Date: Wed, 5 Sep 2018 18:09:22 +0100 From: J. Forrester Subject: Do As You're Told - Chapter Five Do As You're Told Chapter Five: Dangerous Liaisons If you need permission to read this story (from a master, husband, partner, lodger, boss, next door neighbour, gardener) please obtain it first. This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people, places and events is unintentional. This story is exclusively for entertainment purposes so please enjoy in safe and legal manner. MONDAY 22ND OCTOBER 2018 Coalwater High School had been closed for the October week - a mid-term holiday - and today reopened to driech skies and dark mornings. On the Friday before school closed, Cameron had presented himself in Vincent's classroom after the last lesson of the day. "I told Robin I was going to the library," Cameron had said that afternoon over a week ago. "Why did you tell him that?" Vincent asked. "Because telling him I wanted Mr Wilson to teach me a lesson would have been suspicious," Cameron returned with a chuckle. A whole month had passed since their first dangerous liaison in Malcolm's office. Vincent knew that the time to put an end to things was before they had negotiated the terms of their dalliance. Talking about submission and domination had sealed the deal between them and Cameron had made a habit of coming to Vincent's classroom a before the first class of the day or after the last class or at lunch time... The teenager's appetite was insatiable. Vincent enjoyed Cameron's sexual appetite. Vincent wondered where everything had gone wrong. Why hadn't he just put a stop to things when Cameron turned up in his classroom the first time after his humiliation in Malcolm's office? What had gone wrong? Oh, yea. The boy stripped to his pants and sucked Vincent's cock – funny how he had just let that happen. Why did remorse only happen after satisfaction? Several days a week since their first encounter, Cameron had come to Vincent and locked the classroom door. Kissing and frottage inevitably followed and even though Cameron was the one to suck Vincent's cock, it was still the teenager who was very much in charge. Cameron exercised his control subtly - for one thing, Vincent still had not seen Cameron naked and had not touched Cameron's cock, though he fantasised about it enough. Vincent had touched Cameron's skin before the October break, caressing his bare shoulder as they kissed and stroking his gangly arm all the way to the boy's hand, which he took in his own. Cameron had pressed his groin into Vincent's so that the man could feel the teenage hard-on but then denied Vincent closer intimacy. Cameron was a tease - a very effective tease - and it made Vincent want more. The week apart had been a mixed blessing: parting is such sweet sorrow but absence makes the heart grow fonder - as the mixed metaphor says. It also gave Vincent the space to think about things; he was torn between yearning for more and actually using common sense and ending things with Cameron. Vincent is a teacher. Cameron is a student. "Yea, but you're a really hot teacher," Cameron replied when Vincent made that very point to the boy himself half an hour before the first class of the day. Vincent willed himself not to return the compliment. "I... I have a duty of care," Vincent said quietly. "Pft. Shut up," Cameron replied with affection. "I missed you all last week. I was hoping you'd missed me too." Vincent didn't reply. "Tell me. Be honest, did you miss me?" Cameron asked. Vincent was submissive without being a doormat but he yielded to Cameron's question. "Yes, I did," Vincent replied. "I think we're stuck in a rut, always meeting in your classroom..." Cameron began to say. "That is really not the problem here," Vincent said, sticking with the whole `screwing around with a student is wrong' theme. "Be quiet," Vincent warned; "Meet me in the changing room at lunch time. I've got P.E. this afternoon and you can help me change into my shorts." Then Cameron leaned in and kissed Vincent's cheek, just a little peck that was enough to make him blush. Vincent felt like a scalded puppy, reprimanded by his master and then rewarded with a scratch behind the ears. The sad thing was that Vincent was becoming as loyal as any puppy and would happily cum when Cameron whistled. It was a few minutes before the bell for registration class when Cameron left Vincent's classroom and gave him a jaunty wave. He unlocked the door and opened it to the sound of chattering, shouting, mumbling and grumbling that emanated from the hundreds of students bustling around the halls. Cameron vanished into the crowd and Vincent checked his watch – he had enough time for a cuppa before the bell went. Vincent looked up the corridor in the direction that Cameron had vanished. The boy had headed towards the Huddle Hall, as it was affectionately called; a nexus point for the traffic of the school and a place of congress for the students during break times. After public holidays, long weekends or mid-term breaks, the hive of activity centred in the Huddle Hall and during the winter months it was especially busy as students avoided rain, sleet and snow. The older year groups were lucky since S5 and S6 each had common rooms to retreat to with their peers. A student brushed past Vincent, whose inattention had caused inconvenience to Arthur Conway – the sixth year boy with hair as blonde as a newborn baby and fair skin to match it. He looked like the summer sun would be enough to set the boy on fire. "Excuse me, sir," said Nasser almost politely as he also pushed past the Vincent-shaped obstruction; "Art, hold up!" Vincent shook himself and headed to make himself a cup of tea. He nearly walked into Andy as he entered the English department's base room. It was a basically a cupboard that was meant to be used for meetings for English department staff but it was barely big enough to swing a kitten in. The regular occupants found it a snug fit when they were all trying to make beverages at the same time. However, it was more convenient than the main staffroom that was all the way on the other side of the building; thus, it was well regarded as a place where they could make tea, coffee or microwave porridge. Actually, the microwave allowed them to heat things other than porridge as well. "Oh, hi Andy," Vincent said brightly. Vincent had enjoyed dinner with Andy and Malcolm once during the week off but had otherwise not seen his friend. "Mornin' Vincent. Just came to borrow some sugar. Also teaspoons. Also, you don't have any sugar left," Andy said as he hid the remains of the bag of sugar he was stealing behind his back. Andy was clearly wasted as a Maths teacher with burglary skills that good. "That's ok, I don't use sugar," Vincent replied. "Me neither," Andy answered and then explained why he was stealing the sugar anyway: "You know that if Geoff doesn't have sugar in his coffee, he'll complain he's dying." It was hard for Andy to not sound critical of Geoff George (with a name like that, his parents must have hated him as much as everyone did) – the man was a complete arse and a pathetic head of the Maths department. "In fairness, he is diabetic and he's had low blood sugar three times this year," said Vincent. "Whose side are you on?" joked Andy. "Did you get a peculiar email this morning?" asked Vincent, changing the subject. "I've not checked yet. Peculiar how?" asked Andy. "Has anyone seen the sugar?" said a voice from inside the room, prompting Andy to snigger guiltily. Andy backed out into the corridor to make ready his escape. The email was forgotten and sugar-talk was ignored as Vincent changed the subject again. "I like your shirt, is that new?" Vincent asked - genuinely complimenting his friend. "Malcolm got me it. He said it matches my eyes," Andy said with dead pan humour. The shirt was vibrant red - Andy's eyes were pale blue. "Ha ha," Vincent replied. "Crane, Wilson!" shouted Mr McKenzie, the Deputy Head teacher, as he advanced up the hall. "Make yourselves useful and read this memo to your registration class. And hand the rest to the rest of your department." Mr McKenzie thrust a sheaf of paper at them and then stomped angrily on to another area of the school. "Good morning, Mr Mac." "Great to see you, we're fine thanks." He turned at the sarcastic comments aimed at his back and mouthed "fuck you" at them. "I better go. You need to come over for dinner again soon," Andy said as he started down the corridor with his pilfered sugar; "Maybe bring a date sometime." Vincent tried not to look terrified at the thought of that happening. "Hi. This is my date, Cameron Barness. He's seventeen and you may remember him from your Advanced Mathematics classroom." "Maybe another time," Vincent replied. Vincent eventually got his tea - phew - and it soothed him through the first four classes of the day. At lunch time it was with trepidation that he made his way to the P.E. department; he waited long enough to make sure the changing room had been evacuated by the pre-lunch classes - in order to avoid suspicion from students. Not that teachers were forbidden from going to the P.E. department but Vincent's guilty conscience led him to fear that that guilt would be written all over his face. As they had just been vacated, the changing rooms had funky and pungent odour of sweat, damp and deodorant. "Honey, you're home," Cameron said facetiously as Vincent entered the empty changing room. Cameron approached him and then reached around to swing the door closed. After that, Cameron embraced Vincent and they kissed. Vincent felt his heart pound. Their mouths were exploring each other and tongues were getting very enthusiastic. Cameron had been thinking about the inequity in their relationship; as much as he liked being the boss and teasing the teacher, he ached for more attention for himself. Cameron was also aware of the risks of their relationship, especially for Mr Wilson; moreover, he didn't fancy risking his university prospects by being caught in a clinch with a teacher. Nevertheless, there was something exciting in the danger of their dalliance, but Cameron would not deliberately threaten Vincent's career with reckless abandon. Cameron broke the kiss and turned the tumbler of the lock to secure the door - no need to be incautious. In their relationship so far, Cameron had denied Vincent the opportunity to see him totally naked or to feel his teenage cock. It was all part of Cameron's burgeoning supremacy over the older man. He wanted to make Vincent ach for it. Cameron had been enjoying the taste of Vincent's cock - on his knees before the teacher but still the one very much in control. Perhaps it was time to make progress. "Let's get you out of those clothes," proclaimed Cameron. Vincent complied out a desire to please Cameron but also because he found the younger man intoxicating. He wanted to see more of Cameron (all of him, if possible) and to touch the teenager (especially his cock, if possible) but every time he asked, Cameron kept the tease going and told him "maybe him next time." Vincent was high on the promise of seeing more of Cameron and of developing their relationship - if it could be called that - into something more. He would not have put his reputation and career at risk if he thought it was not possible for their rapport to become more meaningful. Cameron pressed Vincent towards the corner of the room where there was an array of so-called modesty walls. The effect was cubicles about the size of a disabled toilet stall. Most of the changing room was open and filled with benches to sit on and lockers to keep items in. The cubicles were seldom used, except by the most modest of boys; they were a double edged sword because boys too modest to change in front of other boys would only bring attention on themselves by using a cubicle. Hence, the cubicles encouraged bullying rather than reducing it. They were an antithesis to their intended purpose: singling out the modest, shy, retiring boys and making them more likely to be targeted. Many a boy had been dragged out - half dressed - to be mocked by the little bastards who got off on bullying and cruelty. Cameron recalled the mockery and ridicule faced by boys in his own P.E. class: "Don't be such a girl." "What's wrong, Nancy? Don't want us to see your fanny?" "Cough, small knob, cough." Robin had been the butt of several of those insults and Cameron had been hurt on his behalf. Robin soon realised he would lose even more face by using them than he did already by avoiding the showers or undressing in the main changing room. Three cubicles remained and were mostly used by disabled students. The space was rather neat for both Cameron and Vincent at the same time. At the back of the cubicle was a bench to sit on and hooks on each side wall on which to hang one's clothes. Vincent entered first and then Cameron, who closed the door and dropped his school bag on the floor. "Let's get you out of those clothes," Cameron repeated. Cameron's eyes signalled that Vincent should strip. Yielding to Cameron's instruction, Vincent slipped off his shoes and socks and with a single look up at Cameron knew he was expected to continue and would be prompted if any other action was required. Thus, Vincent removed his tie, unbuttoned and then removed his shirt and then snapped his trousers open and pushed them down. Cameron remained fully clothed with the exception of his school blazer which left brilliant white shirtsleeves exposed. The boy seemed to loom over Vincent, now clad only in his underwear, looking down on him as if he were naughty and deserving of punishment. He was naughty – he was in a tiny cubicle, almost naked, with a student eight years his junior. "Everything," Cameron said succinctly. Vincent had a heightened awareness of his bare skin, milky under the white lights above his head, but obeyed and pulled off his underwear so he was naked. Cameron eyed his teacher up and savoured the moment. He could hardly believe the ease with which he could achieve his desires but Cameron was also aware that he had taken things slowly so as not to break the spell he seemed to have had over Vincent since that day in the doctor's surgery. If he had demanded a blowjob the first time they'd met after that initial encounter, the man would have balked and run. Now, Cameron knew this teacher was gagging for it. "Sit down, Mr Wilson" Cameron said. Now that he was naked, Cameron called the man by his stately title to hammer home the impropriety. It was role play in way and they had discussed it early in their relationship - Mr Wilson didn't want to be called bitch or whore and Cameron didn't want to use that kind of language anyway. But calling him Mr Wilson was a very nice reminder of his status. Vincent sat on the bench and the wood was cold beneath his bare buttocks. He was looking up at Cameron and all too aware that if someone were to look into the stall they would see him totally naked – if Cameron wasn't blocking the view and the changing room door wasn't locked. Erring on the side of caution, Vincent listened carefully for any sign that someone was in the changing room but it was quiet. "Make yourself hard. I want to watch you," Cameron said. Vincent was seduced by the gentle tones of the schoolboy and knew he shouldn't comply. But he did – for reasons of insanity and indiscretion and longing. Vincent stroked his cock, peeling back the foreskin and rubbing the head of his dick until it was shiny. His grip alternated between fast and slow and then tight and gentle. All the while, Cameron watched with a broad smile that showed he was very pleased which spurred Vincent on. "Keep going, Mr Wilson," said Cameron as he started to loosen his school tie and then unbutton his shirt; "But don't cum until I tell you to." Vincent could not take his eyes of the seventeen year old as he exposed his bare chest. It was smooth and turned to gooseflesh in the cool air of the changing room; Vincent hardly noticed the coolness, if anything he felt flushed by the humiliation of his capitulation and nudity and the eye candy now on offer. Cameron's nipples were circular pinky-brown buttons on an otherwise flat chest. Cameron considered himself fit enough but didn't share the same muscular endowments as his best friend Robin or the other sport-obsessed boys in S6. Skinny and twinky worked for Cameron though and complimented his gangly frame. Clearly the look appealed to Vincent too. Cameron hung his shirt and tie on the nearest hook and then kicked off his shoes. Vincent was enjoying watching Cameron strip and hoped today would be the day when he finally saw the final prize. As Cameron stooped over to pull off his socks, his head tilted towards Vincent's very hard penis. Vincent could almost feel Cameron's breath on his cock. Now barefoot, Cameron slipped his socks into his shoes and wasted no time in unbuttoning his school trousers and pushing them to his ankles. Vincent had been edging since the moment Cameron had started to undress and now he needed short breaks from stroking in order to forestall the inevitable orgasm. Cameron's bare legs were like the rest of him – long and skinny. The curve of his calve was something that Vincent wanted to stroke or lick. Cameron was now stood only in his briefs and the bulge inside filled the crotch just enough to pull at the waistband and reveal a little of the pubic bush above his cock. Looking into Vincent's eager eyes, Cameron already knew what he was going to do; Cameron opened his schoolbag and took out the shorts he was going to wear for P.E. Autumn was so far mind enough for shorts to remain an option and freeballing in them was part of the fun. They were not quite as small running shorts but the hem was well above the knee. Cameron turned around so he was facing away from Vincent and then pushed down his briefs. They slid to his ankles and he stepped out of them. For the first time - student and teacher, Cameron and Vincent - were naked together. Vincent's view of Cameron's arse was enough to make him stop stroking. He wanted to reach out and stroke the beautiful mounds but he kept his hands to himself for he knew Cameron was teasing him again and to touch without permission would invite admonishment. Cameron looked over his shoulder at Vincent and smiled manically; then Cameron bent over slightly, pushing his gorgeous buttocks closer to Vincent, so he could pull his shorts on. It was a tease – revealing his arse but not his cock to the man but it was an effective and exciting one. When he turned around, his cock was hidden but the shorts were low. Where curve of his belly met his pubis was almost invisible - the patch of hair above the root of his penis naturally neat and lending itself to low-hanging waistlines. Cameron's cock was hard and clearly outlined, pressing against the inside of the shorts and tenting them obscenely. But Cameron wanted to keep the suspense going a little bit longer so he would not reveal his dick this time. "You can finish yourself off now. Cum on yourself rather than aiming that thing at me though," Cameron said. The climax didn't take long - the teacher had been jerking it for more than twenty minutes already. Vincent had been desperate to cum for what felt like an hour and the sight of the barely-clothed young man before him was the perfect aphrodisiac. When he came, the spurts of cum shot onto his chest and stomach and Vincent kept pumping to squeeze out every drop. Cameron stepped forward so his leg was in contact with Vincent's, the bare skin contact sending sexual pulses into both of them. Cameron reached out and scooped some cum onto his finger and then offered the finger to Vincent. Vincent leaned forward and licked Cameron's finger before taking the whole digit in his mouth and sucking on it. When Cameron pulled his finger free, he took another scoop and this time gave himself a taste. It made him smile to see the pulse and beat of Vincent's cock – very nearly ready for another eruption despite discharging only moments ago. "Let it dry for a bit," Cameron said. Cameron played with the cum on Vincent's chest and stomach, making a mess as it spread around. The boy wiped his fingers on Vincent's thigh and then pulled on a t-shirt and then his trainers. Cameron folded his school clothes and put it all in his schoolbag. Only then did he allow Vincent to dress again but he did not offer the man a towel with which to mop up the remaining cum. It pleased Cameron to know the man's spunk would be there all afternoon and that it was he who had precipitated it. "We should do this again sometime," said Cameron. Vincent was half dressed – he had put his trousers on first to give the jizz a chance to dry a bit more – when he looked up at Cameron. Vincent nodded in agreement. "Yes. I'd like that. I'd like to see more of you next time," Vincent replied. "You seemed reluctant this morning. Are we good now... to see where this goes?" Cameron asked. It was the first time Vincent had really been given an option to exit the dangerous liaison. Cameron was not demanding or compelling this affair to continue – Vincent had the chance to say "no" and so he chose. "Let's see where it goes," Vincent agreed. The same morning had started rather differently for Adam Mansouri. "Move out of the way, Amanda," Adam said. It was the first girl's name that came to mind as he pushed past Robin and pressed on up the hall towards his best friend. Arthur was talking to Dominic, a mutual friend. "Hey Art, wait up," Adam shouted. "Morning, Adam. Did you bring your notes for the debate today? We can go over them at break time, yea?" said Arthur. "Yea ok," Adam replied irritably; "Don't get your knickers in a twist." "I forgot he's not a morning person," Arthur bemoaned to Dominic. "Get out the wrong side of bed this morning?" Dominic asked Adam. "Yea, your sister was in the way," Adam replied. Arthur and Adam laughed – Dominic, not so much – then Adam's phone announced a text message which he duly checked. Anonymous: [Have you checked your school email this morning?] It was the same Anonymous sender who had contacted him before the October break. Adam: [I told you to fuck off.] Anonymous: [You have mail.] Adam's heart beat faster. "I'll see you in registration," Adam said to Arthur and he left without further conversation. "Read this memo to your registration class it's about..." Adam heard Mr McKenzie had to say to Mr Renzo as he passed but didn't stop to hear any more. Adam didn't know what to expect from the mysterious email but he knew it wouldn't be good. Adam had greatly enjoyed his week off from school - after the coerced events in the boys toilets he had been relieved to be away from the scene of his humiliation and naively hoped the anonymous texter would not darken his days again. In the intervening week, Adam had been excited to return to The Fourth and extremely excited to see Teen Titan again. They met again in the parlour where they had kissed intimately and Teen Titan had watched as Adam stripped and himself jerked off - the voyeurism of the experience had been exhilarating. Adam had wished Teen Titan had been more hands-on but it was still early days for their relationship. That had only been a few days ago and it had taken only a text message to wipe out Adam's good feelings, replacing them with dread. Adam found a place to login to his school email account and found three unread messages. None of them seemed to be anything to worry about but one of them was peculiar. It was an advert for The Foundries nightclubs... On a high school email server? Was this some kind of threat? Adam really wasn't sure so he text Mr Anonymous again: Adam: [Am I supposed to be worried?] But no reply came. Adam was sat in registration class just after the bell rang and was not sure how to feel about the email or the lack of response from Mr Anonymous. "What's up with you?" Arthur asked. "Nothing," Adam replied. "Well I'm convinced," Arthur said sceptically. "Sorry, it's my time of the month," replied Adam cheekily – more like himself. Or the self he presented at school at least. "I thought our cycles were synced?" Arthur replied with a laugh. "Shut up," Adam answered with a laugh of his own. Mr Crane called the class to attention and conversations died down. The usual time was taken up to read the twenty-odd names on the register before the teacher moved on to an announcement. "Before you all start gabbing again, I've been asked to discuss an apparent security concern," Mr Crane said. The class's interest was piqued. "The following memo concerns an email you may have received this morning. If you have checked your school email this morning you might have noticed an advertisement from The Foundries nightclubs," the teacher continued. "The email itself is not harmful but high school students are not an appropriate target for such promotion. The school contacted mangers who confirmed it did not come from anyone representing the nightclubs." The class's interest was waning. "What is a concern," Mr Crane added; "Is who was able to access the school's email database to send this message. The email was sent to every pupil, teacher and ancillary staff member at the school. Although the outcome appears to be benign - no virus, malware or spyware has been detected - we need everyone to be cautious of their internet security. Technical staff looking into it and you will be updated in due course." For a moment Adam thought Mr Crane looked right at him. Was Andy Crane the Anonymous sender? Then the teacher's gaze moved on to emphasis his point to the whole room, with punctuated looks to select pupils in the room. Adam alone seemed to understand the implications and intent of the "benign" email. Mr Anonymous was telling him that he could contact everyone in the school at any time. This time it was harmless advert, but next time... The room returned to a cacophony of mixed conversations but Adam was too preoccupied to entertain Arthur who eventually gave up and took out his phone to update Facebook. When the bell rang to signal the end of registration class, the room emptied and everyone made their way to their first period lesson. "Guess I'll see you later?" said Arthur pointedly to Adam's back. Adam had walked off with nary a word to his friend, but he turned back distractedly. "Yea yea," replied Adam casually. Adam was still waiting for Mr Anonymous to text him. What was the point he was trying to make, what did he want? Anonymous: [Yes.] The response held great implications. Adam had asked [Am I supposed to be worried?] and the one-syllable reply caused Adam to sweat. Adam: [What do you want?] Anonymous: [Glad you asked. I want you to complete a task.] Adam: [What kind of task?] Anonymous: [At lunch time go to the boys toilets on the first floor. Go to the disabled stall. Strip. Then go into the stall next door. Masturbate. Cum in the toilet but don't flush it. After you cum, you can get you clothes.] Adam: [There's no way I'm doing that. I'm not fucking stupid.] Adam glared angrily at his phone and his temperament was not improved by the next reply. Anonymous: [I have pictures of you kissing men at The Fourth. You have sex with them in the parlour, right? Imagine if there were pictures of you fucking them.] Adam: [Fuck off.] Adam replied only to buy himself time to think. Mr Anonymous couldn't have pictures, could he? Just then, a picture message came though that gave Adam pause; in it he clearly him kissing Toulouse, with the ebony-skinned man wearing only black underwear and his leg over Adam's lap. Anonymous: [He's your favourite, right?] Anonymous: [I text that picture but just imagine if I had some way to send pictures like this to everyone in school?] Adam felt himself filled with equal parts fury and fear. Anonymous: [Your choice is to take a risk and complete the task. But if you don't do it, I will definitely share nasty picture of you with naked men. I'll out you to everyone in school and if you were ready for that, you would have done it already.] Adam: [This is a trap. There will be cameras in there, right? I do it and dig an even deeper hole for myself, give you more blackmail material?] Adam knew he was being manipulated and felt trapped to obey, but what good would that do in the long run? He had read enough sub-par gay fiction to know "I didn't have a choice" followed by blatantly self-destructive behaviour that was contrary to the characters interest never ended well. Mr Anonymous was setting him up by raising him so his fall would be all the greater. Anonymous: [There are no cameras, you idiot. Do you have any idea how hard it is to secretly film schoolboys in the toilet?] Adam: [You'll arrange for someone to steal my stuff then.] Anonymous: [No Adam. You are the only one I'm in contact with. I can't guarantee no-one will use the toilet but I can guarantee I have made no provisions for it.] Adam: [And if someone does by chance come in and see me... that's better than being outed by you?] Anonymous: [I'm sure you can threaten or explain your way out of it. I have more tasks for you, by the way. This one is easy. Getting caught might be good for you because you're going to need to get good at explaining things.] Adam: [I don't believe you. I refuse.] Anonymous: [That's your choice. But I'm not bluffing. A threat is only a threat if you go through with it. I will reveal your secret and since you have spent so long mocking and ridiculing gay kids, I expect you know how hard it'll be to be exposed.] Adam had a choice - the problem was there were only bad options to choose from. He made no reply but Mr Anonymous wasn't done. Anonymous: [I believe the topic of the debating club today is: does bullying have social utility? Your decision might just rest on your answer to that debate.] Adam had joined a debating group the previous year – they explored ethics and socially relevant topics. It wasn't cool to admit it but the debating group was the best class he participated in. Adam and Arthur listened to two classmates as they set out a compelling and scathing indictment of bullying: for the destructing force it represented to young people's lives, the lowering of self-worth and the contribution it made to suicidal ideation or attempts. Adam stood up and paused theatrically before speaking but he was actually wondering if someone in the class was his would-be blackmailer. Is that why Mr Anonymous had meant? Was it someone he had bullied? It must be someone at school if they knew about the debate topic... or they knew someone who went to the school... or had he mentioned it to Toulouse or one of the men at The Fourth? "The question set was: does bullying have social utility?" said Adam; "We've listened to an argument that concludes no, of course it doesn't. Bullying makes people sad, suicidal, it reduces self-worth and causes sleeplessness and fear. Bullying creates a climate of victimisation. The other group concludes therefore that bullying has no social utility..." The class watched Adam, wondering how this was any way to open up a rebuttal. Arthur had agreed to let Adam take the lead on presenting their case so he stood solemnly at his friend's side. Arthur disapproved of Adam's bullying behaviour and was always the first to step in and stop it. Could Arthur be his blackmailer? Adam was getting paranoid again. "But they're wrong. Some people argue that bullying makes victims tougher. If you can tolerate bullying you'll be stronger for it. Maybe that's true and if it is, then bullying would be socially valuable. But what I mean," Adam ploughed on before he could be interrupted by the opposing team; "...is being a bully gives you power. Bullying improves the bully's self-worth by reminding them how much better they are than other people. Because you're smarter or richer or more attractive or faster or more desirable..." The watching classmates looked appalled – the teacher included. "The question of social utility – that is, the value something has to a group of people – cannot be considered exclusively from the victim's point of view. If a victim is not better for it then bullying has no value? No, that wasn't the question. The question was, does bullying have value? And the answer is yes. If bullying makes the bully feel better... does it not then have social utility?" Adam took his seat again and Arthur whispered "well done" while the class remained stunned and sickened in silence. At the end of each debate the class voted on which team presented the best argument. Not if they agreed with it, but who was most persuasive. Debates about euthanasia, the hijab, privatisation of the NHS, capital punishment – these were all contentious and emotive. But when it came to debates the question was never: do you agree? The question was, who was most convincing? Adam and Arthur were very pleased to swing the majority by one vote. The bell rang for lunch and Arthur was left bewildered when Adam said he wasn't hungry. "Are you fasting so you look good for the fundraiser next month?" said Arthur. "Are you saying I look fat?" asked Adam, sounding more light-hearted than he felt. "I'm saying... What's up with you?" Arthur asked, suddenly serious. "I'll see you later," Adam replied without answering. Adam had forgotten about the fundraiser - he hadn't the time to think about getting wet to raise money for the school. Adam was too busy trying to make a decision about what he was going to do – to capitulate or not to yield. Adam wondered what his would-be blackmailer knew of the debate. Did he know the argument Adam had been going to make? The only person he'd discussed that with was Arthur. Or did the would-be blackmailer simply knowing Adam's task was to argue the merits of bullying? In so doing he was making the argument for his own harassment. The blackmailer was persuading a malign campaign against Adam. Adam who had spent so long creating a web of misery for others was now trapped himself. He checked his school email again and had received a message from Mr Anonymous. It contained images of him with Toulouse in his favourite booth, facing the stage – how or when the images had been taken, Adam wasn't sure. What was important was that Toulouse was nearly naked; Adam's shirt was open and Toulouse's fingers were brushing his nipple and their faces were locked in passion. Adam felt fear as he checked to see who else had received the email. Only him this time but the meaning was clear - the blackmailer could send them to anyone at any time. And he would. A few minutes later a text arrived. Anonymous: [Consider the email your only warning. Do as you're told.] Adam believed Mr Anonymous – if he didn't strip and jerk off, he would be outed. Would that be so bad? There was another way to avoid being outed by his blackmailer - come out for himself. Could Adam do that? He didn't want to, but could he if he had to? That was the problem - he didn't have to. He could avoid being out of the closet – it was risky but achievable - by doing what Mr Anonymous asked. But what about next time or the time after that? Adam was getting ahead of himself. Why not come out? That was the question. Was it shame or fear or stubborn, bloody-minded addiction to his status that stopped him? Maybe all of the above. The lunch bell had rang ten minutes ago – enough time for classrooms and hallways to clear and the whole school to settle again. Adam passed though the Huddle Hall – in the opposite direction from his intended destination was a din of activity as the cafeteria served chips and sandwiches and gluten free brownies. Adam wished he was sitting down to lunch rather than taking the stairs to the first floor and heading down the corridor towards the boys toilets. He passed no-one on the way there. He was about to do what sub-par gay fiction had taught him was a bad idea but he was also talking himself into it. Adam could jerk off. Adam like jerking off, jerking off was good. He pushed into the toilets and felt fear again. Was this how victims of bullying felt? Adam scanned the room for cameras and saw nothing untoward – but if they were hidden, how would he know? The disabled cubicle was at the end farthest from the door; Adam checked every stall on his way up the room but they were all empty. He should have liked to lock the door into the toilet but there wasn't one – health and fire safety. The toilets did not have that venerable public toilet smell: stale urine, disinfectant and poo. It was fresh without being overpowering, smelled clean without reeking of fake lemons. Adam reached the final stall and entered it. He dropped his bag in the corner of the stall and took of his blazer and tie in quick time; he kicked off his shoes and removed his socks – the floor was cold and he tried not to think about whether it was clean enough for bare feet. Adam swiftly unbuttoned his shirt and dropped his trousers, slipped both off and dumped all the clothes on top of his schoolbag to keep them off the floor. Adam Mansouri was now stood only in his tight boxer shorts. He listened carefully for the sounds of anyone entering but the room was silent so he took off his boxers and stood bare naked. Adam was so scared of being caught, he didn't know if he'd even be able to get hard. Putting that aside for a moment, he still had to change stalls. He pulled the stall open and peeked out – the coast was clear - so Adam stepped out and pulled the door closed. He couldn't lock the stall with his clothes in it so he'd have to be fast. The ridiculousness of being naked in the boy's toilet was off the chart - Adam couldn't dream a nightmare this bad if he tried. Adam scampered into the next stall and closed, then locked, the door. He stood in the stall and pondered how Mr Anonymous would even know he'd really done wheat was asked of him - could he just pretend he had done it - and realised why he'd been told to cum in the toilet. Cum would float in the water and his blackmailer would come along and check... Could Adam catch the person responsible? Would he really want to hang about after wanking naked in a school toilet? Adam had wasted enough time, it was time to get it over with now - follow the stupid instructions and cum in the toilet. Adam found it difficult to get himself hard and tried closing his eyes and thinking of Teen Titan. Teen Titan's hot, smooth skin and balls like coconuts – Adam felt his cock stiffen in his hand. He was pumping away and sliding his free hand over his body. His hand grew bored of wandering his chest and took a detour to tease its way into the crack of his arse. Adam remained aware of his surroundings, the circumstances of how he came to be here never fading. His bare feet on a cold floor and the cool air tingling his bare skin; under other circumstances he would have been excited by the risk and even the commands that had brought him here. Soon Adam's finger was circling the sphincter of his arse without entering it. The sensation even of teasing it was enough to bring the horney teenager close to orgasm... Then he heard the toilet door open. Adam was safely hidden in a faraway stall by boy's voices carried. "Yea, I read the Trick Is To Keep Breathing. I just thought it was rubbish," said one boy's voice. "It's a classic," came the reply. How old were they? Adam couldn't tell. He tried to remember how long ago he'd read the Janice Galloway book for English class. "Classic my arse." "Hurry up and pee. I want to get lunch." Adam's eyes were open and furtively looking to see if anyone looked over the top of the stall; he couldn't trust Mr Anonymous to tell the truth that no-one would be sent to catch him. But no-one was there. Adam was still stroking as he checked to see if anyone was looking under the stall and see his bare feet and ankles. Adam liked being naked and liked being seen naked - he was cocky in the changing room and at The Fourth, but this was a real challenge. Naked in the boys toilet and trying to orgasm... he'd never found it so hard to cum before. Adam tried to listen to where the boys were – could he hear one of them at the urinals? The stall door next to him creaked open and Adam froze. Laughter followed; "Come and look at this..." "What?" "Someone's left their clothes here. Like, all of them. In a pile." "What?" was asked again and then a laugh. Adam stroked vigorously now - how loud was the sound of pumping a six and a half inch cock? Fear was still the overriding emotion, but he directed his thoughts towards the thrill: he liked showing off – strutting shirtless after football matches and swaggering around the changing rooms in his underwear. He even showed off his abs in class sometimes to impress people – or to mock Robin and Cameron for being poofters. At moments of introspection Adam acknowledged how pointless gay slurs were given he was gay himself. Except no-one at school knew that. Except those mysterious text messages meant someone did know. His bare skin was sweating now - his black pubes and brown skin were tingling while one hand stroked and another gripped a buttock. Concentrating on the thrill was helping, his balls were starting to churn towards a climax. "Wow. I wonder who left them here." Adam was actually close to cumming. "Should we leave them here?" Another laugh, giggling actually – Adam realised the boys were probably several years younger than him. "Let's take them. If someone's left them here it'll be funny if they're..." There was a pause as they both must have had the same thought at the same time: the owner of the clothes might still be there. Adam was busy wondering what the hell he'd do if they took his school uniform and left him there naked. Adam pit his lip as he climaxed, remembering at the last moment to lean over the bowl of the toilet to leave the deposit floating on the surface. As quiet as he'd tried to be, Adam could hear his ragged breath like a megaphone. "Hello?" Adam squeezed his cock until the ejaculatory duct was clear. His cock was still hard-ish and he hoped to delay a little longer. He could see a shadow fall over the space beneath the door. "Eh... hello?" Had they heard him cum? "Let's get the fuck out of here." Adam was wiping his cum stained hand on his thigh. "Do we take..." "If you two touch my stuff I'll kick your balls so hard you'll be looking through them!" roared Adam. Adam heard the terrified sprinting of legs as they launched themselves out of the toilet. As soon as he heard the door click closed he dashed out of his cubicle and back to where his clothes were. His heart was pounding with excitement that he did not like to acknowledge. He redressed without ceremony or interruption and he wondered – would his blackmailer come to check if he had cum in the toilet? Should he wait and see? Watch the toilet to see who came to check? His phone already had a message. Anonymous: [When you're done, get out.] Adam left the toilet – abandoning any thoughts of entrapping his blackmailer. Adam: [I've left.] Anonymous: [I know.] Did he really know? Was his blackmailer watching now? A few people were milling around... Anonymous: [Did you enjoy that? Did the little visitors see you?] Adam: [They didn't see me.] Adam headed for the stairs and took them two at a time, abandoning any hope of catching someone looking. It had been a fool's hope and this man was no fool. Anonymous: [And the other question?] Adam: [Does it matter? If I enjoyed it, does that make it ok that you're blackmailing me?] Anonymous: [Good question. Is a sub still a sub if he enjoys being controlled?] Did this dumbass even understand what a sub was? The enjoyment derived from being controlled - consensually - was the whole point of submission. But Adam hadn't consented; this hadn't been submission, so what was it? Adam: [I'm not your sub.] Adam ignored the question of whether he'd enjoyed it or not. He'd cum - and who doesn't enjoy that - but that wasn't the point. He'd been manipulated. Adam couldn't help but feel like he'd just negotiated with a terrorist and in so doing he had revealed he'd do insensible things to keep his secret. Anonymous: [Enjoy the rest of your day, Adam. I'll have another task for you soon...] Do you love Nifty stories? Consider making a donation to keep it running - http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html - authors do not receive gratuities. If you liked this story and want to contact me, say something nice. I love hearing from readers: niftyencomiums@gmail.com Check out my Tumblr for short stories, chapter synopses and excerpts: https://niftyguy.tumblr.com/archive If you are enjoying this story, I have also written: School Exhibitionism - http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/highschool/school-exhibitionism The Symposium - http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/the-symposium/ The Embarrassment of Riches - http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/highschool/the-embarrassment-of-riches/