the girls, Petra Parks, Jennifer Waller, and Whitney
Stewart, stuck righteously to the exacting training LeAnn laid on
for them and never complained a bit about the demands upon their
bodies and spirits.  They were serious high school tennis players
who wanted more than anything to learn what LeAnn had to teach
them.  

The fourth girl, a 15-year-old middle schooler by the name of
Jean Arbor, made it plain almost from the start that she thought
LeAnn was being way too tough on the girls.  

Not a session went by that Jean didn't have some kind of gripe or
complaint about the way LeAnn was coaching the girls.  And after
the third coaching session, LeAnn became concerned that Jean's
constant complaining and sniping was having a bad effect on the
morale of the other three girls.  So, when she just couldn't
stand to hear Jean's criticisms any more, LeAnn stopped what she
was doing; dismissed Petra, Jennifer, and Whitney for the day;
and confronted her little troublemaker.

"What's with you, Jean?"

Instead of showing deference to LeAnn, who was more than twice
her age, Jean put her hands defiantly on her hips and glared at
the older woman.

"Well, LeAnn.  You work us too hard.  It's hot out here and my
feet hurt."

Leann was taken aback by Jean's sullen, arrogant manner.  But she
chalked it up to the girl's young age.

"But Jean, we only have a set number of sessions this summer, and
the other girls really want to work hard to improve their game."

Jean wasn't giving an inch, no matter how reasonable LeAnn tried
to be.

"Look, LeAnn.  The only reason I'm here at all is because my
mother wanted me to be here.  She thought it would be good
exercise for me, and she wanted me to keep an eye on you."

LeAnn was dumbstruck.  Why would Jean's mother want her to keep
an eye on LeAnn?  But, before Leann could ask, Jean arrogantly
offered her the information.

"See, LeAnn, my mother is the chairman of the county board of
education.  And she's heard stories about you and the little
'games' you play with some of your girl students.  So I'm here to
keep an eye on you."

LeAnn sucked in her breath.  What kind of 'games' had the rumor
mill spread about her and her female students.  She had strictly
avoided all after-school contact with her female students
because, even this long after her summer of hell with Jaycy had
convinced her that she just couldn't trust herself around the
type of girl who could manipulate and dominate her.  So why did
Jean's mother think that she was the kind of woman who molested
her students?

"Jean.  I don't know where your mother got her information.  But
I can tell you that I don't play 'games' with any of my
students."

Jean didn't budge.

"Well, LeAnn, my mother has heard otherwise.  So you better watch
out."

LeAnn felt a cold knot of fear form inside her body.  Was Jean
threatening her?  Was this 15-year- old attempting to boss her
around?

As the knot of fear spread across her chest, a little flash of
sex heat moved across her loins.  Sudden images of Jaycy erupted
in her head.  Images that brought back all those terrible things
Jaycy had made her do.  Why were these images suddenly flooding
her brain, now?  Was Jean the cause?

Leann was brought out of her mind fog by Jean's tugging impishly
at the hem of her short tennis skirt.

"Look, LeAnn.  It's hot standing out here in the sun.  You made
me miss my ride with the other girls, so you're going to have to
take me home.  But let's get inside the dressing room so I can
get out of these sweaty clothes and we can get on with our
lives."

Jean was being such a bratty little bitch, demanding a ride home.
 But Leann knew that there would be hell to pay if she stranded
the brat here at the country club, forcing her mother to come
pick her up.

"All right, Jean.  Let's go change into our street clothes, and
I'll take you home."

By the time Leann and Jean reached the women's dressing room, the
other three girls were long gone.  In fact, since it was a
Tuesday, which was the country club's make up closed day, there
was not another soul around anywhere but Leann and Jean.

Jean stood defiantly in the middle of the dressing room looking
around at the towels and cast off articles of clothing the other
girls had haphazardly left on the benches.  She wrinkled her nose
at the sweat smell that permeated the room.  She put her hands on
her hips again.

"Get my laces while I wash my face," Jean instructed.  Just like
that.  Jean was acting like some kind of a young femdom mistress,
instead of a teen-aged little middle schooler, and LeAnn was some
kind of obedient servant girl instead of her mid-thirties tennis
coach.  

Jean had no excuse for acting this way toward LeAnn.  She either
was or should have been well aware of LeAnn's professional and
academic status and prominence in the world of women's tennis. 
Because of this, the girl's arrogance really grated on LeAnn's
nerves.  

Although it hardly accounted for the indignity of Jean's
treatment of LeAnn, the older woman had to remind herself that
the fact of the matter was that Jean was the daughter of the
chairman of the county board of education.  LeAnn speculated that
this was precisely what gave Jean such a casual air of authority
in the tennis club dressing room.  Her mother's status in the
local community encouraged and permitted her arrogance, and
automatically acquitted her of any complaint against her from
those she mistreated.  

Leann also remembered that Jean's mother was really good friends
with LeAnn's boss, the university's head of athletics.  That fact
discouraged any open defiance or resistance on the part of LeAnn,
in spite of how insufferable she found the girl to be right then.
 

'Get her laces?'  The infuriated tennis coach hesitated as she
wondered what the girl was talking about at the same time as she
ruminated about how intolerable Jean's attitude was becoming. 
LeAnn couldn't see the girl's bra straps showing along the thin
shoulder straps of the skimpy crop top she had worn to practice.
So that couldn't be it.  And a further, hasty, embarrassed glance
at the swell and cleavage of the girl's breasts so generously
displayed above the low-cut white crop top allayed any doubt
about whether Jean's firm, young bust might need any more boost.
LeAnn caught herself staring at Jean's chest.  And when she shyly
looked up at Jean's face she saw a knowing smirk on it.

"Not my bra laces, stupid!" Jean snapped impatiently.  "My tennis
shoe laces!  They need to be untied so I can take the shoes off.
Hurry!  Don't you know that you're supposed to be my trainer as
well as my coach?  And don't act like you were unaware of that
fact.  My feet are just killing me.

LeAnn was dumbstruck by Jean's outrageous order.

"Oh! For God's sake!  Don't just stand there staring at my boobs
like a stupid idiot!  Get down there and get busy!"

Jean's rude treatment of LeAnn was becoming more than an
embarrassment.  It bordered on debasement.  And her almost lewd
admonishment to stop staring at her boobs bordered on
humiliating.  But LeAnn had to admit to herself that she had been
staring at the young girl's chest.  Why was she suddenly drawn to
Jean's young body?  She didn't want to think about that question
too closely.

Well, LeAnn didn't know what it was that prevented her from just
walking out of the dressing room.  Was it in fact Jean's tough
little body so provocatively displayed by her skimpy tennis togs?
 Or was it her domineering manner?  LeAnn fumed in a state of
utter and confused astonishment.  Her face flushed as she felt
her blood begin to boil in anger as soon as it rushed to her
head.  Infuriated at the insufferable young teen-aged girl, the
distraught and humiliated middle-aged tennis coach still
hesitated to do her bidding as she fought the urge to smack her.

"J-Jean," LeAnn heard herself stammer in a barely controlled
voice that came out with a quiver in her effort to try to keep it
civil and level.  Already exasperated to the point of exploding,
now she felt utterly humiliated at how timid and pitiful she
sounded at the same time that she was infuriated at how the
haughty girl was talking to her.  Not really knowing what to say
anyway, LeAnn just blushed deeper and looked down with an
anguished frown.  

As humiliated and infuriated as she felt, LeAnn knew deep down
that if she alienated the insolent young teen, or said or did
anything that would cause even more of a scene, it would most
certainly unsettle her position at the university because Jean
would most definitely complain to her mother, and her mother
would complain to LeAnn's boss.  LeAnn's defiance of Jean's
order, however otherwise defensible, would hardly help her case
much if Jean's mother took it into her head to make trouble for
her.

LeAnn now felt shameful as well as pitiful.  She withered under
Jean's glare at the girl ordering her about, and wondered whether
feigned deference and calculated compliance on her part was worth
how humiliated she'd feel.  She was still wondering, her mind
wandering, when Jean's annoyingly nasal, insolent, adolescent
voice intrusively intervened. 

"I need to wash my face, too," Jean commented, turning her
attention to her reflection in the mirror above the counter sink.
 "So, you're gonna have to get down under the sink counter so I
can get close enough to the sink.  Hurry, hurry!" the girl
growled, reaching out to tug on the sleeve of LeAnn's blouse and
guide her down to the floor onto her knees.

For God's sake, LeAnn thought, the girl didn't really expect her
to get down on her hands and knees and crawl under the counter,
did she?  But LeAnn knew the answer as soon as she raised the
question to herself.  LeAnn was astonished at Jean's temerity at
actually insisting that she do this.  She was anguished at the
utter indignity of it.  Despite the outrageous humiliation of
this ridiculous situation, the flustered tennis coach's muddled
mind had not mustered any way to resist the girl's authority
before she found herself pulled down and huddled on her knees
peering at the cramped crawl-space under the sink counter. 

As she crawled along the floor toward the counter, Leann could
feel an itchy twinge of sex lust flicker through her loins.  This
made her stop short.  Where was that coming from?  Surely she
wasn't so depraved as to be getting sexual stimulation from
Jean's treatment of her.  Jean was a 15 year old, for God's sake.
 It just couldn't be true.  As she crawled across the floor,
LeAnn prayed that it wasn't.

"Just crawl back under there as far as you can," Jean interrupted
LeAnn's anxious musings as she instructed her in a condescending
tone; just like a parent addressing a dim-witted child.  Her hand
grabbed the back of LeAnn's head and firmly guided her the rest
of the way under on her hands and knees.  "Hurry, hurry!" Jean
snapped as she popped the tennis coach on her bottom sticking out
and wagging behind.  

LeAnn squealed in abashed surprise and scurried into the cramped
cubbyhole under the counter.  Jean swatted her once more on the
butt, but this time she allowed her exploring hand to remain on
the older woman's well-muscled butt cheek to push LeAnn along. 
And as she pushed the older woman into the crawlspace, Jean
allowed her hand to caress and explore LeAnn's vulnerableglobes.

LeAnn wriggled at the young girl's erotic touch, then she pulled
herself away.  She scrambled forward in such a rush that she
bumped her forehead on the back wall and abruptly stopped, unable
to crawl in any further.  This awkward position left her behind
sticking back out from under the counter.  

Hearing Jean giggle at her embarrassing position, LeAnn felt
deeply humiliated and infuriated.  She was ashamed of herself,
but actually felt a bit relieved to be able to crawl under the
counter and hide.  Truth to tell, she also felt just a little bit
excited.  The way Jean was treating her continued to remind LeAnn
of another time, a time in her distant past when Jaycy had
treated her this way.  But she was older now.  She knew much
better how to fight against those feelings from deep inside her,
feelings that hadn't surfaced since her summer of hell with
Jaycy.  LeAnn believed that she could control herself and not let
things get out of hand.

Feeling too embarrassed to look up and out at Jean, who was
watching her and laughing at her in such amusement, LeAnn
awkwardly turned herself around in the tiny space.  Flushed and
sweaty with the effort, she blushed deeper and wondered how the
hell she had gotten herself into this predicament as she found
herself staring straight ahead at the girl's smooth tan legs now
planted right in front of her face.  Her dazed eyes wandered
briefly between the girl's bare legs, glimpsing the crotch band
of Jean's skimpy white panties, and LeAnn blushed deeper still
before she rushed to lower her eyes and gaze down at the floor. 
As the afterimage of Jean's pouty crotch band strobed across her
mind, LeAnn could feel herself beginning to be overcome by those
long dead feelings that were trying so hard to surface once more
after all these years.  Leann gritted her teeth and fought them
down.  She just had to keep control of herself.

"Don't just sit down there staring at my legs!" Jean snapped at
her again. "Or between them," the girl sneered as she leaned down
and whispered into LeAnn's ear.  Then she promptly straightened
back up and gave LeAnn a little slap upside the head.  "Start
untying my shoelaces, stupid!"  Spreading her long bare thighs
apart a bit further, putting her panties on fuller display, Jean
stuck out her right shoe for LeAnn to begin untying first.  

LeAnn blushed some more at a burst of laughter from Jean as she
grabbed hold of the girl's tennis shoe.  She averted her eyes to
look away from the girl's blatant panty display, grabbed the
laces between fingers and thumbs, and, demeaning as it was, tried
to focus on the task at hand.  The middle-aged tennis coach could
not help but notice and admire the smoothly shaved, soft skin and
firm, young calf muscles of the teen-aged girl's long,
well-formed legs pressed so close to her face.  No varicose veins
there, or cellulose on the thighs, or any of the other things
that ravaged women as they aged, LeAnn mused with grudging
admiration and resignation, as well as a bit of envy, even some
jealousy, that she refused to fully acknowledge to herself.
Still, as she was attentively fiddling with Jean's shoelace,
LeAnn felt herself flushing warmly as she found herself almost
fondling the girl's leg as she held it in her left hand to steady
the foot.  

In spite of the embarrassment and humiliation of the demeaning
task she was performing, LeAnn actually found herself feeling
there was some redeeming justification to the degradation of her
situation.  That, despite her plight in the complete debasement
of her position down here on her knees on the floor of the
dressing room, huddling under the counter, handling the demeaning
task of untying Jean's tennis shoes, that there was something
right about it, that this was where she belonged and what she
longed to be doing.  The baffled tennis coach shuddered at the
absurdity and inanity of the sick thought.  And as she squirmed,
the burning itch in her loins began to spread.

"That's fine, that's fine," the young girl growled when the shoe
was completely unlaced and off her foot, pulling her leg back and
shoving the other one forward as she scowled down at LeAnn. 
"Quit fiddling around with it and stop fondling my leg.  Get
going with the next one.  Hurry, hurry!" Jean snapped as she
slapped LeAnn's lingering hand away.  LeAnn heard the girl
giggling at her again, felt foolish, and quickly began struggling
to unlace the other shoe.  The anguished middle-aged tennis coach
blushed deeper, felt too rushed to untie the shoelace, and just
wished the arrogant teen-aged girl would stop treating her so
badly and that she would stop laughing at her.  Girls could be so
mean sometimes, she reflected, thoroughly dejected at the
humiliation of the whole situation.

"Hurry up," the insufferable brat sternly instructed, kicking the
kneeling, humiliated tennis coach on the arm with her shod foot
to let her know in no uncertain terms that she was in a rush. 
She planted her foot firmly against LeAnn's chest, spreading her
legs further apart.

Frustrated, the humiliated and flustered middle-aged tennis coach
mustered all the restraint she had left to give into her rage, or
even utter any complaint, and took her mind off her anger by
looking up at the girl's legs once again.  She quickly moved her
dancing eyes back and forth, glancing at each well-muscled leg,
trying to avoid staring at the white panty crotch glaring out at
her between the girls now widespread thighs.

"Stop staring at my legs and finish what you're doing," Jean
admonished the anguished tennis coach.  

Leann just couldn't tear her eyes away from Jean's young legs. 
She began to pant and her face flushed.

Jean looked down at Leann with a knowing smirk on her face.

"So you like to look at my legs do you, coach baby?  Well, take a
real good look.  See, my mother was right about you all right.  I
think I'll tell her how you like to look at little girls' legs."

Jean suddenly closed her legs together, trapping LeAnn's flushed
face firmly between her thighs.  As the stunned and dazed tennis
coach stared straight ahead and gazed, almost amazed, at the
crotch band of the panties now inches from her nose, she
struggled to get her head out to no avail.  The girl's strong
thigh muscles gripped her face tightly forcing her nose deep into
the girl's panty gusset.  LeAnn inhaled deeply, catching an
intoxicating whiff of the girl's sex musk.  Jean bent forward
until her lips were touching LeAnn's ear.  

"There.  Like the view now, you little pervert?  Yeah, I've seen
you looking, peeking up my skirt, between my legs, staring at my
panties, while you're crawling around down there. Well, get a
good look while you can, because we're gonna have a long talk
about this, with my mother, after you take me home this
afternoon.  And you better not try and deny it, or do anything
else to annoy me between now and then, or you could provoke me to
make a bigger stink about it than I already think I should.  Now
you get your little panty peeping and girl sniffing pervo-lesbo
head out from under there and finish unlacing my tennis shoe. 
Then, you can straighten up this dressing room right now or I'll
tell my mother just what kind of a pervert you really are.  

"You hear me?" Jean snarled, finally parting her legs to let
LeAnn pull her head out from between them, as the girl pinched
her earlobe and tugged on it like a sternly impatient parent
would with a stubbornly truculent child.  Astonished and
mortified at the girl's outrageous accusation, Leann was
anguished and horrified at the prospect of having it relayed to
the girl's mother.  LeAnn started to try to say something.  Then,
seeing the way the girl was glaring at her, instead LeAnn just
numbly bowed and dumbly nodded her head in docile silence and
acquiescence.  The mortified tennis coach finished untying Jean's
shoelaces and crawled abashedly out from under the counter.  Jean
watched her and giggled.

In part to distract herself from the desperation and shameful
humiliation of her stressful situation, and in part in a pitiful
effort to try to please and appease her contemptuous teen-aged
tormentor, the fretful middle-aged tennis coach scurried about
the dressing room while Jean watched and giggled.  She picked up
all the discarded towels and other things lying haphazardly
around the dressing room in a hurried attempt to make it look
less unkempt than it did.  

As she worked away, a portion of LeAnn's mind resisted the
fearful thought of how dire the girl's ugly and twisted
accusation could be.  Should Jean make good on her threat, LeAnn
knew that there might well be dangerous consequences with respect
to her professional reputation and entire career.  This
realization left the already distraught tennis coach consumed
with worry, and nearly too overwrought to think clearly.  

Even as she denied the girl's accusation to herself over and
over, Leann knew that the girl's mother would probably believe
her daughter over her.  As much as she might try to deny Jean's
appalling panty peeping and crotch sniffing accusation, with or
without confirmation, such an accusation in and of itself would
almost certainly ruin her professional reputation.  And, as she
also knew from news coverage of recent sexual molestation cases,
the more ridiculous and outrageous the accusation, the more
harmful it was.  

And, Leann knew that any panty peeping or crotch sniffing
accusation Jean made about her to her mother, no matter how
ludicrous and luridly outrageous, would have its sensationally
scandalous and prurient appeal that other people would just want
to believe.  Even in the unlikely event that no one gave Jean's
lurid accusation a shred of credibility, the university would not
be able to ignore it.  She'd be fired just to protect the
university's reputation.  

As Jean stood there in the middle of the floor, hands arrogantly
placed on hips, LeAnn came to the horrible conclusion that, as
much as she loathed and despised the ugly thought of it, she was
now at this willful, guileful girl's mercy--subject to her
perverse whims and whatever vile wiles might enter her head.  And
that thought filled the distraught tennis coach with even more
dread.

But, in that remote and repressed corner of her mind, LeAnn's
submission to Jean began gnawing at her consciousness.  Her slit
now literally burned and itched.  Her hunger grew.

LeAnn looked up from her near-hysterical musings just in time to
see Jean hold up her cell phone.  The 15 year old walked over to
LeAnn until she was just inches away from her.  Leann flinched.

"I just told my mother I needed to talk to her about you right
after you brought me home today," Jean snarled, her nose and lips
pressed against LeAnn's ear.  She reached out and painfully
pinched the shamefully blushing tennis coach on the behind to
further impress her point.  LeAnn squealed and squirmed.  Then
she stifled any further spontaneous response and quickly stood as
silently still and compliant as possible.

"And like I said," Jean whispered harshly, "if you try to deny
anything or do anything to annoy me any more than I already am
with you, it will only get worse for you.  

"On the other hand," Jean whispered into LeAnn's ear as she
allowed her hand to slide possessively over the older woman's
quivering behind, "if you behave yourself and show me how well
you can obey--say nothing unless I tell you to and do whatever I
say--I just might let you get away with your little panty peeping
and even your nasty girl crotch sniffing for the time being, and
not say anything about it; yet.  And I may even let you stay
around here and prove to me just how useful you can be.  Got it?"
 

Jean gave LeAnn a painful pinch on the behind with the fingers
that had just been fondling her.  LeAnn squelched back another
squeal, stiffened to stifle another squirm, emitted a tiny
squeak, muttered a small, timid moan and nodded her silent,
docile assent instead.  Humiliated as she felt, LeAnn knew as
surely as Jean that she would do whatever the girl said from now
on and be grateful if it prevented the outrageous panty peeping
and crotch sniffing accusation from raising its scandalous head.
As tears filled her eyes, LeAnn shuddered shamefully and
dutifully nodded her head again to reinforce her complete
acquiescence.

Jean smiled her sweetest smile.

"God, LeAnn.  You've really made a sweaty, mess of yourself and
that stupid tennis outfit you're wearing," Jean growled and
scolded out loud, as she stepped back and scowled at LeAnn.  "You
look like a wreck, and you haven't even finished cleaning up
around here yet.  Let's get you out of some of these clothes and
let them and you air out a little, while you get back to work
making yourself useful around here.  Hmm?"

Before LeAnn could say or do anything, she found herself being
rapidly undressed by the imperious girl.  Standing still, in
stunned silence and passive acquiescence, without any protest
whatsoever, the middle-aged tennis coach remained paralyzed as
the teen-aged girl unbuttoned and removed her blouse, unzipped
her short tennis skirt and tugged it down her legs.  Before she
knew it, the blushing, embarrassed woman was standing there in
the dressing room in nothing but her bra, panties, and tennis
shoes.

"Those panties must be all hot and sweaty," Jean said, rubbing
her small hand sensuously along LeAnn's panty covered behind. 
"God, they're soaked!  You're sweating like a pig, aren't you,
LeAnn? Hmm?  Are you sweating like a pig?"

LeAnn blushed shamefully.  The middle-aged tennis coach wallowed
in her debasement and embarrassment and simply gave submissive
nod of her head.

"What's wrong?  Can't you talk?  Who ever heard of a tongue-tied
coach?  You coaches are always yelling at us." Jean taunted her,
whispering into LeAnn's ear.  Then, pulling the older woman's
head back by the hair until she locked eyes with LeAnn, Jean
barked louder,  "I asked you twice if you were sweating like a
pig and all you can do is nod your head like a dummy?  At least
you could oink like a good little piggy, or maybe just grunt a
little, and then thank little Jean politely for helping you get
out of those hot, sweaty clothes.  Hmm?  Where's your manners,
nasty girl?  Hmm?  Were you raised in a barnyard or something?" 

Jean swatted the sullenly silent coach on her panty-covered
behind again.  "Hmm?"

The swat on LeAnn's bottom did provoke an inadvertent grunt from
the blushing, confused tennis coach, but she stubbornly refused
to actually oink like a pig for the cruelly arrogant girl.  

Yet, still mindful of the need to be overtly compliant, not
defiant, the shameful woman muttered a stuttered, "Th-Th-Thank
you, J-Jean for helping undress me."  

LeAnn was disgusted with herself, but still desperately held onto
the hope that, if she behaved herself, Jean would not tell her
mother about the panty peeping and crotch sniffing.  LeAnn prayed
that as long as she was willing to keep her end of the bargain to
be obedient through whatever further humiliation the girl
inflicted on her, Jean would keep her end and not tell on her.  

"You can take those sweaty panties off yourself," Jean said
disdainfully.  "I don't want to touch them anymore."  She wiped
her sweat-moistened hands on LeAnn's tennis skirt before tossing
it into the corner on the floor.  "Might as well send your outfit
to the cleaners with the rest of this stuff."  Jean pointed to
the other girls' dirty tennis tops, skirts, and underwear that
were strewn across the dressing room floor, to be taken care of
by the country club's cleaning service.

Jean's presumptuous decision to include her coach's tennis outfit
with the clothes the other girls had left for the club's cleaning
service annoyed LeAnn and gave her some pause.  But the imperious
teen's contemptuous tone and look when she tossed LeAnn's tennis
skirt on the floor discouraged any protest from LeAnn. Though
resentful that the girl had simply decided on her own what to do
with her outfit for her, LeAnn knew she had plenty of other
outfits at home, and felt grateful she had street clothes to wear
out of the tennis club when she took Jean home.  

"Actually, LeAnn," Jean said, immediately returning LeAnn's
meandering thoughts to the demeaning present.  "You can take your
shoes off, too, and let your sweaty feet air out.  Oh, and just
leave your panties down there around your knees.  I like looking
at you that way.  You look like such a slut.  Keep your socks on
so your feet don't get all dirty from the floor.  You won't need
to be doing much walking in here anyway for a while.  Just get
back down over there under the counter so I can keep an eye on
you while I change clothes.

LeAnn just stood still in the middle of the room.  She knew how
absolutely ridiculous she must look in just her socks and bra
with her panties around her knees.  And she really didn't want to
crawl back under the dressing room counter.

"Come on now, slutcoach.  Don't just stand there looking stupid.
Get a move on!"  Jean sternly instructed as she swatted LeAnn
firmly on the bare behind to send her on her way.

LeAnn knew the teen-aged girl was doing this simply to
demonstrate to her just how easily she could dominate her and to
further humiliate her. Regardless, LeAnn knew she had to go
along. And that fact made her hate herself even more.  She felt
foolish and ridiculous as she awkwardly wobbled and shuffled her
way across the room, her legs hobbled by her panties wound around
her knees.  She couldn't help but hear the immensely amused girl
laughing at her and making fun of her stumbling steps and
fumbling efforts to get herself to the counter, waiting to see if
she'd go tumbling on her face.  Yet, knowing only worse
debasement awaited her if she fell out of Jean's fickle and
precarious favor, LeAnn just blushed and rushed to keep pace with
Jean's shouted orders, giving up on any hope for saving face in
all the torment of the moment.

As she hobbled along, LeAnn could feel a slight ooze of hot mucus
secretion exuding from her puffy labia.  She was getting so
turned on by Jean's debasing treatment of her.

"I can see coach's pussy.  I can see coach's pussy," Jean
singsonged as Leann continued to hobble across the floor.  "And I
can also see that coach is getting really wet, too," Jean
giggled.  Leann whimpered as a response to Jean's salacious
comments.  God, but she felt humiliated and degraded.  LeAnn
continued to duck-walk across the floor, praying that Jean would
finally take pity on her and just let her hide under the counter
once she got there.

Just as Jean had hoped, LeAnn finally did trip over herself and
fall onto her face in complete clumsy disgrace.  After she got
through laughing at LeAnn's plight, Jean finally displayed a
trace of pseudo-sympathy for her when she said, "Aw, now be
careful before you hurt yourself.  Maybe to be safe you'd better
just stay off those clumsy feet of yours, and on your knees. 
Hmm?"  

Without much choice, LeAnn dutifully, if shamefully waddled
across the room toward the counter on her knees.  The dressing
room floor was hard on her knees and, as shameful and foolish as
she felt, LeAnn was almost grateful when Jean told her that she
needed knee pads before she went any further.  

Not sure how this would be accomplished, the anguished tennis
coach looked up hopefully and waited for Jean to take the lead
and tell her what to do.  Of course, she didn't expect that the
girl would tell her take off her bra.  Unsure about this and
insecure about removing it in front of the 15 year old, LeAnn
hesitated, feeling humiliated all over again.  But an impatient
swat on her bare behind from Jean got LeAnn awkwardly struggling
to unfasten and shrug out of her bra.  She blushed red through
the whole demeaning ordeal while Jean giggled and goaded her on.
Finally with the bra off, LeAnn felt the hard nubs of her stiff
nipples press against the arm she crossed in front of her, trying
to keep her bare breasts from bouncing and jiggling.  She
gingerly held the bra dangling limply in her other hand, awaiting
Jean's further instructions.

Jean teased her, saying that while she hardly needed a padded bra
to boost breasts as big as hers, her knobby knees needed to be
padded.  The 15 year old told her to go get two pads from the
cups of one of the bras that the other girls had left behind on
the benches.  LeAnn waddled over to the bench, blushing all the
way, knowing now what Jean had in mind.  With a little help from
Jean, who instructed her to step into the bra straps and pull
them up around her legs, LeAnn re-fastened the bra between her
legs.  Soon LeAnn was outfitted with her newly padded bra-cups
ridiculously now serving as improvised kneepads.  This ludicrous
and degrading arrangement actually hobbled her movements at her
knees even more than her panties had, which were now wound around
her ankles.  

As much as she despised the way Jean was making her demean and
degrade herself, LeAnn had to grudgingly admit the
padded-bra-cup-knee-pads were taking the pain of crawling away. 
So, as humiliated as she felt, LeAnn even had to admit she
appreciated how much better the pads felt on her sore knees as
she crawled along on all fours on the dressing room floor, her
large breasts swaying back and forth.

LeAnn was again shamefully grateful to have Jean finally order
her under the counter again to wait for her while she dressed to
leave.  She was even more ashamed and humiliated to hear Jean
whisper in her ear that, as long as she was being such a good
little girl, Jean would even let her look at her panties some
more.  LeAnn blushed, shuddered and made sure she avoided any
even inadvertent look at Jean's panties until the girl bent down
again and softly but firmly informed the tennis coach that
continuing to try to deny her interest in Jean's panties, or
pretending the interest wasn't really there, would only annoy
Jean further and provoke her to tell her mother about it after
all.  

Confused, but not wanting the girl to think she was showing any
defiance, LeAnn gazed between Jean's widespread legs at her
wispy, little white panties.

As shameful as she felt about it, LeAnn could not help noticing
how much of an eyeful she got once she started really studying
the panties that so skimpily covered Jean's crotch.  The wispy,
flimsy fabric of the lacey, nearly sheer white panties barely
covered anything.  As distressed as she already was about having
to keep staring at Jean's tiny panties, LeAnn was even more
embarrassed about all she saw.  The girl's puffy labia
prominently poked out against the flimsy, lacey fabric, which was
tucked into the vaginal crevice between them, leaving a few
strands of soft, light brown pubic hair poking out the sides of
the narrow crotch band.  As humiliated as she felt about staring
at the teen-aged girl's dainty little panties, the middle-aged
tennis coach found herself almost mesmerized, shamefully
fascinated at the erotic sight.  Except for those long-distant
sick days with Jaycy, Leann had never seen a vagina or labia this
closely before.  And, despite the fact that she was only a 15
year old, LeAnn found Jean's genital anatomy--the small swells,
creases and crevices--alluringly seductive.  She licked her lips
despite herself.  Maybe Jean could be persuaded to allow her the
privilege of tasting her.  But then, what was LeAnn thinking? 
The very idea that she would even contemplate the notion of
tasting this 15-year-old girl sent a blast of self-loathing
through Leann's body.  But, then again....

Her humiliated reverie with Jean's panty-covered labia was
abruptly interrupted when the girl suddenly spread her legs and
shifted forward, bringing LeAnn's flushed cheeks into direct
contact with the soft, hot flesh of the insides of the girl's
smooth thighs, and LeAnn's nose within a few inches of Jean's
pantied crotch.  LeAnn squirmed, and moaned, and tried to pull
her head back, but Jean squeezed her thighs hard together again
to hold the tennis coach's head fast between them.  She felt Jean
lean down again and put her lips to her ear.

"I'm pretty sweaty myself," Jean whispered.  "Take another sniff
of my panties and tell me if I need to change into some fresh
ones will you, LeAnn?  I'll even let you take my smelly panties
off and take them home with you to wash them--and do whatever
else you want to do with them--if they need changing.  Hurry up
now.  Sniff my panties for me, and sniff them good."  

LeAnn swallowed whatever tattered remnants remained of her pride
and dignity and stuck her nose up into Jean's panties and sniffed
them.  LeAnn winced when she felt the tip of her nose touching
the crotch band of the girl's panties.  Then, she hungrily
nuzzled into the crevice between the puffy labia barely covered
by the damp, wispy fabric as she sniffed the distinctive musky
odor of Jean's perspiration and vaginal secretions wafting into
her face.  Then, feeling herself fluttering with unwanted
arousal, she quickly pulled her head back, shook it as much as
she could between the girl's still entrapping thighs, softly
muttering, "No.  you don't have to change them."   LeAnn sniffled
a little of the dressing room air, hoping to dispel the lingering
intimate smell of Jean as she dispensed with her humiliating
panty-sniffing duties.

Jean leaned down again, whispering, "I'm not sure I believe you,
but we'll let it go for now.  And if I find out later that you
weren't telling the truth about how my panties smelled. . . 
Well, we'll deal with that later."  

The girl abruptly spread her legs wide and shoved herself back
from the counter.  This left LeAnn's beet-red, shame-flushed face
glistening as brightly as her eyes, which were still staring in
dumbstruck astonishment at Jean's departing panty-crotch.  With
an expression of purest debasement on her moisture coated face,
LeAnn felt the warm blush of her shame spreading down over her
shoulders and onto her bare chest as the girl gave the humiliated
tennis coach her exasperated permission to crawl out from under
the counter.  

As she knelt there on the floor, LeAnn pondered her fate.  Even
if she wasn't really a pig, as she suddenly recalled that Jean
had called her before, she sure felt like one now.  She was just
a sick, sex starved, subservient pig who allowed a 15 year old to
boss her around and turn her on.  What kind of a sick pervert
lusted after middle school girls?  She couldn't blame Jean if the
girl subjected her to even more degrading torment.  She deserved
it.

Jean broke in on LeAnn's self-deprecating reverie.  "Well, LeAnn.
 Don't you think my mother will want to know how closely you've
been investigating the view beneath my skirt and between my legs?
 Won't she, LeAnn?  Should we tell Mom how much you seem to like
to look at my panties?  Or how questionable your sense of smell
is when sniffing my panties to tell whether they need changing or
not?  Hmm?  I'm sure she'd be very interested either way.  And,
in the interest of professional objectivity, I think that, to be
fair, we should tell Mother about both, don't you?  Don't you
think she would be interested in your aptitude as a panty peeper
as well as your ineptitude as a panty sniffer?  Hmm?  Don't you
agree?"

"Jean.  Please don't," LeAnn heard herself mumbling, still
sitting on the floor, her face burning, as she felt herself
crumbling.  She had no idea what she intended to say, or how she
thought it might help. The thought of Jean even mentioning
anything about panty peeping, much less panty sniffing, to her
mother was too mortifying and horrifying for the tennis coach to
even contemplate.  She couldn't imagine how much that would
humiliate her.  "J-Jean," she mumbled again pathetically.

"Shut up, LeAnn," the girl softly but firmly said, her voice even
and flat.  "I thought I told you that you are not to say or do
anything until and unless I tell you to.  

"Now, I told you that I would let you continue panty peeping from
time to time.  But if I am going to let you look at my panties,
you are going to have to learn to perform the rest of your duties
that go along with being a good little panty attendant to me. 
And I think that is what I have decided you will be from now on.
Among other things, you are also going to be my panty attendant.
We can call you Panty Coach, Jean's little panty attendant."  

Jean chuckled at her cleverness, and the look of abject
humiliation and disgrace that washed over the tennis coach's
shame-flushed face.  "Obviously, Panty Coach needs a few lessons
and further training in performing her panty-attendant duties,
especially in developing her panty sniffing skills.  So, Panty
Coach, take off that silly looking kneepad bra, pull your panties
back up over your nasty old puss puss, and come over here and
let's get started. And while you're doing that, I'll go around
the corner and change panties."

As Leann did as she was told, Jean slipped around a row of
lockers and changed into a fresh pair of panties.  Then she
returned and sat languidly on one of the dressing room benches.

Jean parted her legs, giving a better view of the panty-crotch
panel between them, and patted her knee with the flapping panties
she held in her hand.  "Come on, hurry up, before I decide to
tell my mother all about you."

The terrifying threat of Jean's mother knowing about her perverse
sexual addiction to her 15-year-old daughter overrode LeAnn's
hesitation.  Whatever Jean intended to do with her now, however
demeaning and degrading, LeAnn was sure she must just endure and
get over with as quickly as possible.  Rather than resist and
prolong it, and risk something equally bad or worse happening
when Jean told her mother, LeAnn decided to just surrender to
Jean's wicked plans for her.  Her slit now practically dripped
sex mucus. LeAnn started to rise from the dressing room floor to
hobble over to where Jean was sitting.

"No, LeAnn. Crawl," Jean sternly instructed the tennis coach
after the first step.  "Panty Coach should crawl to Jean for her
panty training."

LeAnn moaned and whimpered in further humiliation, and awkwardly
lowered herself to her hands and knees.  Feeling like a complete
imbecile, but no less docile for it, the middle-aged tennis coach
crawled across the dressing-room floor on all fours.  

Jean watched the humiliated older woman crawl slowly toward her.
With the teen's mischievous smirk quickly turning into a
contemptuous scowl, LeAnn felt her insides turn to ice when she
heard the girl growl, "If you're not over here by the time I
count to three, you'll go over my knee for a spanking.  Now hurry
up!  One . . . Two . . . Three!"

The nearly hysterical tennis coach frantically scurried the rest
of the way across the dressing-room floor on all fours as fast as
she could, panting and gasping hoarsely.  Her sore knees scraped
the concrete floor, her pantied buttocks wriggling and jiggling
on grotesquely degrading yet immensely amusing display, her
breasts swaying back and forth as she crawled.  Demeaned and
debased, the docile middle-aged tennis coach looked and felt like
an obscenely absurd, lewdly demented imbecile to be obediently
performing in this ridiculous way for this arrogantly imperious
teen-aged girl.  As she scuttled across the floor, LeAnn fixed
Jean firmly in her mind as just what she was; her smugly
capricious girl tormentor.  And now Jean was also becoming her
panty trainer.  But the thought of Jean turning her over her knee
and spanking her was too unbearable for LeAnn to contemplate.

"You didn't quite make it by the count of three," Jean announced
solemnly, as LeAnn winced, panting at her side, her head hanging,
mouth gaping, hair plastered to her sweaty, sticky face.  "I
really should take you over my knee and blister that pudgy
big-girl behind of yours.  But you were close, you tried hard,
and I think I'll let it go this time. . .  But only if you
promise to practice very hard at home and show me that you can
crawl faster next time.  Promise?"

LeAnn felt both ashamed and grudgingly grateful all at the same
time.  She was confounded by her conflicted feelings and
astounded at herself because of the performance she'd just
inflicted on herself in obedience to Jean.  LeAnn was simply
dumbfounded that this pretentious, obnoxious brat actually
expected her to practice crawling faster for her right in her own
home.  LeAnn could only pant and nod her head in dread.  Though
she hated and berated herself for it, she couldn't deny the sick
gratitude she felt to Jean for not turning her over her knee for
an unbearably humiliating spanking. She actually found herself
wondering how she could practice crawling faster at home.  It was
pathetic and ludicrous, she knew.  And she was incredulous about
the ridiculous predicament she was in.  But LeAnn felt a frantic
anxiety bordering on panic when she thought of being spanked by
the 15 year old girl, or getting even worse punishment from Jean
when she wasn't fast enough for her satisfaction the next time
Jean made her crawl.

LeAnn could stew about it all she wanted, but she knew, as much
as it would humiliate her and she would despise herself for it,
that she would be crawling and timing herself when she got home
tonight.  She would have to devise a foolproof way to time her
crawling so that she could know how much she was improving.

"Now, get your breath back.  You really have to get in better
shape, LeAnn.  You know that, don't you?"

LeAnn nodded her head in agreement.  She would have to exercise
more to satisfy Jean with her crawling speed.

Jean held up the panties she had in her hand.

Now, tell me, LeAnn.  Do these panties really smell fresh to
you?" 

Jean asked her lewd question in a voice virtually oozing with
sarcasm.  

"Well, do they?  Hmm?"  

The girl lifted the skimpy, lacey panties she'd been wearing
earlier up to the still panting tennis coach's face and rubbed
the flimsy, smelly, soft fabric back and forth over her nose and
mouth.  LeAnn was appalled and disgusted at the degrading gesture
and offending odor and she reflexively jerked her head back away
from the panties being thrust in her face.  Jean grabbed the back
of her head and pushed the tennis coach's face right back into
the panties she held in her other hand.  

"Well?  Hmm?" Jean persisted, regardless of how much LeAnn
resisted, until LeAnn finally gave in, groaned and shook her head
in dejected confirmation and abject humiliation.

"Of course not," Jean said in disdain.  "Now, I'll let you take
my panties home with you, like I said, to do whatever you want or
need to do with them for your own sick, perverted purposes," Jean
tittered a little.  "But I want you to wash them, and wash them
by hand, mind you, like you should with any delicate fabric
before you bring them back here tomorrow all fresh and ready for
me."

"And for now, before you take them home with you to wash and do
whatever with them, as a lesson in proper panty sniffing and in
training for your duties as Jean's little panty attendant, I want
you to take a good, long sniff and get a good head start at
getting them clean."

"So here, LeAnn" Jean continued, lifting the panties away from
LeAnn's face and shaking them out with both hands.  "I want you
to wear my smelly panties on that dumb little head of yours and
sniff them real good for a while, and then I want you to start to
get them clean for me."

As LeAnn just sat there on the dressing room floor, Jean draped
her panties down over LeAnn's head, adjusting them to arrange the
damp, smelly crotch band right over the astonished and anguished
tennis coach's nose.  The sense of defilement and utter
debasement was so overwhelming for the prim, proper middle-aged
tennis coach that she was suddenly thrust beyond any further
real, embarrassment, into a surreal netherworld of paralyzed
bewilderment as the musky odor and soft texture of the panties on
her nose and cheeks pervaded her senses.  She peered vacantly out
through the leg holes of the lacey white panties at her
grotesquely degraded, obscenely absurd panty-headed reflection
barely visible over the counter in the mirror.  She shuddered and
shook her head in shame as the hideous, lewdly ridiculous image
she saw in the mirror finally registered in her befuddled mind. 
There she was, LeAnn Wells, for years a pro on the WTA tour and
then a university tennis coach, now, in one dismal, demeaning day
reduced to 'Panty Coach, Jean's submissive little panty
attendant.'  

LeAnn winced at the sick words as they flashed through her brain.
 She was actually kneeling here in this country-club dressing
room, wearing Jean's soiled panties on her head.  And the
humiliation a degradation of doing it in front of her 15-year-old
mistress was making her wet, really wet.  She could feel the
sticky drops of sex mucus tearing down the inside of her thigh.

"I don't hear you sniffing," Jean admonished the humiliated
tennis coach.  "You need to sniff my panties real good first, as
part of your training, before you can start cleaning them.  Now
let's hear some good, loud, long sniffs.  And you'd better hurry
up."

Despite her growing sex hunger, Jean just wanted to get this
whole degrading ordeal over with as quickly as possible.  Like a
demented imbecile, the docile, wide-eyed tennis coach sniffed as
fast and deep and loud as she could, working herself up into a
gasping, panting frenzy, nuzzling her nose against the sticky,
damp crotch band of the panties covering her face.

"Good girl," Jean complimented her, patting the top of her
pantied head proudly, while LeAnn loudly kept sniffing.  "That's
enough.  You can stop sniffing now.  I think you've learned your
lesson about proper panty sniffing, haven't you?"  LeAnn
sheepishly nodded her pantied head like a total idiot as Jean
patted it again.  

"Now, you can start cleaning," Jean said as she pulled the crotch
band down a little, over LeAnn's gasping lips, and her index
finger poked the damp, smelly crotch band of her underpants into
LeAnn's mouth.  "A little oral pre-wash, you might say.  And
you'd better start sucking on those nasty panties fast and hard,
because I want them pretty clean--no odor left--before we go. 
And I want to go home soon, so you'd better get busy cleaning
those nasty panties right now."

Awash with shame and humiliation, her face flushed and hot, LeAnn
began frantically sucking on the dirty crotch of Jean's panties
before the girl even pulled her finger out of her mouth.  Jean
giggled and advised the fiercely panty-sucking tennis coach that
she'd better use her own fingers to get more of the panties in
her mouth and get them as clean as possible as quickly as
possible.  

LeAnn despised herself for it as much as the gloating, giggling
girl got off on it.  The tennis coach obediently brought both
hands up to her face to poke and stuff more of the panties into
her mouth and gobble and suck on them as hard and fast as she
could, even chewing on her tongue to try to get more saliva
worked up in her dried out mouth as she worked feverishly on
cleaning the girl's panties.

"God, look at yourself!" Jean scoffed and laughed in amusement. 
"Kneeling here, wearing my nasty girl panties on your head,
stuffing them in your mouth with both hands, gobbling up my
panties and sucking them clean like . . . Like I don't know what
. . . Like a good little panty sucker and panty licker.  I guess
I should have known that you'd do it because you are such a good
panty peeper.  Look at you!  You're really getting' into it, too.
 You're such an eager little beaver, pardon the pun.  Looks like
you might make a good little all-service panty attendant, after
all, huh?  Panty Coach, Panty Coach, Jean's good little panty
attendant," 

Jean teased LeAnn and snickered at her debased antics.  She
patted the groaning, degraded, still frantically sucking woman on
top of her pantied head.

"See, coach, there's still a lot to learn, huh?  Things you never
thought you'd need to know around the tennis court: things they
never taught you in school, huh?"  

Jean reached down, slapped LeAnn's hands out of the way and
pulled the soppy panties out of her mouth for a moment.  LeAnn's
mouth and tongue were tired and sore and as dry as cotton.  She
blushed deeper and whimpered, feeling a renewed sense of shame
and humiliation wash over her as her slit burned with unrequited
hunger for release.

"Hey, relax and hush now," Jean consoled her and patted the
tennis coach's pantied head.  "I think you did a pretty good job
licking and sucking my panties clean, at least for an oral,
pre-wash cycle.  I must say that I was pretty discouraged to see
that, as a famous tennis coach, you were such a slow learner
about proper panty sniffling.  But watching you now, I'm very
encouraged about how rapidly our nasty little tennis coach's
education has accelerated when it comes to panty licking, sucking
and cleaning.  I think we've found something that you've
obviously got a natural talent and aptitude for.  Don't you,
Panty Coach?"

LeAnn could do nothing but nod her head in humiliated agreement.
If she continued to agree and obey, just maybe Jean would allow
her to bring herself off.  And she needed to really badly.

Jean smiled down at LeAnn as though she was a proud pet owner and
LeAnn was her well-behaved little bitch.

"And it's improved your attitude as well, made you more
motivated.  You obviously were working really hard sucking away
on my panties; they were really quite smelly, and Jean's really
proud of her little panty-attendant tennis coach in-training. 
And I think you can be proud, too.  Don't you, Ms. LeAnn Wells,
Tennis Coach, aka Panty Coach, Panty Attendant in Training to Ms.
Jean?  Hmm?  You just stop blubbering and sobbing like a baby,
now, and tell me how proud you are to be LeAnn Wells, Tennis
Coach and Panty Coach, Panty Attendant in Training to Ms. Jean
Arbor, and I think we're all done here for now."  Jean began
stroking LeAnn's hair tenderly through the wispy material of her
panties. "Go on now, hurry up and say it for me.  Tell me how
proud you are to belong to me."

LeAnn shuddered and blushed deeper, lowering her head and closing
her eyes, unable to bear to look at herself in the mirror.  She
sniffled and murmured a barely audible "I . . . I'm p-proud,"
hating herself and hating Jean for making her say it.

"No, no," Jean scolded, reaching over and slapping the tennis
coach on her pantied bottom.  "Not like that.  Lift your head,
open your eyes, look at yourself in the mirror, and say it
all--the whole thing.  'I'm Ms. LeAnn Wells, Tennis Coach, and
I'm proud to be Panty Coach, Panty Attendant in Training to Ms.
Jean Arbor.'  There.  Like that.  Now, head up, eyes straight
ahead, look at yourself and say it.  Hurry up."

LeAnn began crying as she lifted her head, opened her eyes, gazed
into the mirror with a dazed, haunted look, shuddered and
whimpered shamefully and pitifully, then sighed and said it just
like Jean told her to.  Jean patted her pantied head and her
pantied bottom, told her she was a very good girl, and told her
she could get up off her knees now and take her panties off her
head and get ready to go home.  

LeAnn struggled back up to her feet, her legs stiff, her knees
very sore, and reached up and pulled Jean's panties off her head.
 Jean admonished the still dazed and anguished tennis coach that,
though she could take the panties home with her and was expected
to hand-wash them well when she got home, she'd better hide them
for now in her street clothes.  LeAnn blushed and frowned in
confusion, and then, at Jean's suggestion, squatted and stuffed
Jean's panties down into her own panties, between her legs, to
hide them.  

Finally through with her grueling, degrading ordeal at the
country club for the day, LeAnn let Jean grab her elbow and walk
her to her locker where she quickly donned her street clothes. 
Then Jean made LeAnn help her put on her own street clothes. 
When they were both dressed, Jean led an exhausted yet still
sex-hungry LeAnn out of the empty country club to the
almost-empty parking lot.

"OK, LeAnn, You drive and I'll give you directions to my house."
The girl waited at the passenger door until LeAnn started to open
the driver-side door, then said, "No, dummy.  My door first. 
Where are your manners, girl?  Now, are you going to hurry up and
get over here and get my door, or do I have to take you over my
knee for a spanking right here in the parking lot?"

Shuddering at the prospect of actually going over the knee of
this teen-aged girl right here in the club parking lot--cringing
even at thought of arguing about it out here where they might be
overheard--the flushed coach rushed around the car to quickly
open the other door for Jean.  Then, trying hard not to look,
LeAnn's still-aroused pussy twinged and she cringed at the
tempting, taunting sight of the girl's widespread legs and
well-displayed panties as Jean coyly twirled and slowly lowered
herself into the car seat.

"Stop staring at my panties!" Jean loudly scolded.  LeAnn's face
immediately burned in shame, and she frantically turned her head
to make sure no one else out in the parking lot and had
overheard.  Almost faint with relief when she saw no one around,
LeAnn quickly closed Jean's door.  LeAnn then shivered when the
smugly smirking girl caught her trying to sneak another peek
through the window down between her legs.  Worried about what was
happening to her as she scurried back around to the driver-side
door, LeAnn could not help but feel that she'd deserved to be
scolded like that for staring at the girl's panties no matter who
could have overheard.
  
LeAnn wearily slid behind the wheel, and Jean languidly turned
toward her in the passenger seat, idly allowing her legs to part
and point in LeAnn's direction.  LeAnn felt her stomach clutch,
but stared straight ahead, started the car, and headed out of the
lot.  LeAnn, forced herself to keep her mind and eyes focused on
driving the car, and not the attraction of Jean's crotch dimly
visible to the side.  Despite herself, Jean's lewd display was
driving LeAnn to distraction.  All her effort went for naught,
and the teen saw right through the distraught woman.  As they
drove and Jean told Leann where to turn, the 15-year-old
absentmindedly ran her small hand possessively under Leann's
pleated skirt and along her thigh.  By the time they arrived at
Jean's mother's house, Leann was practically a basket case of
unrequited sexual longing.  Jean had found it quite entertaining
sexing the older woman up and not allowing her to find the
release she so desperately craved.

As they walked up the paved path to the front door, Jean had to
practically hold the older woman up.  As they got to the front
door, Jean leaned over and whispered in Leann's ear.

"Did you ever wonder, LeAnn, just how I knew about you and your
sick need to be controlled by another woman? Leann climbed out of
her sexual fog long enough to stare at Jean.

"No, Jean," LeAnn could barely get the words out.

Well, you see.  My mom saw your name on the list of coaches, and
it struck a familiar note with her.  As you know, my last name is
Arbor, after my dead daddy.  But I think you know my mother by
her maiden name; Daily."

Leann began to sob her heart out as Jaycy opened the front door,
smiled wickedly, and let her daughter in with their new sextoy in
tow.  Though she tried with all her remaining strength to get
away, LeAnn just couldn't break free from Jaycy and Jean.  Leann
watched in hysterical terror as her whole world disappear behind
the big front door.  And then, LeAnn began to scream.

Her good luck had most definitely run out.


Part Three?




This work is copyright (c) 2002 by Chris and by Jane Parks. You
may download and retain a copy for your personal use as long as
the author's byline and e-mail address and this paragraph remain
on the copy. Please do not post this story to any web site
without permission from the author. All other rights reserved. No
alteration of the contents is permitted.


Jane Parks can be reached at:
janeparkshot@Yahoo.com


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