Miss Taylor attempts discursive persuasion

‘Are you waiting to see me, Miss Godswell?’ the blonde Latex-clad head of supply with the ponygirl hood asked the seated brunette.

‘Yes Miss Taylor. I’m afraid I’ve had about as much as I can take.’

‘Miss Godswell,’ Miss Taylor announced, ‘Before you do anything hasty, I first of all urge you to consider the guiding principles of your vocation and put the welfare of the students first. In this school we have scores of the brightest and the best and we’re still oversubscribed. We’re preparing these students for the vicissitudes of the outside world. When the girls leave here they go to jobs not just as pornstars, but world-class pornstars, not just strippers, but world-class strippers. World-class, Miss Godswell, not amateurish numbskulls who might if they’re lucky grace a square-inch feature in the ‘Porn-barn Monthly’ once and once only. When a girl from this school leaves and gives blowjobs for a living, Miss Godswell, the lucky individual on the receiving end of it knows exactly from which seat of learning she acquired to skill to make him shoot his load further than ever. And our boys, Miss Godswell, when they leave, our boys will be so skilled and proficient that the pleasure they spread amongst the women of the world will be multiplied thousandfold. But none of this can happen unless our staff are prepared to puh themselves to the limit.’

Miss Godswell looked a little cowed by Miss Taylor’s speech. A voluptuous brunette, she looked almost shamefacedly at the floor. Ian noticed that she was at present dressed in a white labcoat, pulled tightly around her body.

‘Second, Miss Godswell, I hardly need remind you that your protestations of modesty ring rather hollow when you consider the extremely debauched act you perpetrated upon the interviewer in order to land this very job.’

With that, Miss Taylor reached out, and rather like she was whipping apart a pair of curtains, yanked Miss Godswell’s labcoat open with one swift stroke. In an instant, Miss Godwell’s gorgeous body was revealed, the busty teacher wearing a black latex boob-tube, laced at the front which left the enormous swell of both her cleavage and the surging curves of her underboobs exposed. It looked like a sharp intake of breath would pop the garment straight off the tanned teacher’s chest. Down below, a latex suspender belt held a pair of fishnet tights up on her long legs. Miss Godswell wasn't wearing any panties.

‘Now,’ said Miss Taylor, ‘ are you going to go back to class?’