School

23: Summer at Bondage School Part 2 “Mom, Mom, look what I drew!” my daughter’s bright voice called after me and I looked up from my breakfast. She held up the drawing she had been working on all Sunday morning. “That looks wonderful, Tamara,” I said, beaming with joy and carefully took the picture from her to spread it out on the table in front of me. “Honey, look what our daughter has painted!” I said to Bruce, who immediately put his newspaper aside and picked up our daughter so that we could admire her work of art together. ...

22: The Bondage School 1 “If you want to see more, give me a thumbs up and don’t forget to add a subscription!” squealed Summer’s AI-generated voice from the laptop. Summer herself stared in horror at the video she had just watched. It showed her tying herself up in a vacuum bed and orgasming over and over again for hours. “Is that… is that on the internet?” Summer asked the police officer in front of her. He shook his head. ...

Part 1 I want to begin this account of my experience in the Panzher Station CIGI (we pronounce it “siggy”) by saying for the record that I’m not like most of the other girls who get sent there. I didn’t drift around from failed training program to failed apprenticeship through my late teens and early twenties, whether from a lack of direction, emotional instability, criminal behavior, or any of the other qualities that saw my classmates at the CIGI fail to hack it. I’m not a dropout or a basket case. As far as I know, anyway, which in fact isn’t saying much. ...

Part 2 When the wake-up sounded at hour-6, I got right in line for the showers, but I was still behind half my roommates. Since it took us twenty or thirty minutes apiece, it was nearly hour-7 by the time I was clean. I combed out my hair and dried off quickly before getting dressed and heading to the fifth floor cafeteria. I finished my meal and returned to my room. It was past hour-7.5; I couldn’t put off checking my schedule any longer. ...

I’m the strongest girl at school. I’m not a bully, mind! If anything, I’m pretty much the opposite. I don’t go around looking for a fight; I haven’t tested my mettle against other girls, I don’t go out of my way to punch the boys. But Liberty Heights is a cruel school, where the strong routinely prey on the weak, and the teachers turn a blind eye just as frequently. Which is why I’m happy to cultivate my reputation as Irene the butch, the weird goth you shouldn’t mess with. ...

Part One Sara didn’t see me at first as she opened the front door. Maybe it was the transition from bright daylight outside to the relative dimness of the hallway that hid me from her distracted entrance. So it was only as she turned round from closing the door that she suddenly noticed the figure kneeling in the hallway. She jumped, startled. “What the fuck? Oh its you, of course, you scared the Bejesus out of me, hiding there like that.” She said breathlessly. ...

The all women’s school known as Douglas Leblanc Academy had been operating for just over one hundred years and had garnered a reputation of being an excellent institution for preparing young women from high society to succeed in the world around them. However, the last decade or so had seen a decline in the number of women attending the academy and coupled with the rising costs of the operation, the days seemed numbered for the private learning facility. However, out of the blue, the Academy was saved from closure thanks to an infusion of funds from investors whose identities were known only to a select few. With that extra cash added to the coffers, a new crop of entrance level women joined the Academy and were excited at the opportunity to attend the academy. ...

Chapter 1 I don’t know if I am a lesbian or have become one recently but I find myself increasingly attracted to cute shemale traps, not especially real girls, you understand, and increasingly not men either. I find myself scouring the specialist TS clubs looking for small pixie like boy/girls with budding nubile breasts and limp little winkles that love girl’s clothes and look cute in makeup and do not need to wear wigs to have feminine hair. Perhaps I am after a fuckable daughter! ...

As always when it comes to this sort of kinky thing… don’t try this at home (or at school, for that matter). And if there’s a sexy janitor in your life, find a way to tell him you like him without going to the sort of trouble Tina did… This story features incredibly unrealistic and impractical forms of technology and trash disposal systems, for the sake of being that much kinkier. ...

This story is an embellished story based loosely on true events, there was a real Jane. During the last three or 4 days of the school term school use to shut down and the teachers would organise “activity days” this would give the chance for students to mix with older and younger students and bond over a shared interest. This particular year I had chosen photography. I did not have many friends going through school and the ones I did have were all about sports, well that was not me! Don’t get me wrong, I did play sports, just not the popular ones, I was firmly in the middle ground. I did swim, played badminton and figure skated all at country level. It’s just the jock sports, football, rugby did nothing for me. I certainly was not going to spend these days playing either of them. That left me with the geeks who also like photography. I say I was in the middle ground because I got on with both sets of people, the geeks and the jocks, but was not part of their groups. I was sort of alienated slightly from each, I had the physic of a jock but the personality of a geek. ...

Part 1. Coming Out Chapter 1. I made the decision today. I am going to ask if I can have a boob job. After a year on hormones I have grown small puffy attractive boobs that women seem to love touching. Perhaps my boobs remind them of when they were feeling their own rising sexual appetites as they developed their teenage boobs or perhaps they bring out the latent lesbianism in some more mature women who sometimes become attracted to the teenagers beyond their normal reach and substitute me in their desires. ...

(story continues from Lisa and the Academy) Story follows on from Lisa and the Academy Lisa and the Academy 2: The Ballet Lesson Breakfast came and went in a haze, as Lisa sat in a world of her own. She had gone from teenage delinquent to bisexual French student at a boarding school in the Cotswolds in less than a day. She wasn’t complaining mind you. She had enjoyed the French lessons immensely. She was troubled at how easily she had given herself to Madeleine. ...

(story continues from School for Lesbian Subs) Chapter Two Part 4 We emerged from the stall and stopped. Mistress Tania was standing before us, arms crossed and eyebrow raised. ‘What kept you?’ She seemed to notice the moisture around Emma’s lips and then smiled, ‘ahh, I see. Put her with the others and then wait for me.’ Emma lead me around to the back of the stable to a waist high rail where all the others were tied, bent over. ...

Lisa had been called to the School Principals office. It was noon. This time she knew she was in big trouble. What 16 year old liked school. Well 15 and a half, but who counts the half these days. School was for weirdoes who didn’t like life and playing hooky to be out tin the world. You learn more experiencing the world than studying it she thought. Mrs McClusky was a lovey old lady who had tried to do right by her. She didn’t like to use corporal punishment and handed out detention after detention. Lisa stuck her nose up at this and just didn’t turn up for them. ...

The ad seemed like it couldn’t be real. It was exactly what I wanted, a school for submissive girls. I had to find out if it was genuine and so, with my whole body shaking like I was freezing cold due to my nerves, I called the number on the page and waited for an answer. ‘Hello, Mz Lily’s School of Adult Education, Emma speaking, how can I help you?’ A young voice, sounded like she couldn’t be more than 18 years old answered. ...