It must be the hottest week of the year. I’ve tried to fix the air-conditioning the whole morning to no avail. Typical! My brain already works at about sixty-four per cent, and I find myself doing a three-person job. This is only my second year as the headmistress at this sixth-form girls' establishment.

Of course, the superintendent is nowhere to be found, and the secretary decided to have a summer baby – without any notice! That lucky devil didn’t even look pregnant last year.

Not that I’m not used to this place; I’ve been teaching here since I graduated five years ago. Before that, I went through the three usual years of studies. Still, my fairly new status gets on my nerves. I wasn’t expecting such a workload until my fiftieth birthday! I’m only a little over half-way there.

The final-year students look as weary as I feel. In addition to the day-long journey by train, bus and whatever, they’ve had to walk through the countryside. One by one, they parade in and out, grab their books and change into their uniforms under my watchful eye. I haul most of their personal belongings into a safe. They don’t seem to mind their nudity, and neither do I.

I’m betting they view me as a big sister rather than the principal. When I was at their spot, the person sitting in my current chair was an old perv. If only the new girls knew how well he taught me…

The humidity between my thighs no longer pertains to the heat alone. The souvenir of his hard rod in my throat and the strain of the collar on my neck still keep me awake at night. He made me his slut as soon as I arrived, and I’ve since returned the favour to others. What else is there to do – for fun – in the middle of nowhere? I clear my tightened throat and cross my legs. The cute, innocent young lady in front of me is not the one I shall choose this time. Her juvenile form is attractive enough, but I need a challenge.

Last year, I selected two pets. They were sweet and docile, and their memory, too, accompanied me through my lonely summer. This school is my family. Ever since my master kicked the bucket, I’ve remained in isolation during each vacation. One day, someone like me might come along.

A drop of sweat runs down my face and neck and plunges between my breasts. My nipples are acting as if the air were freezing. After this part of the day is done, I’ll have to lock my office and take out my toys. The girl who’s sticking her legs through the miniskirt is taking her time. Does she know how I enjoy the view? Is she presenting herself to me, despite her virginal attitude?

The scanty uniforms were my predecessor’s choice. The secretary had always found them immoral and dared to hope I’d get rid of them. The superintendent is still of two minds, and I can understand why. Lusting after young people doesn’t come easily to all old soaks. As for myself, I revel in the knowledge that the outfit brings some girls’ naughtiest selves forward. Therefore, the uniforms stay as they are.

The slow student curtseys and leaves. As I fan my face with my notepad, I realise only one name remains. Jordan… something. It may be my handwriting, but I can’t decipher it. I leave my comfy chair behind and peek into the corridor. It’s deserted. The girls have moved into the dorms. Through the backyard window, I witness two of them invading the hammocks. I retreat into my office and turn the key. The last one may not be coming. It’s time for me to unwind.

I use another key to unlock my personal drawer. Unlike the others that contain school material, this one is for my pleasure alone. One might say I’m addicted to orgasms, but who isn’t? I take out my favourite vibrator and yank up my dress. My drenched thong could as well be non-existent. I place the stick on my downstairs lips and switch it on. As the exquisite wave washes over me, I glance at my nipples that could well pierce through the dress.

Someone knocks. Even if the sound makes me jump, I’m far from the jittery girl who’d hastily hide everything under her pillow. I ask the knocker to wait, turn off the pleasure stick and pull down my hem. The mirror confirms my blush, but the day is sweltering, after all.

As I pull open the door, a short-sleeved woodcutter’s shirt greets me. I lift my eyes and come face to face with a budding beard. The musky smell of the young man’s sweat fills my nostrils. His green eyes linger on my cleavage while I step back and stumble on my heels.

“Oh,” is the first thing my mouth lets loose. I pull myself together. “May I help you?”

“I was supposed to see the headmistress,” he says in a pleasant low voice as he lays his backpack on the floor.

“At your service.”

His gaze runs from my head to my toes and halts at my breasts yet again.

“Oh,” is his turn to say.

“I hope you’re not disappointed. Why did you need to see me? Unless you know shorthand, we’re not hiring.”

“Err… this is a school, isn’t it?”

“Of course.”

“I’m one of your students.”

An uncontrolled laugh escapes my throat. This person must be pulling my leg.

“You can’t be!” I say. As he frowns, I go on: “This is a girls' school.”

He whitens ever-so-slightly.

“But it’s not possible! I applied and was accepted! Here, let me show you the letter.”

He rummages through his bag while I curse the secretary. Still, his mere presence gives me good chills despite the heat.

“No need,” I say. “Are you Jordan?”

He looks up. Seeing him on his knees gives me the urge to seize a bundle of his hair.

“Yeah, that’s me. Jordan Madison.”

I look into his eyes that persist in flicking towards my cleavage. I must admit the sweat drops keep showing him the way. As he moistens his lips, my mind laughs.

“Well then, Jordan Madison. Are you absolutely sure you wish to stay amongst us?”

“Your program seems perfect. Why wouldn’t I want to stay?”

“There’s a catch. This is a traditional establishment. Our uniforms are our… shameful pride.”

“I don’t mind a uniform.”

“Don’t you now?”

I seize the last pile on the side-desk and hand it to the young man. As he examines each item, his eyes nearly pop out.

“Wait… these are girls’ clothes.”

“And this is a girls school. What did you expect?”

“I can’t wear these!”

“Then, you’re free to leave.”

“But this place is exactly what I need! Isn’t there another way?”

“Rules are rules.”

“But you make them! Can’t you bend them, too?”

I laugh and cross my arms.

“Perhaps I could, but frankly, I wish to see how far you’re willing to go to… study. As I said, you’re free to leave. Of course, the bus only stops by the nearest village every week. Make your choice.”

Jordan glances at the door, then at the clothes again. His pleading eyes land on mine, but I show no signs of surrender. At last, he gives me a resigned nod.

“All right.”

“Good. Welcome, Ms Madison.”

The boy blushes and takes a step towards the door while I fall into my seat. My thong bites the crack between my buttocks.

“Not so fast, young man – or should I say ‘lady’.”

“What now?”

“Tsk tsk, don’t be rude. I am your mistress. Give me your clothes.”

“You want me to strip?”

“Everyone else has done so. I need to examine each student for possible injuries or… tattoos and such…” I hardly believe my lie myself. Even with the former headmaster, this bit was already a test of submission. Some students are clearly willing, others reluctant. Sometimes, like with the person in front of me, it’s a mix of both – and that’s the fascinating part.

“You can’t be serious.”

“It’s either that or the bus. In a week.”

Jordan is even slower than the girl that stood at his spot half-an-hour ago. His fingers are clumsy as he unbuttons his shirt. As the boy gets rid of his trousers, I can’t help staring at his crotch even if he tries to hide it. Does he have an erection or is his “tool” as bulky at rest?

“The underwear must go, too,” I jubilantly say before he’s had time to bend over and grab his crop top.

“Is this really your standard procedure, or are you especially cruel because I’m not a female?”

“You can ask the others later, but they’ve all gone through the same thing. I did, too, when I first arrived.”

The young man bridles. He turns his back at me and pulls down his boxers. As he faces me again, his hands hide his groin.

“No need to be prude,” I say. “Relax.”

He mutters a few foul words, but slowly, his arms fall. The bottom of my stomach jolts and the fire reignites. His cock is pointing towards me like a perfectly designed handle. It’s not even fully erected but massive, regardless. I bite my lip and feast my eyes a moment more. After all, he couldn’t keep his eyes off my attributes, and I’ve missed such a view.

“Good boy,” I whisper to myself. All humidity from my mouth appears to have migrated downwards. “On you go.”

“Do I have to wear this, too?” Jordan asks as he comes across a bra.

I nod. This is such fun! His clumsiness jumps to a whole new level as he tries to fasten the hooks behind his back. I observe his struggle for a while, but the heat makes me merciful.

“All right, all right, the bra can stay!”

“Is this all even my size?”

“Did you give your measurements when you signed up?”

“I gave all the required information. Even the weirdly far-reaching blood test results. But there was no box for my gender.”

“Why would there be? It’s never been relevant.”

At last, the boy hunches before me in full uniform. As he’d tower over most girls, the skirt narrowly covers his behind. Naturally, it’s devised to be revealing on anyone. His long, slim middle-section has rarely seen the sun. He’s not muscular, but then again, I’ve never found bodybuilders attractive.

“It becomes you,” I say as I try to come out as self-contained. It’s hard, harder than the stalk under that slutty skirt. Despite the tightness of Jordan’s new panties, he’s pitching a tent.

“As if,” he replies, tugging at his clothes and staring at the ground. “I can’t go out like this.”

“But of course you can. A little shame keeps you alert. Off you go! I shall see you at the welcome ceremony.”

“What will the others think of me?”

“That you’re just like them. Now, go!”

Jordan seeks to collect his clothes, but I click my tongue once again.

“Those stay with me. Everyone here is the same. No privileges.”

His sigh speaks volumes of his reluctance as he offers me a derisive curtsey and stumbles out.

Alone again, I lock the door and pick up where the unexpected newcomer had interrupted me. I always dote on the stimulus of the arrival day and the flow of heavenly bodies before my eyes. And now, this magnificent young man has joined them. He might, at last, scratch the itch I’ve had since the loss of my master.

Everything becomes a whirlwind in my hot head as I massage the hood of my clitoris with the vibrator. A series of perky breasts and legs dance around my mind. Even my own gasps and pants bring me closer to the climax. I still come, as I often do, with the mental picture of an ejaculating cock in my mouth.

As I turn off the device and collapse in my chair, I long for someone’s touch. Even the superintendent and his abrasive hands would do. My half-closed eyes land on Jordan’s clothes. I slither out of the seat, grab his shirt and pull it to my nose. I will do whatever it takes to tame him.