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“…and here we are at your classroom — 203.” Ms. Wellen strode into the room, heels clacking against the hardwood, and gestured to the back of the room.

“There’s a small office through that door there, where you can do any administrative work. It’s only big enough for a desk and two chairs, but the walls are thick, so you’ll have peace and privacy.”

He looked around, still adjusting to the idea of his new role. Mason’s Academy for Wayward Girls wasn’t exactly the career he had planned, and he was fairly certain that his previous job as an adjunct professor of anthropology hadn’t prepared him for the upcoming term. A class of impeccably trained 25-30 year old women was a far cry from an unruly gaggle of school freshmen.

“Now, I generally only assist Headmaster Mason, but your teaching assistant should be here shortly to get you up to speed. Selena is one of our top students, and she can help you with anything you need. Anything else before I head back to my office, Mr. Dennison?”

“No, thank you,” he muttered distractedly as he took in the room’s setup. The desk at the front was solid mahogany, buffed to a mirror shine. He ran his hand over the back of the sturdy chair (no wheels, he noted), the supple leather cool to the touch. There were only six student desks in the room. From what he had gathered during his interview with Headmaster Mason, the academy was relatively exclusive, and prided itself on its impeccable student-teacher ratios. “We believe in very personal attention for each of our girls,” Mason had told him.

Each student chair featured a firm, vinyl-covered cushion, and each cushion was held down by a latch. He swung the seat of the first desk open, revealing an assortment of numerous disciplinary implements. As he moved to lift a flogger with a delicate pearl-inlaid handle, he felt a short whisper of breath against the back of his neck.

“Professor Dennison?”

He turned to discover a young woman in the college’s uniform, complete with impossibly tall heels that brought her eyes nearly level with his.

“I’m Selena — your T.A.”

“How the hell did you sneak up on me in those?” Recalling the sharp ringing of Ms. Wellen’s boots, he was tempted to believe the brunette had simply materialized behind him.

She laughed softly. “I’m captain of the HM Squad.” Noting his confusion, she clarified “Heel mastery. I can run in them, jump in them, and I’m up to ten flights of stairs. We have yearly competitions with a few other schools, and the girls here are drilled hard and often.”

“I see,” he said, pointedly ignoring the double entendre. He had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last one here, given the curriculum. “So give me the rundown — what do I need to know for when classes start tomorrow? Ms. Wellen said you’re the resident expert.”

“She exaggerates — I’m the head girl of the graduating class, so really I’ve just been the most involved for the longest. It would have been impossible not to pick up the finer points of academy life.”

She moved to the desk he’d been inspecting, sliding the latch back into place. “Rule number one — don’t touch the materials unless you’re going to use them.”

“Got it,” he said, “no playing with the toys.” She looked up sharply.

“You had better not let the headmaster hear you call them that. Tools, materials, reminders, educational enhancements. Never toys. Oh — missed one.”

She bent down to retrieve a delicate chain stretched between two nipple clamps, and he inhaled sharply as her skirt pulled up above her ass. He knew from his interviews and orientation that panties weren’t part of the uniform, but it was another thing entirely to see it in practice. He caught the barest glint of a jeweled plug between the small, round curves of her ass, and found himself adjusting his jacket to better hide his body’s response to the view. She straightened up, eyes immediately drifting to the poorly concealed bulge behind his fly, and her lips turned in the barest hint of a smile as she continued the tour.

“Secondly, cleanliness is strictly enforced. As you might imagine, given the subject matter, the chairs can get quite messy. Each girl is required to clean up after herself — and after you, if need be — before they leave for their next lesson. Punishments are given for lack of compliance, but you’ll have mostly senior girls who are more than familiar with protocol. Hopefully it won’t be a concern.” She moved to the back of the room, just to the side of the office door.

“This is one option for punishment, should you need it.” She gestured toward a chair outfitted with ankle and wrist restraints, as well as an odd bump at the front of the seat. She flicked a switch on the chair’s back, and it began humming as it vibrated against the floor.

“That seems a little more like a reward.”

“Not when someone’s assigned to turn it off just before you cum.”

“Touché”

She pushed open the office door, and leaned against the small desk. “This, of course, is where all of your planning and relaxation will happen, and I’m happy to assist you with that as well.”

“Is that part of the TA position?”

“I’ve been assigned to assist you in any position you need. I consider it a privilege to serve under you.”

Her eyes twinkled with barely restrained mischief as she pushed herself up onto the edge of the desk, sliding forward so that her skirt rode up to her hips. “I imagine you might be a little nervous about starting tomorrow.” She hooked one heel behind his knees, pulling him closer. “I’m happy to help you relieve that stress.”

With a flick of her fingers so quick he nearly missed it, she popped open the buttons on her sweater, revealing a bustier that was failing rather delightfully in its task of holding her breasts. As she leaned forward, they spilled out entirely, her pert, pink nipples grazing his chest. She smiled broadly at the sight of his now fully hard cock straining for release, and trailed the backs of her perfectly manicured nails along the length of it through the thin material of his trousers.

“Unless, of course, you don’t need me.” He grabbed her hips and pulled her forcefully toward him, tangling his fingers in her hair and kissing her roughly. She slid a hand down and undid his zipper, pulling him free and sliding her thumb, now slippery with his pre cum, over the head. He moaned into her mouth and pushed her back, climbing up on the desk to straddle her. She put up a hand and pushed him back.

“Can’t have you wearing yourself out before your first day even starts.” She deftly flipped him over onto his back, sliding herself down onto him, robbing him of the protest he was attempting to voice. “You have all year to fuck me. Today, I’m fucking you. Professor.” She rocked her hips back and forth, sliding his hands up to cup her breasts. He pinched her nipple, and her muscles tightened, the sweet pressure increasing as she bit her lip. He found himself close to finishing, far sooner than he had intended, when she lifted off of him, sitting back on her heels.

He sat up, legs over the edge of the desk. “What are you — oh fuck,” he breathed as she knelt in front of him, licking and kissing down his chest before taking him into her mouth, tongue flicking up and down the length, moaning as she tasted herself. His breath quickened, and his body tightened, tingling with the impending release. In a display of expert timing, she sat back on her heels, mouth open, and closed her eyes, sighing softly as he covered her face and tits.

She reached around him, slipping a cloth off of the desk to wipe herself off, though not before running one of her fingers over her supple breast to catch a drop, sliding it in her mouth with a murmur of pleasure.

“I can handle the cleanup from here — why don’t you find your room and get settled? I’ll be around if there’s any way I can be of service.”

He nodded and turned to leave, looking back once as though to assure himself the whole encounter wasn’t some kind of dream. He was gonna like it here.

NSFW: yes

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