This is a “Classic” story from Sept. 2015. Names and student levels have been changed to fit current canon.
Dutch Hall Preparatory School, Mid-Fall.
So, here it is, a new day of glory. The sun is shinning, I’ve got a new crop of Mistress to train, and I’m eagerly awaiting face-fucking Dawnetta, my sponsored slave student and protégé.
Hm. The door is unlocked. No big, Dawnetta has a key, so I hope she is already in.
Oh, yeah, she’s in. I take a look around the room and it’s not good. There is an adult woman, that I don’t recognize, on the rack. Most of the video cameras in the room are aimed at the woman on the rack. Dawnetta just tightened the rack another notch. The woman moans weakly. I hear, from the intercom on my desk, Dean Marshall’s voice.
Oh. Yeah, pull that cunt’s arms off.
Ah, Dawnetta, who is this on the rack?
I have no idea. Dean Marshall brought her in, told me to strip her, then put her on the “Hollywood” rack and follow his instructions when he used the intercom. We’ve been at it for about 45 minutes now.
Well. Shit. This cannot be good. I walk over to the desk, and pick up the phone, taking it out of intercom mode.
Care to explain to me who you are having my slave torture via remote control?
Oh, sure. That is Monique Wright, She is a substitute teacher, for boys English, I think.
We are using slaves as teachers for the boys classes now?
No, of course not!
So, she’s not a slave?
No, or yes. I mean, she’s not a slave.
Then why, pray tell, is she having her arms and legs pulled out of their sockets, and if I understand the camera set up in here, as part of a live show?
Because I asked, nicely I might add, for a blow job from those lips of hers, and she turned me down.
Oh, freaking shit. This is way bad. Like this could close the school bad.
Dawnetta! Take her off that rack NOW and call the nurse!
I admit that might have been a bit of a shout by me. Possibly, even a scream.
NOOOO PULL THE BITCH APART!
I have had it with him. I turn off the phone. Well, actually I threw it across the room. Same thing.
Dawnetta, to her credit, had the mystery lady off the rack in record time. I need to find out where she hides that knife she used to cut the ropes. I wasn’t aware she had a carry knife. Damn sharp at that.
Ah, I know this is going to sound weird because I know you aren’t OK, but does anything feel more out of place than it should?
Please, God, no dislocated limbs.
God must have heard me.
No, I’m sore, but nothing feels dislocated. I dislocated my arm once as a child, so I know what it feels like. I’m Monique Wright, and yes, I was to teach English II in the boys school today. Thank you, Dawnetta. The last bit was addressed to Dawnetta as she returned Monique her clothing.
Ms. Wright? You seem fairly calm for someone who was being tortured for almost an hour.
Dawnetta spoke up. Well, she really wasn’t getting the full effect for the first 30 minutes or so. Marshall wanted it to be a slow build up.
I also have a fairly high pain tolerance, Mr. Branch, is it? That being said, the last 10 minutes were most unpleasant, and I would rather not undergo that every again. I also want that toad Marshall balls on a platter. Failing that, I want him fired and his membership in whatever professional organization that allows him to have this job revoked.
Right about then, the school nurse runs in, rapidly followed by what seems like every member of the faculty. Bring up the rear is Hugo Shelton, the current head of the school executive board.
Ms. Wright, I can assure you that Mr. Marshall’s tenure in his office will last exactly however long it takes me to get to his office. Given that Mr. Branch seems to have broken the phone, I cannot terminate his employment over it.
Hugo is old school. Doesn’t have a smartphone.
A dozen phones are waved in his face, “Use this one…” by most of the teachers.
No, I think this requires a personal touch. And possibly a physical application that might be a bit more than a touch. Ms. Wright, do you have children?
Yes. I have six daughters and a son. Why do you ask?
In return for you not, ah, suing, I am willing to offer full scholarship to all of your daughters and your son. Assuming admission to a university on graduation, a full scholarship to all seven for their undergraduate degree.
Monique looks thoughtful. What accreditation do you need to be a dean of students here?
Hugo looks back equally thoughtfully. Well, the legal requirement is a teaching certificate from the state. There are some traditional other qualities we look for…
Here is the deal. I take your offer for my son. You hire me as dean, and you blow your other qualities out your ass. I also understand that you offer a “Certified Mistress” course. I, of course, will be attending as an adult student, free of charge, and without the possibility of random conversion or killing. You don’t have to treat my daughters any different from any other female students. I understand you have several levels for females students. I don’t want them slaves or be charity whores, but treating them as “Red” status will be just fine. It’s the 21st century, and they need to learn how to survive without being protected from above.
Hugo, to his credit, doesn’t even blink. Your offer is most generous, and we are glad that you have accepted our offer of employment as Dean of Students.
Yeah, it’s going to be a fun fall term. The only downside, I don’t think I will get that blow job from Dawnetta this morning.