Parent's Evening with Mr. Callaghan

NOTE: This is a story about control and submission. Please note though, that whilst it's not the main feature, this story does contain male > male oral sex as a means of asserting dominance. Avoid if that makes you uncomfortable. ***

Mr. and Mrs. Jarvis sat across from me, looking mildly uncomfortable, knees raised and backs hunched by virtue of having to seat themselves in the student chairs. It always amused me to see adults, usually in professional dress on their way to or from work, trying to negotiate the confines of the primary colored, chunky plastic chairs that were intended for use by the under 11s.

I could have arranged for more suitable chairs to be brought in from the staff room, but where was the fun in that? I enjoyed the comedy tableau. Plus, it meant that the parents were significantly lower down than I was, forcing them to look up to me. They had no choice but to immediately adopt a position of inferiority to me. I liked it that way.

Today was the term's parent's evening at Hardwood High School and as the deputy head teacher, I'd be seeing a selection of parents this evening. Most of the teachers scheduled very strict, five-minute sessions in an almost conveyor belt fashion. One in - one out, aiming to get the whole thing over with as soon as possible. That wasn't my style.

The parents always got a scheduled half-hour of my time. Some didn't need it all. Some wanted more.

Mr. Jarvis shifted his weight in an attempt to find comfort in the cramped chair, while Mrs. Jarvis, seeming nervous, stared at her shoes.

I broke the silence. "So, you'll be wanting to hear how Eliza has been getting on this term then?"

The couple snapped to attention as I began speaking and smiled warmly at their daughter's name.

"Well, the good news," I purred in a calm, familiar tone. "Is that she's a delight to have in the classroom."

They quickly exchanged a glance and Mrs. Jarvis visibly relaxed. As the tension left her face, her features softened and her eyes brightened. She was pretty in an ordinary kind of way. It wasn't a criticism. I liked her 'ordinariness'. Modern media perpetuates the myth that the world is overrun with catwalk models and Hollywood-esq A-list beauties. This image is further exaggerated by the popular social media platforms, where everyone is their ideal weight, has impeccable make-up and wears only high-fashion. So too with modern-day pornography, where sex is only ever enjoyed by beautiful women and perfectly toned men.

I liked women like Mrs. Jarvis. Honest, fresh, and not trying to be anything they're not. Like the majority of women her age - which I pegged to be somewhere between 35 and 45, she certainly wasn't unattractive. She had a bright, full face which was on the right side of chubby and if anything, made her look more youthful. She had large, doe-eyes and I imagined that this is what she pegged as her best feature. She wore a floaty, flower-print dress with a dark blazer. She certainly wasn't overweight, though she'd chosen a loose-fitting dress, suggesting some self-consciousness. The dress was doing its level best to hide her breasts under its shapelessness, though I speculated her bust size to be in the region of a 36 C. 'Middling-to-ample', I liked to call it.

She had a pair of white pumps on her feet, the flat soles doing the minimal work possible to add shape to her calves and legs. Speculating again, I was positive her legs would be an impressive sight under the influence of a heeled sole.

Despite the sun-dress and the sporty shoes, she wore hosiery on her slender legs. I wondered if they were panty-hose or suspenders?

She'd applied a very light coat of make-up to give her cheeks some colour, no mascara from what I could discern and a neutral lipstick that was only noticeable at a close distance. Her tawny hair had probably been bleached a few shades lighter at some point, back when she had the time to maintain the look. It was thrown up in a loose ponytail that suited her, though I had the suspicion she wore her hair down most of the time, and had hastily arranged the ponytail before coming into the meeting - in the waiting room most likely.

I looked over to Mr. Jarvis who seemed to notice that my stare had lingered on his wife a little too long. He wore a cautious demeanour, not threatening or threatened, but there was an underlying alertness to his gaze that he couldn't hide.

"How do you both think she's getting on?" I asked.

I wasn't interested in the answer and as they looked to each other to decide who would answer the question first, I looked Mr. Jarvis up and down, as I had his wife.

I'd peg him somewhere in the region of three to four years younger than his wife, though he hadn't taken as much care of himself. He was only a little taller than she was, which put me at a reasonable size advantage. He wore a button-down shirt over a pair of boot-cut denim jeans and he'd folded his suit jacket over his lap. He'd likely removed the jacket and untucked his shirt before coming in, to present a more business-casual look. I guess like many other men fighting the middle-age spread, he'd opted to untuck his shirt so as to help avoid the inevitable belly overhang that would come from being cramped into one of the school's stock, plastic chairs.

His face did crossover into chubby territory, and it was also entirely clean shaven. To my mind, he could have left a light stubble, or maintained some facial hair. As it was, he had one of those faces that looked odd and somewhat juvenile when completely bald. Like when you come across a newly-sheared sheep. You know they 'can' look like that, but it's somehow unnatural.

They'd both been attempting to give their opinions on little Eliza's performance over the last term and I could sense by their cadence that they were winding down.

"Have you brought in the forms I'd asked you to complete?" I asked, matter-of-factly.

"Of course," Mrs. Jarvis replied, smiling.

She fished around in her handbag before handing a couple of sheets of paper to her husband.

"Grab these, will you please, Mark?", she asked him. "There should be a few more sheets in here."

As Mrs. Jarvis continued to search for the remaining paperwork, I reached out my hand toward Mr. Jarvis to beckon the forms from him. However, upon taking the papers from his wife, his eyes had glazed over slightly and he was now reluctant to hand them on.

"Pass them to me please, Mr. Jarvis," I requested.

He hesitated, but it was only a momentary impulse and he handed them over in short order. I glanced over the two sheets of A4 paper, all four sides completed in full, as Mrs. Jarvis found the additional sheets she was looking for. Without delay she handed them to me.

"Did you have any trouble with the forms?", I enquired. They both shook their heads.

"Excellent," I chirped.

They looked at me dreamily. Mrs. Jarvis was gently rubbing her thighs together and Mr. Jarvis was shifting uncomfortably again, though this time it was due to the large erection he was sporting that even a pair of thick denim jeans couldn't conceal.

"Anything unusual you noticed or any aspects you'd like to discuss in detail?" I asked. Again, two shaking heads.

I inspected the sheets of paper more closely now. There were five pages in total, with nine full sides having been completed. The handwriting alternated occasionally indicating that both parents had been involved and the ink used changed on a frequent basis too, giving the proof that they'd completed the writing over an extended period, rather than cramming it in at the last minute like so many children did with their homework assignments.

But, irrespective of the pen that had been used, or the hand that had done the writing, every inch of the five pages had been filled with the same, single sentence.

'It's good to do as Mr. Callaghan wants. It's good that he is happy. I want to make Mr. Callagan happy'.

"Nothing untoward at all... no difficulties filling out these forms?" As I asked, I looked at each of them intently. They both shifted equally under my gaze but neither answered the question directly.

"Mr. Jarvis..?" He looked at me, focus returning to his eyes. "Did you manage OK?" I asked soothingly.

He cleared his throat, buying a little time to compose his response.

"Absolutely, Mr. Callaghan. I took the homework very seriously. I did a little most nights, once I'd finished work and I even did some on the weekend when I thought I needed to catch up."

He looked at me for approval and I smiled accommodatingly.

"That's excellent, Mark." I confirmed, standing up and walking around to his side of the desk. "You may suck my cock for being such a good boy!"

"Really, Mr. Callaghan?" he asked, enthusiastically. "Thank you, I'd really like that."

His hands shot to his mouth immediately and his wife stared at him in confusion.

They were both apoplectic with embarrassment.

"Wait." He said. "I'm sorry, Mr. Callaghan, I've no idea why I said that. I'm not gay! I... I..." he stammered, confused.

I smiled at his defence. Well, I'm not gay either Mr. Jarvis, but that's not going to prevent me from sinking my cock down your throat.

You see, sex, for me is purley about pleasure. Control is a huge part of that pleasure. As a good looking, well-groomed, financially independent man, I'd successfully seduced many women into bed in my adult life and I'd come to realise that it wasn't enough. I needed a thrill attached to the chase. So I started seducing married women, and that was fine for a time. Until I again become bored with that.

I'd become a victim of my own sexual successes and needed the next big fix.

On a whim one evening, upon spying a cute, young couple in a bar, I wondered if I could successfully seduce the man, instead of the woman. I found an excuse to enter their conversation, established a quick rapport and ended up eating dinner with them.

They were each straddling their 30th birthdays. He was older, having celebrated the milestone a couple of months earlier, whereas she wouldn't cross that threshold for another four months. They'd been married for 18 months and were thinking about starting a family.

It was all very interesting, in a very ordinary way and none of it prevented each of them from hitting on me as we moved on to a late night spot. I'd danced with each of them individually and with both of them together and they'd each taken the opportunity to grab my ass and stroke my cock whenever they felt the other wasn't watching.

I didn't encourage either of their advances any further that evening, but the knowledge that I'd been able to seduce both parties of a fairly new marriage and that the 'guy' wanted to fuck me even though we'd only just met and he'd never had even the slightest attraction to a man previousl. Well, the power I felt was intoxicating. And highly arousing.

Since that night, labels of 'gay', 'straight, 'bisexual' etc. lost all meaning for me. People got horny, and when they were horny, they wanted to fuck.

As I said, 'control' gets me horny. I knew that I could seduce people, I'd proved it enough times. But it was slow. It required a full evening's investment and was mentally taxing. So I began researching short-cuts. I read all of the internet forums and e-books that the so-called seduction experts put out, those that call themselves PUAs (pick-up artists).

I read self-help books on charm, charisma and rapport. I studied NLP and CBT. And I researched hypnosis.

It all led me to my ultimate discovery. 'The Callaghan Equation' as I'd dubbed it. It utilised a combination of NLP and hypnosis, alongside a potent pheromone mix.

It had taken some time to perfect, but my meeting with Mr and Mrs. Jarvis was about to give me the latest proof that the Callaghan equation, and the combination of hypnotic conditioning and pheromone stimulation could bend people effortlessly to my will.

The trick had been in finding a suitable delivery method for my special brand of mind control. And that's where parent's evening came in.

I'd created a document template with some brief instructions, which asked parents to assess how their children were performing; what their strengths and weaknesses were etc. But coded into those instructions was a repeating mantra that put the reader in a trance state. There were surface level instructions within the script, instructing readers to re-read certain portions a specific number of times before moving on; and there were deeper instructions. These were about creating the need to do things for me; a longing for Mr. Callaghan to take control; the desire to be a good boy or girl, for me.

And of course, the pages themselves were doused in my distilled pheromone scent, further asserting their attraction to me once we met in person and guaranteeing their compliant subservience.

"I'm not gay!" Mark Jarvis was saying, and my attention returned to the distraught man in my office. "I'm just a little out of sorts at the moment," he beseeched us both.

His breath came fast and he was on the brink of a full-blown panic attack.

"No-one said anything about being gay, Mark." I reassured him. "This is simply about you realising my role as your superior. This is about you wanting to be a good boy, isn't it?" I asked.

"Of course, Mr. Callaghan," he said, nodding confidently.

"Well, a good boy is usually found on his knees," I stated assertively. "And they don't usually need to be told twice to suck their master's cock."

A look of guilt washed over him and an anguished pause passed between us.

I nodded once in the direction of my crotch and he dropped to his knees. I was wearing a thin jersey pullover that most people had assumed was off-setting a pair of suit trousers. But instead, I'd opted for a pair of casual jogging pants. All the easier to quickly shuck-off in situations like this.

I rested my weight on the edge of the table with my crotch only a couple of feet away from Mr. Jarvis. I hooked my thumb into the waistband of the pants and in a fluid movement, pulled my hardening cock free.

It bobbed in anticipation. Taking his cue, Mark Jarvis leaned forward open mouthed and took the full length of it into his mouth and throat. A muffled 'whoompf' sound escaped him and I grunted appreciatively.

Despite being new to the task, what he lacked in experience he made up for in enthusiasm. Completely unabashed, he aggressively throat-fucked my cock for a few seconds before I coaxed him up for air, pulling lightly on the back of his head. His lips shone with a mixture of saliva and pre-cum.

"Lick the shaft, Mark", I urged. "There, doesn't that feel nice?"

He murmured the affirmative while his tongue worked the full length of my 7 inches, coating it thoroughly.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Mark!" shouted Mrs. Jarvis.

She'd sat in shocked silence until now. I studied the look of absolute horror on her face. I was tempted to ignore her and to see what her natural instincts would be. Would she storm out? Would she turn violent towards her husband or me? I didn't think so. The homework they'd turned in to me indicated that she'd been conditioned too.

I decided it wasn't worth risking a public scene, so I spoke softly to her as her husband continued to service my cock with his mouth.

"Now Julie," I said softly.

She turned to face me.

"Where's the sense in you getting all worked up the moment that Mark finally comprehends the situation for what it is?"

She looked at her husband, engaged in the lewdest of acts with another man. She looked at me again, saw my smile, my warmth, my serenity. The tension fell from her shoulders and she closed her eyes for a couple of beats.

"Mark is being such a good boy..." I said.

He groaned a note of pleasure when he heard my praise and he took the head of my cock back into his mouth once more. He bobbed up and down gently, clearly learning quickly. I was impressed.

"Don't you want to be a good girl?" I asked.

She smiled and nodded.

"Then take off your dress. If you're wearing panties, remove them." It was a strict command but delivered calmly and coolly. It wasn't an order, just a clear, unambiguous instruction.

As she disrobed, it became clear that she was wearing hold up stockings. I shifted backwards and slowly rotated my body. Mr. Jarvis had to shuffle his knees along the floor to keep me in his mouth as I moved to position myself at the short edge of the desk. This allowed me to lie back across the table's full length, my legs dangling over the end with the father of one of my students between them.

"Now Julie, please come and sit on my face". I instructed.

Immediately, she moved toward the desk, scrambled atop onto her knees, before carefully standing on the desk and lining herself up so that she could straddle my head appropriately. As she began to lower herself I could smell her sweet musk and a second and a half before she engulfed my mouth and nose with her moistness, I felt a drop of pussy juice hit my lips.

She moaned loudly as her hips bucked and her pussy mashed into my face.

"Oh fuck!" she said with abandon. "That's so fucking horny". She thrashed her crotch up and down, writhing and grinding.

"I feel like such a slut", she confessed.

I gently lifted her thighs and she took the weight off my face.

"No Julie," I said as I plunged two fingers into her dripping cunt. "I think Mark is the slut!"

I felt her body position shift as she looked over her shoulder. What did she think, seeing her husband on his knees, sucking another man's cock? I got my answer presently.

"Yes, you're right. He's a good little cock-sucking slut isn't he?" she said in delight.

At this, Mark moaned again in pleasure. He seemed to like being talked about like this by his wife in addition to receiving praise from me. Whether this was solely due to the hypnotic conditioning he'd received from the homework I'd set, I wasn't sure. But it didn't matter.

"Mark," I called as I continued to thrust an increasing number of fingers into Julie's moist cunt.

"I think you need to move over. Your wife wants to prove that she's a better cock-sucking slut than you."

She responded immediately, climbing down from the desk and taking her husband's place between my legs. Without any preamble at all, she sucked me fully into her mouth gagging with the effort.

Mark watched as his pretty wife effortlessly demonstrated that she was, of course, the better cock-sucker. A look of annoyance flashed across his face and I wasn't sure if he was disappointed by his own performance or the sight of her pleasuring another man.

"How's she doing, Mark?" He looked at me, unsure. "Do you think she's being a good girl?"

He nodded instinctively. "Yes, I do Mr. Callaghan. I think she's making you very happy and that makes me happy."

I could tell he meant it and I felt a surge of intense arousal. I feared I was getting close to cumming.

"She is being a good girl, Mark." I said. He nodded frantically.

"But I don't think cumming in her mouth would truly make me happy. Do you?" I asked.

He looked thoughtful.

"A good boy might make a helpful suggestion," I coaxed.

His eyes lit up.

"Julie!", he shouted excitedly. "Stop sucking his cock and fuck Mr. Callaghan properly," he commanded his wife. "Fuck him until he cums, baby!"

She looked mildly disappointed at having to stop but she quickly came around to the idea of fucking me at her husband's behest. Once again, she climbed up onto the table top, but this time, it was my throbbing erection she straddled.

She lowered herself slowly and I felt the warmth of her pussy engulf me entirely. A soft moan escaped her mouth as she took a moment to reposition herself, gently adjusting my shaft with her hand. Then her hips took over and she began riding me, her pace increasing with each stroke back and forth until the sound of her crotch slapping against me filled the room.