SHE-MALE SCHOOL: A Teacher Seduced
1. A PROLOGUE
After over fifteen years of teaching in public school systems in Canada, I was offered a job at a reclusive private school in southern California. I was in desperate need of a change in my teaching career, having been living an exhaustive mind-numbing routine. I was sick of the pressure to just pass everybody, I was sick of the entitlement issues of today’s students and truth be told I was sick of the six months of winter (it really is depressing when there is snow on the ground by mid-October).
At first, I balked at the job offer, but when the school’s Headmistress committed to paying all my relocation costs and offered a salary that was double my current salary in Canada, I couldn’t resist. Not to mention, southern California doesn’t get snow.
When the Headmistress of the school called me about the job, I was quite surprised since I never actually applied, but I remember the phone call vividly:
“Hi, is this Ms. Jasmine Winston?” asked a friendly female voice.
“Yes it is,” I answered, having just gotten home from work a few minutes earlier, after a rather exhausting day that had tested my patience.
“My name is Headmistress Alexis Carleton and I am in charge of an all girls’ school in southern California,” she introduced herself.
I assumed I was about to be invited to come and speak to her school staff about one of my keynote presentations. Although not an expert, I have written about teaching assessments that work and also spoke on bringing learning to life. Last year, I won a teaching excellence award in Canada as one of the most innovative teachers in the country.
She continued, “After seeing you speak a few weeks ago, I found myself wishing I had someone like you on my staff with such enthusiasm and such passion for teaching. I went back to my school rejuvenated by your lecture. Then a couple of days ago as I was planning for next years’ school year a thought popped into my head. If I want someone like you, why not just go out and get you.”
I listened vaguely, tired from the day, even though her flattery was cheering me up slightly. Yet, her last sentence pulled me right into the conversation. “Pardon?”
“I want to interview you for a position at my school, although I am already confident I want to hire you,” she informed me.
I was flattered and surprised. “Really?” I asked, still a bit dumbfounded by the call.
“I must have you,” she said, her voice showing a determination even over the phone.
We spent ten more minutes on the phone before I agreed I would get back to her in a couple of days with an answer if I was interested in setting up a Skype interview.
Over the next couple of days I considered the opportunity. My youngest son was in grade twelve and was already accepted to a university playing football hours away, my daughter was in second year university in Toronto, over 30 hours away and I was already worried about empty nest syndrome. A new school, a new start would be a great distraction from being home alone without kids.
Secondly, since I divorced my husband after he cheated on me with his secretary a couple of years ago, how cliché is that, I had wanted to start over and had already been applying for jobs in other provinces…although California was in a whole other country.
So, if I hadn’t been bitter with my current job and lack of a strong education system, if my children were younger or if my husband hadn’t been a cheating bastard I probably never would have considered such an extreme move, but the stars were all aligned and I decided what the fuck…why not?.
Of course, I did my due diligence first and researched the school extensively.
The school, Chateau Johnson for Girls, was a by invitation only school for gifted girls. Located in southern California, the school was in the middle of nowhere and all the girls lived in dorms at the school. The teachers also lived on campus and besides teaching duties were expected to be dorm mothers. The more I read the more mixed were my feelings about this unique opportunity.
Reasons to take the job:
1. The idea of teaching only strong academic girls, young women, was really exciting, but all those hormones would also be exhausting.
2. I loved the idea of living in the fresh air of southern California, but wasn’t so keen on living in the vast emptiness the school was located. The nearest town was forty minutes away.
3. The thought of being a dorm mother was also quite interesting; in public school I had over 200 students a year and truthfully only made real teacher-student relationships with a few. I spent so much time working with kids failing, skipping class and so forth, that making real connections with students was rare. Yet, at Chateau Johnson for Girls class size was capped at 18 (at my current school the cap was 28, but that was only a suggestion and 35 students in a room made for 30 maximum was very common).
4. I was thrilled I would be teaching the same girls all the classes I love: English, World History, Creative Writing, and Drama. I would finally get to teach creative writing. I had always wanted to but the Creative Writing teacher at every school I had ever worked at was already entrenched in the position (and trust me teaching staffs are like high school, full of cliques and hard to change).
5. Free housing was included as part of my salary thus saving me a ton of money on rent.
6. I would get six free round trip flights a year (with no restrictions to where I went).
7. I also had 20 percent preparation time (20 percent more than I had at my last school),
8. I would be in charge of the drama club, the graduation ceremony and would be the faculty advisor for the student council. I was excited by the additional duties as a dorm mother that would afford me the chance to interact with the students outside the classroom environment.
9. Also, I was in awe of the many famous alumni that this small school had. Politicians, lawyers, celebrities, doctors and every other high profile job was represented by the school’s small, but seemingly elite, alumni.
10. Lastly, I was in awe with the dress code of the school. In every school I had ever worked at the dress code was just a suggestion. If I got a dollar for every time I saw a girl’s thong or a boy’s underwear I would be rich; if I got another dollar for every skirt that was too short, or cleavage too low I could feed a third world country. Yet, at the elite school there wasn’t a complete school uniform but very clear rules the girls must follow:
-they must wear a blouse (only one button could be undone) or sweater
-they must wear one of three skirt choices (given to them by the school)
-they must wear pantyhose (also given by the school)
I was fascinated by the fact that pantyhose were mandatory (I had never seen that before; some schools required tights if the skirt was too short or leggings, but that had seldom been enforced). If I saw a dozen girls in pantyhose in a whole year that would be a lot at my school, unlike the eighties when I was in high school and they were worn every day. I had been wearing pantyhose or thigh highs since college when my boyfriend of the time liked me in them. I have always loved the feel of silky nylon on my legs and felt they accentuate my strongest asset perfectly. I have small breasts, 34b and a decent ass, but my legs are easily my best asset. Conversely, I always noticed women in pantyhose and although I am straight, I often fantasize about being with a woman.
I am a published writer with a few plays published, a book of poetry, and a few articles on education. Yet, my most prolific writing was under the pseudonym Jasmine Walker. I love writing porn. I have written more than eighty stories on a website called Literotica, the majority of them rather popular.
My themes are almost always about submission, seduction, humiliation, and stockings. My genres are varied, but my most common are lesbian, incest, group sex and gay. This was my dirty little secret, I lived vicariously through my writing. My real life being a lot less riveting and exciting in comparison to my fictional world, thus this move was a chance to rekindle the adventurous part of me that had never really taken the risks my characters took.
I wanted to be like my characters, and every story always has pieces of the real me, yet I am much more conservative in real life (although I am not a complete innocent either), although like many of my characters I was just one temptation away from breaking free from the invisible chains society had put on me. Although no one who knows me knew this, it was the naughty side of me simmering just below the surface…bubbling like a volcano long dormant, but like all volcanoes they eventually erupt.
In the end, the offer was too good to refuse, both financially and professionally and after two Skype interviews I was officially offered the job. I accepted, but due to an already planned trip with a couple of girlfriends, I could not arrive till the day before school started, not ideal but the reality.
2. THE FIRST DAY
I arrived, disheveled, exhausted and PMS-ing after a five day drive that was one disaster after another and had me arriving a day later than anticipated.
Headmistress Alexis, she refused to allow anyone to refer to her by her last name (and I quickly learned that all the teachers allowed their students to call them by their first names as well), was so sweet and helpful when I arrived. She wasn’t fazed at all when I called her about my travel problems and after I finally did arrive she had students help me get settled in. I arrived just after 3:30 of the first day of school; I ended up finally meeting Headmistress Alexis in person at her office, curious if she was as commanding in person as she was on the phone and on Skype.
Her secretary, a very pretty young woman, greeted me, “Headmistress Alexis, will be with you in a moment, ma’am.”
I smiled, “Please call me Jasmine.”
“Of course, Ms. Jasmine” the blonde smiled, before disappearing behind the door.
I waited a couple of minutes before I was finally face to face with the woman who changed my life and would change it even more later.
She walked directly to me and surprised me by embracing me in a warm hug the moment we met. Breaking the hug which seemed longer than usual non-family hugs she said, “Jasmine, I am so happy you made it here.”
“Sorry, I am late,” I repeated my apology from a couple previous phone calls.
“No problem, I am just so happy you have agreed to be a part of our family,” she said, squeezing my arm.
I thought she was very pretty during our Skype interview, but the Internet did not do her justice. She was a black haired beauty (like the ones you only see in fashion magazines or movies), dressed in a professional business suit, black pantyhose and five inch heels that had me feeling overwhelmed. She oozed a mixture of power and sex, something I always wished I had; I was instantly intimidated by her even though she was soft spoken, caring and excessively touchy-feely. I felt even more inferior as I was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, perfect for driving but not for meeting your well-dressed boss.
“I am very thrilled to have been offered this opportunity,” I replied, as she sat on her desk and crossed her pantyhose clad legs. My eyes watched her legs briefly, the pantyhose seeming to literally shine.
Unfortunately, she noticed me looking and smiled, as if she knew of my secret fascination for pantyhose and my secret fantasies of submitting to a woman. “They are Wolffords.”
“What is?” I asked, confused.
“My pantyhose,” she said, seemingly noticing I was staring at her legs.
“Ok,” I said blushing, but trying to be casual about it.
“Feel them,” she offered, her voice soft and inviting.
“Pardon?” I asked.
“You need to feel how soft they are,” she said, her heel dangling from her foot.
“Ok,” I said, nervous and yet curious. I moved to her and touched near her knee. I had worn silky smooth pantyhose my whole life, but I had never felt anything so outrageously soft. “Oh my,” I said out loud.
She agreed, “I know. They are what all the students wear too. I believe that for our school to be the best we must be the best in everything. We recruit the best students, we hire the best teachers, we have the best technology, and we must dress the best as well.”
“Wow,” I said, so used to getting by with outdated computers, worn out textbooks, and teachers who hated their jobs.
She continued, “The skirts the girls wear are Ralph Lauren and the pantyhose Wolford, I considered making the shirts all uniform too but I wanted the students to have it all.”
“How so?” I asked, impressed but curious.
“Well the skirt and pantyhose implies conformity, family and team,” she explained, before adding, “yet, choosing their own blouse or sweater gives them a chance to show their individuality.”
“Wow giving the resemblance of choice while still controlling it,” I assessed impressed.
“It’s a mirage,” she smiled back.
“Ahhhh, with you being the puppet master,” I joked back.
Her smile widened, “I control everything that happens here, Jasmine.”
“So it seems,” I replied, amazed by just how manipulative and yet brilliant the Headmistress was.
She pressed her intercom and said, “Amanda, please bring in the pantyhose.”
“I have always believed how you dress commands a certain respect that is almost never questioned,” she explained, her shoe slipping from her foot and dropping to the floor.
I noticed her toenails were ruby red and the pantyhose were sandlefoot, the same kind I always wear.
“I agree,” I said, before adding, “I would have liked to meet you in person dressed more professionally than I am today.”
She laughed. “I don’t always dress like this either.”
Amanda entered and I noticed she was wearing the same shiny type of pantyhose, although hers were a mocha color, the kind I liked the most (it made the pale me look like I have a tan). “Here you go, Headmistress.”
“Thank you Amanda,” the Headmistress said, taking a small bag.
I watched as Amanda silently knelt down, picked up Alexis’s shoe and slipped it back on her foot.
“Good girl,” Alexis said, as if she was speaking to a child and Amanda left the room without a word.
I must have looked as perplexed as I felt as the Headmistress explained, “Amanda used to be quite a handful, but through constant discipline she has learned to be very obedient.”
In retrospect, this was the second oddity that should have set off alarms in my head (the first was letting me touch her leg), but I was so in awe of her confidence and unexplainable allure I missed the clues completely.
I nodded, “I wish students at my old schools were so obedient.”
“Oh here, you will learn the students are very well-behaved,” she said, yet her tone implied she wasn’t talking about school. Again, In retrospect there were so many clues as to what was underneath the surface (pun intended), but I was so taken with her confidence, beauty and intelligence that it never occurred to me that I was being pulled into a web of sin, being groomed for a position much different than what I was hired for.
“I think I am going to like it here,” I smiled. “I have never felt I had the support of my administration at any of my old schools. Oh sure they talked the talk, but they tripped anytime they tried to walk.”
She laughed, before her tone got serious, “That is funny. But here, I back up everything I say.”
I stammered, not wanting to imply I was doubting her, “I-I-I didn’t mean to imply I was questioning you.”
“I know, dear,” she smiled warmly. Being called ‘dear’ was odd considering I was no doubt a few years older than her. She handed me the bag and said, “Here are a dozen pair of Wolfford pantyhose for you in a variety of colors.”
Taking the bag, I replied, my face showing my surprise at such an odd gift, “Thank you.”
“You are welcome, Ms. Walker,” she replied.
My face went beet red. No one knew my secret erotica identity.
She instantly corrected herself, “I mean, Ms. Winston. Sorry, I was just on the phone with a Mrs. Walker about a coaching opportunity at our school.
I let out a sigh of relief, feeling my secret was still safe, completely oblivious to the reality that it wasn’t an error and that the labyrinth of innuendo and seduction was underway.
Again, in retrospect it was so obvious….
“Go have a shower and dress up, Jasmine, we have a faculty supper we delayed a day so you could meet the rest of the staff,” she instructed.
Happy to have a shower and present myself respectively, I didn’t notice her words were an order and not a suggestion. “Ok, I definitely could use a long hot shower.”
“I will have Amanda come and get you at ten to seven,” Alexis said.
“Sounds good, I don’t think I would be able to find anything around here on my own,” I joked.
Alexis smiled, “Don’t worry my dear, we will look after you here.”
An hour later I had been shown my fully furnished apartment (it was nearly as luxurious as a Penthouse of a hotel), I unpacked a few dresses and clean undergarments and had a nice, long, hot shower. Deciding to try to impress the immaculate Headmistress, I choose a dress rather glamorous for a faculty supper, a red dress that I had only worn once at a wedding and I pulled out a pair of mocha pantyhose, identical to the ones Amanda was wearing earlier, and put them on. As I slid them on my legs I felt rich and decadent. It was like the time I was upgraded to first class and was treated like royalty. The nylon was so soft I got myself slightly damp touching my own legs. I resisted the temptation to masturbate even though I had not had an orgasm for a few days (the long days of driving exhausting me past the point of my usual daily self-exploration and I was just finishing my period). Instead, I did my make-up and hair and tried to look my best.A knock on my door, at exactly ten to seven startled me as did Amanda’s outfit. She was dressed in a skin tight red dress, five-inch heels and black pantyhose that seemed to shimmer and shine. She was easily one of the prettiest young women I had ever seen in person and I knew the temptation to misbehave was going to be very difficult. The apple was right in front of me and seemingly offering for me to take a bite.
“You look beautiful, Ms. Walker,” she complimented.
“As do you,” I returned the compliment.
“Are you ready?” she asked.
“Almost,” I said, adding, “I just have to slip on my heels.”
“Let me help you with that,” she offered, entering my room.
“It’s ok,” I replied, but she was already on her knees grabbing my foot.
“No, I insist, Ms. Walker,” she countered, as I looked down at her, my pussy getting an uncontrollable tingle.
I lifted up my foot and she slipped my first heel on and then did the same to the other. Once done, she stood back up and smiled, “There, is there anything else I can do for you, Ms. Walker?”
Her tone was so sweet, sincere and yet seemingly implying almost anything I was so distracted by her beauty, eagerness and unspoken implications. I stammered, “N-n-no I think that will be all.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” she shrugged, “Well are you ready to go then?”
“As ready as I ever will be,” I said, nervous to be meeting all my new colleagues.
She offered her arm, which was strange, but I took it and she began leading me through endless hallways with my arm hooked in hers, feeling a little lightheaded by her touch, no matter how innocent it was. A slight wetness formed in my panties as my body pondered the taboo possibilities with this young beauty.
Thankfully before I got to wet, we arrived at the hall, which was rather extravagant like everything else at the school so far. I was the last to arrive and as soon as I did I was thankful I spent the time to look my best. Each member of the faculty was dressed in either a skirt and blouse or a dress, and all were wearing similar glimmering pantyhose.
I was introduced to the rest of the small staff, each one seemed as sweet and genuine as the next. They all offered their assistance in whatever I needed. I learned that everyone on staff had been here at least five years and the woman I was replacing resigned only because she was offered a job on Senator Erica Smith’s staff, an alumnus of the school.
We had a great evening of getting to know each other and socializing. The dinner was delicious and I was surprised when three hours had so quickly passed. When I realized the time, my body suddenly hit the wall and I said to Alexis, “Thanks for the great welcome, but I am completely beat.”
“You’re welcome,” she smiled, squeezing my hand. “Let me just text Nicole and make sure they are done in your room.”
“Done what?” I asked.
“Unpacking you,” she answered, as if the answer was obvious.
Instantly I panicked. What if they opened my box of toys? Being single for a while now I had purchased a few self-help toys. Although it wasn’t a massive collection, it was definitely in the category of things students didn’t need to know about me.
“They are just finishing up,” Alexis said. “You can meet some of your seniors before you officially meet them in class tomorrow.”
The thought of meeting some of my students was exciting, the thought of my students holding my dildo, vibrator, rabbit, or butt plug (I bought out of curiosity, but had never actually tried always chickening out at the last second) was mortifying. I said my goodbyes and headed back to my room.
After all the surprises of the day, I received another one when I entered my room and four girls, all still dressed in their school uniforms, were breaking boxes down.
A pretty blonde saw me first and said, her accent heavily English, “Welcome to Chateau Johnson, I am Lisa.”
“And I am Priya,” added a dark skinned beauty who’s breasts were barely held in by her tight blouse, two buttons at the top undone, her pink lace bra easy to see. “Wow, you are a knockout,” she added.
I blushed at the compliment from a student, but before I could respond a red haired beauty, with green eyes, sauntered over to me, clearly the leader of the group, extended her hand and greeted, “Hi, Ms. Jasmine, I am Nicole. President of the Class of 2013.”
“Hi Lisa, Priya and Nicole,” I replied, scanning for the box that had my toys in it.
“Don’t forget me,” called a girl with a very clear Aussie accent from the kitchen. Peaking around the corner, a short hair blonde greeted, “Hi, I’m Christine.”
“Well it is nice to meet you all,” I smiled, “but I hope there won’t be a name test tomorrow, I am way too tired to promise I will remember.”
Lisa joked, “I thought you were supposed to give the tests?”
I laughed back, “Good, we are on the same wavelength.”
“Well, we will let you get some rest before you are fed to the lions,” Nicole smiled, her eyes drawing me in.
“Thanks ladies, you saved me hours of work,” I said.
“At Chateau Johnson we are one big happy family,” Priya added.
“Well, thanks again,” I said.
“My cell number is on the table in case you can’t find anything,” Nicole added, before moving to my ear and whispering, “Your box of toys is under your bed.”
My face flushed and I stammered, “T-t-thanks.”
“No worries, Ms. Jasmine, we all have our skeletons,” the redhead added, her tone ominous.
The girls said goodbye and left me alone. I was a bit rattled and worried that the whole school would end up knowing about my box of toys. Luckily, I was so overtired, I got undressed and collapsed into bed, oblivious to the many subtle clues that hinted at the things to come.
3. DRIPPING WITH INNUENDO
The first couple of days flew by and I was in awe of just how different the school was. It was like I had been beamed up by a UFO and transported to an alternative universe where all students respected their teachers, used manners and cared about their grades.
During the school week the curfew is 10:30, while it is midnight on the weekends, except on special events, the first which was homecoming in three weeks.
The school had quite a variety of activities for the girls after school. There were a lot of clubs to join: debate, drama, cosmetology, fashion, culture club, cooking, United Nations, student council among others that held meetings Tuesday and Thursday after classes. On Monday and Wednesday the student council held fun activities. For example on Wednesday they did a massive scavenger hunt. Sports teams practiced after dinner, which was held in a large dining hall for the entire student body, and free time for homework followed. It was a very full packed schedule with the belief that busy students were good students without time to get in trouble. It was a theory that seemed to be working brilliantly, as every student was involved in clubs or sports, most both.
The evenings were fun but allowed for little downtime. I did drama on Tuesdays, helped with student council on Thursdays and helped run other events on Mondays and Wednesdays. I didn’t coach sports so I did get some downtime which I used to have a nice bubble bath, read a novel, prepare lesson plans or write one of my stories. Not surprisingly, the first new story I began writing was a lesbian story about a submissive teacher being seduced by her headmistress, although the plot was rather vague so far I based my characters on Alexis and myself.
My seniors were like a world UN, a multicultural smorgasbord of races and nationalities.
My English class consisted of students from Australia, Canada, China, England, France, Germany, India, Italy, Japan, Mexico, Peru, Russia, South Africa and the United States.
My other classes were equally diverse and overall there was over forty different countries represented at the school (and over eighty in the history of the school), something the school was very proud of and celebrated.
The rest of the first week was amazing, truthfully the best week of my teaching career. I loved the diversity, I loved how every girl was academically strong, I loved that most girls eagerly offered their opinion and I just loved the positive learning environment.
The only oddity during the first week was the daily interruption of my senior English class by Headmistress Alexis. Each day she would have Amanda come to my classroom and remove a girl to go see Headmistress Alexis for the majority of the class which ended right before lunch.
It wouldn’t be out if the ordinary in theory as she made it clear she was a hands on leader and wanted to know what each student’s goals were for their senior year and beyond. It was actually a very proactive piece that I greatly supported when she mentioned it to me that first day.
But each day the girl who was taken from my class returned looking completely flushed (their faces red, seeming slightly sweaty and their uniforms slightly askew). I noticed it the first day when Lisa was called to the Headmistress’s office, but didn’t think much of it and again the second day when my student from Japan Reiko returned similarly flushed.
The third day, which was Thursday because I missed Monday, I watched intently out of curiosity for the return of the dark skinned Priya; unfortunately although I thought she too looked flushed, I couldn’t tell for sure because of her dark skin, but her hair which was in a ponytail when she left was now down. On Friday when the very shy Kala returned flushed and unable to make eye contact with anyone I was baffled.
My preparation period was after lunch so I decided to go and inform Alexis that her meetings with the girls had the girls coming back from seeing her rather flustered and out of sorts.
Amanda wasn’t back from lunch yet so I knocked on the door and Alexis called, “Come on in.”
I entered and was surprised by how she was seated. Her black pantyhose covered legs on her desk, her heels off as she reclined back in her chair. I asked distracted by her legs, “D-d-do you have a moment to speak with me?”
“I always have time for my staff,” she smiled.
“Thank you,” I said, pulling my eyes away from her pantyhose-clad legs.
“Please sit down, Jasmine,” she offered.
I sat down on the chair where I was only a few feet away from her feet. Nylon clad legs and feet are my fetish, my weakness…the one thing that turned me on even though I had never crossed the line from straight to, well, less straight.
“I hope you don’t mind me being comfortable. I am trying to get used to five inch heels and it has been a bit of a transition,” she explained, stretching her leg up in the air. “My feet are killing me.”
I laughed. “No problem at all. I can barely wear two inch heels without wanting to end my life before the day is through. Balance is not one of my strengths.”
“We will have to work on that,” she said, although she didn’t clarify if she meant my balance or walking in heels.
After a brief moment, she asked, “What can I do for you, Jasmine?” she asked
I couldn’t take my eyes of the soles of her feet, as I stammered, “U-u-um, I was curious about what you discuss with the girls when you see them. They all came back flushed and, well, disoriented.”
“I imagine they do,” Alexis smiled.
“I just thought I would let you know that once they come back from seeing you they are pretty much useless for the rest of the class,” I explained, breaking my eyes away from her perfect feet and instead staring into her just as alluring eyes.
“That is very flattering,” she said, her answers cryptic riddles that only had me more mystified, more intrigued, more frustrated and more concerned.
“Um,” I began, not sure what to say.
“Do you know why I really hired you, Jasmine?” she asked, lifting her left leg up and repositioning her legs so the right was crossing the left.
“I thought it was because you had to have me,” I replied smiling, the words that had flattered me so much and started the ball rolling in my dramatic move to another country, not realizing the meaning of those same words could be construed in a completely different manner.
“Exactly,” she said, smiling wide, her tone playful.
When she said no more, I continued, “And because you saw something in me that impressed you and thought I was perfect for this position.”
“Again, exactly,” she agreed, adding, more cryptic words,” you will be perfect in many POSITIONS.”
“Ok,” I agreed, dragging out the word, clearly showing my confusion at the way she stressed the word ‘positions’.
“I take a very keen interest in every student in this school. The individual meetings are for me to get to know each one IN and OUT,” she said, the stressing of ‘in and out’ confusing me.
“Oh, oh, ok,” I stammered, completely overwhelmed by the powerful Headmistress, my eyes unable to stop taking quick peeks at her legs and feet.
“I give every student and teacher here exactly what they need, but it is only through understanding their every need that I can keep them completely SATISFIED,” she explained.
Although hard to confirm or pinpoint, it seemed every last word of her responses were dripping with sexual innuendo. I replied, “Well that is very commendable of you. I have never had a principal that really seemed to care about the staff or students. They were always too busy playing the education game.”
Her tone shifted slightly, hinting at annoyance, “I am not a principal Jasmine, I am a Headmistress and the distinction is important. I am only accountable to MY students and MY staff and I take my job very seriously.”
I stammered, not wanting in any way to imply I was questioning her dedication or leadership. “S-s-sorry if you misinterpreted my words, I simply meant that is actually why I came here, to serve under someone who is more than just a paper pusher or a career climber.” I noticed after I used ‘serve’ which was an odd word choice, but her stocking-clad legs were a real distraction and after having touched them once, ever so briefly, I wanted to again. So many of my fantasies, especially after the betrayal of that bastard who will remain nameless, involved being seduced by a woman (sometimes younger like in my stories Pet Teacher, Deconstructing the Professor or the Lesbian MILF Seductress series and sometimes older like in Training Teacher or Turning Teacher Black). My fetish for stockings always figured into the seduction as it was always what I first noticed in a woman (well that and their eyes which made Alexis two for two). Yet, living in Canada, where it snows six months of the year, very few girls or women wear stockings or pantyhose…tights were more the logical fashion (although tights look sexy, they do not feel sexy).
She smiled, her brief annoyance gone as quick as it had surfaced, “Sorry. I get a little defensive when I am associated with the pencil pushers of the public school systems.”
Trying to compliment her I replied, “Well, as far as I can tell you are the exact opposite of all the past administrators I have worked under.”
Again I noticed my own accidental potentially sexual implication of my word choice, first ‘serve’ and now ‘work under’. Was my subconscious desperately screaming to get out and make one of my long-time fantasies a reality? Alexis was beautiful, was powerful, and assumedly dominant, and she wore pantyhose every day. If ever there was a person to make my fantasy a reality it was her, but she was my boss and mixing work and pleasure is never a good idea.
Her answer only enhanced my naughty thoughts as she quipped, her voice seemingly sensual, yet it could have been my growing libido that made it seem that way. “Oh I hope you will be working UNDER me for a long, long time, Jasmine.”
My pussy leaked a bit at her words, that could easily be taken as sexual, although could just as easily just be a response to a statement, although Alexis’s tone, smile and facial expression spoke to the former.
“Now back to your concern, Jasmine. I will be spending a lot of one on one time and sometimes two or three on one time with each of the senior girls,” she said, her words innocent and yet my head went into the sexual gutter of lesbian orgies. I tried to push away my growing inappropriate thoughts and yet they wouldn’t go away. It didn’t help that Alexis’s voice was naturally sultry and that her legs and feet were a constant distraction. I desperately wanted to see her toes in the sheer fabric as all I could see from my current sitting position was the soles of her feet and glimpses of her legs.
She continued, as I tried to focus on her words, “They need lots of guidance in all aspects of their life and with coming to grips with who they are and what makes them different.”
Her words were again cryptic, particularly in hindsight, but at the time her answers seemed very logical. I agreed, “Yes, in today’s still male dominated world, it is important for young woman to understand who they are as they prepare for the sometimes unfair work world.”
“I couldn’t agree more, although the girls here have a 99 percent college graduation rate and an almost as impressive professional career rate. Here at Chateau Johnson we prepare our girls to be successful no matter the circumstances,” Alexis bragged.
“I love how proactive and inspirational you are, Alexis,” I agreed, her philosophy of preparation similar to mine.
She smiled, “We make sure they always RISE to the challenge so to speak.”
“A great philosophy,” I concurred, oblivious to plethora of hints thrown at me that nothing was as at appeared on the surface.
She seemed to hold back a laugh as she added, “Whenever they are in a HARD situation they just go with it and use their unique gifts to their advantage.”
“And I hope I can be a BIG part of the preparation for these girls,” I eagerly added, stressing the word ‘big’ like she had ‘rise’ and ‘hard’, again oblivious to the real commitment I was making.
Unable to completely hold back her laughter, she chuckled softly, “Oh Jasmine, trust me you are indeed going to play a very BIG role in fulfilling our students EVERY need. Although I must stress such a commitment is exhausting.”
“I am here to give everything for my students,” I again offered, making a commitment much broader and deeper than I meant at the time.
She added, “Of course you do, Jasmine. That is one of the reasons I recruited you so aggressively, your dedication to doing whatever it takes to assist in your students’ learning. Of course, you understand that true pleasure COMES from complete servitude to your students.”
So pulled into her inspirational words, words I had always said myself but never saw come to fruition in the schools I had worked at, had me buying in completely to her every word and missing every obvious innuendo. “I do get a weird tingling sensation of accomplishment any time one of my students succeeds.”
“Yes, It is can be completely FULFILLING in so many unexpected ways,” she smiled, uncrossing her legs. As I watched transfixed, it felt like the simple shift was in slow motion. “Sorry, my leg was falling asleep.”
“No problem,” I shrugged, adding, “my butt was constantly asleep on that tedious drive from Canada to here.”
“Well I hope that we keep you hopping here so that never happens again,” Alexis quipped back.
“Actually, it is happening now,” I said, standing up on the pretense of my butt going numb but really so I could get a better view of her legs and feet.
Standing up I did get a much better view of her perfect legs, displayed so tantalizingly on her desk and in those shimmering pantyhoseIt was like she knew my real intentions, her smile so knowing, her eyes so smug (can eyes be smug?). “Well,” she began before being interrupted by the intercom.
“Headmistress, your car is here,” Amanda announced.
“Well, if that isn’t perfect timing. I was building up the rising action in hopes of a riveting climax,” she sighed, using the plot diagram of a short story to symbolize our conversation, before moving her legs off the desk and standing up.
“I have to get ready for class anyways,” I shrugged, even as I wondered where she was going with so many odd references.
“We will continue this conversation later, Jasmine,” she promised.
“I am not going anywhere,” I joked, referring to our middle of nowhere location.
She smiled, ” Good, because I want to FILL you in completely.” After a moment as she slipped into her high heeled shoes, a different pair than last time I saw her and added, “With our full expectations of your role here in the school.”
“I look forward to it,” I replied, wanting to be a team player.
“I bet you are,” she quipped ominously, sending a chill down my spine. She hugged me, definitely longer than social rules would dictate, her breath on my ear, “You and I are going to have so much fun.”
Another chill tingled through me but this one went directly down below as I took her hot breath, soft tone, and earlier conversation to all add up to something more than just teacher colleagues. I replied, my voice shaky, attempting to just give the slightest subtle hint that I would be interested in crossing the line from colleagues to something more, “I am a team player, Alexis, and am willing to do ANYTHING to prove it.”
As she moved away, she smiled, “You know the word anything has a pretty wide scope.”
Like when I was with my ex-husband, once my pussy started burning my mind shifted from shy and full of trepidation to hungry and eager (my ex would call it submissive). No longer breaking eye contact, I agreed, “Yes, yes it does.”
“We are going to get along famously,” she replied, not seeming to miss my counter innuendo.
She gave my hand a squeeze and said, “We will continue this conversation, my dear.”
“Again, I look forward to that day,” I smiled back.
Once she left, I took a deep breath and wondered…what was I getting myself into?
4. A STRANGE WEEKEND OF INTRIGUE
I returned to my classroom with a few minutes to calm down before I had to teach creative writing. Each girl was to write a poem for class that they would read aloud. The idea was that the class was a comfortable and safe environment to present your writing. The first time there would be no commentary or discussion from the class just listening. In future weeks we would have different focuses on what was expected.
Creative writing was scheduled the same time as media studies and journalism and thus I got only some of my senior class while the rest of the class was filled with seniors from Ms. Angela’s class. This was only my second class in creative writing as it occurred every second day as the last class of the day, while on the other days I had drama which was backed with home economics, thus I was still getting to know the students who were not in my home room. Because there were three classes offered at once, I only had twelve students which made the classroom more intimate for sharing.
Each student read their poem to the class and I was in awe of the breadth of talent these girls had. The girls used tone, they used metaphors and they wrote poems that were honest and raw. I was giddy with excitement of where I could take these girls as the year progressed.
Yet, it was Nicole’s poem that had me intrigued, because even as she told me exactly what she was I didn’t hear a word of the truth but instead heard words she didn’t say.
Ambivalence
What do you see?
Do you see the real me?
Because…
Perception is deception as the flickering light obscures the truth.
What do you want?
Do you like what I flaunt?
Because…
Underneath the exterior is a stunning interior that defies society’s conformity.
What do you see?
Who do you want me to be?
Because…
I am man AND woman a blurred reality to Adam and Eve’s simplicity.
What do you crave?
Are you mistress or slave?
Because…
Behind the power and control lies the submission we all dream to extoll.
What do you see?
A she or a he?
Because…
What you see is not what you get
You don’t know the half of it yet
Because…
I can give and I can become a fog consumed between what’s real and fake.
You can’t see,
The real me,
I can be man
or
woman
or
both
like the moon can be all or nothing but usually is somewhere in between….
I thought it was a cry of hope from a girl who was questioning her sexuality when in reality she was playing me like a fiddle, reeling me in with her words.
After all the girls presented their work, I asked them to hand in a hard copy of their poem, so I could assess their format and style, even though really it was so I could read Nicole’s poem again and try to understand her heartfelt confession.
I considered telling Nicole if she needed to talk to someone, I was always available, but realized that offering such a thing was breaking the sanctuary of the creative writing classroom. The poets could write, share their words and not be judged. It was just a poem after all, yet it lingered with me all weekend.
…..
The weekend was a blast as they had silly initiation activities with the freshman all Friday evening and Saturday. I won’t get into all the events but, again in retrospect, there were so many clues that I was not at a normal school. Some of the games included:
On Friday a banana relay where each freshman had to walk, or waddle would be the better term, from one end of the soccer field to the other. Of course, it looked like they had small curved cocks. It was hilarious to watch.
On Saturday a fashion show where each of the freshman were dressed up as a man and they had a fashion show where the freshman hammed it up.
In total there were over a dozen fun team-building activities and the Saturday evening ended with a dance where each of the girls dressed up like princesses. The shift from boy to girl was stunning.
After a supper and dancing, there was the final initiation. Each freshman was given a glass of non-alcoholic bubbly just as a big screen popped up and Headmistress Alexis appeared on the screen.
Although Alexis could not be present, she Skyped from Washington where she was working with Senator Smith, to give a speech officially welcoming the freshman to the elite school. I noticed that this time it was Alexis who was quite flushed, but didn’t put much thought into it at the time. In retrospect, her speech should have added pieces to an already big puzzle.
Sorry ladies I could not be there in person, but I am in Washington with Senator Smith word-smithing a bill for school funding, it is not riveting stuff but it can’t all be glamorous. Anyway, without further adieu here is my welcome speech:
Young ladies of Chateau Johnson for Girls,
I hope each of you had a good first week and an enjoyable initiation. It is only through constant mingling with your peers that you will slowly come to accept who you are. Here we do not judge. Here we only help in building on your unlimited potential.
Being different isn’t bad, it’s good. Society has forever labelled us as outcasts as not equal. Yet, the reality is it is women like us that really rule this world. We allow men to live in their charade of power, but the truth is they bow down to us and are literally at our beck and call. Here we are one big family.
You were selected because you have the perfect mix of strengths and you will spend the next four years grooming those strengths until you graduate. Then you will be whatever you want to be. A lawyer, a doctor, a teacher, a politician, a fashion designer, an actress or whatever you dream to be. Our alumni are very loyal to the school and to you…our future…if you are loyal to us.
And where is Ms. Winston?
I realized she was speaking to me. I moved in view of the camera.
Oh there you are. You are one of us now too, Ms. Winston. So please join the freshman for our Chateau Johnson pledge. Repeat after me:
I did as suggested, honored to be included in such an elite circle.
I am now a sister.
A lifelong member of the Chateau Johnson sisterhood.
Sisterhood is family and family is sisterhood.
I will always protect my sisters, love my sisters and respect my sisters.
I will be proud of who I am, my differences and will ignore societies judgmental attitudes towards me.
I will always rise to any challenge and overcome any obstacle.
I will be an advocate for my sisters, the school, and others like us.
I am now a sister.
A sister of Chateau Johnson.
Girls you are all now forever members of one of the most powerful groups in the world. If you work hard, play even harder, you can achieve whatever you want. There are Chateau Johnson alumni in every major profession in the world in over 50 countries and Chateau Johnson alumni ALWAYS look after fellow alumni.
Now raise your glass for a toast to you. As of today you are forever Chateau Johnson ladies.
After a quick toast, Alexis finished her speech:
Have a good rest of the evening and a great first year here at Chateau Johnson for Girls and remember once a Chateau Johnson girl forever a Chateau Johnson girl.
She waved and signed off.
The dance continued for another hour before I noticed something that caught my attention. My fellow colleague Ms. Angela came out the bathroom red faced and her hair a mess. A moment later Nicole came out of the bathroom similarly red faced but her hair still perfectly in place.
Instantly a naughty thought popped into my head. Did Ms. Angela just have sex with Nicole, a student? It seemed unlikely, especially in such a public place, but yet the red cheeks and messed hair did imply something. I have never once seriously considered crossing the line with a student.
Sure there had been some very sexy girls in my classes, but other than brief thoughts while home alone with my toys it was nothing more than a harmless fantasy. I did have one student a couple of years ago, right after I got rid of my cheating bastard of a husband that proved very tempting.
He was sexy, rugged and domineering all things that turn me on. He flirted with me shamelessly and being single I suddenly felt eighteen again. The temptation, like Eve’s apple was very appealing and I was both hungry and vulnerable, but I resisted the temptation, no matter how appetizing the forbidden fruit appeared.
Yet, I had only been here a few days and already I could feel my pussy begging for attention, the temptation of taking a bite out of the juicy, ripe apple becoming more and more tantalizing. The conversation with Alexis only intensified the hunger, the innuendos dripping with temptation.
Of course, I had been consumed with thoughts of sexual submission with Alexis, but after one fleeting moment of potentially seeing what may have been a lesbian rendezvous between a teacher and a student, had my mind reeling.
I spent over three hours a day teaching my students and noticing their legs clad in the most sensual pantyhose I had ever felt. The Wolford pantyhose literally seemed to shine and caused me to get distracted on numerous occasions already.
Nicole was sitting in the front row of my English class when her shoe hit the floor and like Pavlov’s Rocky I instantly looked at her stocking-clad foot. Over the course of the past week, Nicole had on many occasions allowed her shoe to hit the ground or simply slid her feet out of her shoes (one day three inch heels, another day flats another day open toed two inch heels and sadly on Friday boots…don’t get me wrong the boots were hot and really brought out the best of her but there was no foot glimpses).
I thought it was all coincidence, that Nicole had no idea what she was doing to me, but after seeing her leave the bathroom seconds after my colleague I began to wonder was I Pavlov’s Rocky and she the sexy psychologist?
Curious, I walked over to Ms Angela who was getting a drink of punch which she downed completely. “Are the social events always this much fun?” I asked, trying to be casual.
She shrugged, oblivious to what I was thinking, “They tend to be pretty crazy usually.”
“The girl’s can just go and go,” I said, adding, “I am not sure I can keep up.” again, in retrospect my last two sentences were greatly ironic, but I did not know that yet.
She laughed not in fun, but in an odd resignation, “If you only knew the half of it.”
Looking closer I noticed some white in her black as night hair. Oblivious to what it actually was, my mind still not putting the puzzle pieces together, I pointed out, “You got something in your hair.”
Her face went flush again as she moved her hand to her hair and sighed. “I should probably go and get this out,” she said and left me before I could ask any more questions.
I turned around, poured myself some punch and saw Nicole staring at me, a wide smile on her face. She lifted up her glass to me and after a slight nod she downed her drink.
The night ended shortly after and I went home horny as hell and slightly dazed.
On Friday evening, after the first couple of initiation activities were done I went home and wrote more on my new lesbian submission story about a teacher being seduced by her powerful principal. The story hit a road block when I tried to figure out how to make the seduction believable. By then though I was horny as hell and pulled out my wi-vibe and got myself off imagining what could have happened if Alexis would not have had to leave. I imagined her opening her legs and revealing her silk pantyhose were crotchless and her pussy was displayed perfectly. My orgasm came hard and fast as I replayed our conversation, the innuendos, and my own hopeful fantasy.
On Saturday night after everything I thought I saw, I again retired to my room horny and this time I went directly to my bedroom and toys. I put the wi-vibe in my pussy and opened my laptop, deciding to tease myself while I wrote. After ten minutes of starts and stops on my Alexis story, I gave up and started a story about a teacher being seduced by a student. The story flowed with ease as I created a vivid tale of a divorced teacher being pulled into the wonderful world of lesbian seduction by a student.
Closing my eyes, my story getting me revved up, I imagined being taken on my desk, a fantasy I had never made a reality; I imagined her under my desk as I taught, while she was licking my pussy; I imagined her sneaking into my room after curfew and making me her pet; lastly, I imagined her sharing me with the whole class as I was made to sexually pleasure each of my beautiful, young, just barely legal students. I came even harder than last night at the naughty thought of such a twisted submission.
On Sunday, I spent the day prepping for my next week’s classes, had lunch with the other teachers (where I constantly wanted to ask Angela a question I couldn’t get out of my mouth). I worked out in the gym, had a long bath, watched a movie and relaxed, purposely avoiding writing and getting myself horny again. Like always, once I came, I am ashamed of my naughty fantasies and my very unprofessional thoughts.
I checked my author e-mail account after supper, which I had not checked in a week and was surprised to have so many e-mails. My new story ‘Finding Euphoria’ had been released and was doing pretty well in the Literotica summer contest, it wouldn’t win but it had lots of personal responses from females wanting to explore their own lesbian curiosity. I answered every e-mail as I usually try to do including giving advice on how to dress, answering questions about how to let someone know you were submissive. Rejecting offers to meet in person, taking suggestions for future stories, admitting I didn’t plan a sequel to a story. Lastly, I occasionally gave advice to a few women who saw themselves in my main characters and were bi-curious and wanted guidance as they came to grips with their sexuality or feelings of submission. Yet, it wasn’t till near the end of reading all the e-mails, when I was getting tired, that I was shocked awake, as if a bucket of cold water had been poured on me.
From: MistressA
To: Jasmine Walker
You WOW me Silkstockinglover
Ms. Jasmine
I have read all your stories and had to write to you. Your underlying theme of submission is clearly a cry for help as you write your fantasies instead of living them.
You need a Mistress! You crave submission and the need to just let go and allow someone to guide you to real sexual enlightenment.
Thankfully, your princess in shiny pantyhose has cum (yes cum not come).
I expect you to respond to my e-mail instantly by replying instantly with three fantasies you have. I can only help you if I know you inside and out.
Now be a good girl and obey your new Mistress.
Luv
Mistress A
P.S.: Don’t hesitate, don’t consider the pros and cons of my offer…OBEY now.
I stared at the e-mail. I have had lots of aggressive presumptuous e-mails in my years of writing, but mostly by men. I had been asked to be a Mistress to submissive women and, to help guide them in their self-discovery. I have even helped men come to grips with their own curiosity, but this was new. I should have pressed delete and moved on, but instead I clicked reply.
I don’t know why I clicked reply (well I was damn curious truth be told) but before I knew it I was responding.
From: Jasmine Walker
To: MistressA
Re: You WOW me Silkstockinglover
Miss A,
Thank you for the e-mail, which stories did you most enjoy?
I don’t know why I am answering, but below are my three biggest fantasies:
1. I recently started a new job and although I know it is wrong, I have started to fantasize about my students…particularly one. I imagine her seducing me or blackmailing me to submit to her unconditionally…because I have fantasized for years of submitting to a woman but have never been able to cross that invisible line between fantasy and reality.
2. I have a new principal and she is easily one of the most beautiful, powerful women I have ever met. I was instantly smitten with her and have had many fantasies of being her submissive pet. Being taken in her office or licking her pussy under her desk as she meets with a student. The idea of doing things no one expects me to do is a major turn on, so is the risk that I could be caught.
3. Being the centerpiece of an orgy. It sounds nasty and it is I guess, but I have always wanted to be a part of a threesome or more some. Being ravished by cock after cock, or licked by tongue after tongue. Conversely, the idea of a glory hole and sucking cock after cock or a sorority party where I licked pussy after pussy is also a major turn-on.
Anyway, again I am not sure why I am answering this e-mail, but it was nice to just list my fantasies.
Jaz
I clicked send before I had a chance to reconsider. I checked the remainder of my e-mails and was intrigued by another that requested I write a she-male story. I had never considered such a story even though I had written gay stories and a cross-dressing story.
I responded back that I was curious about the idea and asked for suggestions on what the plot would be. As I clicked send I noticed the e-mail ID was prettyandhung, which made me even more curious. Was she an actual she-male, I just assumed it was some guy with a she-male fantasy. I wished I would have asked, but figured if she-he(?) was serious they would respond back..