I want to be Mr. Doe (1st person from his POV)

I noticed John right away, from the very first day of school. She was exactly what I was looking for: a shy, innocent young girl, just on the verge of sexual awakening, lonely and longing. When I took the World History teaching position at Bridgemont Academy for Girls, it was for the sole purpose of finding such a creature. I thought I might have to wait years for the perfect girl, but there she was on the first day of school, my own lovely little Lolita. And though she didn’t know it yet, she was looking for me too.

John obviously doesn’t think of herself as a beauty, but she is all wrong about that. She doesn’t have the flashy, trendy kind of looks that seem to mean so much to teenage girls, in fact, the other girls seem to think of her as a goody-two-shoes wall flower. She is awkward, painfully shy, her clothes fit poorly and her hair hangs in her eyes. But to anyone who bothers to really look at her, it is obvious that she could be a knockout. Her newly developed body reminds me of ripe fruit, aching for picking. Flawless skin, button nose, cupid’s bow mouth, and huge sad eyes full of hunger for a world outside the narrow, petty world of girl’s boarding school. And who better to educate a young girl about the world than her teacher?

But first, of course, she will have to be tamed.

It is a tricky business I am up to, one that needs to be planned and executed with **** care. John is the ideal material and I am confident in my ability to mold her like clay, to create my perfect plaything. By the time I have completed her education, she will be a masterpiece. But creating a masterpiece takes time and patience. Push an inexperienced girl too far, too fast, and you will lose her. The trick is to take her step by step, gaining her trust and especially her complicity at every turn. Deep down, a girl like John knows she deserves it, wants it, needs it. Get her to admit it, and you own her already.

So for the first few weeks of school, I bide my time and set my trap. From the start, it is obvious that John has a schoolgirl crush on me, and I very subtly encourage this with secret little smiles and compliments on her essays. I find out that she is an orphan who has been raised at the boarding school, which means she has probably never had a man take any interest in her before. She blushes prettily whenever I bestow attention on her, but I keep these exchanges very brief and random – just enough to fuel her fantasies about me.

Then, I wait for her to turn eighteen. A shame, really, but I simply cannot take a chance on going to prison. Most girls are completely ruined by this age, which is what makes John such a treasure. Luckily, her birthday is only a few weeks into the semester. Even luckier, the very next day after her eighteenth birthday, John plays right into my hands and gives me the perfect opening move.

John is in my sixth period class, the last of the day. It is a hot Friday afternoon, and all of the girls are feeling tired and lazy this late in the day. They take off their jackets and sweaters, unbutton their white blouses as low as they dare, showing off peeks of lacy white bras. As I am the only man under sixty teaching at this school, many of the girls are constantly throwing themselves at me. More than a few women on the faculty do the same thing. Today, one of the popular senior girls, Suzy Anne Moss, contrives to drop her books in front of me as she walks in the door, and when she bends over to retrieve them, flashes me her gorgeous ass wearing nothing but a thong. Definitely against school regulation dress codes, but I am not about to bust her for it. I can certainly appreciate Suzy Anne’s ass in a thong, but the only girl I am interested in has just snuck past me and taken her seat at the back of the room. She is the only girl still wearing a cardigan sweater, clearly meant to hide the fact that her tits are swelling out of her bra and tightening the buttons on her shirt.

I pass back the girls’ essays from last week, handing out a few compliments as I do so, including one to John. As always, I am rewarded by her fetching blush of embarrassment and pride. Then I start my lecture, letting my voice send the girls into their teenaged daydreams of boys and clothes and lipstick. After a few minutes, I notice that John not paying attention either, but staring off into space with a shy smile on that cute little mouth of hers. I have reprimanded her for daydreaming once or twice this semester, and am about to do so again when I notice that her left hand is hidden in the pocket of her cardigan, which she has shifted into her lap in order to absentmindedly rub her pussy through the sweater. She is actually masturbating in class! She is so subtle about it that the other girls would never notice, but I know exactly what she is up to. Clearly I have no time to waste!

“Now then,” I say, not breaking the rhythm of my lecture patter, “who can tell me about all the wives of Henry the Eighth? Anyone?” A few girls raise their hands but I ignore them. “John? John, are you listening?”

In a few steps I bound to her desk, looming over her as I finally break through her reverie. She startles, wrenches her hand out of her pocket, and looks up at me with terror in those big innocent eyes. That look alone makes my cock start to stiffen. “John!” I say in a harsh, booming voice, “have you been listening to the lesson at all? Can you answer the question that I have asked you?”

She blushes deeper than I have ever seen. Her sweet lips quiver with embarrassment. “I…I…I am sorry, Sir…very sorry. What was the question?” The class giggles and John’s face goes an even darker shade of pink.

“John, this is the third time this semester that I have I caught you not paying attention to the lesson plan. I will not tolerate such blatant disregard for my teaching. It seems that I will have to use a more drastic means to keep your attention!”

This throws little John off balance. What could I possibly mean by that?