This chapter is story setup – no sex yet. Andrew makes his senior year every horny high school guy’s dream as he obtains his own personal sex slave.
Chapter 1: The Bet
This is the story of how I used the second half of my senior year to turn a girl I couldn’t stand into my personal, completely obedient fuck toy – and how I got rich doing it.
That girl, Sarah is a person I have always found to be extremely annoying, but interaction with her was inevitable as her locker was beside mine for all of high school. Consistently I have also been lucky enough to share classes with her. Sufficient to say I was extremely tired of her by second semester in senior year.
Best described as a generally attractive and popular girl with mediocre intelligence, I will never meet anyone who thinks more highly of themselves than Sarah. If I have to guess her measurements I’d say she is a 30C at the bust. At 5’5” and 135lbs soaking wet it is more than enough to be a great rack; though most important to her physical appearance was her fantastic butt and a toned core from years of volleyball. Her hair was nice silky shoulder length, light brown hair with natural blond highlights in it.
Unfortunately, for every bit she attractive she is, she is more than equally annoying. A person who wears on you fast due to her annoying habit of competing at everything – a high B student who works for every percent she gets. She talks non-stop, and can’t help but brag about herself in every conversation.
I suppose I should describe myself a little too – in many ways I was the opposite of Sarah. While also fairly popular (though our friend groups in our large high school don’t mingle much) my biggest strength is academic. I play on the school’s baseball and hockey teams, but most people know me as the kid who sleeps in class and pulls straight A’s. I’m 5’11” and 170lbs, with a build that is more than athletic enough.
Starting my final semester I had already received early acceptance during the Christmas break to all of my ***ed colleges and only had to hold a 75 average to maintain my status – meaning I needed a 60 average in this semester. Of course, my limited interest in school was diminished even more with the knowledge of how unimportant this last semester really was to me. So it was just my luck that I’d end up in yet another class with Sarah to end my time at our school – economics in final period. We were only on Wednesday of week two classed when Sarah sat down beside me to start the period and our story truly begins.
Sitting in class waiting for the period to begin Sarah walks through the door and straight to the desk beside mine. “Hi Andrew” she says, trying to strike up a conversation as she sits down.
Uninterested I simply nod my head upwards in her direction.
“Are you going to the party this Friday?” She asks, either indifferent or oblivious to my disinterest in having a conversation with her.
Rolling my eyes with my head down I nonetheless respond “Of course, when was the last major party I missed.”
Perhaps sensing my mood she stays quite for a minute or two before asking “are you ready for the quiz tomorrow? I think there’s going to be a ton of graphing on it.”
I have to suppress my initial reaction to laugh when I hear her; of course entry level supply and demand would be a lot of graphing… especially when half the class is idiots like her who couldn’t do the calculus behind the theory to save their life. Swallowing my desire to give her a snarky retort I simply reply “Always. It’s not difficult stuff.”
Clearly annoyed by my still flippant response she quickly shoots back “it’s harder than you think. I bet I do better than you do though”.
Smiling I lift my head up, turn to face her and say “Will you stop saying silly things. You’ve been saying stuff like that for years now and yet you never have.”
Getting more animated she retorts quickly “Make the bet then smartass. If I win, you do my assignments for the semester. You can choose my punishment if I lose.”
About to reflexively shoot her down I quickly realize my opportunity and respond “Fine. But if I win, you have to be my personal slave, doing whatever I say, until you do beat me on a quiz.”
Without thinking of the repercussions, no doubt overly confident she’ll win, she quickly sticks out her hand as the teacher walks in and says “Deal. Shake on it.” Grabbing her hand I shake it and smile. I guess I’ll be studying for tomorrow after all I think. Better safe than sorry.
The next afternoon as I go to sit down for the quiz I make sure to sit in a desk beside someone, so Sarah can’t sit by me. I didn’t need to lose my chance because she was able to see an answer or two from me. Halfway through class I finish the quiz, and quickly hand it in before getting p and heading home to get ready for my victory. The look on Sarah’s face as I get up is truly priceless, a little nervous about our bet perhaps? I chuckle thinking about how much that would “help” her as she tries to finish.
When I get home I do two things. The first thing is to set up a set of high definition peep cams in the corners of my bedroom, I’d gotten them as a Christmas gift and was intending to install them in the girls change room at school. This was a far better use for them at present.
The second thing is order an extra small French Maid costume off of Amazon with 1 day shipping. Our economics teacher has a habit of marking quizzes within a day – best to be ready in case he does it again.
That night I dream of all the ways I was planning on abusing Sarah over the rest of the school year. How enjoyable this was going to be.