I've known Miss Gonzales for four weeks, and we've been fucking for the last three.

Ah, I do apologise, I think I've missed a bit of the backstory there, but I got your attention, didn't I? I'll go back a few steps. My name is Ted, Ted Stoat if you must, and I'm a youngish 35 year-old caretaker at a girls' college called Slothlands. Don't worry, it's not that kind of story; I don't go near the inmates, not even the Minxiest of them, even though they are all over eighteen and delectable. It's a teacher who is the key to this saucy tale.

Miss Gonzales joined the staff four weeks ago, a fresh-faced, brown-eyed, taut-bodied, 28 year old teacher of Current Affairs and General Studies, and it was lust at first sight. Right from the start, she showed that she was a kinky soul, and although I prefer to be the strong man, it was pleasant submitting to her occasionally over a margarita or two. Or, more accurately, under a margarita or five. That girl has a thing about tequila. The last time she was feisty was yesterday, when she'd shown me her two favourite vibrators in the staff room, and taunted me, bragging that "Men can't always keep up with women, can they? These plastic heroes wouldn't get soft, drunk, headaches, or cum in their pants."

As much as I enjoyed submitting to her, I found that dominating her was much more satisfying, and I felt it was about time I made it official, hopefully involving a significant romantic gesture. I got the impression that Miss Gonzales would appreciate a gesture. With that in mind, I'd 'borrowed' the vibrators from her bag when she wasn't looking, knowing they would be key to any gesturing that I'd be doing.

After cracking open a walnut with the larger one, and using the smaller one to stir my tea, I paused for thought. I really didn't know why she needed all those toys, surely any red-blooded man or... umm... whatever-coloured-blood woman would pounce on this woman if she clicked her fingers or hitched up her skirt. This made me think - how could I prove to her that she didn't need such a toy?

I bribed Ed, the headmaster, to tell me her home address. Initially, he said that under no circumstances could he tell me such confidential information, but when I said that I'd check to see if she had any latex underwear, he soon complied.

I turned up at her place at about six in the evening. Yes, it was a little early, but there was more chance of her being in her work clothes. It had been a hot, sticky day, and the thought of unpeeling her saturated see-through blouse was too tempting to resist.

"Oh," she said, when she answered. I handed her a bunch of flowers that Olive the florist had assured me would get into the boudoir of any young lady. Joy of joys, she was still dressed in her tight black skirt and damp white blouse that gave her a phenomenal hourglass shape. She was even wearing her strappy new fuck-me shoes, and her thick-rimmed glasses.

"Number one," I said. "A vibrator cannot give someone flowers."

She hadn't shut the door in my face, so I stepped inside, closing it behind me. She still seemed unprepared, poor thing, so I wrapped my hand around her waist and sharply pulled her to me, making sure I didn't squish the flowers. When she was close enough, with her breasts digging into my ribcage, I cupped her chin, pointed her mouth upwards, and planted a delicate kiss upon her lips.

"Number two. You can kiss a vibrator if you want to, but it won't kiss back."

"Mmmm," she purred, closing her eyes seductively and perching herself on tip-toe for another kiss. I held the back of her head steady this time, running my fingers through her jet-black hair as I pressed my lips against hers. She had such a soft, delicate pair of lips, unbelievable when you consider the docker-blushing language that came from them.

She unpeeled herself from me and led me upstairs by the hand. I thought of a possible reason number three - no vibrator could appreciate the sideways movement of a woman's ass as she walks up the stairs - but chose not to voice it.

"That's the bathroom, there's the bedroom, and this... this is the play room," she said, and I could hear the chiming sunniness in her voice. Inside were several large crates – she’d only moved in a week or two ago and was still unpacking everything - and a king-size bed, with no quilt, no pillows, no headboard, just a bedstead with a firm mattress and a coversheet.

"I've not thought how best to adapt the bed yet. Care to try it out, soldier?"

I did, and I didn't. If I allowed myself to be restrained to the bed, I would have a whale of a time and end up with a sore but satisfied cock, but if I did that, I wouldn't be able to explain the other reasons, or do my gesture.

"No, Miss Gonzales. Why don't you lie down on the bed for me, huh? Face up."

She took a deep breath, slinked onto the mattress like a liquid, still fully clothed and shod, and stretched her arms to the head of the bed in anticipation.

Standing at the foot of the bed, I could see those shoes in a little more detail. "Are these things sturdy?" I asked, nudging her left foot with my knee. The solid jingle from the buckle answered my question, so I asked another. "Do you have any wrist cuffs, and a couple of small padlocks?"

She wriggled excitedly, and pointed to two of the smaller crates, barking at me to dig in and find something that will do. I did so, and was astonished at the array of disgusting things I found. Beads, balls, enema kits, clamps, everything you could think of and more. The gal could open her own little private sex shop, and still have enough to shackle a small village. I assumed and hoped desperately that she would use each and every item on the gals at Slothlands - there were impressive harnesses that would suit Cariad or Seababy perfectly, Julie and Jenny certainly deserved a pair of tight nipple clamps each, and firm leather collars with cuffs tightly attached that would keep Chattel's hands away from trouble. The sight of these cuffs appeared to be a sign that I was in the right area, and sure enough, I found a pair of steel wristbands. Perfect. I tossed them to Miss Gonzales, and looked for padlocks, finding a discreet little pair that would match the wristbands.

"Number three,” I purred, approaching her. “A vibe can't incapacitate you."

I can be rough when it suits me, and Miss Gonzales squeaked as I tugged her right wrist to her right ankle, and padlocked the cuff to the shoe. I repeated the exercise with the other side. She was forced to sit leaning forwards, but was otherwise fairly comfortable. I pulled the smaller vibe out of my pocket, and held it in front of her. She gasped aloud as I nudged her thin legs apart, stroking the vibe against one thigh, and my fingertips against the other thigh.

“Which do you prefer?” I asked, gently tickling the goosebumps, wanting to touch her so softly that she could feel the fingerprints.

“T-the fingertips,” she replied. She bowed her head and her glasses drooped down to the end of her nose. I pushed them back in place, and she smiled uncertainly at me. “That’s number four, isn’t it?” she added.

I beamed brightly, pulled her panties to one side, and carefully slid the vibrator inside her pussy.

"Number five. A vibe can't put itself inside you when you're all tied up like that."

She wiggled her bottom at the first wave of pleasure that the new vibrator brought.

"Truuuuue," she sighed, "but maybe the vibe is controlling you. Counter-number one: the vibe is so tempting for a flaccid half-man like you, ahhhh! It means you've more chance of making the poor gal cum."

The effect of her defiant speech was reduced by the moan of pleasure she gave halfway through. In response to the "half-man" comment, I reached in and turned the vibe's speed up a notch or two. It was so hard to grip, I may have put it on maximum by accident.

"Have you got a spreader bar?" I asked. "I'd quite like to see you in your full glory. Glistening cuntlips, bare thighs, buttcheeks nicely on display."

"You evil fucking bastard!" she snarled, before adding quietly, "There's one in the bottom crate."

Indeed there was. It was a vicious looking thing, too, black metal, studded, non-extendable or shrinkable, and two furry cuffs that had molded themselves to the shape of her ankles over the years. It was only about two feet long, though.

"Is this the biggest one you have?" I asked, looping the first cuff around her ankle, just above the buckle and her hand.

"I could say the same thing about you, sailor," she winked back, as I moved the second leg further apart with a sharp tug, to get the second cuff on.

This woman was almost begging me to angrily slap her, but I wouldn't. I could certainly get angry with Miss Gonzales, the woman was infuriating for twenty hours a day, but I would never hit her when I was angry. I wish the converse was true. I still have the bruise from when she slugged me after I spilt bleach on her cat.

"Miss Gonzales, you came up with a counter-reason before. I can think of another one. It's easier to walk with a vibrator inside you, than with a man inside you. Hell, I'd wager that you could step forward in that spreader bar."

"F-fffuck. Y-you..."

"That's the spirit," I said chirpily, and lifted her from the bed, landing her safely on her shoes, which were really starting to grow on me. I made sure the vibe was inside her, but it was a struggle to see properly, with the skirt getting in the way as she wriggled. "Too many clothes, I think," I declared, and unhooked her skirt from around her waist, folding it and placing it on the edge of the bed. "And those panties just look untidy," I added, sliding my hands into them, and then ripping them apart. Miss Gonzales purred at the sound of the tearing and the feeling of the breaking elastic being snapped around her thighs. Now that she was naked below the waist, I could see that the vibrator was sticking out an inch or so, so I duly shoved it back into her with the heel of my hand. It entered with a silent squish, and a cute squeal, before she went back to the gurgling obscenities.

"I wouldn't have noticed that the vibe wasn't in, if you hadn't been naked down there. That settles it: no more underwear for you without permission, understand?"

She didn't answer; she just squatted, rocking back and forth, careful not to lose her balance. The concentration in her face, the scrunching of her nose, the gentle panting, I took it all in. Then I remembered the question. I tugged her hair back until she was looking straight up at me.

"I-I can s-see up your n-nose," she burbled. That got a twist of her head and warning tug on her hair. "Ow-woo! No more underwear, I got it. Lemme go!"

I let go, took a step back and then crouched next to her. A single tear seeped down her cheek. She had been degraded by me before, but she had never been so submissive or vulnerable.

"Let me ask you again, and see what you say this time. You don't wear underwear unless you clear it with me first. Do you agree?"

"Y-yes," she nodded, hair flopping over her face as her head lolled forwards. There was a moment's silence, broken only by the incessant buzz-buzz of the vibrator.

I walked out of the bedroom, and took four paces down the corridor. I shouted to Miss Gonzales to make sure she could hear me, and then I told her to hobble to me. The angry shout that came from the room explained that there was no fucking way she could walk with her wrists tied to her ankles like that, but there was an excited lilt in her voice, and I could already hear a heavy tinkle and a thud as she moved one foot forwards.

“Number five,” I called, just to see what she said. “A vibrator couldn’t tell you that you’re not allowed to cum until I tell you to.”

“W-what?”

I stood patiently in the hallway as she clunked towards me, a hopeful grin on her face. The vibrator was halfway out of her. It was a phenomenal scene – she was still fully clothed above the waist, but below, I could see the dampness in her pussy from four yards away. I explained why I didn’t want her to cum. I said that it would be good for her if she learned some respect for me, if she gave up control of her life for me. She widened her eyes. My gesture was working, so I added the twist.

“Each time that vibrator drops out of your pussy, you’ll go a week without cumming after today.”

She looked up, and I could sense she was thinking desperately of non-erotic things. Unfortunately, I knew that she had as filthy an imagination as I, and anything can make me hard, from an empty DVD case to a bowl of Coco Pops. Poor thing. It would be fun training her. I unzipped my trousers, and took out my cock, which had been struggling to get free since Miss Gonzales entered the corridor.

“Look at me,” I urged. “Look at your prize.”

She did so, and licked her lips, bouncing heavily from one step to the next like a penguin, but when I stroked my cock and let it twitch at the sight of her, that was when the vibrator slipped out and clunked on the floor. She yelped at it, and cursed aloud, calling herself a stupid little slut.

“Oh dear,” I sighed, picking her up and putting her back two paces, carefully avoiding her mouth as she tried to lick me and bite my manhood. I collected the vibrator and told her to lick it clean, before placing it back into her pussy. It slid in even easier this time, and her muscles almost pushed it out straight away. “That’s a week.”

She was close already, but whimpered defiantly, not giving into temptation. She was still a proud woman, and I knew it would burn her up inside to beg me to cum. I continued to stroke myself. “My goodness, Miss Gonzales, I can’t wait until you get here. I’m going to ram this right down your throat, I’m going to tug every bit of you that I can tug, and slap all the bits I can’t. You’re going to be so goddamn tender after tonight, and that’s going to be when your cum restriction week will start. Oops! You dropped the vibrator again. That’s two weeks now, you poor little cumbitch.”

She was crying now, wholly frustrated and angry with herself. She gulped, held her posture as straight as she could, and penguinned her way to me. A foot from me, she dared to imagine herself as she would be, and opened her mouth. I reached out a hand and held her head steady, guiding her onto me. As soon as she took me in her mouth, she began to sob heavily, and I think they were tears of pride and relief.

“Drop the vibrator. We won’t need it anymore today, will we, Miss Gonzales?”

Two seconds after the instruction, she clenched her muscles and squired the vibrator out of herself, smiling and shaking her head, still heartily sucking me. I grinned, and I was tempted to let her continue, but it was time for the final gesture. I grabbed her hair, and eased her off me. She tried to lean forwards, hungry and desperate for more, but when I lowered her onto her back, she realised that I had something more exciting for her. Her ankles and wrists were in the air, I slithered under the bar, face down upon her.

“I’m going to fuck you now, Miss Gonzales.”

“Says who?”

“Two and a half weeks’ cum restriction. Want to go for more?”

“Counter-reason – a frigging vibrator wouldn’t put me on cum restriction,” she pouted. “YahOWooo!”

I chose that moment to slide myself into her. Without meaning to, she tugged her arms so the bar jammed gently in the small of my back, which made it hard to get a rhythm going. Fortunately, neither of us needed much space. I squeezed her breasts through her blouse as she wiggled under me, and my hips made wet slaps against her ass, and helped me pound into her stretched young pussy.

“P-pplease!” she urged. “I n-need to cum!”

I told her that I wanted her to beg for it. This order made her hips jerk angrily, and I almost lost control.

“I b-beg you, Ted, I have to cum n-now, I c-can’t h-hold it!”

My mouth was at her right ear. “When you say “pots”, you can cum. Understand?”

“W-hat?” she gurgled, head lolling backwards.

“Pots,” I explained. “It stands for ‘Property of Ted Stoat’. Because that’s what I want you to be.”

Her head snapped forwards, and she stared deeply into my eyes. “I am y-yours. I’m pots.”

“Then you may cum,” I said, ejaculating into her pussy, falling forwards and hugging her, elated that I was able to hold on long enough. A second later, her orgasm hit her, and she bucked twice, before beginning to shiver. The bar kept me in place, as though I was on a fairground ride,

“Don’t ever let go,” she said. Her glasses had fallen forwards to the end of her nose again.

“I won’t,” I replied, and nudged her glasses back in place with my chin, before kissing her on the lips.

“And sir?” she grinned, “You’re definitely better than that little vibrator.” She bit her lip, smiled cheekily, and continued, “But I’m not sure if you’re as good as the big vibrator. I’m gonna need more proof...”

The end.