Fear and Love

Once classes had ended, Jesse snogged his way through goodbyes to his friends. There wasn’t even time for a quick buggering from Suzy, an absence in their daily routine which went sorely missed by both. His lover understood though… the appointment he had would not be kept waiting.

What did surprise him, was Beth surreptitiously following along. The taller, brighter-coloured femboy had been too shy to announce it, but clearly had been called on to the same place of meeting. Jesse slipped his arm through the newer student’s elbow, with a smile of reassurance. This particular journey still scared him… the few times he’d made it. He doubted there was a slut-to-be, staff member or graduate from this proud institution who didn’t feel their footsteps faltering a little, as they approached the great, oak doors ahead. The very architecture of the corridor was obviously designed to instil such nervousness, of course: looked down upon by giant visions of your highly successful forebears in sexual submission. Yet, it might all just seem a thin façade… if you did not know who held office beyond those walls.

Jesse rapped his painted nails against the woodwork tentatively. He was still considered both blessed and cursed to have tasted their glorious headmistress on that very first day, and survived to tell the tale. The other first year students rarely got to interact with her at all, besides the occasional weekly assembly. You saw her through a window sometimes though, punishing some seniors who had forgotten their place. Whipping raw and red behinds in the cold winter air and earning a ‘Thank you Headmistress!’ for every strike. Everyone in the school learned to recognise the sound of those heeled, leather boots marching through the corridors. Everyone knew to step to one side and curtsy meekly, burying one’s eyes in the ground. To even speak a word against her would result in your fellow classmates shunning you instantly and reporting your infraction to the nearest teacher without a thought. For this erotically educational ship had only one captain, and her word was law. Absolute loyalty to that ideal was unquestionable, among this house of subservience.

“Enter.” Came the command, from beyond that mirror-polished woodwork. Jesse pushed the door open just the smallest amount possible, to let him and Beth slip through. Not because the portal was heavy or stiff in the slightest… but simply because causing any part of this room to be out of place for more than an instant seemed like blasphemy.

Madame Stanfield sat behind her desk, typing quickly upon a pop-out keyboard. The holographic screen projected a wide map of the city in front of her face. Various flashing dots upon it clearly represented the collars from her multitude of students, with little, elicit photo IDs popping up on occasion. The vast majority of these were of course still clustered around their current location, though already they were beginning to spread out into the late afternoon. Even as he watched, Jesse spotted one of these hop into a passing vehicle; its colour changing from cold blue to lurid pink. He imagined the headmistress sitting here every evening, watching her flock divide itself among all the fancy mansions, grimy alleys and public parks of their local neighbourhoods. Their electronic neckwear recording every sordid detail of what they were being hired for and put through. He wondered how many times her keen eye had flicked onto his own little dot, checking in as a stranger bent him over a park bench or Cynthia wrote up another of her massage lessons as a training expense. It was strangely somewhere between comforting and terrifying, to think of that mothering gaze watching his every movement from above.

Comforting and terrifying. It seemed strange to the sissy that he could equate such words together… yet… Here was the woman who epitomised that contrast for him, for all the students of this school. They feared her… but also loved her. They knew she ultimately held all the whips upon their backsides and leashes about their necks. Except they also knew she truly believed that both were being used to drive and pull them forward. Their headmistress never lied to them. Never betrayed the trust they’d handed over to her. If it was going to hurt, she would tell you so… but then take equal share in applying the salve afterwards. There was a plainness to her. A lack of pout, pomp and parade that all their clients and customers seemed to think of as everything. For all the grandeur outside, her office was plain, practical and unembellished. For all the heartbeats her heels set quivering, her boots were worn and weathered. They had been licked clean by a thousand pornographic pupils, and would be by a thousand more. Madame Stanfield was stability, Jesse realised. A rock of unshakeable confidence among all her self-doubting, submissive students. She answered all those ‘whys?’; ‘when?’, where?’ and ‘whos?’ with a simple: Because I say so. Whenever I say so. Wherever I say so and ‘Whomever I say so.’ Whatever the question, she held your answer. That was what mattered.