A room comes with a cost - Part 3 - Sexgeschichten

A room comes with a cost - Part 3

... motivation.", Mike explained.

"At the end of the day you will have to face the consequences."

"Consequences?", I repeated him in disbelief.

"What, spanking? Like a little kid? I'm 18 years old."

"Yes, could be spanking. If you received more than five entries you can expect at least a spanking.

On Friday we will evaluate your efficiency and your progress. If necessary we will adjust the rules. Could be loser. But could be also stricter."

"That's… Fine," I whispered in resignation and grabbed the pen. My signature shook, ink smudging. "But this is bullshit. I'm finding a job today. Diner called back... interview after school."

Mike nodded, almost approving.

"Good. Forward the email. And Sarah? Uniform starts after school. Lose the jeans for chores."

I fled to school, legs prickling in the cool air, the rules burning in my mind. They know. Planned it.

While lunch I went to the toilets. The cabins were how you would expect it for a public school.

The air was filled with a strong smell of urine and cleaning products.

I locked myself in a cubicle and pulled my jeans and panties down and realized with shame… my panties are soaked.

"Why? Only because I thought the whole day about the rules? I hate my body."

I pulled my phone out while peeing.

Anna texted class:

Rules? Spill.

I typed back:

Nightmare. I have a uniform now for cleaning. Log for my duties and inspections… and motivations…

At least I have a interview at the ...

... diner after school... save me?

Her reply:

Hot. Send uniform pic after.

I typed again:

Hot? I would rather say disgusting.

Anna:

Café again today?

Me:

No sorry. Can't. After interview chores again. I text you when I have time.

I moaned slightly after I wiped my slit and pulled my pants and underwear back up and joined the class again.

The last hours dragged on. Finally, the last bell rang and released us from school. But the day was not very useful for me. I couldn't concentrate on nothing beside the rules and my chores. But for now I tried to clear my mind for the interview.

I walked to the diner. From our school the diner was only some minutes away.

The interview was a sleaze-fest wrapped in grease stains. Midnight Brew Diner squatted on the edge of town, neon sign flickering "Open 24/7" like a bad omen. Vic, the owner, was a paunchy 50-something with a cigar stub and eyes that undressed me on sight.

"Sarah, right? Legs for days... tips'll roll in."

He handed me the uniform: Pleated skirt short enough to flash on a sneeze, low-cut blouse that plunged to my navel, apron like a joke. No thigh-highs... bare legs all the way, skin prickling at the thought.

"Change in the back," he said, jerking a thumb at a cramped office door.

"Gotta see the fit."

"In the back? Do you have a changing room? I'd like to have some privacy."

He chuckled, yellow teeth flashing.

"Door's got a lock, sweetheart. But hurry... shift starts in ...