The Program Ch. 01-06

Chapter 1: How the Program works - exam, selection, installation, observation and accessories

The Headmaster of exclusive Ansonia Academy was sitting by the fireplace in the Faculty Lounge with his younger colleague from a sister prep school in New England. They were drinking sherry at tea time, alone. In his mid-forties, the Headmaster was wiry, with stiff gunmetal hair and a bristly, trim moustache.

"The key to the Program's success and efficacy is that it's based on planning, attention to detail, and a slow accumulation of details," he explained. "On Orientation day, we give all the incoming students a lengthy multiple choice questionnaire that I devised. I explain that it's a vital factor in determining their stay over three years.

"Upon completion, I throw the boys' exams in the rubbish bin and carefully review the girls' answers. The senior girl we're looking for doesn't have to be beautiful, just 18, pretty, and involved with sports or dance so she's in excellent shape. Preferably, a girl who has attended an average public high school, not an exclusive, prestigious and expensive prep school like Ansonia. One who is on full scholarship as well, but tends to low self-esteem, does not know the other students, is inexperienced and shy. And it helps if her family lives far away so there's not too much contact."

"Do you ask questions regarding obedience and docility?" the younger man asked.

"Oh yes. One of them goes something like, 'Do you think that authority figures: 1. Should be generally ignored or resisted, or 2. obeyed because they are intelligent, responsible and perform their jobs well?'"

"What about openness to punishment or discipline, and sexual history?"

"There's a section for each. The discipline section asks whether the parents have ever spanked or whipped the child, how frequently, whether the punishment made the girl feel corrected, etc. The questions about sexual history—oral sex, intercourse, bisexual experience, etc., occur during the personal interview.

"I interview about a dozen candidates and observe their body language and responses. Our criteria are so detailed that it's not hard to choose the best 'applicant.' Of course, since we have only one girl per year, we don't have a huge pool of graduates, but I'm pleased to say that this year we have our best girl by far in the history of our program." The Headmaster sipped some of the expensive, aged sherry.

"First of all, she is both beautiful and extremely sensuous. Tall (5 foot 8 inches), slim, fit, with very short straight hair, glossy and almost black. Incredible blue-gray eyes, a wide mouth with thick lips and silky, tawny skin. She has a sultry aspect, perhaps because of her long eyelashes and thick lips, that make her appear to be pouting sometimes. You could say that her hair, body and complexion look like a combination of Winona Ryder, Demi Moore, Halle Berry and Natalie Portman when they were all young, but unlike them in their younger days, her affect is not naïve or innocent."

"Family?"

"Her mother is poor and divorced and the father is completely out of the picture, a convenience for us. No siblings. The mother lives on the opposite side of the country, and it's time-consuming and quite expensive to fly here.

"The girl—her name is Janice— is shy, and since she's so hot-looking the boys and other girls think she's a snob and leave her alone. So she was not only lonely and insecure, but also craving a father figure. Her questionnaire stated that she thought teens her age, especially boys, were often selfish, arrogant and obnoxious, so she preferred the company of adults, who were much more mature, interesting and attractive. She's also the most sensual and submissive girl we've encountered, with a deep craving for humiliation and discipline.

"What about her history of discipline and sex?"

"At first, she'd been spanked, but then her father moved onto whipping. She would remove her panties and skirt or pants and kneel on her bed. Sexually, she was amazingly naïve for her age, a virgin who had never even given oral sex, just hand jobs. I actually prefer them that way—a clean slate with no bad behavior to correct or bad experiences to process. But she was on the pill."

"Once she's been selected, how do you explain the Program?" the young man inquired.

"In my office," the Headmaster continued, "she reads a lengthy legalese contract, explaining that the Program is proprietary and confidential, that she cannot divulge it to her family or friends, and that any breach will result in immediate dismissal from the Program and an end to her full scholarship. It states that I will be her faculty advisor, tutor and dorm monitor. The pot is then sweetened, explaining that she will receive a large room with a view, a stipend, a clothing allowance, a large screen LCD TV—with cable porn channels that the girls quickly discover, free plane tickets home for major holidays, and many other generous benefits.

"Naturally, any girl is thrilled to sign. We move her into a spacious dormer suite in the top floor, directly above my apartment. Naturally, she has a roommate who we assign, knowing they won't like each other. In the first days for first semesters, somebody always gets ill or homesick and leaves permanently. The moment that happens, we transfer the roommate to the departed girl's room and both Janice and the transferred student are happy."

"What is the suite like?" asked the young colleague, now taking discreet notes.

"It's beautifully appointed. Most of the furniture is an elegant black, to contrast the girls' skin. The dining room table and leather chairs, plus the sofa, easy chairs, large coffee table and oversized ottoman, all have hooks or rings or eyelets at their bases to secure ropes and ties. The shower enclosure has clear glass for an unobstructed view. In the bedrooms, we built large walk-in closets and installed four-poster beds with slatted canopies. Of course, each room has been equipped with inconspicuous, state-of-the-art cameras that can record a good image in surprisingly dim light."

The colleague looked up from his notepad. "And once the girl's been installed?"

"I explain that the program includes special study courses. One is an art tutorial, The Body Throughout Modern Times." I don't mention that the course begins with one of the large format books of teen nudes by a controversial photographer, and continues with the erotic tableau photos of Helmut Newton, filled with nude European women, leather, crops and whips. I also outline a Women's Literature study that begins with Anais Nin, "Lady Chatterly's Lover" and "Men in Love," and eventually ends with "The Story of O." For the Film Studies course, the dormer library is stocked with sensuous films with female nudity like "Henry and June, The Unbearable Lightness of Being," and eventually concludes—months later—with "The Story of O."

"How does the training begin?"

"The first days of prep school are exciting, so we introduce elements from the beginning. On her first evening in the dormer, Janice received a gift bag. I explained that proper couture is one of the essentials to a successful career, and that we train our students in fashion, comportment, posture, politeness and so on. She knew that her clothing was dowdy, dated and full of polyester. The initial gift bag included a sheer silk blouse and skirt; a gossamer weight bathrobe; a lady's razor with a small pamphlet about how important it is to remove all body hair, with an illustrated tutorial about shaving all pubic hair daily; and, nestled amidst some expensive eye liner, mascara, blush and lipstick, a modest 4-inch dildo. I explained that the senior girls put together this welcome bag for select new girls. There was no lingerie for a reason I'll explain in a minute.

"Before saying goodnight, I explained that the entrance to her dormer was old and did not lock properly, but that campus security was superb and that she was extremely safe in this particular building and the top floor. I complimented how wonderful it was to have her and left.

"On my monitors, I watched Janice as she excitedly went through the bag. She stripped off her coarse top and unattractive pants, revealing a cheap, heavy cotton bra and panties, and was pleased with her new outfit. Apparently she didn't realize the sheerness of the blouse because of the tacky white bra she wore. Then she removed the skirt and blouse, carefully placed them in the closet, and sat at her brightly lit makeup table, playing with the makeup. After a few minutes, tired from the excitement and activities of orientation day, she washed up and went to bed.

"Since the dormer had no curtains or window shades, and there was a tall lamp next to the walkway outside, a fair amount of light penetrated the dormer at night. Janice was surprised about how visible she was, but felt securely private since the dormer was on the fifth floor and there were no other buildings visible. So the camera did an adequate job of showing Janice as she climbed into her luxurious, comfortable bed and opened the dildo box.

"I observed as she examined the accessory—her first ever, almost definitely— and pulled off her ugly panties. I was impressed at how widely she spread her long legs, revealing sparse pussy hair and wet labia that were as thick puffy as her oversized nipples. She started rubbing her breasts and massaging those amazing nipples.

"After teasing the dildo around her big clit, she stroked the head up and down her slit and slowly pressed it in, moaning, sweating and writhing. Licking her big lips, massaging her breasts and pulling her nipples, it didn't take long for her to orgasm. After, she withdrew the dripping dildo from her snatch and sniffed, sticking out a long, tentative tongue to taste her juices. Then she pulled off her bra and quickly fell asleep."

Chapter 2: Measure twice, initiation, erotica, first punishment

"In the morning, I knocked very early and waited until she opened the door. I had awoken her. Her hair tousled, sleepy-eyed, wearing her new robe, she looked fabulous, oblivious that the sheer robe and the morning light streaming through the large windows behind her showed clearly that she wore no pajamas. Being half-awake made her even sexier. I explained that it was Ansonia policy to personally wake students on their first day of class.

"Thank you, Headmaster."

"You're welcome. I'll be back this afternoon after your swim period to begin our Women's Lit and Women in Film studies."

That afternoon, we spent fifty minutes on D.H. Lawrence. Before moving on to film, I recommended a break. "The senior girls didn't include any pajamas, lingerie or swimwear in your welcome bag because you left your measurements blank on your application. Why?"

She blushed. "I haven't measured myself for six months, and I've. . . developed. So I don't really know."

"Alright, let me see the swimsuit. Go put it on." She returned in a couple of minutes wearing an unflattering bikini with a loud pattern, head depressed in embarrassment. The full cups and wide cut panties covered way too much of her satiny skin.

"Well, that won't be hard to improve upon. Come along." We went into the bedroom together. "Stand at the foot of the bed and remove that horrible bikini." She looked at me, confused and flustered. "Miss Slatter," I said, feigning irritation, "we do things properly at Ansonia. No half measures. I've measured plenty of girls, it's no big deal, and your lingerie and swimwear will be beautiful, so we need to get it right. Fine clothing is expensive, and I know you'll look fabulous in it. Besides, your back will be turned to me. And I can assure you, I've seen plenty of bottoms during disciplinary sessions."

She stood in front of the bed's railing, tense. "We don't have all day," I said, reaching out and unclasping the top. Awkwardly, she drew the straps off her shoulders and pulled the big cups off her breasts, throwing the top on the bed. Impatiently, I grabbed the panties and pulled them down to just above her knees, a humiliating place to leave them. I could her breathing deeply with embarrassment. I began to grow harder the moment her tight, gorgeous young ass came into view.

"Damn, I forgot the tape measure. It's in my jacket at the dining room table. While I get it, remove those stupid panties. Then, to make it easy to measure you, raise your arms to horizontal and hold onto the bedposts for support." The tape measure was really in my pocket, but I wanted to give her a minute's privacy to adjust to the idea of being nude and assuming a posture.

I walked out, looking behind me as she grudgingly shuffled her legs and feet till the panties dropped to the floor. I pretended to shut the bedroom door behind me, but the bedroom and bathroom doors had been precisely hung to slowly swing open. Once the door had reopened, I watched as she raised her arms and grasped the bedposts. She was magnificent.

I walked back in and pulled a small metal tape measure out of my pocket. "Very good," I said. Rather than a supple fabric measure, I had chosen this one because the stiff metal would be uncomfortable and also cold on her breasts and nipples. Without touching, I stood behind her and lifted the measure over her head, resting it on her lovely breasts.

"Oh!" she said, startled by the cold metal. I dragged the measure down her breasts till it was hanging in front of her huge nipples, now hardening and pulled until the metal pressed against the nipples. "Uh," she said, but made no complaint as I drew the ends together over her spine and muttered about doing this accurately. Then I pulled harder, the metal pressing harshly into her nubbins and beginning to compress her breasts. I could tell it hurt, but she made no complaint, just uttered "Uhhh."

"I've got it now, 35." I released the tape and her breathing relaxed. Then I proceeded with her slim waist and gorgeous hips. "There, that wasn't so hard, was it?" I asked.

"No sir."

"You may lower your arms." I advised her to study hard and we'd see each other tomorrow.

"Thank you sir," she said as I left. When I brought the new clothing a few days later, she squealed with delight and kissed me on the cheek. She loved the bikini, in white to contrast her tawny skin and daringly cut for her. The lacy pastel panties, in blue, pink, yellow, green and orange, were all bikini cut and the bras, in matching pastels, were all half cup with plenty of lace.

An interesting detail is that none of the lace on either the bras or panties covered much of a girl's privates. But Janice fell in love with them before she noticed that revealing design detail, and then shrugged it off as being a French style thing. The baby doll nighties were as revealing as her sheer bathrobe, in pastels to match the bras and panties. Each bra and panty set included matching stay-up stockings. "Ooohh, stockings too!" she said. "Would you like to see me model the bikini?" she asked eagerly.

"What a sweet idea. Please. But why don't you take a quick hot shower, so you can see if the fabric and fit are comfortable when wet." She cocked her head, thinking this was an unusual request, but since I gave two logical reasons, she acquiesced. When she stepped out of the shower, the mirror had completely fogged, so she wrapped a towel around her and returned to the living room.

When she returned, she was a sight, shiny black hair dripping, her skin a healthy complexion, smiling as she pretended to be a runway model walking back and forth in front of me. I chuckled and applauded. She unwrapped the towel as a slow tease, placing one leg behind her in a cute curtsy. It was obvious that she was becoming prouder of her body and less self-conscious about showing it. "You look lovely," I said. The innocent girl had no idea that the thin white fabric had been chosen because it became virtually transparent when wet.

I unabashedly stared at the heavy 35C tits capped with the dark aureole and even darker, stiff nipples, plain as day. "Does it fit and is it comfortable? I hope so, because you look ravishing." I was specifically referring to her thick labia, pressing against the soaked, transparent material.

"It feels tight all over, sir, but I like it too much to let it go." I should hope it was tight, since it was intentionally a size too small for her voluptuous body. "Of course, it's a lot briefer than what I'm used to."

"Alright, put your towel back on, take it off and I'll hang it to dry while you get dressed." She was becoming used to my odd requests, and this seemed harmless, so she obeyed, contorting herself underneath the towel, and handed me the wet pieces. Good, I had prevented her from seeing her tits and pussy exposed in one of the bedroom mirrors.

Over the next weeks, Janice liked her teachers, was doing well in her classes, and with a daily workout schedule, was losing her tiny amount of body fat. I made sure that she called and e-mailed her mother frequently. She seemed cheerful, well adjusted and content to not have friends on-campus, which suited me perfectly. Like anyone else, she attended various concerts and other events, but didn't hang out in the student union.

We proceeded with her tutorials. At first she'd sit in a chair while I was on the couch, but that immediately proved to be impractical when we studied art books and watched DVDs, so we sat together on the leather sofa.

She was excited by the pioneering sexual frankness of D.H. Lawrence, and bought a vintage 1920s dress at an off-campus boutique that she wore without bra or panties during our sessions. It was a virginal, risqué look, since the dress had areas of revealing lace. Janice explained that she'd always loved wearing costumes, and I took this as a good sign, since soon enough she would be wearing nothing but a black silk bustier, or a white waist cincher, or a brocade underbust corset with heels, or a bondage leather harness, or black ropes binding her luscious tits and pussy lips so they bulged.

She watched "The Unbearable Lightness of Being" several times. After the first viewing, Janice idolized the character Lena Olin played and was so turned on by the scene with Olin wearing a black bowler and lingerie, that she bought a black lace bra and panty set at an expensive lingerie boutique in town. She even bought a bowler at the store where she'd purchased the 1920s dress. The second time, she watched clad in just hat, bra and panties. Once the sex scenes began, it didn't take long for her to masturbate herself to multiple orgasms.

After "The Unbearable Lightness of Being" her syllabus featured "Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down!" She was fascinated by the bondage bed scenes with Victoria Abril and watched them repeatedly, always bringing herself off.

Her art course progressed as well. After the controversial photography book of teen nudes, we studied Helmut Newton's work. Fascinated by the nude scenes with bondage gear, she asked lots of questions, trying to hide an excitement that was charmingly obvious.

She began frequenting BDSM sites on a daily basis, bookmarking sites for erotic clothes and bondage gear, and reading stories filled with harsh scenes of domination, sucking and fucking.

During this period, she also received another gift bag, also ostensibly from the caring but invisible and anonymous senior girls. This assortment contained a small black vibrator that, along with the earlier dildos, quickly saw nightly use. Despite this frequent self-pleasuring, it was clear that, being highly sexed, her level of frustration was increasing weekly.

One evening I indulged her pleading and permitted her some dessert sherry. She quickly guzzled four glasses till I admonished her to stop. She said she figured that I wasn't married, and assumed I didn't have a girlfriend either. I explained that I was a lot like her, independent and highly selective, preferring females not my own age. She explained that she wanted to do something for all my kindnesses. "That's not necessary," I said. "Because I'm so selective, I prefer buying things for myself. And there aren't any objects that I want. I prefer gifts of a non-material nature."