Chapter 3

Patricia Stone was a petite waif, her delicate frame accentuated by her well-shaped curves. She sat at her desk, her fingers dancing across the keyboard of her laptop in perfect synchrony. As Peter Robinson entered the room, she raised her eyes and greeted him with a warm smile.

“Hello, Mr. Robinson,” she said sweetly.

“Hi, Miss Stone. I will be staying here tonight,” he announced.

“Yay!” Patricia exclaimed happily. “I much prefer you to Mr. Ochoa.”

Peter hadn’t given much thought to who he would be sharing a room with during his stay at St. Mary’s, but now he realized there were two other male teachers who could also potentially be doing the bed rounds. He still had yet to meet the third teacher, but he had heard he was on medical leave. Peter couldn’t help but wonder if it was due to an “overdose of pussy.”

“Would you mind if I finish my homework? Mrs. Duran is quite demanding,” Patricia asked politely.

“Not at all, my dear.” Peter had already showered at Janet Ellington’s bedroom, so he simply took his clothes off and headed to bed.

For a few minutes, he watched as Patricia busied herself with her schoolwork, admiring her flawless features and charming demeanor. But soon enough, his eyelids grew heavy and he drifted off to sleep.

Sometime later, Peter was awoken by a soft sensation on his cheek. He slowly opened his eyes to see Patricia’s (“call me Patty, Mr. Robinson”) calf inches from his face as she used her foot to gently caress his face. When she noticed him awake, she smiled mischievously and playfully placed her big toe against his lips.

Her fingers traced patterns on his arm as she spoke, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I have a secret,” she confessed, blushing. “My feet are a guilty pleasure.” She giggled and wiggled her toes playfully. “I’ve grown to love the sensations when they’re being lavished with attention.” Her gaze turned to him, hopeful and eager. “Mr. Robinson, would you be willing to indulge me?”

He had never considered himself a foot fetishist, but her dainty toes ignited a primal desire within him. The heady scent of her sweat and pheromones filled his nostrils, driving him wild with lust. As Peter began to hungrily devour on Miss Stone’s toes, he was enveloped in the taste of her skin, a mix of salt and sweetness that was unlike anything he had tasted. He savored every sensation while hearing her breathing heavier and faster, being unable to resist nuzzling his face against her soft soles, desperate to hold onto the velvet-like texture of her skin against his tongue.

As the sweat cooled on their skin and their ragged breaths slowed, Miss Stone lay peacefully next to Peter. Her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, her soft curves illuminated by the moonlight creeping through the window. Despite giving her a couple of orgasms and getting one in exchange, his mind was in overdrive. First of all, he couldn’t deny the fact that he was trapped here. Ms. Duran’s subtle threats lingered in his mind, reminding him of his fate should he fail. And yet, he couldn’t deny the allure of this place. Sex-wise, it was like a dream come true - young, beautiful women at his disposal every night. It was as close to paradise as he could imagine for a common man like himself. However, his rational brain warned him that if something is too good to be true, then it probably is. Another thought crossed his mind - Mrs. Duran’s mention of “connections.” What did she mean by that? The uncertainty gnawed at Peter, but he pushed it aside for now and vowed to enjoy this temporary escape from reality.

After a few weeks, Peter was almost fully acclimatized to St. Mary’s. His Teacher’s Aid was paramount on this, since it covered a lot of the situations he had found until now, and he kept studying it, wondering how many years and teachers had been needed to compile such an exhaustive volume.

“So Miss Evans, what would be the right answer?” he leaned in towards the girl.

Karen Evans squirmed under his intense gaze, her mind racing to find the correct answer. “If ... if Becky put $19,800 into a CD with a 5.3% annual interest rate ... after 9 years she would have... $31,901.32!” she blurted out, her voice trembling.

Peter smiled. “Correct, Miss Evans.” He pushed the slider to max.

Karen let out a scream as the vibrating egg inside her sent waves of pleasure through her body. She collapsed onto her desk, panting and sweating as her breathing slowly returned to normal.

“And that’s all for today,” Peter announced, glancing at the clock on the wall. “Any questions?” Peter asked while gathering his papers.

Minnie Olsen, a tall, skinny girl with a bob, raised her hand.

“Yes, Miss Olsen?” Peter turned to face her.

“Mr. Robinson, do you have any food allergies?” Minnie’s tone was innocent but there was a mischievous glint in her eye.

Peter furrowed his brow, unsure of where this question was going. “Not that I’m aware of,” he answered cautiously.

“Well...” Minnie explained, “Next week is our Haute Cuisine contest, and we need a neutral party to taste our dishes.”

The other girls in the class giggled and he couldn’t help but smile. “Of course, Miss Robinson. I’m sure yours will taste delicious.” The open laughter that received his last remark made him realize what he had just said. “I mean your cooking ... oh, whatever! See you next class!” He made a fake angry gesture that was also received with laughter by his pupils.

“Given the special nature of our institution, it is very easy for young, impressionable ladies to develop feelings or attachment to their teachers. We must strive to find a balance that allows us to nurture the natural trust that must exist between a teacher and a student and at the same time avoid developing romantic feelings from either party. To do this, the teacher must be familiar with the psychological profile of each one of his students, and develop individual strategies to avoid crossing this line.”

St. Mary’s Teacher Aid, Chapter 7, page 82.

As he left the classroom, the voice made him stop right in his tracks.

“They can be a handful.” Mrs Duran had surprised him again.

“Yes, Mrs. Duran. But I’m learning.” Peter replied, feeling slightly nervous under her scrutinizing gaze.

“That’s exactly why I wanted to speak with you. Follow me to my office,” she commanded, leading the way as Peter followed in tow. As he walked behind her, he couldn’t help but steal glances at her figure. Despite her strict demeanor, there was an undeniable attractiveness about her. He couldn’t help but imagine how she would look with her hair down and cascading over her shoulders. The thought caused a minor stir of excitement within him.

“I can assure you that my hair is fine the way it is,” Mrs. Duran suddenly spoke up, causing Peter to blush, realizing he had spoken aloud. “I’m sorry,” he stammered, feeling embarrassed and exposed under her scrutinizing gaze. She turned her face so he couldn’t see her lips curving on a slight smile.

As Peter entered Mrs. Duran’s office, he immediately noticed a thick dossier on her desk. She motioned for him to take a seat in front of her, her expression stern and unreadable.

“I must say, I was quite impressed with your report on Janet Ellington,” she began in a cold, clipped tone. “Your instincts were spot on and she has shown remarkable progress during her short time here.” Peter allowed himself a small smile, feeling a glimmer of pride at his accomplishment.

“She will make an excellent mate for someone one day,” Mrs. Duran continued. “But that person is not you.” The last sentence caught Peter off guard and he sat up straighter in his chair, confusion evident on his face.

“What do you mean?” he asked, puzzled.

“As teachers, we must remember that we cannot allow ourselves to develop feelings for our students, nor can we let them fall for us,” Mrs. Duran explained sternly. “Upon their graduation, they belong to others.”

“But I am not in love with Miss Ellington,” Peter quickly defended himself.

“I am aware of that,” Mrs. Duran replied coolly. “But it appears that Miss Ellington has developed feelings for you.” Peter’s jaw dropped in shock.

“How do you know this?” he demanded incredulously.

“One of our cameras captured her writing in her diary,” Mrs. Duran revealed, her voice devoid of any sympathy. “She was drawing hearts with your name inside and writing ‘Mrs. Janet Robinson’.” Peter felt a knot form in his stomach as the weight of the situation began to sink in.

“Mrs. Duran, I can assure you...” he started to protest, but she cut him off with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“I know it’s not your fault, Mr. Robinson,” she admitted with a hint of regret in her tone. “I should have been more vigilant and aware of the potential for this to occur. But until now, Mr. Ochoa was in charge of inductions and the likelihood of this happening was minimal.” Peter couldn’t help but smirk internally at the thought of pudgy, middle-aged Mr. Ochoa being a teenage heartthrob. “Evidently, you had not read the relevant chapter in your Teacher’s Aid -Peter blushed at this- but I had to rush things with you, because Mr. Ochoa was not available at that moment.”

“What can I do?” he asked, feeling helpless.

“Nothing,” Mrs. Duran replied firmly. “You will continue to treat Miss Ellington as you would any other student, and in time her infatuation will fade. I just wanted to make you aware of this situation so that it does not happen again.” Peter nodded numbly, his mind reeling with the gravity of the situation. He had never imagined that his job as a teacher could lead to such complications and dangers.

“However, as I said before, despite not being ready, you passed your test with flying colors.”

“My test?” He asked.

“Of course, Mr. Robinson,” Mrs. Duran gave him her signature thin smile. “Miss Ellington wasn’t the only one being tested at that time.”

Peter sank on his chair. “I understand.”

She pushed the dossier towards him. “Now, this is another new student you will have to induct. Please read her dossier carefully and prepare yourself to give her the best induction you can. You have plenty of time, she will arrive next week.”

Peter took the dossier and stood up. “If there’s nothing else...”