School Secretary Tastes Power

Debbie had come a long way since her wild years.

She was 36, a single mother, rid of all her bills and obligations. For the first time ever she was out of debt and had a steady career. Having left a crummy job at a big oil company for a small-town high school, she thought that she wouldn't see male chauvinism in the workplace ever again. How wrong was she! Though she didn't get her ass slapped by men any more, there were definitely some hurdles. Her one consolation was the level of independence given to her in the new job. She was hired as a history department secretary but steadily progressed into an administrator over the last two years.

The fat principal, Mr. Combs, walked in without knocking and threw a thick stack of papers on her desk. It was the teacher reviews he was supposed to do, but wanted her to complete instead. He strung some words with a heavy twang, "Here Deb, and make sure this here gets sent to central records when it's done." He pronounced sent like "saaint" and left. She loathed him.

If only the year would end sooner, she could be reclassified as a teacher and be her own woman. Benefits that come with that job were heavily sought after. Having no college education, she'd finally get some respect. She went through a teacher's course and passed it with flying colors. Now, it was all down to a review and approval of the principal, but he was taking his time.

He was purposely delaying settling the question, avoiding her and all conversations about it. The wait was painful but it was also a useful reminder of how far she'd already come up in life. At end of the year, the question of her certification would come up automatically in a mandatory backlog review by the superintendent, so she just had to ride it out.

But that was almost a whole year away. She sighed at the thought, but things were still very hopeful.

The principal was enjoying using her for menial labor, she was sure of it. She did most of his job, her job and then some, all at a secretary's wage. But she got something out of it too - a measure of power. These days she wasn't being directed by anyone - she was in fact running the show. Scheduling, special events, budget, but most importantly - administrative decision making. It's not often that a secretary is seen hiring staff. Debbie felt thrilled the first time she interviewed someone. Mr. Combs rubber-stamped nearly all her recommendations. He changed some for no particular reason; she supposed it was just to show her he was in charge.

The next few weeks were completely uneventful. She slowly made her way through the reviews. Business went on as usual. It was the last period on a quiet rainy Friday. "Oh hey Qiana", Debbie greeted her best student. Qiana was a slim African-American girl and the only one who did any work around the office.

It was customary for every high school in the state to have student aides. The history department here was no different in this regard, and a rotating shift of student helpers lurked around the offices, evading work as much as possible. The school had changed to a block schedule the year before last and classes were now twice as long as usual. This allowed senior students to work as student aides for up to four hours, replacing gym with a substitute elective. Busiest time of the day was, of course, the last period - end of the day. That was the only time when student aides did any work. In fact, all aides compressed their entire collective day's workload into the last hour of the day.

Qiana beamed for being noticed and replied cheerfully, "Oh hi Miss. Debbie, how you doin' today?" Other stragglers came in just before the bell rang.

It was a normal day, like any other. Debbie was trying to finish a proposal to procure city funding for a big project on top of dealing with her regular workload, including that damned teacher review. She mostly used aides as couriers. They were not to be trusted with independent projects for obvious reasons, but could easily handle simple requests. Debbie's desk faced a wall and her student aides sat in a row of chairs behind her.

"Peter, this is for Mrs. LaMont", she said without looking back.

Typically, she would swiftly turn around in her computer chair and hand out papers to be delivered somewhere. The aides would slowly get up, walk two feet, take the paper in slow motion and drag their feet across the building over the next hour. She sent Peter to the library to get a budget from the hundred-year-old woman who worked there. Ten minutes later, Qiana went to the annex building to annoy the shop teacher. She took her rainbow umbrella with her and smiled, visibly relishing the thought of walking in the rain. She'd get to use her rubber boots finally. Debbie shook her head; that girl was too cheerful.

Lost in thought, Debbie spun around in her chair, one hand holding a paper she was reading and the other habitually open. It took her a few seconds to realize that she was unexpectedly holding something in her open hand. She lowered her paper and realized what had happened. Anticipating her turning around, a student aide got up early to grab a printout and was standing next to her when she turned around. Now, she was accidentally touching his crotch. His cock seemed hard as a rock through his pants. How long was she touching it?

"Oh god!" she muttered.

Awkward wouldn't be a proper word to describe the situation. Debbie felt as if she blacked out for a moment. She could not remember grabbing his crotch, but there it was, in her hand. Slow to respond, she finally let go of it and murmured an apology. The boy, Clayton, replied with an apology. "My bad .. I shouldn't be coming up behind people." She handed him the paper, and hoped he'd figure out where it went. She was flustered. After he left her office she started thinking about the incident, wondering if she should report it to someone. After the fifth or so evaluation of what had happened, Debbie flushed red.

"That little son of a bitch should watch where he's walking", she thought.

Her work concentration was completely ruined. She kept revisiting that moment in time trying to figure out why the experience felt so horribly inappropriate. On one hand, it was pretty obvious why the situation was inappropriate, but on the other hand, there was another layer to it. Aside from that obvious fondling, Clayton was merely 18 years old. She was old enough to be his mother! In the end, she transferred all the blame onto him. "Why was that little prick pitching a tent in the office anyway?" she wondered.

Just then, a fat walrus with thick unkempt moustache walked in. It was Mr. Combs. He looked serious. "Deb, we've gotta talk about your request. The one about becoming a teacher." Finally, she thought! He wasn't ignoring the request anymore. He didn't even ask if she was busy. That was okay, this new development was more important to her than privacy at the office.

"Why please, have a seat."

The principal sat down and the poor chair strained under his weight. He ran a finger under his nose and snorted loudly. Deborah was nervously excited at what he was about to say.

"Deb, you heard about Mr. Leverette, right?"

She nodded. Robbi Leverette was the district superintendent whom everyone knew. He'd been around for half a century and everyone liked him. He was sure to approve her promotion to teacher. "Well, seems he took his wife's passing away harder than we thought. He's retiring e-ffective immediately."

"Oh no!" she despaired. But this meant that...

Mr. Combs smiled, twisting his moustache into a grin. "That leaves me as his interim replacement. Now what I wanted t'talk to you about is I can't approve your teacher request until things settle down." He shifted his weight. "I'll need you to help me with things around here." She swallowed hard and asked, "And how long do you think that would take?"

He started to stand up and walk away. "Well, it'll be awhile before things settle down. Maybe couple of years tops, no more than five."

He held up his fingers to indicate five, but his thumb was bent into his palm and he was showing four. It was a confusing message. She shook her head and before she could plead with him, he was gone. "Ugh!" she screamed into her sleeve. Having done all this work for him meant nothing. He took years of her life and wanted more, more bitchwork. And she'd get nothing out of it. She drove home angry and stayed angry for a whole week. She honked in traffic, snapped at everyone for no reason, applying her unchanneled anger to the wrong people.

A week later, she ran into the superintendent's secretary, Babs. She was an old classy lady who was nice to everyone. "Sorry you didn't get the teacher position Deborah", she said sympathetically, adding "I'm sure it'll happen soon sweetie."

Debbie felt Babs was genuinely well-meaning, "Oh it's all right, I have plenty of work to do as it is."

Just then, Debbie figured out why Clayton pitched a tent. Turns out, it was stupidly obvious. Her computer chair was much higher off the ground than the ones aides sat in. Even though those chairs were small to begin with, Clayton always slouched in the same one while he waited for work. Debbie often wore dresses and light-colored pantyhose to work.

It was an old conservative habit from her secretary days that never went away. While none of her work dresses were really short, they always rode up over her knees as she typed at her computer. Her nervous ticks included absent-mindedly putting her feet even higher up on the chair wheels, and pinching her pantyhose in places and releasing them like a rubber band.

Debbie realized that Clayton was peeking up her dresses.

She felt violated. "That little pervert! How dare he!?" she said to herself. Over the next week, more than once she stopped herself from calling Clayton into a meeting to discuss his inappropriate behavior. However, since she couldn't be entirely certain about what was going on, she hesitated. This felt worse than having her career arrested by a spiteful fat man.

One late evening, as she was sipping a glass of cognac and preparing her work outfit, she had an idea. A really bad idea, but it seemed good at the time. She was going to test her theory by baiting him. Instead of her usual pantyhose and a dress slip, she chose a garter belt and tan thigh highs. A normal dress wasn't going to cut it tomorrow, so she picked out red panties and a short gray skirt out of the closet. "Lets see if that little pervert notices me tomorrow", she thought. Idea was that she was going to tempt him into peeking, then catch him and have him disciplined. And she'd finally nail someone for something.

She slept in that night, hitting the snooze button too many times. Rushing to get ready, she absent-mindedly started dressing and then realized what she was putting on. She hesitated and shook her head at the mirror. What had gone through her head last night? She shouldn't make any decisions like that while tipsy, but she was running late and didn't have time to pick out a different outfit. The garter belt wouldn't cooperate so she clipped only one nylon. The other one seemed to stay put.

At work, everyone noticed her different outfit. Her legs were very toned and she never showed them and now they were drawing eyes. Men who never spoke with her before made sure to compliment her looks. It made her feel wanted, appreciated. Warm inside. It was a busy day so she kept running to different offices and classrooms, herding signatures. Once or twice, she realized her loose nylon had slipped and top of it was showing. She adjusted it unapologetically while men stared. She knew they were watching her, and giggled thinking how simple men were.

By the end of the day, the entire male portion of the department came in just to chatter for a minute or two. One of the most difficult colleagues walked in on her clipping her nylon and froze watching her. She needed it to stay put, so she ignored him letting him watch, and concentrated on finishing the task at hand. When she was finished, she realized her enemy had melted into putty. He became incredibly easy-going.

For the first time in her life, Debbie felt empowered by her body, instead of merely objectified. Now that she ranked equal or higher than the men she worked with - at least in power given to her by administrative duties - she didn't just feel like a piece of meat.

Somehow, the power tables had turned. In that one day she got more accomplished from dealing with colleagues than from that entire semester of haggling. People who were resistant to her written proposals somehow managed to let their hormones get the better of them and okayed it in person. The skirt wasn't even that short!

The principal again walked into her office unannounced. Intending to dump a stack of papers on her desk, he was taken aback by what he saw. "Why Miss. Debbie, you look great today" was all he said. She smiled, batted her eyelashes and he started ranting. After awhile, he left, but to her shock he took all the paperwork he was going to dump in her lap with him. Debbie was amazed.

By the last period, she had forgotten all about Clayton and her immature plan from last night. Things were just going so great that she decided to forget her grudge. In fact, the prior situation seemed downright comical. She was going to expend all that negative energy stopping a teenage boy from getting what teenage boys get from a blowing wind.

Remembering last night's ill-conceived plan, Debbie turned around in her chair. As usual, Clayton was slouching in the seat behind her, facing her and playing with his phone. Debbie looked at him for a moment and smirked. This was too funny to her now: a juvenile grudge resulted in her getting an incredible amount of work done.

Maybe she should reward Clayton for his contribution, she thought.

She was feeling saucy. She picked up the school directory book and put it right in front of her face. As she was doing this, she turned around and started spreading her legs slowly apart. Her skirt was stretched tight. Debbie found her name in the directory and spent a minute admiring her job title.

"See anything you like?" she thought to herself.

After a minute, she slowly put the book down and looked at Clayton. He looked away, pretending to have been staring aimlessly the entire time; however, the bulge in his pants gave him away. He must have gotten one hell of a peek at her red panties.

Just then, the bell rang. Debbie smiled and wished Clayton a good afternoon. She spent the next few seconds watching him struggle with concealing his erection and after he finally walked out of the office, she laughed out loud. This had been a good day. She had gotten a high of feeling powerful, despite acting like she was a piece of meat.

In fact, it was such a good day that when Debbie got home, she couldn't sit still. A sense of accomplishment coupled with knowing that she had an advantage over her colleagues made her feel excited, and it was spilling over to other parts of her brain. She could feel the invisible power lines that her body broadcast to men. As she started changing out of her work clothes, she discovered that she was wet. Surprised, she explored her pussy for a moment. It was not often that Debbie masturbated, but today was a day worth celebrating. She decided to put off changing for a few minutes.

Crawling over her bed, she reached into her night stand and pulled her vibrator out. Holding it in her hand, she remembered the last time she held a real cock. It had been years, but she vividly remembered it wiggling near her face while she laid back against the pillow. Sadly, it belonged to the fat principal, Mr. Combs.

She regretted her impulsive affair with him two years ago. He was a disgusting man and married, but she had just started working at the school and liked all the empowerment and attention he was giving her. The few times they had sex, she regretted it instantly, despite a few rare moments of pleasure. It was kind of hot having him straddle her chest and fuck her mouth.

The first time it happened, she invited him over for a drink and things spiralled out of control quickly. They were flirting and she was buzzed and he was clearly interested. She felt she wanted it to happen, but once he got naked, she just wanted it to end. His big stomach kept bumping into her head, but at least his cock was decent enough. It was thick and long, so despite his bulk he could reach her mouth and make her gag from time to time. It took a big cock to do that to her. Without meaning to, she relived that memory by slowly pushing the vibrator in her mouth.

She wondered what it felt like to fuck someone's face.

As she imagined it, her pussy remembered being later fucked and got more wet. Her other hand crept under her skirt and found its way to her pussy lips. She remembered him pinning her down with his weight and reaming her wet pussy. She could barely breathe that day - it was as if she was tied up and there was no way for her to stop him. She rubbed her clit for awhile and then brought herself to an orgasm with her vibrator. She had to be quiet so not to wake up her daughter, so she screamed an intense orgasm into her pillow.

The next day, Debbie dressed in her usual outfit. Long classy dress but nothing provocative. As soon as she got in her office she decided that she needed coffee so she headed out to the teacher's lounge. She couldn't help but notice that she got brief disappointing stares from men in the lounge. Thinking nothing of it, she resumed her work day. But, today was different than yesterday. Today, her efforts were met with noticeable resistance. The same people that she dealt with yesterday were somehow different. She finished the day without accomplishing much of anything. She even got rejected by her vibrator once she got home - the batteries ran dry.

On Friday evening she was sipping cognac and feeling depressed about how strange life was when she decided to test her newly-formed theory. If the faculty wanted a whore, she was going to give them a whore. She went out shopping over the weekend and found the most provocative outfits she could get away with in a school.

She proved her theory right.

There was only one way that Debbie could regain her high of feeling powerful. If she objectified herself, she could not only get things done but get them done faster and easier. Strangely enough, she soon stopped feeling like a piece of meat. She reasoned she was in direct control of men's behavior through looking promiscuous so she no longer felt disgusted by it.

Slowly, she embraced haughtiness. Over the next weeks she replaced all her dresses with skirts, hung up all her jackets in favor of low-cut blouses, bought shorter thigh highs and wore taller heels. She even got exciting underwear, transforming herself from an attractive conservative woman to a slutty conservative woman.

At work, every pair of male eyes was glued to her ass. Debbie started getting off on Clayton watching her. She started regularly making distracted phone calls while facing him and spreading her legs. At first it was the feeling of power over him that drove her to almost purposely flash him, but that feeling later got replaced with genuine horniness. It was strange and wrong, but it turned her on to know that she, at her age, could cause raging erections. He was of the legal age, so maybe it wasn't so wrong. As it was, she was just teasing him.

One day, she needed to install a new app on her stupid phone. It was a frustrating and futile attempt, full of incomprehensible error messages. It made her upset and she huffed and puffed while trying over and over again. Finally, she heard a voice behind her, "Do you need help with that Miss. Debbie?" It was Clayton.

"Do you know anything about these darn things?" she asked him while spinning around in her chair.