Author: Connard Wellingham Title: The Girls School Part: Chapter 03 Summary: Adam Hazel finds a new job at an exclusive girl's school where he finds things are not quite as they seem... Keywords: MF, Mf, FF, ff, M+F+f+, F+f+, bdsm, span, oral, cons The Girl's School (MF Mf M+F+f+ FF ff F+f+ bdsm span fdom cons) By: Connard Wellingham Copyright (c) Connard Wellingham 2003 This story contains what is known as 'adult content', ie sex. Why one should be allowed to read about murder, torture, violence and killing but not sex is a mystery to me - but there you go, that's the way it is. So if it is not legal for you to read about sex where you are, or you are deemed too young to read about sex or, you find stories about sex offensive - DO NOT READ THIS STORY. This story is fiction. This story is FANTASY. It is intended solely for your amusement and enjoyment. The author would not like to mislead the more gullible among you that the world really is as depicted here. Whether the world would be a better place if people did behave as they do in the story is a moot point. This story can be freely distributed so long as; a) neither the distributor nor the recipient make any profit from it, b) no words are changed without the author's consent, c) the author is credited with being the author, d) this warning section is included, e) acknowledgment is given to www.asstr.org as being the original source of the text. The author welcomes helpful comments and can be contacted at cwellingham@SoftHome.net. Chapter 3 - Settling In (nosex) The first few days of Adam's new job went by in a whirl of impressions and sensations. Greenwood was unconventional in many ways. He had known that things would be different, of course, from the beginning - but knowing it and experiencing it were two different things. Firstly he had two subjects to cover - the computing had, so far, not materialised and there had been no further reference to the 'additional duties' mentioned in the letter. As this was a boarding school, there were numerous supervisory duties, which all the staff seemed to do as a matter of course - although, he noted with wry amusement, he was not asked to supervise the girls' dormitories. Then, too, Anne seemed to have organised the classes in an unusual manner. As there were only 40 girls and five teachers altogether, conventional streaming was not practical. Still, some of the groupings were distinctly odd. He determined to broach the topic some time. As it was he had his hands full. His largest class had 8 girls and, contrary to his expectations, it was proving harder to deal with 8 girls than with 30. He retired to bed each night exhausted. He was aware of other oddities. There seemed very little attention paid to games and sports, something he had sort of assumed went hand-in-hand with boarding schools. Riding seemed to be the only physical activity that was mentioned. In fact there seemed to be very few extra-curricular activities at all. The girls disappeared after the formal lessons and reappeared for dinner. It was very puzzling. As he began to find his feet and relax, he began to notice more subtle distinctions and relationships. The grouping of the girls that he found so arbitrary to begin with seemed to work on a level he could not fathom. There was something about the girls that he couldn't quite put a finger on. For a start they were all mature for their years. Even the 14-year-olds could easily pass for 2 or 3 years older. What was more they were all extremely attractive - not one of them could be described as 'plain'. Indeed they were downright sexy. What is that mysterious element, that glamour, that makes a girl sexy rather than simply attractive? Whatever it is, these girls had it in spades. That was certainly one part of his unease - for the first time in his career, he was aware of his pupils as females rather than teenagers. He found himself watching them in the corridors, the enticing swing of their hips, the shifting of their developing breasts under the white blouses; ogling them as they ran across the school yard, young breasts bouncing. But it was the uniforms that gave him the biggest shock. The glossy brochure he had read had stated that the school uniform was a dark green blazer, white shirt and charcoal grey skirt or slacks. The first two years were obliged to wear white ankle socks and the upper school black stockings or tights. In his mind he had sort of half assumed that the dress code would be strictly adhered to. He had imagined they would all dress like the three who had met him when he had come for the interview. The reality was that he had never seen such a bewildering variety of outfits, each of which seemed designed to enhance the charms of the wearer. Technically, yes, they were the school uniform - the jackets, when they were worn, were dark green, the shirts white and the skirts and slacks charcoal grey. But, beyond that, any resemblance to a uniform was entirely accidental. He seemed to be constantly surrounded by a sea of pulchritude. And it wasn't just the older girls, even the 2nd Form seemed intent on making him constantly aware of their developing bodies. However, the real problem was that he wasn't connecting with them - and the harder he tried, the worse it became. He wasn't relating to them as he was used to and this disturbed him for he had always taken pride in his ability to relate to young people. All in all it was very frustrating and he began to wonder if he had made the right decision in coming to Greenwood. He also became aware of subtle tensions in some of the classes, particularly with the older girls. Inevitably, being young girls in the first flush of womanhood, they began to flirt. He was used to this and had quickly learned, when he first started teaching, to ignore the none-too-subtle attempts of adolescent girls. But these girls were different: it was almost it was as if they were testing him in some strange and disturbing way. Not that they over- reached themselves or behaved out of turn, but, somehow, they made it clear that they were available - he only needed to say the word. One incident, in particular, stood out. He was walking through the grounds one evening when he heard the sounds of girlish giggles coming from a small copse of trees. Knowing they were not supposed to be there, he went to investigate and was brought up short by their conversation. "... and old George is always trying to cop a feel," said one. In your dreams," retorted another. Yeuch! Nightmares, more like. He's such a dirty old man." He wouldn't really try it on, would he?" No. He just pretends. Ms Henderson had made it quite clear what would happen if he did," said a slightly older voice. Is that why we put on our little show? To keep old George happy?" That's right. Ms Henderson reckons if we give him a bit of a show, he'll be quite happy and won't bother us." Someone giggled. "I bet he gets his thingy out and plays with himself." The words are 'cock' and 'masturbate' - or 'wank', if you want to be crude." "Ugh. How disgusting." "What? Saying 'cock' and 'wank'?" "No, silly, the thought of dirty old George watching us and wanking." "I don't think so. I think it's rather exciting knowing he's out there and getting all excited watching me." "You're a complete slut, you are." "Now, if only it was Mr Hazel," sighed one. "Oh, yes. He's dreamy." "If he got his cock out and masturbated, I wouldn't mind at all." "You'd run away and hide." "No I wouldn't. I'd..." "What would you do?" "I'd ask him if he needed a hand," she retorted defiantly. This was greeted with howls of mirth. "Would you put out for him, Cee?" asked someone when the laughter had subsided. "Definitely." "What? All the way?" "All the way and back again. He could do whatever he liked." "Me too," someone said dreamily. "I think we probably all would, you know. If we were truly honest about it." They fell silent and Adam felt his face flaming. "He's a bit of a wimp, though," said one at last. "How do you mean?" "He's not very strict - not like Miss Beech." "Miss Beech is fierce." "I like her." "You would. You're her pet." "I am not." "Yes you are. You suck up to her all day." "I do not." "Girls, girls," said a soothing voice. "I think we all agree that Miss Birch - I mean Miss Beech - is quite strict. What do you mean that Mr Hazel is a wimp? Haven't we all just said he's a dish?" "I mean he's really nice and all that but..." "You want him to spank your bottom." The girl's dissolved into giggles and Adam fled. He was both incredibly aroused and more than a bit troubled by what he had heard. And the mystery that seemed to envelop this school only deepened. ~~~~~~~ He was a good teacher - he knew he was a good teacher. So why was he having so much difficulty in connecting with these girls. They weren't stupid; far from it. They weren't insolent or badly behaved: the opposite was the case - they were better behaved than he would have expected. So what was the problem? The 5th year were the worst. He had 5 students for maths - all of them exceptionally good-looking even in a school full of attractive girls - and they knew it. And they knew that he knew it. At first they seemed to be normal, if somehow wise beyond their years, schoolgirls. But, as his confusion and uncertainty increased, they gradually began to change. It was all very subtle to begin with; a extra touch of make-up here, an extra undone button there - and the flirting was low-key; too much eye contact, coy looks from lowered lashes, a toss of the head, a pout. As the days went by the flirting became more open and more brazen. They would stand too close to him; sit and stared at him intently all lesson; lounge back in their chairs so their breasts were clearly outlined, lifted and out-thrust in miniature bras; they would smooth their tight school skirts down their thighs. When he addressed them, they would slowly run their tongues over their lips before replying or pout if he had reason to upbraid them. He was not at all happy with this but his professional pride made him keep silent and try to ignore their teasing. 'It's just a phase,' he told himself. 'If I ignore it they'll get tired of it and stop.' But it was hard to ignore and it began to affect him. He started to have erotic dreams which disturbed his sleep. The more he tried to ignore it the worse it got. The other classes started, moving gradually down the school to the 4th, 3rd and even a few of the junior girls. And the provocative behaviour of the upper classes got more blatant. They started wearing stockings, rather than tights. With their skirts being so tight, the presence or absence of suspenders underneath was obvious. They wore more make-up and shoes with higher heels. They stopped wearing bras altogether. They would sit with their legs apart so he could see their crotches - which were covered by a variety of attractive and revealing underwear. Physics was the worst as they had to move around and he had to come close to them to check their experiments. When bending to a low cupboard, for example, they would do it with straight legs so their skirts would pull tight over their bottoms, revealing the outline of suspenders and lacy panties. They would reach up to high shelves on tiptoe with outstretched arms, preferably with the light behind them so their breasts were silhouetted, high and firm. When he bent to check an experiment, his eyes would meet an indecent amount of cleavage. He became distracted and found his normal fluid teaching style was disrupted. The vision of these nubile teenagers displaying themselves so wantonly began to haunt his waking hours as well as his dreams. He would imagine the girls in obscenely erotic circumstances. His genitals became unusually sensitive and painful, and he began to get erections at inappropriate moments. He found himself masturbating more and more frequently. His imaginings shifted to include the younger girls. Even the 1st and 2nd years made frequent appearances in his lust-filled nights. He was deeply ashamed of himself; of this sudden craving for young girls, of this breakdown of his professional attitude, of his inability to make real contact with his students, of his utter frustration. Never before had he been so intensely affected by the students he taught - and so utterly unable to cope. He began to both dread and eagerly anticipate his classes. He regretted coming to this godforsaken place and seriously wondered if he should resign. The final straw came when Felicia Romiss bent over to reveal the round, naked cheeks of her bottom and he realised, with absolute shock, that she was wearing a thong. What made it worse was that Felicia had the most perfect, rounded bottom he had ever seen and was a frequent visitor in his erotic fantasies. He decided enough was enough and went to consult the Principal. "What can I do for you, Adam. Everything all right?" "Actually, I've a slight problem that I'd like your advice about." "I did wonder. I've noticed you've been a bit, shall I say, distracted recently and looking distinctly out of sorts." Adam looked surprised. "To be honest, I've not been sleeping well. That's part of the problem I wanted to discuss with you." Anne smiled at him encouragingly and he wished, for an instant, that she was not so stunningly beautiful. "It's a bit, er, delicate - and I'd like to approach it in a roundabout sort of way, if you wouldn't mind," he began, tentatively, looking down at his feet. Anne looked slightly puzzled but indicated he should continue. "The girls are expected to keep the school dress code at all times?" "Yes, you know that." "I'm just trying to establish the groundwork. Please bear with me for a moment. How much variation is acceptable?" "In what sense? " "I mean other than the regulation blouse and skirt and jacket. Shoes, for example. Or make-up. Or stockings. Or underwear," he blurted out. "Well," said Anne, looking at him speculatively. "We don't have any hard and fast rules but ... look, Adam, perhaps you should just come right out and tell me what the problem is. I've probably heard a similar one before." She smiled. Adam took a deep breath. "Well, it may be me. Perhaps I'm not coping with this all-girl environment. I know this sounds silly and a bit paranoid but, recently, I believe that a number of girls have started to flaunt themselves at me. Trying to provoke me - or distract me. And the fact is - they're succeeding!" "Hmm. You'd better give me some details." So Adam told her about the stockings and the make-up and the high-heeled shoes and the panties and the lack of bras and the looks and touches. When he had finished Anne sat back thoughtfully. "And this is putting you off?" "I'm afraid it is. I'm a healthy, heterosexual male and they are very attractive young ladies. And it's not fair on the others if I'm constantly being distracted by a flash of stocking-top." "What you need is a girl friend," Anne said smiling. Adam flushed and opened his mouth to protest but she leaned over and patted his hand. "No, sorry. Joke in poor taste. I agree that this behaviour is unacceptable in class. You've done the right thing in ignoring it as far as possible and consulting me. What are we going to do about it? Who are the worst offenders?" "Well, there are about 5 altogether but Melanie Harden, Veronica Spelling and Felicia Romiss are the most blatant." Anne laughed. "Funnily enough, you do not surprise me. I could probably have named them myself. They're minxes. The ringleaders in any trouble." She looked at him speculatively. "In these circumstances - once a problem has been brought to me and I've agreed - there would normally be a punishment session. And, as the complainant, you will have to administer it." Adam sat back in shock. "But ..... " "No 'buts'," said Anne firmly. "You know our policy and, if I remember your words at your interview, you said you would carry out school policy." "Surely there's some other way." Anne shrugged. "Then you would have already solved the problem and you wouldn't be here, now. We'll make it after tea tonight. Here." Adam struggled with his conscience for a few moments. He did not really believe in corporal punishment but he had agreed to it and he did have a problem. He sighed resignedly. "OK, Anne. As you say, it's school policy and I agreed to it. But I still don't like it. What time?" "7 o'clock. Be here about 15 minutes beforehand, please." END of Chapter 3