Its the start of the school day and im sitting in my teachers chair. In the classroom, two students are seated at each of 8 large tables, 2 columns of 4 stretching back into the classroom. Each of the students is a young teen girl, wearing the school outfit: A pink mini-skirt so short it has no point, red or pink panties, and a near-transparent white shirt that has the audacity to have a v-neck even though you can clearly see each set of nipples on each girl.
The bell rings and i mentally prepare myself. Its only my first day of this investigation, and i already could incriminate the lives of nearly a hundred men and save a couple hundred girls, and be the leading journalist and feminist of this century. Why do they look so happy? They chat so casually, not embarrased at all. Maybe they are simply used to it. They deal with it.
The speaker in the room makes a click. The girls and me all rise, our breasts bouncing without bras.
“Girls, We will now say the pledge of community.” I believe thats the head master’s secretary on the line.
A chime sounds and all the students, at the exact same instant, pull down their skirts and panties exactly half-way down their thighs. Each has their right hand firmly on their pussy, and as the chant is recited they rub in unison.
“I pledge to uphold my community and its functions, to push our ideals through time as one, and to support this family of ours through love, kindness, responsibility, and loyality to the men of our community.”
I struggled to remain in sync with the girls, but the pledge was said slow such that every girl in the school was now wet, having rubbed themselves for the past minute or so while pledging their loyality to men. I admit, this made my kinky side even a little fired up. That’s exactly what it’s designed to do to these girls.
*This is crazy. Just keep going, keep acting like you belong. Soon we’ll be able to leave this mysoginistic hell-hole with hundreds of young women who are free. Think of the headline, ‘Activist May Lovelace discovers mass sex trafficing town, frees over 400 hundred young woman from an evil organization.’*
Suddenly i was brought back to reality by the deafening silence of the room. The girls had noticed my in activeness and had begun doing homework, not a single one on their phone, each hard at work. Most of them seemed to be reading, or writing papers, or making flash cards and studying them closely.
It was a model class! If it wasn’t for the pink, bimbo-fying outfits, it would be the most marvelous image of hope ever seen by a teacher. I think. Im not a teacher, i’m just impersonating one.
I was lucky that the dress code for teachers was less revealing but it still bothered me. A slightly longer skirt and a slightly darker shade of pink, not enough to actually hide the bright red panties underneath but better than what the students are wearing.
The top had longer sleeves, cuffed neatly at the elbows, it was white like the others but not transparent. The V-neck stretched down farther however, showing off my well-developed breasts. It felt so strange being so… open for business.
I want to get out now and go back to Jane but i know i can’t go with just this. Theres more than sex trafficing going on here. This is… something different entirely. They all gladly rubbed themselves to the pledge. Some of them look like they are still horny from it. Hell, im still wet from a full minute of rubbing myself in unison with 16 other young girls. I, unfortunately, can see what men find so attractive about younger girls. I hate that perverted nature in myself that would even think about anyone other than Jane, not to mention steal looks at minors. But that is simply a primal nature, secondary to a real person. My moral code is too pure for me to succomb to my sexuality, unlike the rest of society. Im more disgusted than aroused. Jane tells me these things can go hand-in-hand for some people.
May Lovelace is my real name by the way. I know it sounds like a cover name, and i really should be using a cover, but theres no way they know who i really am. The name is the same but the May Lovelace i’m pretending is loyal to a husband who is very interested in this “school”.
I know, i know, i should *really* have introduced myself to these girls by now. But it is simply too awkward, the time to speak has passed and i haven’t even bothered to look franticly busy. I’ll get it right in the next class.
I look up and there is a young, short blonde standing on the other side of my desk. She’s got a massive set of breasts, and she is staring intently at my panties, which i discover are thoroughly wet. I must’ve been thinking about Jane a little too much.
“Yes?” I ask.
“Oh- Excuse me Miss. I was going to ask for help with a research paper i’m writing about skirt length, but i couldn’t help but notice how primed you are! You must be so good for your husband!” She smiled.
“T-thank you. I was uhh, rather lost in a trance just then thinking about him.”
“Mmm, i love getting into a trance. Miss, if i may ask, i know you are a new teacher here, but how long have you lived in town?”
“I just moved to this town with my husband not long ago.”
“Thats what i thought Miss. I hope you don’t mind but i simply must talk to you after class.”
This is it! Im already finding girls looking for an outsider so that they might escape.
“Yes, absolutely, you can talk to me anytime you like. What is your name?”
“Anabelle Smith, Miss. May i be seated Miss? I need to get a paper done quickly.” She said sweetly. Ah Anabelle, you don’t know it now, but your testimony is going to make me world famous.
“Yes you may.” I said, smiling politely.
“Thank you Mistress.” She said, smiling.
The sweet girl calling me mistress may have turned back to her seat but the words stuck with me for an uncomfortable and unusually arousing second.
Following the bell ring, sweet Anabelle did approach my desk. It was my plan period, so i could talk to this girl alone. I wouldn’t make myself known quite yet though.
“You said you wanted some help with a paper about skirts right, Anabelle?”
“Well yes Miss, but im afraid there was something more concerning i must speak to you about.”
Ah yes! This is it. My first saved soul.
“Mistress, when you and your husband arrived in town, did he show you the welcome packet?”
“Oh uh- my husband assumed i did not need to be involved with the details.” I smiled.
“Really? He did not have you read the section for females?”
“He assumed that i did not need too.”
“Oh! Well… miss, miss if i may – i’m not questioning your husbands decison please let me make that clear – but i am very concerned.”
Just before i could ask why, the school secretary came over the intercom. “Anabelle Smith, please report to the office. Annabelle Smith.”
“Oh – Miss, may i have a pass?”
“Certainly.” I wrote her a note that said she was with me.
“Thank you Mistress.” Anabelle smiled and suddenly i was alone.
What was that all about? I will have to read that packet when i get home.
Suddenly its just me, an empty room, 45 minutes, and my wet pussy.
You could blame me for masturbating right now, but who could break history without a clear mind? For me and Jane, being our real selves has always meant suppressing our worst natures.
And so i find myself fantasizing about sweet little Anabelle. I know its so wrong, so insanely wrong. I’m not interested in minors. Im just a pervert if i’m at my worst – like right now by the view of how wet i am – that doesn’t mean im a bad person, right?
Images of sweet little Anabelle, so concerned for my well being, licking at my pussy quickly warmed me up. Jane always said i was more wet than a girl having too much fun with a shower head, but i am actually fulfilling that metaphor at this point. Thoughts aren’t a crime yet. I differ from these men who run the school – i am under control of that primal nature to seek pleasure.
Truth be told, if i didn’t hate the men of this school so much i would probably want one to fuck me. But little Anabelle is much more appealing.
My heat begins to build. My fingers rub against the wet fabric, i slip one inside to wet it before shoving it all in,
then two. Soon enough Anabelle is a presence within my mind like a consciousness, i picture looking up at her magnificent body and breasts, moaning her name before she cuts me short by forcing her wet hot hole down on my face. Rubbing it into my mouth, forcing me to lick and kiss.
Not before long i’m cumming from my perverted fantasy. I know of no one more perverted than Jane, a woman into strapping me down. But for fantasizing about a minor, maybe im worse. Still though, thought is not a crime.
My fingers slide out of my quivering, wet pussy. My panties already being as wet as this, i lazily clean my hands on the sides of them. That was far too quick and disappointing, i’m going to be left horny for third hour.
The girls look at me in strange ways. I look nothing like them after all. All of them have amazing hair, blonde or brown and either very curly or very straight. They have been taught to sculp themselves to perfection. They are all perfection. Obedient and horny perfection.
Me rather, i have short black hair, and even though Jane seems to like my body, its got nothing on these girls. They have absolute beauty without fail. They not only have bigger assets but they have the grace to support them too. I’ve never found grace very attractive though. Whoever keeps this little social factory alive, they must care about class.
I need to figure out who these men are, and find out what they’ve been doing to these girls for so many years. Who knows how perverted this gets? And, come to think if it, why does it make me so wet wondering about it all…
—————–
End of part 1, more?
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/7e7d50/investigating_the_private_all_girls_school_of
Yes! Please make more!
More, please!
I am interested now.
Loving it! Can’t wait to read on