Following Instructions

I sat in the lounge, comfortably resting in one of the thick leather chairs, and read a magazine. I scanned the pages of the latest edition of Cosmopolitan, too tired and worried to really concentrate on any of the articles. A short editorial on the latest fashions caught my eye, mostly because it was light reading. I began to immerse myself in the article, losing myself as the writer discussed Paris and Milan.

My mind slowly wandered from the pages of my magazine as I wondered what it would be like to actually visit Paris, France. I imagined myself in front of the Eiffel Tower as a brilliant red sunset lit up the city's horizon. It was sizzling in my daydream - no, I thought as I changed my mind, it was warm with a chilly breeze. A cute native of the city noticed me shivering from the cool north wind and offered me his coat. I imagined his romantic accent and thought that the man of my dreams would be impeccably dressed and would be forceful...yet passionate. Yes, I realized with a dreamy grin, he would be forceful when we first touched, but then he would melt away into a sensitive lover...

I was imagining us making love right in front of the Eiffel Tower when I was jerked back to reality. The secretary, only a few feet away from me, was calling my name.

"Saraia," she said in a strict and hoarse voice, obviously worn down with her old age, "Miss Park, the principal will see you now. He's the last doorway on the left."

I arose from my chair and shut my magazine with a crisp, clean motion. I slowly walked down the hallway. I didn't want to walk at too brisk a pace - my knees were still a bit wobbly from the excitement of imagining my affair with the Frenchman. Just thinking up such a steamy scenario had affected me in more places than my knees. My nipples were firm and perky, and I knew that they had become visible through my white blouse. My vagina had grown moist and tight, and I knew that my panties were wet. I wished that I was so visibly aroused, but there was nothing that I could do to force my nipples down. At least the principal wouldn't be able to see my panties.

I opened the thick cedar door and walked inside. Mr. Rivera, fairly young for a principal, was sitting in a large leather chair behind his desk. He was clicking his mouse, obviously doing some work on the computer. When he saw me entered the room, he hurriedly clicked a few more times, and then his undivided attention was on me. I saw his piercing hazel eyes linger for a few moments on the curves of my polo shirt, but they quickly drifted up to look me in the eye. I sat down in a chair.

"Saraia Park, yes?" he asked me in a low and commanding voice.

I nodded silently, too intimidated by his steely gaze to speak

"I called you to my office today to give you a bit of news," Mr. Rivera said, standing from the chair and slowly beginning to make his way over toward me. "You, Miss Park, have been chosen for an award this year. You know that we expect excellence at Saint Brigid's Catholic Academy. We always have. But you...you have done even more than what is expected of our students."

My cheeks burned red with embarrassment - and pride. I had given up quite a few things to become the model student that I had. I hadn't nourished my social life, and I had all but forsaken dating. Rather, I had spent my nights with books, and my weekends were filled with community service. My school only required that we do ten hours of community service each year, but I had done sixteen hours all ready - and it was only November.

Mr. Rivera had all ready reached my side, and he placed one hand on my shoulder. He continued, "You're set to receive the Saint Brigid's Award of Academic and Religious Excellence on Tuesday." His hand drifted down a little, to my collarbone. "I just wanted to let you know in person. I invented the award, actually, just for you." His hand fell down lower, right to the top of where my breasts began. "I thought that there needed to be an award for girls like you. Would you like to thank me, at all, perchance?"

With those last words, his hand fell right onto my breast and fondled it, pinching my perky nipple. I used my shoulder to push his arm away and immediately stood up from my chair. I stared at Principal Rivera with a look of both disbelief and disgust. I flipped my long auburn hair back behind my shoulder and walked briskly to the door. He, however, was closer to it than I was and blocked it off.

"I don't believe," he said with a cold, menacing voice, "that you'll want to be leaving. Or screaming. Miss Park, I assure you that, should you let anything know of this, your grades will quickly be dropped to ones well below average. I have that kind of leverage in the school community. I am, after all, the principal of this school. Upon hearing that, wouldn't you like to stay a while?" His mouth curled into a sneer.

My heart seemed like it would beat right out of my chest as I closed my eyelids over my dark brown eyes and sighed. I barely nodded, too shocked and disgusted with myself to speak a word. When I opened my eyes again, I saw Mr. Rivera lock his office door. He then paced over to his desk and removed a roll of thick duct tape from one of the bottom drawers.

As he wrapped the tape over my eyes, he told me in a husky whisper, "You won't want to fight me, Saraia. This can be a great experience for you, or it could be a traumatic event that will leave you scarred for life. Don't you want it to be wonderful? I've been watching you the entire school year. You have a great passion for learning, Saraia, and I've the desire to teach." Mr. Rivera rolled the tape over my mouth, not even giving me a chance to reply.

I was blind, and I was mute. My ears, one of the last senses that I had left, became alert and keen. I heard something rolling across the floor - it sounded like Mr. Rivera was bringing his leather chair over closer to me. I heard a rustling of clothes, and I was certain that I heard him unzip his pants. I winced, feeling unimaginably violated and outraged. How would I possibly live with myself if I felt this sick all ready, when he had only touched my breast and taped my mouth and eyes shut?

"Take off your school polo," he commanded me in a deep voice, full of desire and need. I was ambivalent upon how I thought he sounded - either like a sleazy old man, or an attractive master. I quickly made up my mind that he sounded like a dirty old man. How could I possibly consider this man attractive? He was forcing me to do things for him that I had never even done with a boyfriend, and he was twice my age.

Suddenly, my thoughts were interrupted by a sharp crack across my cheek. My face burned with a bitter pain, and I realized that Mr. Rivera had slapped me. I heard him sit back down - the leather material squeaked. I gingerly rubbed my face with my palm, feeling scalding hot tears prick at the edges of my eyes.

"I said to take off your shirt," he said in an atrocious tone. "Now."

This was no time for me to ponder my predicament. I took my hands away from my sore and throbbing face, and I unbuttoned my white shirt. The cold draft of the air conditioning hit my nearly bare chest with a shock, yet I finally dropped my shirt on the ground. I could practically feel Mr. Rivera's eyes taking in the sight of my torso, nude except for my thin gauzy bra. I wished that I had worn a thick sports bra, but I had instead chosen one of the sexiest bras I had. If only I had known was Mr. Rivera was planning!

He groaned softly just a foot away from me, and I heard the friction that I assumed was his hand relieving his manhood. Then, in a strained voice, he continued on and ordered me, "Now, the bra. Saraia, take off your bra. Let me see your chest."

I blindly pushed my arms behind my back and found the small metallic clasp. My fingers, as they had done plenty of times before - but never with someone else watching - undid the hook. I slowly, dreadfully raised my delicate fingers to the thin straps of my bra and pulled them down with a soft tug. My bra, too, fell to the floor. Mr. Rivera gasped lightly, and the rubbing noise intensified. My nipples still stood firm and high, I felt, and - with a shock - I realized that my panties were growing wetter than they had been after my fantasy with the Frenchman. Was it true - that I was actually being aroused by this game of domination?

"Touch them," Mr. Rivera told me in the same strained, tense voice. "Play with them. Show me how you want me to touch them later."

I slowly felt my inhibitions fade away with every word that his sensual - yes, it was definitely sensual and not sleazy - voice. I raised both manicured hands to my chest and caressed my breasts with a gentle touch. I ran my fingers along the outside curves of my bosom, just barely touching the skin. The sensation was so light, yet so powerful, that I felt goosebumps arise all along the length of my body, and my nipples were like steel. I touched them gently, and I then traced the bottoms of my breasts. My actions became not a show for the principal, but I did them for myself, now. I let a few fingers fall into my mouth and become wet with saliva. I ran my wet, pulsing fingers across myself, moaning once or twice as I varied with the nonexistent pressures of grazing my skin and the forceful pressure of squeezing my entire breast.

I was suddenly reminded that someone was watching me when a small spurt of liquid hit my bare stomach and I heard a masculine voice let out a long sigh of relief. I was jerked back to reality and suddenly felt ashamed of myself for enjoying myself so completely in front of Mr. Rivera. I immediately stopped touching myself and let my arms dangle at my sides, my cheeks now burning not from the pain of his slap but the worse pain of shame. I bit my glossy lip firmly, waiting in nervous anticipation of whether he was truly done with me or if he still had more games left.

I heard Mr. Rivera stand and wheel his chair back behind his desk. There was some more rustling of his clothes, but my ears could not tell if they were the sounds of dressing or undressing. I waited in silence, all my senses on high alert, when I felt a strong and muscular hand grasp his waist. I jumped at the surprise of it, my entire body shaking, and my breaths short and shaky.

"You don't have anything to be afraid of," Mr. Rivera whispered into my ear. "I saw that you were pleasuring yourself at being dominated, at being watched. You were having a good time, Saraia. Let yourself go."

His hands moved from my bare waist to the zipper and button of my plaid skirt. He undid the last part of my uniform I was still wearing, and the skirt fell to the ground. He took in a quick breath, and then, without warning, ripped the tape from my mouth. I whimpered in agony, again letting my hands massage my throbbing face.

In a small, confused voice, I cried out, "Mr. Rivera-"

He interrupted me by placing one of his hands across my lips. He then spoke in a soft, sensitive tone, "Blaine. Not Mr. Rivera to you anymore, but Blaine." Then, his voice hardened as he commanded me, "No, Saraia, no more words from you."

His hands moved from my face down onto my breasts, which he cupped in both his hands rather gently - carefully, almost. He traveled down along the outside of my stomach and traced the curves of my hips. Then, slowly and with a reverent manner, Blaine slid his fingers underneath the seams of my scarlet panties and tugged them downward. He slid them over my thighs and past my calves. I heard him toss them on the ground, and his smooth palms ran back up the length of my legs.

Blaine was on his knees. I felt his hot breath beneath my thighs and went weak in the knees. I began to do as he said and let go. I lost myself in the heat of the moment, realizing that I was naked before a man who now seemed to worship the ground I stood on. All commanding and dominant attitudes had faded away, and Blaine was humbled before me on his knees. I hesitated for a moment and then ran my fingers through his thick brown hair, exhaling quietly.

He took this as permission to carry on with his actions, and I felt his warm lively lips kiss against the lips of my vagina. His tongue parted the embrace of the lips and entered deep within me. I moaned softly and tried to keep my balance as I stood. Blaine's smooth and passionate mouth kissed my very essence, sucking from me my juices and replacing it with his own mouth's fluids. He took his time and worked his way around every crevice and curve of my vagina, finally hitting just the right spot and working on it with an increased tempo. I felt my blood race through my veins, my hips rocking back and forth, and at last, achieved orgasm. It was the most powerful sensation I had ever felt in my life, and I collapsed down onto the floor near Blaine.

He climbed on top of my limp body, and I realized with a start that he was naked. The sound I had heard earlier had indeed been undressing. It then occurred to me that we both were in the nude, and that it was a certainty that we were going to have intercourse. He would be my first. I felt a rush of both terror and desire, but I could not discern if those feelings were about the intercourse in my future or the orgasm in my past. Though my loins had just been immersed in ecstasy, they burned with the fervent need for more, and my emotions of desire clearly overpowered my emotions of fear. I took Blaine's body into my arms and held him close.

Blaine's lips, still wet from my own body, touched mine. It was the first kiss of our "relationship." We passionately kissed, his mouth displaying a dominant demand and my mouth submissively responding. Then, as my body trembled in anticipation, I felt his firm and damp member enter my swollen mound. Both organs, engorged with need, slowly pushed together. I cried out in pain as he pushed further into me, but the hurt was only temporary. The pain and tension had broke forth into a sweet, harmonious rhythm.

Both of us were breathing hard as our sweaty bodies pushed together, yet it was an ethereal experience. I had truly lost myself in Blaine's arms, and I felt as though I was an entirely new person. I pulled Blaine into me without shame, instead focusing on how pleasurable it was for me. As we worked our way toward orgasm, Blaine's words resonated within my mind over and over again. "You have a great passion for learning, Saraia, and I've the desire to teach." This man inside of me, the one both inside in my hips and outside in my arms, had indeed taught me quite the lesson.

A great stinging rippled across my face. I realized, with a shock, that I could see. Blaine had at last ripped the band of tape from over my eyes. I gazed up into his intense eyes and let him gaze back into me. With our eyes locked upon each other in a spiritual way, and our waists locked together in a purely physical way, I was propelled into the deepest bliss that I had ever known.

"Yes," I thought silently to myself as waves of ecstasy spread through my body, "I'll never be the same again..."