To the adjacent classroom

Dear Sir Williard,

I know you must be wondering about my firm resolve not to repeat the sins of the flesh, but I hope you can understand the temptation for a young man like myself in taming a teasing hussy like this. Especially a woman as desirable as my lovely blonde companion with her slender waist, white rounded breasts peaked with pink tips and womanly hips cradling a pink vagina that I well knew fit as tightly around my manhood as a tailored glove. Miss Peach had all but begged for the discipline that I intended to instill in her, and what better place to teach a wayward maiden like her than in a classroom setting.

I naively told myself at the time, my Lord, that I could administer the intended punishment without losing complete control, in hindsight I understand how foolish that presumption was but as I led the lovely debutante wearing only a short-sleeved night gown of soft cotton through the door I believed it was for the best. Miss Peach was suddenly silent as I directed her to take a seat in one of those cast iron desks that have not changed since when your Lordship was a young student. Perhaps she realized that she had teased a Gentleman of Earth just a little too far.

"Sir?" She meekly raised her hand and looked up at me shyly through her bangs of golden curls.

"Be silent Miss Peach." I did my best impersonation of a firm instructor, "I will deal with you in due time." As she sat fidgeting in her seat I pretended to look over the assignments of three other imaginary classmates. I had not realized just how much her outlandish suggestion of a classroom of full of young women all waiting for instruction had appealed to my dormant male desires. At each desk I took the time to picture the young gentlewoman who might be sitting attentively; first a petite blonde with a heart-shaped face, then a freckle-face lass with an ample bosom and a little to my surprise in my mind's eye the third student was unmistakably the demure Miss Amber, Peach's young sister. After complimenting the non-existent work of the shy brunette I finally turned my attention to the bright-eyed beauty who was almost squirming with anticipation.

"Where is your homework Miss Peach?" I asked feigning surprise and disapproval at her empty desk. I had when I was a younger student before medical school had the time to take small parts in school productions Sir Williard, and I was enjoying the role of the demanding teacher.

"I'm sorry Sir, I couldn't do it." Miss Peach stammered meekly.

"Could not do it Miss Peach, or chose not to do it?" I sneered as wickedly as I knew how. "The assignment was perfectly simple - sketch a man's organ in various states of arousal." I had thought that when this young gentlewoman heard the outrageous nature of the homework that the absurdity of her earlier ramblings would become apparent. Miss Peach however was not deterred, her eyes widened slightly at my description of the assigned work, but she quickly returned to the role of the innocent pupil.

"I had no one to ask Sir, you see the only men in this estate are my father and brother." She paused before adding a quick correction, "well them and the coloured boys, but of course I couldn't..." her voice faded away with a squeak and it was not at all hard to maintain the affectation of a stern disciplinarian.

"That, young lady, is not my concern." From my position standing above her I could see the rapid rise and fall of her breasts and the flushing of her cheeks; both, as you well know Sir, are signs of sexual arousal in the fair sex. I knew she was excited by the improvisation but I still believed that I was in control of both the bizarre charade and my own libido. "You have been told, have you not, the consequences of refusing to do the assigned work?" It was only when she rose gracefully from her small desk and walked to the table at the front of the room that I felt my control begin to falter, when she leaned over the solid near-oak table placing her bare forearms on the polished wood, I am afraid to say it snapped completely.

In my mind's eye I could picture the wide eyes of the other half-dozen teen-aged schoolgirls seated at their desks as I stepped behind Miss Peach and lifted her skirts over her raised backside and past her slender waist. She wore no small-clothes at all under her sleeping gown and her bare buttocks and long legs were fully exposed to my lustful gaze. I cannot help but wonder as I put these words on paper if this was precisely the kind of instruction Miss Peach had envisioned as she teased me earlier in my office, or if she had anticipated something a little more romantic.