Slut Class Ch. 01 - First Class

This is an introduction to a new series. There's no sex in this episode, and only a little bit of exhibitionism, but I felt this was the best category for much of the series. It is set in the same world as my Sister Desiree stories.

In a windowless classroom in Tolliver Hall, Nikki Love stood up in front of twenty students. She was nervous, not because she was standing in front of people with half her bra showing and her cleavage on display, her too-tight blouse unable to button completely. She was used to that, usually with a camera involved. But it was her first time teaching. She turned and wrote her name on the board, conscious that her ass, covered in a snug black skirt, was one of her best features. She'd chosen seamed stockings, and four-inch black heels.

"Welcome to Gender Studies 107, Manipulating Regressive Paradigms," she said, turning back to the class full of young ladies. "I hope that's what everyone is here for?"

A cute blonde raised her hand.

"Yes, Miss?" Nikki pointed. "Tell me your name, I want to learn all your names." Ugh, I sound like I'm teaching Kindergarten.

"I'm Karen Taylor," said the girl. "What exactly is a 'regressive paradigm,' anyway? That's not what most people call this class."

Nikki smiled. "What do most people call this class, Karen?" she asked.

"Uh, you know, Dr. Love." Karen blushed

"Yes, but one goal of this class is getting comfortable expressing yourself. Please answer the question, Karen."

"The slut class," said Karen, blushing harder.

Nikki smiled. "Is that what everyone else has heard?" There were some nods, and a couple girls shook their heads and looked decidedly uncomfortable. A girl with pink hair and a crop top grinned.

Nikki pointed to one, a woman with mousy brown hair that was very straight. "What do you think regressive paradigms are?" she asked. "And tell me your name."

"Abigail Schneider," the girl said, "I just thought it sounded cool."

Nikki smiled. "It's a very fancy way of saying something, isn't it? I didn't come up with it, someone in the department did." She pointed to the other girl who shook her head, a curvy Latina with waves of beautiful black hair. "How about you?"

"Flora Alicia Ramirez," said the woman. "A regressive paradigm is an outdated, usually patriarchal, view of the world, running counter to current feminist thought. An example is the idea that women should obey men in a marriage. A regressive paradigm is something bad, so I'm curious about the name of this class, but since we're all women here I'm sure it will be fine."

"Well," said Nikki. "We won't be teaching that women should obey men in marriages. Why did you register for this class, Flora?"

"Because it was for women only, and I'm tired of getting snarky guys in gender studies classes."

Nikki laughed. "In this class I'll teach you how to express yourself, especially in matters of sex. Part of that will be learning and practicing basic skills and learning to be comfortable with what others might perceive as excessive displays of sexuality."

"That doesn't sound so bad," said Flora. "What's the regressive paradigm, then?"

Nikki had practiced this part. "Some strands of Feminism teach that the 'male gaze' is at fault for much of women's oppression. Such 'feminists' use the concept of the male gaze to suggest that women should cover their bodies, allying with anti-feminist religious conservatives against women such as sex workers, telling women what they can and cannot do with their own bodies, and making them frightened of men. In this class we are going to turn that around, empowering ourselves to see the male gaze as something we can direct to ourselves for our pleasure as well as theirs, and treating male and female lust as something useful to us rather than inherently offensive."

"Thus, the slut class," said a dark skinned woman with a honey-brown afro.

"Name, please?" asked Nikki.

"Rachida Jones."

"Thank you, Rachida. Is everyone in the right place?"

Nikki waited. Two girls slipped out the door. She expected she'd see their drop slips soon. To her surprise, Flora and Abigail stayed.

"So, then, the phrase 'slut class.' That's supposed to be shaming, isn't it? Women get divided up into sluts or prudes, and either way we can't win, but being a slut is worse. We can agree with that regressive paradigm, and slut-shame, or we can embrace our sexual selves and embrace the word that's supposed to be harmful. A slut is nothing more, or less, than a woman who is unafraid of what she wants sexually, and brave enough to actually get it." She turned and wrote on the board. On the left side, she wrote: "Manipulating Regressive Paradigms." On the right side she wrote, "The slut class," and put it in quotes.

She turned to the students. "We'll examine the idea that a woman who enjoys giving pleasure as much or more than receiving it is a tool of the patriarchy, as some would suggest. I'm going to suggest that being a 'giver' is in fact a sexual orientation, and that such shaming—directed almost entirely at women, rarely at men—is another attempt to take away women's rights to do what they want with their bodies. Capitalism suggests that a world of takers produces good through the invisible hand of the market, but other lines of thought suggest that a world of givers is actually a better place."

"In order to get an A in this class, you will most definitely have to embrace your inner slut. In fact, you're going to have to let a few people embrace your outer slut, as well. We will use the word "slut" as well as other sexually suggestive language a lot, so get comfortable with that language. There will be in-class assignments, and assignments to be completed out of class, some of which will be performed in public places. The assignments will require you to be ever more expressive of your sexuality, each lesson more challenging than the one before. As a result, if anyone wants to drop out, even after the deadline, I will gladly sign the paperwork necessary to allow that. I don't want anyone to feel they are doing things against their consent. Even if you complete only part of this class, you will have made strides towards being more comfortable expressing yourself sexually."

Nobody budged.

"Good. We're all in the right place. Flora, would you be so kind as to lock the door? We don't want any boys wandering in. At least not now, as we take our first steps. Thank you. Now then, we're going to break into groups and start talking about sex and sexuality. Not other people's, not in the abstract, but our own."

It started off slow, but for the next hour the girls slowly opened up to each other, and to Nikki. They talked about the wildest things they'd done sexually—threesomes, spanking, a glory hole, sex in a park. Abigail, it turned out, was a virgin, although not particularly happy about it; if anyone else was, they weren't admitting it. Then they talked about things they'd like to do but hadn't—everything from gang bangs to domination to one woman's fantasy about being a naked human statue in a museum.

"Thank you, ladies," Nikki said as the clock approached the hour. "I appreciate all of you baring your intimate desires. In a way we've been more naked with each other than if we'd taken off our clothes. On Thursday we'll talk about Dressing for Sexcess." She turned and wrote the title on the chalkboard. "You are expected to come dressed provocatively, in a manner to heighten sexual attraction. Outfits will be graded, both by your peers and by me, and we'll discuss what works and what doesn't, and how to improve. Be proud of your skin and your shape, ladies, and don't be afraid to flaunt it. We will be grading outfits, not body types. Some of you are probably nervous. Having a few butterflies is part of the fun. You'll get used to dealing with that."

She saw a few smirks, and a few shocked faces. The pink haired girl, who Nikki had learned was Stella Potter, was one of the smirkers, and she was already wearing short shorts and a crop top a size smaller than a size-chart would have recommended for her bust. Flora's surprised face turned into a calculating one.

Nikki smiled at her. "Oh, and girls—a one letter grade reduction on this assignment if you wear a trench coat or such to class so that no one sees your outfit in the halls. I'll be standing outside before class starts."

Flora's glare showed that she had been thinking exactly what Nikki had suspected.

"Later in the semester, we'll be doing far more than dressing slutty. Some of you may be worried about that, but as all of you know, STIs have been largely eradicated, and are entirely curable. We have established a special relationship with the Church of Gaea, and their curative services are available to anyone in this class if you have any concerns. If you aren't on birth control now, I suggest you go to the clinic in the Student Center directly from this class and get that sorted out immediately. I'll expect everyone to verify that they are on birth control by the second week of class."

The girls stared back at her. Nikki looked at the clock, relieved to see that time was up.

"See you next time!"