The Aphrodite Wendslydale School for Girls Ch. 01

Chapter 1: Invitation

Alan Sloan had a number of questions about the new job he had been offered, not the least of which being how his prospective employers had known about him in the first place.

One Saturday afternoon he received a letter offering him a teaching position at what the letter claimed was a very exclusive private girl's school in central Wisconsin, the Aphrodite Wendsleydale School for Girls. The letter had promised a salary well beyond anything he could ever have imagined and a benefit package that would have made any official at the Teacher's Union cross-eyed with joy. They offered health insurance, housing, a profit sharing plan, a very sound seeming pension plan, and a dozen other things. That particular paragraph in the letter had ended with the cryptic phrase, "plus other perks and benefits".

At first he thought that it might be some sort of scam. But, the more he read the more he liked it. It was certainly an improvement over the job he had had for the past three years.

He had been hired by an education company near Milwaukee which, he later found out, had been hurriedly slap-dashed together exclusively for the purpose of taking advantage of Wisconsin's charter school program.

He spent most of his time preparing his students to take standardized tests. He found it frustrating because it seemed to him that all they were likely to learn was how to take the tests. Further, how well or poorly they did would reflect on his ability to stay employed. The company evaluated his ability as a teacher entirely based on the test results.

The hours were long, the workload was mountainous, and the pay was wretched. He had stayed at the job simply because it was a marginal improvement over being out of work altogether.

He had only taken it in the first place because his unemployment benefits were about to run out and the rent had been due. He had taught for several years before that at the local highschool. There had been massive budget cuts in the school district. He had been laid off with no realistic possibility of being rehired.

His current job only had two benefits. One was a nearly useless health insurance policy for which he had to pay the lion's share of the premium. The other was a co-worker, Katy Zinful. Katy had blonde hair, a trim body, big tits, a nearly inexhaustible libido, and a seemingly limitless sexual imagination. They had become "friends with benefits" largely as a matter of mutual stress relief.

The only thing that bothered him a little about the letter offering a better job was that it demanded that he not mention the offer to anyone.

It said, "If it is found that you have mentioned the Aphrodite Wendsleydale School for Girls to anyone not representing the school in any manner at any time for any reason the offer will be immediately withdrawn."

That bothered him, but not so much that he didn't want to find out more. There was a phone number and an e-mail address on the letter head. He figured that he had nothing to lose, so he sent them an e-mail.

Within an hour of having sent the message Alan got a phone call from the school.

"May I speak with Mr. Alan Sloan, please?" said a deep somewhat gravelly voice on the phone before Alan even got a chance to say, "Hello."

"Speaking," said Alan.

"My name," said the voice, "is Wilton Hargrane. I'm the Dean of Students at the Aphrodite Wendsleydale School for Girls. I take it that you received our letter."

"Just this afternoon," said Alan, "Yes."

"Excellent! Excellent!" said Mr. Hargrane, "Such a prompt response speaks well of you. It confirms that we've made the right choice."

"Speaking of which, sir," said Alan, "I'm a bit curious about how you came to choose me in the first place."

"That's rather a long explanation. But, first I'd like to ask to stop addressing me as 'sir'. While we insist on strict formality between students and teachers, we've found that the faculty and staff have to work sufficiently closely together that the formalities are more of a burden than an aid. So, please, call me Wilton."

"Can do," said Alan, "Friends and co-workers tend to call me Al or Alan, depending on how well they know me. So, take your pick."

"For the moment," said Wilton, "Alan will do quite nicely, if you don't mind."

"That's cool," said Alan offhandedly.

"As to your question, we do a good deal of research when recruiting for faculty. We do so slowly and painstakingly. We can take our time with it due to the fact that we almost never have a vacancy in the staff. When people come to work with us they tend to stay here for the balance of their careers," Wilton explained proudly.

"So, you're recruiting me because someone is retiring?" Alan asked.

"Precisely," said Wilton, "Very perceptive. I'm certain that it's part of what makes you such a good teacher."

"I do the best I can," said Alan.

"You sell yourself short," said Wilton, "If I'm not mistaken you taught for several years at a public highschool. Is that correct?"

"Yes," said Alan.

Alan heard a sound like someone shuffling papers after which Wilton said, "Ah, yes. Here it is. You taught history and were quite successful at it. Most of your students went on to some sort of higher education. Most of those are holding skilled, productive, well-paying jobs. Some took to the subject matter so well that five of your former students are working to maintain and codify one archive or another at the Library of Congress. One, and I confess to being absolutely flabbergasted by this, is now the youngest Adjunct Professor of History in the university system in the State of Kansas."

"Carly Starker," said Alan happily, "I'm very proud of her."

"And well you should be," said Wilton, "not to say of yourself as well. There were other criteria, but I'm not at liberty to discuss those over the phone. That's largely for the same reasons that we insist that you keep our offer strictly confidential."

"I was kind of wondering about that," said Alan.

"Well," said Wilton, "I can't explain most of it over the phone, but if you accept our offer you will understand almost immediately. I can, however, give you a rough idea of what we're about. Are you familiar with the mass media term 'The One Percent'?"

"Yes," Alan answered, "That refers to those in the highest income brackets, the wealthy elite, those at the top of the economic food chain."

"Well said," Wilton responded, "I particularly like the 'food chain' metaphor. I shall have to remember that one. Anyway," he continued, "we are an extremely exclusive institution of learning. It can reasonably be said that we cater to one percent of the One Percent."

"So, I guess the secrecy is to keep out the riff-raff?" Alan asked.

"Well, in part certainly," the exclusive school's Dean of Students responded guardedly, "As I said, you will understand completely if you decide to accept our offer.

Now that I'm thinking about it this needs to be said out loud just once. If, at any time, we find that you have mentioned this to anyone for any reason the offer will be immediately withdrawn. Do you understand?"

"Completely," Alan said, "Yes."

"Good," said the Dean enthusiastically, "Good. Now that we have that out of the way, why don't we try approaching this differently. Could you possibly come up to visit the school sometime in the next week?"

"The only days I would have would be tomorrow or next Saturday," Alan responded.

"Couldn't you come up at some point during the week? It would be much easier to give you an overview of what we do if you can sit in on a few of our classes. Could you possibly take a personal day and come up?" Wilton inquired.

"They don't give us any personal days," Alan said flatly.

Wilton shouted incredulously, "None? That is absolutely wrong in every important manner. It is a horrid way to treat employees."

"I agree," said Alan, "But, there's nothing I can do about it."

"Could you possibly call in sick to come up?" the school official asked.

"I'd rather not," said Alan.

"Might one ask why?" Wilton said.

"There are two reasons," the struggling teacher answered, "The first is that I only get three sick days in any given school year, so I kind of need to save them."

"Oh, that's just unconscionable!" Wilton roared, "The more I hear about these people the less I like them, and I wasn't exactly mad about them at the start."

"You and me both," said Alan, smiling ruefully.

"You said that there were two reasons," Wilton said, "What was the other one?"

"That one is more important and goes a lot deeper," Alan responded, "I realize that I'm basically spinning my wheels here. The only thing that I seem to be allowed to teach these kids is how to take tests. If I can, at least, manage to teach them to take the tests honestly then maybe the whole thing won't wind up having been a complete waste of my time and theirs.

To do that, I have to set an example. Calling in sick when I'm not doesn't exactly fit into that lesson plan."

"Well, it's unlikely that they would ever know that you weren't sick," said Wilton.

"True," said Alan, "But, I would. I can't demand honesty from them if I'm not being honest myself. There are people who can do that, but I'm not one of them. If that screws up the deal so be it. I have a larger responsibility to those kids."

There was a long silence at the end of which the dean said, "You have no idea how glad I am to hear you say that."

"Really?" Alan asked.

"Yes," said Wilton with hearty enthusiasm, "That's precisely the sort of caring integrity that we want here at the Aphrodite School!"

He drew a deep breath and continued, "I'm afraid that tomorrow won't work, though. We have a number of activities already planned for the young ladies which will keep the faculty and a good many other staff member so busy that we wouldn't be able to give you a fair shake. So, let us target Saturday, shall we?"

"I'll be there," said Alan with relief.

"One o'clock?"

"One o'clock is fine."

"Good! On Friday I shall e-mail you a map and detailed directions so that you can find us."

"Thank you," said Alan.

"One more thing," said Wilton, "If, by chance you find yourself at liberty during the week, please, don't hesitate to call us. We'll get you up here straight away. Fair enough?"

"Fair enough," said Alan, "I doubt anything like that will happen, though."

"One never knows," said the private school official cryptically, "The future is, after all, one of life's more delightful mysteries."

Alan had no idea how to respond to that, so he didn't.

"Well then" Wilton concluded, "I'll look forward to meeting you face to face on Saturday. Goodbye."

"Goodbye," Alan said.

He hung up feeling like he had just been part of the strangest phone call anyone could possibly have imagined. Even if he decided not to take the job he knew that he had to visit the school. His curiosity had kicked into overdrive. He had to find out what was going on and what the school was all about.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Alan glanced at his watch.

"Crap!" he thought, "I lost track of the time. That's Katy!"

His stacked colleague came over at about this time every Saturday afternoon. Although they would plan elaborate outings to museums, parks, or just try for a quiet meal out somewhere, what they usually wound up doing is spending Saturday afternoon and most of the night in Alan's bed.

He was about to go answer the door when he thought better of it. He reached for the letter from the Aphrodite School and shoved it into a desk drawer. Then he turned to his computer, signed out of his e-mail box, and closed the web browser. It wouldn't be good for Katy to accidentally find out about the job offer and maybe screw up the whole deal before he even got a chance to go up there to get some serious questions answered.

As he hid the evidence of his good fortune, Katy's knocking became more insistent and she started calling out his name.

"I'm coming!" he called back.

When he opened the door her realized that Katy had no intention of going anywhere that day. She was wearing sandals, yoga pants that showed off her sexy hips, thick thighs and round ass, and a halter top that was one, if not two, sizes too small to contain or restrain her massive, jiggling tit flesh.

Katy was always doing surprising things when it came to sex. She had a gift for finding sexual positions that had probably never been imagined even in the Kama Sutra. She was also given to role playing games. She might show up on his doorstep dressed as a schoolgirl, a sexy parody of an office secretary, or even a nun. Alan always knew that some sort of game was up if she arrived wearing anything besides a baggy sweatshirt and jeans.

"What took you so long?" she pouted.

"I had to finish up a couple of things," Alan said.

"Well, finish this," she said as she threw herself at him and plunged her tongue into his mouth.

Alan was about to ask why she was so eager but she cut him off before he could speak.

"Don't say anything," she said urgently, "Don't do anything except fuck me! I want you to fuck me until I'm bowlegged, blind, and brainless! I want you to fuck my mouth, my tits, and my ass! I want you to fill my pussy so full of cum that I'll walk out of here looking bloated."

"Bad week?" Alan asked with a grin.

"Don't ask! Just fuck!" she shouted.

With that she kicked the door closed and frantically began to shed her clothing. She nearly jumped out of her sandals then turned her back to Alan as she shimmied out of her yoga pants. She hadn't bothered to put on panties, so Alan was immediately treated to the sight of her naked butt. He watched with hypnotic fascination as the fleshy cheeks of her ass jiggled and bounced with her motions.

When she got the pants all the way down to her ankles she turned her head to Alan and asked, "See anything you like?"

"I see everything I like," Alan said with a horny leer.

"Everything?" she said coyly as she stepped out of the pants.

She stood up, turned around to face him, and said, "What about," she yanked her halter top off, "these?"

Her huge tits rippled, quivered, and bobbed with the sudden motion.

"Especially those," he growled as he grasped a massive boob in each hand.

He squeezed her tits together until the nipples were touching each other then began chewing and sucking them. Katy squeaked as a small orgasm hit her. She had never cum just from breast stimulation before. On the other hand, she had never been this damned horny before.

Alan wasn't sure exactly what this game was, but he liked it. Katy was rarely this forward, and had never used words like "tits", "pussy", or "fuck". He decided to screw trying to figure out the game and just screw Katy instead. He let himself get lost in her tit flesh. As he mauled and sucked her mountainous breasts his cock had become a steel bar in his pants. He was so hard that it almost hurt. He didn't know why his curvy colleague was so desperate for a dicking and he didn't much care. He was going to fuck her five ways from Sunday. If she wanted him in every hole she was going to get him.

"That's so good," she moaned, "But, I need your cock. Please, give me your cock!"

Alan let go of her boobs and asked in an almost sinister tone, "You want my cock?"

"Yes," she whimpered.

"Are you sure?" he teased.

"More sure than I've ever been of anything," she answered through ragged breathing.

Alan started to unfasten his belt.

"No!" she screamed, "Let me!"

She dropped to her knees to frantically get her man out of his trousers. She was so crazy with need that she was having trouble making her finger work. She whimpered with frustration. She couldn't understand what was happening to her.

One of the reasons she always looked forward to her Saturday afternoons with Alan was that he was such a tender and considerate lover. They would talk for a while, kiss for a while, and then ease into the sex act. They would perform oral sex with each other until they were certain that she was ready for vaginal penetration. Finally, Alan would move his penis in and out of her until she achieved orgasm. He would then ejaculate inside her. Then they would rest for bit before beginning again. Even when they were engaged in one of her imaginative dress-up games, sex with Alan was always a civilized act.

But, this time she didn't want to have sex. She didn't want to make love. She wanted to be fucked!

Wait! No! That wasn't exactly it either. She wanted to be fucked Alan's way, in whatever way he demanded. She wanted him to order her to her knees, on her back, or into whatever position he wanted. She wanted to be completely compliant and obedient to his every sexual whim. The right words finally hit her. She wanted to be his sex slave, his big boobed fuck toy.

The thought scared the hell out of her and made her empty cunt even more desperately needy at the same time. She had no idea how she could tell him. Her only hope was the uncanny ability he seemed to have for figuring it out on his own. Whenever they played one of her games he somehow instinctively knew what role he was supposed to play. He always knew precisely the right words to say in the context to get the maximum erotic response from her. It wasn't like he was reading her mind. It more like he could intuit her deepest desires, sometimes things that she didn't want to admit to herself, and bring them to orgasmic fruition.

When she finally got his trousers to his knees she plunged her mouth down his cock until his pubic hair tickled her nose. She had never gotten all twelve inches of his cock into her mouth before. She had another small orgasm as it filled her throat.

Alan didn't know what had come over his buxom friend and he no longer cared. She was devouring his pole like it was her last meal. Her tongue darted and weaved around his hard pussy-prod as she sucked him. This was more than just a blowjob. It felt like she was trying to suck his balls out through the head of his cock. He wasn't going to argue. If she wanted to be a shameless cock-hound he was going to give her all the cock she could handle and then some.

A thought occurred to him that had never been there before. This was the way things should be. Katy was in her proper place, on her knees worshiping stiff meat. Somehow he knew that she had come to the same conclusion. He grabbed the back of her head and began brutally fucking her face. Katy had a short climax with each thrust as she tightly clutched one of her tits while fingering her pussy.

"Suck my cock, you big-titted cunt!" he shouted as he rammed her throat, "Swallow my meat, then swallow my jizz!"

She moaned around his prong as he said it.

"This is what you're for!" he bellowed, "This is why you exist! Worship my dick!"

The more savage and abusive Alan became the more Katy loved it. She knew he was right. She was made for this. She had one job and she was doing it. She was Alan's cumbucket. The very thought sent her into a euphoria she had never experienced. She couldn't wait to find out how else this god-like brute would use her.

"I'm cumming!" he yelled, "Swallow every fucking drop, slut!"

He shot huge volleys of his ball juice directly into her throat as she struggled to swallow it all. Alan's ball juice hosing directly into her throat triggered the biggest orgasm she had ever experienced. She shuddered, trembled, gasped, and moaned is it washed over her.

The climax so shook and rattled he body that she lost her sense of balance and fell flat on her back. When her mouth slid off of his dick, Alan just moved forward little to continue shooting his ball batter all over her face and tits.

When he had finally emptied his nuts he stepped back and bellowed, "Look at the mess you've made! Clean it up and then get your skanky ass into my bed where you belong, slut!"