Chapter 1

I can still remember the day I first acquired power over you: the day I overheard you talking on the phone with your therapist. It was only 3 months until your high school graduation and you’d just turned 18. Behind the high school was a trail for the cross country runners and some picnic tables hidden in the trees. I was having a snack at one of those tables when you came down the desolate trail on your phone. You were crying, and you thought no one was around.

“I just ... dad said he’s only going to help me pay for college if I get straight As this term and I ... I ... I have a B and I don’t know if I can change it.” You started sobbing uncontrollably into the phone.

Unlike other girls at the school, you never tried to make the school uniform slutty. While the slutty girls reveled in their woman bodies––showing cleavage and wearing their skirts as short as they could get away with––you never did any of those things. Did you like your young woman’s body? Or were you under the naive impression that no males noticed when you grew up?

“I don’t know what I’m going to do...” you whimpered into the phone. The sound of your crying was pathetic––but hearing you sound so weak and helpless also made my cock stiffen. “You think I should talk to Mr. Rosen about it? I don’t know ... he’s a hard grader. I’ll try.”

When you get off the phone, I shift on the bench, hoping you’ll notice me. I hear you gasp. I look over, and see you staring at me like a deer in the headlights. For a moment, you don’t say anything. You look panicked, until you finally say, “Mr. Rosen?”

“Annelie,” I called out. “I’m sorry to have to have heard that conversation. Did you want to have a chat?”

Still frozen from shock, you give a slight nod.

“Come, let’s go back to my office then.”

Chapter 2

Once in the office, I close the door behind us and lock it. “Sit down,” I say, gesturing to the wooden chair in front of my desk. Hesitant, you drop your backpack to the floor and sit down. The fact that I’m still standing makes you uncomfortable and you glance at me, then look away.

“So, tell me––should I grant you an extra credit option?” I move behind your chair.

I see your body tense and you hang your head, “I would appreciate it, Mr. Rosen.”

“I don’t usually do that for students,” I say, planting my hands firmly on your shoulders.

At my touch, you flinch.

“Does this make you uncomfortable?”

Silence as your body tenses beneath me. Your voice comes out hardly audible, “ ... yes.”

I run my hands up your neck and over your collarbone. “Unbutton your shirt.”

You don’t move. Then I hear a pained whimper, it sounds like you’re beginning to cry. “Annelie. Unbutton your shirt. Don’t make me say it again.” At this point, my cock is hard and I’m pressing it into you––making you realize what you’re going to have to do. When you don’t move, I reach down and rip open your shirt. Buttons fly to the floor. You start to cry. I grip your sports bra from underneath and lift it over your tits, exposing you. Your nipples are hard with fear and adrenaline.

“Are you scared?” I whisper, fondling your tits with both of my hands. “Hmmm? A crying girl––a crying girl getting her tits groped ... sad. But this is what it means to be a woman, Annelie. To a man, your grades, your degrees, your achievements, will never be as valuable as your willingness to let this happen.”