[Angie UK]

This is my first venture into a humiliation story, but humiliation is the core of my fantasies, I hope you enjoy and be kind 

It started as just another day at school. I was the art teacher at a tougher than average secondary school. But I loved my subject and Thursdays were not so bad as we had after school art club where the more talented and enthusiastic pupils would attend. For any teacher, giving help, advice, and guidance in front of students that want to learn was the biggest buzz of all about the job.

This Thursday was another hot day at the end of summer, and I wore a practical light-yellow summer dress with sensible white underwear underneath. The art classroom could get warm in the afternoon and it was always a balance between wearing something light and comfortable and not too see through that it excited the older boys.

So, the day ticked by like any other day until at 4pm, with normal lessons over, I waited for my art club to turn up for their weekly enthusiastic pursuit of the subject. I quickly noticed as the students started to arrive that none of the younger students were turning up, the room was filling mainly with 5th and 6th formers, typically 16 to 18 years old. I was puzzled as to why the younger students had not arrived but thought nothing much of it.

Then suddenly the “Jenkins Gang” turned up, four eighteen-year-old boys that had given up on studies and indeed most teachers had given up on them. This lot had never been to art club and the four of them turned up together at the stroke of 4pm when the lesson was due to start.

“What are you doing here” I asked Jenkins directly on their arrival.

He smirked before replying “Miss, you said art was for all so we thought we are ‘all’ so we might find out more”.

Amidst the smirks from his gang and the four other students, two boys and two girls from my usual class I kept my composure and replied “of course, art is for everyone so please sit down and we will get started”.



With everyone seated I started with the class. On their worktables were tubes of acrylic paints, water and brushes and of course fine quality art papers for them to paint on. I started my motivational speech about the use of acrylics and the way they could create a three-D sense to a two-dimensional art form. My four regular students were in awe of my lesson, the other four making up Jenkins gang less so.

“So, miss” Smith, one of Jenkin’s gang piped up “is it true that anything in the world can be your canvass”

I hesitated a moment, wondering where this was leading, before concluding that it was on OK question and replied “yes of course Smith, anything you want can be your canvass”
“Including Tracy Emin’s knickers” Johnson, another member, replied, to much sniggering.

This time my voice stammered a little at the mention of the word “knickers” and I splutter out hurriedly “well yes Johnson, I suppose so, but we are talking about painting with acrylics and I am not sure a certain woman’s underwear is relevant”. Again, there is much sniggering in the room.

Deciding that there was no more point in trying to motivate then through the power of my words I tell them to start a picture, focussing on a theme whereby the two-dimensional form could be enhanced by the acrylic paints they were using. I was relieved that there was no more back chat as the eight students started squirting paints out of the giant plastic bottles into the pallets and selecting brushes to start their works.

I wandered the classroom admiring the artistic creations, commenting, and advising constructively where I could. My four teacher’s pets Isabel, Abigail, Harry, and Bertie set to the task with their usual flair and ability. The four from Jenkins gang, who I call by their surnames Spencer, Smith, Johnson, and Jenkin’s himself also work on their pictures with gusto though they are clearly lacking any ability. There now seems an almost strange quietness in the room.

Eventually the silence is broken by Spencer as he shouts at Isabel “what you looking at”. Isabel looks shocked and bows her head and barely notices Spencer as he gets up with an old jam jar of water mixed with blue paint from where he has cleaned his paintbrush and throws it at her white blouse. The white school blouse turns a pale blue and semi transparent as it sticks to Isabel’s breasts, clearly revealing her white bra underneath it.

Isabel gasps in shock at this and momentarily covers herself with her hands.

“What on earth are you doing Spencer” I scream at the top of my voice, trying to take control “get out”. Spencer holds his ground and just grins and instead Isabel hops off her stool and makes a run for the door. Jenkins shouts out to her “we know where you live and if you ‘tell’ then we will come round and rape you stupid’.

It is my turn for a sharp intake of breath, but I am unable to get any words out as Abigail, looking petrified, gets up and runs to the door after Isabel.

“OK Spencer and Jenkins, you are both in for double detention and I will be recommending to the headmaster that you both be suspended”. I expected my words to strike fear into them and leave the art classroom, but they remain silent and hold their ground. In the standoff I thought I felt something brushing against my backside, but it is so slight that at first, I ignore it. Then the sniggering starts, and I exclaim “what is wrong with you” before twisting around.

There I see Smith, reaching across from his stool with a large paintbrush in hand, the remnants of green paint on it, grinning from ear to ear. I look down at the back of my summer dress, pulling it round slightly and see that he has brushed several strokes of green paint on it close to my backside.

“What the f…” I start to cry out somewhat unprofessionally before Smith interrupts me “Sorry Miss, I thought your flowery yellow dress needed some grass on it and you did tell us the world is our canvas”. Everyone in the room smirks, including Harry and Bertie sitting there watching the scene unfold.

“OK everyone, get out, art class is OVER” I shout out in my best ‘teacher in command’ voice.

But instead the whole of Jenkins’ gang stands up around me, fully loaded paint brushes in hand and surround me.

“No… no” I shriek and try to push out trying to slap to slap them away. But I am surrounded and outnumbered and the giggling boys are getting brushstrokes at will onto my pale dress, laughing and taunting me about the lovely canvas my dress is making. The boys have this well-planned; they all have pallets of paint within reach to keep reloading their brushes and although I try to push my way out they are taller and stronger than me.

I glance across at my two normal art class pupils, Harry and Bertie, but they just smile back, clearly enjoying the scene. When I cry out “help me” and then “please get help” they remain there impassive and smiling at the scene.

Jenkins and Smith are in front of me and they are relishing the fact that they are now painting my dress covering my breasts and the damp paint brushes are gradually soaking my dress to my plain white bra underneath. Paint is getting onto the skin above the V neckline of my dress as the boys seem to recognise no boundaries. Then suddenly I gasp as a jam jar of dirty painting water is poured down the top of the back of my dress, its relative coolness catching me by surprise in the hot classroom. I react by twisting round only to catch Johnson for a second as a second jam jar of water is thrown into my face. Seconds later that is followed by two more jam jars of water being poured over my head from behind and I twist back round again helplessly trying to swat away their continued assaults.

For a moment, the boys stand back and admire their handywork. The top half of my dress is soaked, along with my face and hair, covered in brushstrokes of paint. I shiver slightly from the shock of the cool water before tearfully pleading “OK boys, you have had your fun, pleeeeaaaase can you leave me alone now”.

The Jenkins’ gang just stand there, smiling, the only movement being Harry and Bertie who get up and rush to the art supplies storeroom and disappear inside. I try to pull my soaked dress away from my breasts, glancing around, wondering how I could have any chance of making a break for it.

My eye catches Harry and Bertie emerging from the storeroom and I look across to see Henry with the largest canvass we use, clean, white and pristine which he lays down on the largest clear area of floor in the room. Bertie has the largest box he could find full beyond the brim with tubes of acrylic paint.



What are you doing boys?” I ask them inquisitively to which there is no reply from Harry and Bertie. Instead Jenkins replies “we want to carry on with our art experiment MISS if that is OK”

“No Jenkins, it is not” I reply “it is time you stopped and left – GET OUT NOW, I WON’T WARN YOU AGAIN!”

But Jenkins and his gang just laugh out loud again and step slightly closer as Bertie puts the box of acrylic paints onto the nearest table and starts to take them out and line them up. Meanwhile Harry now has his phone out and is clearly starting to film the scene.

“Harry, I am so disappointed in you, now put that phone away” I scold him but again he just ignores me and smiles back.

As the Jenkins gang close in on me from each quarter I put my hands up like a beginner at martial arts and this just gets more laughs of ridicule as the four boys are almost in touching distance. I keep glancing towards the door behind them, desperate to make a break.

Then Spencer grabs the top of my right arm from behind. In turn I twist the same way and try to make a break between him and Johnson. As I move between them, Spencer grabs the upper part of my left arm and they swing me back round to face Jenkins and Smith again. Jenkins says nothing but slips his hands inside the neck of my dress and tugs it three times, each time three or four buttons fly off and he moves down a few inches and tugs another three or for buttons.

After my initial gasps of shock, I realise that my dress is unbuttoned almost to the top of my white knickers, my paint stained white bra on clear show. “No more, what the fuck are you doing?” I plead tearfully as Harry zooms in on my bra and heaving breasts as I struggle against Spencer and Johnson’s tight grip of my arms. Then Smith and Jenkins grab bottles of acrylic paints, one in each hand, flip the tops with their thumbs and point them at me.

“No…no….no” I exclaim just moments before a range of colourful paints spurt out of the bottle and onto my chest and front of my parted dress, my sensible white bra covered in blue and orange paint. Meanwhile Spencer and Johnson are tugging my partly undone dress down my arms eventually moving their grip above the sleeves of my dress as they drag it down to my elbows. I bend my arms to stop it dropping any further but with the buttons undone it is essentially down to my waist, just my white bra covered in multi colours of paint stopping me from being topless. I continue to shriek as Jenkins and Smith empty the four bottles of paint they are holding and discard them on the floor. Then with their palms spread wide they start to spread the slightly slimy paint over every inch of my skin in front of them, each taking pleasure in rubbing paint into my bra and squeezing my breasts through it.

As I battle to push away the roving hands of Jenkins and Smith at the front of me, I see Bertie out of the corner of my eye handing more bottles of the acrylic paint to Spencer and Johnson behind me. They only need one hand to hold each of my arms and inevitably I feel paint being squirted into my hair and onto the top of my back. As I twist and struggle with the two boys behind me, Jenkins and Smith in front of me have switched to dragging the top of my dress down the rest of my arms and despite my desperate trying to grab hold of it, over and away from my hands.

Soon they are dragging the dress over my hips with their paint smeared hands, revealing my sensible white knickers as it drops to my ankles. I half try to kick out at Jenkins, but my feet are tangled in the fabric and I don’t make contact. Jenkins, standing up straight again, just laughs at me and commands “get her over to the table”. As I scream out “no…stop this” over and over again and grunt with the exertion as I try to twist and free myself of the strong grip of the boys behind me I find myself being dragged to the nearest table, in just my bra and knickers, my dress now left behind on the floor covered in brightly coloured paints.



I look at Harry still filming me on his smartphone and plead with him one more time “pleeease Harry…. Please get help” but there is no movement in his expression and soon I am forced, still standing ninety degrees over an art table on my front. Spencer and Johnson retain their grip of my wrists, holding my arms out above my head whilst Bertie continues to pass them new bottles of paint to pour over my upper back. Behind me Jenkins and Smith continue to coat my lower back and I can feel the paint squirting closer and closer to the top of my knickers.

I gasp out loud as I feel the waistband of my knickers pulled away from me then the cool feeling of a bottle being inserted into the top of them before the heart-breaking sensation of the creamy paint being squirted down the crack of my buttocks. The whole bottle is emptied inside my knickers and then removed only to be replaced by two hands inserting themselves and rubbing and smearing the paint around my ass and close to my womanhood. My voice is hoarse from shouting now and I am reduced to whimpering as I feel my knickers being tugged down to my ankles. At the same time someone has undone my bra strap whilst more paint is poured onto me.

Finally, I am twisted over onto my back and my paint covered bra ripped away from me whilst my shoes are removed, and my knickers dragged off my ankles. I can now see the four boys of Jenkin’s gang as they cover my naked body with more paint, including white paint carefully smeared over my face but kept out of my eyes so that I can witness my humiliation. I keep my legs clamped tightly shut as the boys, hands cover every visible inch of my body. They take great joy in focussing on my breasts and, my pubic area and upper thighs and I clench my legs as tightly as possible to stop them getting to my most private parts.



Then just I wonder when they will ever stop Jenkins proclaims “right boys, I think Miss is ready”

“Ready for what?” I reply concerned “what is it you want?”

“Miss”, Jenkins replies, “this is just our piece of modern art that we need you to complete, our experiment in turning three-dimensional art into two dimensions, kind of the reverse of your lesson”

I look back at the boys, their own white shirts and grey trousers inevitably covered in paint and still in shock ask “what EXACTLY are you talking about Jenkins, just what the fuck are you talking about?”

There is laughter and giggling all around as Jenkins replies “Miss, our piece of modern art is a new take on the nude art from. All you need to do is lie on the canvas Bertie has put on the floor and create a “painting” of your body……. then we are finished and you can go home”

There is a moment’s pause whilst I weigh up my options, the room full of sniggering teenagers.

“Do you promise that” I ask resigned to the fact that I have no bargaining power.

“Only if you do it properly, place a careful print of your painted body onto the canvas with no smearing or messing around and then you can go” Jenkins replies.

And so that is what I did. I carefully lowered myself onto the canvas, protecting my modesty as best I could to leave a perfect imprint of my painted body on it. Once I got up the six boys cheered at the result and with a grin Jenkins thanks me and they pick up the canvas and leave me alone.



Once they had left, I sat sobbing in the wrecked paint covered classroom before pulling myself together and washing myself down as best I could with wet paper towels at the art room sink. I pulled on my paint smeared dress and bagged my underwear, picked up my bag and sneaked back to the car praying no one would see me – bizarrely after all I had experienced I was petrified of having to explain myself to anyone I met. On the short drive home, I certainly got some funny looks.

Epilogue: There was no covering up what had happened given the mess left behind. The six boys were all expelled but I could never go back there to teach – everyone knew what had happened and of course there was the video of it all. I knew I had to find a new job…something that might not be quite so calamitous…………………. TBC!

Brilliant! The perfect setup for a good humiliation yarn, and you did not disappoint.  The pics were an extra bonus.  Merit from me on this one.

Love your first Humiliation story a logical buildup and a perfect scenario for the setting. If it was me, I would have made her sign her painting with "Love Miss!" Merit will be coming as soon as the site allows!

[mikewozere]

Nicely written. Love stories where an authority figure is overpowered and humiliated. +Merit

Wow Angie this had it all. Liking this section more and more with works like this
Great authority figure schooling, and the extra humiliation with the camera also
Finally what a great touch to in print her body on the canvas.
I can safely say her art classes are over but your humiliation story writing classes have begun.
Merit earned xx

Merit for the fresh and classy take on teacher humiliation.

[Angie UK]

Thank-you all for your very kind feedback, looks like Angie will find herself in some more humiliating slapstick scenarios!! x

Thank-you all for your very kind feedback, looks like Angie will find herself in some more humiliating slapstick scenarios!! x

We sure hope so :)

[mikewozere]

Look forward to that. Let's hope she isn't so lucky next time, and gets caught by her pupils :-O

[Angie UK]

Look forward to that. Let's hope she isn't so lucky next time, and gets caught by her pupils :-O

Mike, I just love your "Sarah" stories but Angie might be looking for a career change...we shall see!!

Love this! Absolutely love this! The humiliation is perfect and almost as hilarious as it is sexy to think about. Would love to see more stories like this!

[Angie UK]

Love this! Absolutely love this! The humiliation is perfect and almost as hilarious as it is sexy to think about. Would love to see more stories like this!

Thank-you, more adventures are planned for poor Angie!

[spunkjunk]

…something that might not be quite so calamitous…………………. TBC![/size]

Enjoyed this very much, thank you
yes please TBC
maybe she could give modelling courses? Who wouldn´tt like to make a plaster cast of her curves?
Merit
greetings, spunkjunk

[Angie UK]

…something that might not be quite so calamitous…………………. TBC![/size]

Enjoyed this very much, thank you
yes please TBC
maybe she could give modelling courses? Who wouldn´tt like to make a plaster cast of her curves?
Merit
greetings, spunkjunk

Thank-you, much appreciated, hopefully I will get back to writing soon.

I know this story is 2 years old, but it absolutely hits on so many things that are often missing from humiliation stories. As a lover of the EUF/ENF genre (embarrassed underwear/naked female), this story fires on all cylinders by giving detail about the journey rather than the destination. 

I also love that it mixed wet-and-messy, because so much wet-and-messy content often does focus on the forced stripping aspect.

I think my favorite part was how the hapless art teacher had her dress popped open.