A long expected meeting

“Okay, do you remember everything we rehearsed?” I ask Jenny as we get ready to set our plan into motion.

“Yeah, don’t worry, I’ve been thinking about it basically all the time since you first told me,” she answers with pride.

I’m pretty sure I can guess what her hands were doing when she was "thinking about it".

“Okay, let’s do this!”

I knock on the door in an assertive, but hopefully not presumptuous way.

“Come in.”

I can’t believe global warming is still a problem, considering every time Ellen speaks, I can hear the ice sheets growing back.

I open the door and walk in, Jenny following behind me.

“Ellen, good evening!” I say in a much less uneasy voice than last time. I’ve grown a lot more confident in just a few days. I sure do wonder what could’ve possibly caused that.

“Adam.”

Acknowledging that you exist and have a name is the Ellen equivalent of jumping up and giving you a big warm hug.

Jenny follows in behind me. Her pace is a bit more strained than mine, but I think fear is only half of the reason. The hungry way she’s looking at Ellen should tell you what the other half is.

“Hello Ellen,” she says breathily.

“Yes.”

“Ellen,” I begin, “I’ve been talking with Jenny and we’ve come to a conclusion. We think it would be beneficial to discuss what you and I decided upon last time.”

“The sexual threatening, yes. I take it it is proceeding apace?”

She didn’t need to add “or else”, we could tell she meant it regardless.

“Well, yes, precisely. But we’re limiting ourselves. I’ve been getting some good results from using sexual threats. Even class 3C paid attention to my lecture earlier.”

“Class 3C... You got Tatiana to shut up?” She actually seems impressed, and I do feel a hint of pride when I notice.

“Yes, but it only works for Adam,” Jenny chips in. “Most of our staff is female, and they can’t reap the benefits of it.”

“And that, we realised, is where the problem lies,” I continue, “We’re relying only on threats. We established last time that as a man, it’s easier for me to utilise fear to my advantage, because it’s easier for me to be intimidating. But why limit ourselves to just intimidation?”

“What’s the value of a threat if you can’t even follow up on it anyways?” Jenny asks with the hand gestures of one who’s used to having a slideshow accompanying her arguments.

“We need to... follow up on the threats?” Ellen asks, squinting as if she was struggling to focus her gaze.

“Precisely! By acting sexually with the students, we can much more easily keep them in check. It all just makes sense: if we actually do it, then it won’t matter that I’m more intimidating. Being groped by a woman is still being groped. That way, the students will have to be obedient. It’ll be much better than empty threats.”

“Groping the students... will make them more obedient. But... won’t that be sexual harassment?”

“So what?” Jenny asks, “Just think about it. Adam has been threatening them all week and they keep coming back to his class, they’re being more diligent, more quiet, more obedient; they’re better students. Sexual harassment is good for a school,” She looks at me with an air of uncertain temptation, before deciding to continue, in a lower voice, “We can even use it on... the rest of the staff.”

She bites her lip.

“Sexual harassment... is good... for a school?” Ellen slowly asks.

There we go, this is the blank look of a mind on the verge of being rewritten.

Jenny’s eyes are transfixed, enraptured by the sight. Her breathing is short, she’s squirming on the spot.

I smile before turning back to Ellen and going in for the kill.

“And besides, if they’re being more obedient and diligent to me after having been threatened, doesn’t that mean they actually like it? Positive reinforcement has been shown to be the best form of motivation, so if this is so effective, then it means they see it as positive reinforcement. They want to be groped, molested, and spanked. It’s not just a great motivator, it’s a source of satisfaction. It can even be a reward to some students! It’s the carrot and the stick rolled into one. I mean, if it wasn’t enjoyable, why would people do it in bed all the time?”

“Yes... Yes. It’s good for the students to be molested. They like it. It’s a punishment and a reward. It’s good for the school. Sexual harassment is good for a school!”

She sounds like she just had an epiphany. Like the most crucial, obvious of truths had finally been revealed unto her.

And here it comes.

-20 BS. 55 remaining.

Twenty? This is actually a bit less expensive than I budgeted for, which means I can move on to part two: setting up a passive income of BS.

“Yes, I’m glad you agree! But just asking me to take care of it isn’t going to be enough this time.”

“And why wouldn’t it be?”

She’s regained her glacial composure already, but her eyes still seems a bit hazy.

Jenny blinks tightly a few times to try and focus through the arousal so she can follow up on my cue.

“It’s simple,” she explains, “Adam isn’t in a position of authority over the other teachers. He can grab breasts left and right but he can’t **** the other teachers to do so. And that’s where you come in.”

“You need to lead your staff, Ellen. You need to show them what to do. Without you, we can’t give the girls all the groping they need. Do you want to be head of HR in a school where the students aren’t getting their fair share of sexual harassment?”

“No... I don’t...”

She’s already blanked up again. Maybe making two arguments in a row means she didn’t have the time to put her mental guard back up, which is making this one easier. It’s always cheaper to buy in bulk.

“I knew you had a strong sense of professional integrity,” I smile.

“So can we count on you to lead us?” Jenny asks. “Together, we can turn this school into a safe space where girls can get felt up, stripped down, and bent over as much as they need!”

“A safe space. I need to lead you all. I need to lead you all, for sexual harassment.”

-30 BS. 25 remaining.

Yes! I thought it would be a lot more expensive. Jenny backing me up must’ve lowered the cost by a lot. I’m feeling much more confident that I made the right choice with her Path.

Speaking of Jenny, she looks so worked up I think she might faint. She’s hyperventilating so much it looks like she’s trying to stock up on oxygen for a trip to the top of the Everest.

“Thank you for your time, Ellen. I’m glad we could find an agreement,” I say as I grab Jenny by the shoulders to lead her towards the exit. I make sure the path is clear in front of her, since I’m not sure her eyes are working at the moment.

“Yes. Good day,” Ellen replies.

She said good day! Look at us chumming it up! We’re basically besties at this point.

Speaking of besties, I really need to find a quiet place for Jenny to cool off. It’s frustrating to think that her office is only a few metres away, but we’d need to make such a detour that she’d probably need at least four pairs of fresh panties to be able to reach it without needing to call a janitor.

I notice the door to the dean’s office at the end of the corridor. Jenny has one of those fancy magnetic keys, as well as a bunch of regular keys for rooms all over the school. Maybe she’s got something that could unlock it. It’s a long shot, but it’s worth a try.

I push her towards the door as she moans in arousal, barely able to stay upright, and I try to find her keys in her pockets.

Nothing.

Unsure of where to go, I scratch my head and lean back onto the door.

It opens wide, throwing me off balance and making us both fall onto the lavishly carpeted floor of the dean’s office.

She forgot to lock it.

I close the door behind us, making sure nobody saw us, and I sit Jenny down on a regal looking black leather couch by the windows (whose curtains are thankfully closed), and kneel by her side.

“Are you okay Jenn?”

“Hmmm, Adam, I can feel it,” she moans as her squirming picks up speed. “I can feel it in my head. It’s changing me. You’re changing me. Oh, god!”

Her hands blindly try reaching for her belt. I help her untie it, and I undo the top button of her trousers. She grabs the hem and lowers them to her ankles.

---

Red.

---

They’re red, lacy, and breathtaking.

Looks like she’d already decided that this would happen when she picked her clothes this morning.

I look up at her and smile softly.

“I want you to touch me. You’ve made me want it. I’ve made myself want it. Please.”

Her voice is so breathy with arousal that she almost sounds in pain.

I let my fingers run up her legs, softly teasing her. I look at what parts make her flinch. She quivers when I reach the side of her knee, her legs tightly pressed together. I keep working my way up and let my hands caress her inner thigh.

She relaxes her muscles and lets me inch closer.

Ever closer.

As I reach the edge of the dewy rose of her underwear, I softly tease her through the garment, before going up to the top hem.

She lets out a sharp, uneven breath.

I let my finger underneath the soft, damp fabric, and slowly...

Slowly...

I pull down.

---

Brown.

---

It’s brown, short, and neat. Not a single hair out of place.

She definitely had decided that this would happen in advance.

Her panties join her trousers around her ankles.

I feel her weight shifting as she moves closer to the edge of the seat and spreads her legs further apart.

---

Pink.

---

It’s pink, shiny, and inviting.

I gently let my fingers make their way back up, watching as she squirms at every curve I trace, until I feel the rosy warmth of her folds.

I caress my way up and down the edge of her lips, feeling her arousal soak my fingertips. Eventually, my fingers settle at the top of her womanhood, as I circle that mysterious hooded figure that befuddles so many.

Her breathing gets even sharper.

“Don’t stop. Please don’t stop,” she exhales, “But only use your hands.”

I’m happy to oblige. I keep slowly homing in on her clitoris with one hand, while the other returns to her lips, edging closer to her warm entrance.

I only let a single finger in at first, letting her own nectar open the way for further courtesies, before slowly pushing a second one in.

She starts rocking back and forth on her seat, her moaning becoming steadier and more contented.

I bend my fingers up inside her, feeling for the familiar, raspy texture of inner pleasure. As I reach it, I feel the entrance of her folds tightening around my fingers, as if they didn’t ever want them to leave.

I keep stroking up from within her, and lightly massaging her hood from without. My speed slowly increases, matching her breathing and the swaying of her hips.

I feel tension rising within her, slowly, but steadily. Her moans grow louder, although she manages to keep them just low enough that Ellen wouldn’t hear them. As long as she doesn’t leave her office.

After a few minutes, I can tell that she is nearing her peak. I keep a steady course, bracing for impact.

And it hits her.

She gasps. Stops moaning. Her entire body is shaken by spasms. Her torso arches back. She clamps around my fingers, trapping them in an ocean of dewy warmth.

It lasts for just a few seconds, and yet they feel long enough to host the rise and fall of civilisations.

And then it stops, shaken away with a last few tremors.

She keeps her eyes closed for a few seconds, reeling in from the sensations.

“Thank you,” she manages to say after a while.

“Any time,” I smile.

I stand up and look down at the beautiful woman before me, finally at peace, sitting in a pool of her own make.

...

Ah shit, the couch.