SubscribeStar Story: The Tutor, Part 34
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Part 34
‘I had time.’
That was what I had just told myself, but it wasn’t totally true. My schoolwork had taken a lot longer due to my lack of focus, and it was approaching midnight. After everything that happened at Annabelle’s place, I was doubly exhausted due to the late hour as well as the emotional/psychological toll the day had taken. It was more or less already my regular late-ish bedtime, so I really only had the process of getting ready for bed to figure out whether or not I’d send Annabelle the lewd selfie I took of myself. If I delayed much longer, especially if that stalling took place once I was under the covers, I’d end up falling asleep before messaging her.
What was normally a peaceful evening ritual ended up stressful not only because of the decision I had to make, but also because I had to see my collared self in the mirror as I washed my face and brushed my teeth. And, of course, the sight of myself in just a bra above my waist. That was literally never how I walked around at my apartment, and it served as yet another reminder about what I just did for Annabelle. The moment I was done with the sink, I unclasped the thing and changed into a comfortable loose tee like I preferred. The red haired student might have been fine strutting around in lingerie, but I wasn’t like that.
My phone was right where I had left it, nestled in the covers where it had landed from my throw. Primly sitting on the edge of the mattress so I wouldn’t get sleepy from a more horizontal position, I unlocked the device and stared at the recent picture I had taken of myself. “Ugh!” I groaned to myself. Objectively, it was attractive despite the mismatched colors, but it was so unlike me. And, while nothing in the background proved that this was a partial nude of me, it would still be coming from my phone. My skin tone, my hair, and way more of me than I’d normally be comfortable sending to someone.
But it was Annabelle. As usual, I felt the need to impress her while simultaneously avoiding her judgment, but the pros and cons of doing something like this were impossible to sort out.
She didn’t know anyone at my school, but she did have Bridget’s contact info. She was a girl, which felt safer than someone of the opposite gender asking me for nudes, but she was also eighteen. A teenager. I was her tutor, but apparently also her ‘obedient pet’ and stuck in a collar until I went back to her house for the key. Then there was everything we had done together, which made this feel like both a huge mistake while also almost a continuation at the same time. Plus I had already taken the picture.
Fuck. I had no idea what to do.
Though there was no way she knew I was stuck in the impossible quandary, Annabelle’s name suddenly popped up on my screen as she texted me. It was a single question mark. How could a message seem so immature and yet so daunting at the same time. The barely formed text said nothing yet everything. And suddenly I felt a lot more pressured to make a choice.
Taking a deep breath, I attached the picture but didn’t send it quite yet. I just stared at the screen, going through everything all over again in my head. Isn’t that why I took it in the first place? To show Annabelle that I didn’t mind playing her game? And it was getting to the point where I needed to commit one way or another. Saying ‘no’ would have its own repercussions, as would sending the text, but staying in limbo would make me look bad either way.
Perhaps a bit impulsively, I hit the ‘send’ button. Ripping off the band-aid, although in a way that there was no way to put it back on if I wanted to. Once a text was sent, it was sent. I nervously swallowed at the sight of my bra-clad chest officially in the messages between me and Annabelle. And I waited. Whatever tiredness I had felt before had evaporated in favor of a wave of nervousness that passed through me as each second passed after the small ‘delivered’ appeared underneath the inappropriate picture.
One minute passed. Then two.
Had Annabelle gone to bed? Even if she hadn’t, what exactly was I waiting for? Whether she texted or called in response, I was in no way prepared for whatever she was going to have to say. Would she immediately judge the bra color and demand a second attempt, or say that she was kidding about the whole thing despite a similar picture of her still existing on my phone right next to mine? Or maybe she would flirt and make this whole thing more confusing.
Honestly, I didn’t know which I preferred, if any. Anything but the ‘silence’ that was her lack of an immediate reply.
Suddenly I felt like the teenager I was annoyed at her for being earlier, in terms of my sheer impatience. There was no way I was going to send a follow up message, as I was already regretting the selfie. I so badly wanted to beg her to delete it, or not show anyone, but that would only encourage her to taunt me with such possibilities. No, the damage was done. I just needed to have faith in the neck-down concept that she had demonstrated earlier, as well as a bit of trust in the girl to have some discretion.
After another ten minutes of waiting, I gave up. Either Annabelle was sleeping, or she could guess that ignoring me would make me sweat. One way or another, the only thing that I could do was attempt to sleep. After a bit of tossing and turning, and checking my phone more than I would care to admit, my body’s need for rest finally took over and allowed me to drift off. Normally I slept through the night with no issues, but it should have been obvious that this would be an exception. I found myself somewhere between waking and sleeping dreams, many of which revolved around intimate scenes with Annabelle. My subconscious was taking everything that transpired at her house and throwing it back in my face when I was utterly defenseless against the intrusive thoughts.
By the time I truly woke up to my alarm, it was like I had barely slept. I had to go through a whole new round of ‘I’m not into Annabelle’ in my mind, using the same logic as before. Waking up in a collar was also slightly disorienting and, belatedly realizing what I really wanted to check on, I grabbed my phone beyond just turning off the alarm a moment ago. It really was pathetic how easily I was kept in suspense in regards to her message, but I had also never sent something that scandalous before!
This time, there was actually a message waiting for me. Sent a good half hour ago, with the familiar phrase, ‘Good girl.’
So demeaning, and such a simple response to something that had been such a big deal for me! But that was probably the point. Considering how cavalier she was about the whole undressed thing, paired with the immaturity of being a high school senior, of course she couldn’t be bothered to imagine that others might be more reserved in that regard. What was it with this girl? It was so easy to judge Annabelle, and she was beyond frustrating. But, at the same time, I couldn’t stop thinking about her.
Again, not a crush. Just . . . something. It was confusing, and impossible to explain.
It took me all of ten minutes of getting ready for the day for me to decide to do something I had never done before–I was going to skip class.
It’s not even that I overly cared about not missing any material. I had a solid handle on most of the mathematics content I was currently in the middle of, but it was more than that. In the name of getting good references, as well as staying in the good graces of professors I’d have for future semesters, it was important to not seem lazy or above it all. That meant going to class, participating, and generally being a good student even when I wasn’t always in the mood to be the role model that ‘top of her class’ pressured me into being.
But today? There was no way. The collar alone would spark so many questions. Wearing a cleverly placed scarf would maybe be a solution, but I didn’t want to risk the leather collar peeking out to anyone who happened to see my neck from just the right angle. And then there was my hand. Short of wearing gloves indoors, how could I possibly hide the bold, black marker that proclaimed that I was Annabelle’s pet? On top of all that, I was tired. It felt like I had barely slept, and I wasn’t convinced that my recent work was my best.
All in all, it would be better to stay in. I could review everything I had completed last night, I could scrub at the back of my hand some more, and I could try to get a nap in before returning to Annabelle’s place to get the collar off. I considered texting her then and there to set a time, but decided against it. She had ‘ignored me’ all night long, even if she had really just crashed before me, and acting aloof about everything was probably better as a whole. The more desperate I looked, the more she would walk all over me.
Instead, I got to work messaging a couple of teachers and classmates. Feigning sickness, which would absolutely be a believable excuse for a girl who literally never missed class. Then I sent over a bit of group work to a friend, as I would have to skip the project meeting we had scheduled. Partially to be consistent with the ‘sick’ thing, but also because I wasn’t sure traffic would allow me to make both the meeting and the tutoring session with Annabelle if she stuck with our normal time.
All this trouble, for a girl I was merely supposed to be tutoring for FREE.
After a long morning of studying, checking my work, and making a late breakfast, I finally got around to texting Annabelle. Nothing remotely clever came to mind in terms of responding to ‘good girl,’ so I decided to ignore it and move onto the rescheduled session that would hopefully fix all this and get us back on the right track. Since that went so well when I tried it before.
Trying to at least put a little backbone into the message, I drafted a number of texts before settling on one that was way more simple and direct than the first few attempts. ‘What time tonight, Annabelle?’
And then I was back to waiting.
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