The weekend was to be a test for Miss Steph, though she didn't know it. I had crossed a very significant line, and needed to know if she would run or not. Four days off would give her time to think about what had happened, and what her reaction to it was. I had only a small worry that she would decide to stop our relationship. While I knew that I had read her reactions quite well, the mind and emotions of a teen-aged girl are mercurial things--a study in chaos theory, at best.

The weekend would also provide some relief for me--in more ways than one. I needed to step back from Steph and take a day or two to gather my thoughts and plan out where I was going to take things from that point. Up until then, I had been developing my strategy as I went; reacting to her moods and reactions and deciding at the moment what the best step would be. Now I had a firm idea of just how much control she would allow me. I needed to start thinking about what I wanted to do with that control. And the list was a long and detailed one.

The weekend would provide two other kinds of relief. The first was a simple vacation from the requirements of work and the stresses inherent in teaching rich young ladies while still maintaining my control and sanity. The second relief was far more interesting. For the last couple of months, I had been slowly teasing Steph. That Wednesday had brought me to a point, physically, that was very difficult to back away from. The truth of the matter was that I had not had sex for almost 5 months at that point, and it took every ounce of self control I possessed to resist the urge to just fuck her as she was bent over my desk. But I knew that if I had, I would have destroyed everything I had worked for and betrayed a powerful trust that was forming between this innocent school girl and myself.

This weekend, however, I was expecting guests. Katherine and Jennifer were close friends of mine and occasionally decided that they wanted to add a man to their sex life--for a night or two--to spice things up. Because of our close friendship--I had known Kat since grade school, and was living in the same apartment building as her when she started dating Jen--I was the one most frequently called on to provide the required services. Not that I complained, mind you.

I slept in late on Thursday--something I rarely did. I'm not sure what caused it, but I appreciated the extra rest. My morning passed leisurely over the newspaper with the rich aroma of fresh coffee and the full sounds of Bach filling the air.

As mid-morning approached, I switched my cotton pants and sweatshirt for some relaxed-fit blue jeans and a turtleneck, laced up my Chuck Taylors, and pulled on my thick Scottish-wool sweater for warmth. Looking out the side lights to judge Mother Nature's mood, I grabbed my well-worn White Sox cap and pulled it on over my mildly-unkempt hair. I was by no means a Sox fan--I didn't follow sports at all--but the hat had been suitably offensive to my Cubs-supporting roommates in college, so was a required purchase.

On a whim, I pulled a favorite pipe from its rack and tucked a packet of vanilla tobacco into my back pocket. A long walk in Scottish wool through a nearly deserted New England campus somehow demanded that pipe smoke be integral to the picture.

I took my time packing my pipe as I walked away from the old brick house I leased from the college. When the fragrant leaf was packed to my satisfaction, I paused in my stride, pulled my Zippo from the watch pocket of my Wranglers, and drew the flame into the bowl with quick pulls until the tobacco burned on its own.

The taste of the sweet smoke set my mind to thinking. Awaiting only the formality of her confirmation, I had made Miss Stephanie mine. The question now was what I wished to do with her. Of the relationships in which I had been a master in the past, none had the qualities of this one. Each of my previous slaves had been well into their roles when I had encountered them. This was not the case with Miss Steph--she was a blank page and what I chose to write upon her would indelibly mark her future.

All other roles aside, Steph was a student. She was *my* student. I needed to approach the situation appropriately. The role of a teacher is to increase the knowledge and understanding of his students. It is not to add information to their brains so that they can blandly recite it back, but to tease them with the vastness of experience and knowledge that is in our world. The skill of a teacher is to do this in such a way that the student is challenged, intrigued, and hungry for more. Too many teachers fail to understand this.

If I was to teach Steph, I must have a clearly defined, yet broad, set of goals; goals which are tiered like interlocking sets of stairs, letting her step from one to the other, side to side, sometimes staying at one level, others slipping a half step down, but always having the cumulative affect of pushing forward. . I must lay out lesson plans, tests, study times. I must be willing to answer as many questions as I ask. I must set up rewards and punishments.

What was the ultimate goal? That was the hardest. Properly, the goal of every teacher is to eliminate the need for himself. A successful teacher is one who's student surpasses him. But is that what I wanted here? Or did that even fit this situation. Was I the teacher and she the student? Or was I the master, and she the apprentice? Neither quite fit. The metaphor only goes so far. I was the teacher and master. She was the student who would not surpass me, and the apprentice who would not take my place. I was training her to be my subordinate. My submissive. My slave.

If I had the skill and strength to hold on long enough.

I smiled at the thought, and let my mind wander for a few moments, then brought it back to task. The goal was to open her up to whatever I wanted from her. It was to gain her trust and keep it. It was to allow her body, her mind, her spirit, to accept love and pleasure as given by me, her master. That would not happen through humiliation, that would not happen through degradation. It could not be beaten into her or forced upon her. I had to make her *want* it from me. I had to make her *demand* it from me.

I sighed deeply, letting the cool November air clear my thoughts. I would have other things to deal with for a few days. I sat for a while on one of the quaint benches at the edge of the large quad. Normally bustling with young ladies running to and from class, laying in the warm sun, or grabbing a quick smoke before dashing off to put on a mask of propriety for stodgy old teachers, it was now empty except for spastic squirrels and unconcerned sparrows. I closed my eyes, leaned back, and drew in pleasantly on the last embers of my well-warmed pipe, letting my mind wander as it would, thinking of the things I wanted Miss Steph to do for me. The coolness of the air, the warmth of the fragrant smoke, the tense energy of the almost death-like quiet of the quad, all conspired to coalesce the thoughts that hung in the dark corners of my mind. With an almost tangible click, the pieces began to fall together. It would take almost to summer, but the path was now laid out before me. It would require some small assistance from others--some willing, some unwitting--but it would work.

Little did I realize how soon events would jump forward of their own volition.

***

I was in the process of losing a brutal series of Freecell games later that afternoon, when the doorbell chimed. Taking it as a sign of divine reprieve, I closed the program and went to greet my guests. The picture that greeted me when I opened the door was proof to the universe that beauty was great and varied; a blonde amazon and a dark-haired pixie, both stunningly beautiful.

"Good evening, ladies... May I help you?" "Yes, we're doing a survey for National Institutes of Health" the blond said in a very serious tone. "We're here to determine, " continued the brunette "just how long it takes to fuck a man to death." Jennifer couldn't restrain her laughter any longer and started giggling as she grabbed me in an enthusiastic hug. "God, it's good to see you again, P."

I hugged her back, then got a similar greeting from Kat. "It *is* good to see you again, Porter."

"Okay, now that we all know how great it is to see each other, would you guys mind moving? I need to pee!"

I laughed and stepped to the side so she could get past me "Always the prim and dainty one, aren't you, Jen?"

"Fuck that. It's a holiday, I get to let my hair down." She called as she darted down the hallway to the bathroom.

Kat pulled a bottle of wine from her bag and handed it to me as we walked into the living room. "If you'll pour, I'll go grab our bags from the car."

Soon, we were sitting in a comfortable tangle on the couch, Jennifer's tiny body laying across the laps of Kat and I, her head resting comfortably on the arm to my left. As the conversation steered through 6 months of catching up, and multiple tangents along the way, our hands absently wandered around whomever was available. It wasn't about sex. It was friendliness. It was our way of remembering each other; how each curve flowed into the next, how things felt, how they moved, what tickled, what teased.

After the second bottle of wine was emptied, things began to progress. The contrast between these two never ceased to amaze me. Jennifer was a pixie; narrow hips, slim waist, small, pert breasts, and an energetic playfulness that translated into an uninhibited sexuality. She loved sex in all its variations, and was always eager for as much as we could give her. Kat was an amazon; large, soft breasts, full hips, powerful legs, and a more subdued--though no less intense--sexuality that demanded precision and skill. Jen's playfulness infected Kat, and Kat's patience teased Jen to distraction. When I was added to the mix, it became a small orgy of sensation and skill; a wonderful mixture of moans and giggles. By 2 o'clock that morning, we had all finally collapsed into sleep, snuggled under the heavy quilt on my large, antique bed; Jennifer wrapped halfway around me on my right, and Kat curled up close on my left, her head resting on my shoulder.

***

It was after 10 o'clock when I finally woke. I crawled over the tiny body to my right, and pulled the covers back up over the two ladies. I tugged on a pair of flannel pants, and ran a hand through my hair a couple times in a mockery of a comb, and wandered downstairs to the kitchen. The furnace was still set high, so the house was pleasantly warm, despite the chilly temperatures outside. I flipped through the newspaper while waiting for the coffee to finish perking. When it finished, I poured a cup and wandered to the den to check my e-mail and read my regular online comics. The wood of my antique desk chair was cool against my naked back, but the coffee quickly dispelled the chill.

I was still less than fully awake when the doorbell chimed. I picked up my coffee and wandered through the living room to the front hallway. Looking out the side lights, I saw Miss Steph standing there holding what looked to be a cake box. With a mix of sleepy emotions, I pulled open the heavy wooden door, and pushed the storm door open to the chilly late-morning air.

"Miss Steph?"

"Good morning, sir." She looked at me and a look of worry shot across her face. "I didn't wake you up, did I? I'm sorry, I..."

"No, you didn't wake me. What are you doing here?"

"I.. um... Well, I didn't see you at the dinner yesterday, and I thought that, maybe, you might want some of the leftovers. So I asked Mrs. Braun if I could pack some up for you." She held up the box to accent her statement. "I thought you'd be up already and I'd bring them over to you and..... Oh!" Her eyes suddenly got huge and her face blushed brightly as she caught sight of something behind me. I glanced over my shoulder to see Jennifer standing on the landing of the stairs wearing nothing but a smile and a look of satisfaction. A few seconds, later, Kat's legs appeared behind the railing, as she walked down to stand behind her lover.

"I should go." Steph started to turn and looked ready to run from my small porch.

"No." I said with a quiet force of command. A sudden inspiration struck me. "You will stay. Come in side."

She wavered for several seconds, then cautiously stepped into the small entryway. I closed the door and took the box from her, setting it on the small table to the side. In a sweatshirt and jeans, Steph was exceedingly overdressed compared to the rest of us. She tried to avert her eyes, but her gaze kept being pulled back to the two women on the landing. Kat stood behind Jennifer, the smaller woman's head resting back into the pillow of her lover's large breasts, while Kat draped her arms over the pixie's shoulders and idly caressed her small breasts and lean stomach.

"Oooh.. Is this the famous Miss Stephanie you told us about?" Jennifer's bright voice brought a deeper blush to Steph's face. "She's so *cute*! I just want to eat her up."

"Not yet. Perhaps down the road, when she's been taught her proper place. But not now." I turned back to the embarrassed student. "Miss Steph? Who gave you permission to come to my home?"

"Umm.. I ... umm.. No one, sir. I... I didn't think I... that is.. I... "

"Enough. This is my home. I have guests. Your unauthorized visit has interrupted our morning. If it were just me, I might be inclined to let it slip. But your actions have imposed upon my guests. And that, I'm afraid, cannot be left unpunished." I turned to Kat and Jen, "Ladies, would you assist me?"

Jen's eyes sparkled. "Oh yes. I certainly will." Kat just smiled softly, willing to go along with whatever I had planned.

I ushered them into the living room. Kat and Jen sat on the couch, and openly surveyed Steph's body. I watched as the young girl squirmed and fidgeted under their gaze. "Miss Steph?"

"Yes, sir?"

"You've interrupted what, I am sure, was going to be a pleasant morning of sex between myself and my guests. I think your punishment should be suitable to your infraction." Without turning, I addressed Jen. "Jen, would you be so kind as to remove Miss Steph's clothes? She is exceedingly over-dressed." I could almost feel the gleeful smile from the pixie-like woman.

"Oh, I would *love* to."

"You may touch her all you like, but no kissing. And her sex is off limits. I don't want her to enjoy this."

Jen, now standing next to me, pouted dramatically. "Oh... you take the fun out of everything. I'll bet she has the most adorable little pussy. All sweet and moist. And those hips.... oh they're just the right shape to hold onto while my tongue is sliding into her. Does her clit stand up tall, or is it one of those that you have to slip your tongue down in deep to find?"

"I don't know. I haven't bothered to find out yet."

Jen dropped to her knees with a bright laugh, and started to unlace Steph's shoes with a flourish, while happily humming a nonsensical tune. I took Steph's chin gently in my hand and grabbed her eyes with my gaze. I didn't say a word, but with my look told her exactly what I expected of her. With a gentle kiss on her lips, I turned and seated myself in a chair to watch.

"Have you every felt a woman's touch, Miss Steph?"

"No, sir."

"Have you ever wondered what it would be like?"

"... um... yes, sir."

"Ooooh," Jen's voice sparkled with playful excitement. "That's a wonderful shade of nail polish. You'll have to tell me what kind that is. But that's later. First let's get all this boring clothing off of you." Jen pushed her hands up under the loose sweatshirt Steph wore, then stood. As she rose, her arms pushed the loose material upwards, revealing the pale skin beneath. She took her time, letting her hands wander around the curves of the younger woman's chest and pert breasts. She still hummed quietly, and would, at odd intervals, break into a brief giggle.

"Jen?"

"Yeah, P?"

"Is her bra lace?"

"Nope. It's a sports bra. Why?"

"Not lace? Miss Steph. What did I tell you?"

Steph looked at me distractedly for a second before her eyes widened in realization. "Oh...."

I shook my head. "That will cost you."

Jen, tired of playing with Steph and not being able to see her, pushed the sweatshirt up over Steph's head. The still blushing young lady, fought to keep from putting her arms over her chest as she brought them back down.

"Jen, get that bra off of her immediately. She was told to wear only lace."

"Okay." She unceremoniously yanked the offending garment off of Steph. "Oh... those are lovely. Are you sure I can't suck on them for a while, P? They look just absolutely delicious."

"No, Jen. You may not. Maybe next time. I haven't tasted those lovely breasts yet, and I'm certainly not going to let you at them before I do. She is *my* slave, after all, not yours." This was the first time I had used that word to describe Steph, and her head snapped up to look at me. The first shock of hearing herself called a slave faded tumultuously through a range of reactions, but ended in what looked to be a guarded satisfaction. It was difficult for me to be sure, however, since just at that moment, Jen started tweaking playfully at the tightly upright nipples she had so recently uncovered, causing Steph to look back at the playful nymph who was so happily teasing her.

"Mmmm.... I'm envious, P. She is just so yummy. You *will* share her with me later, right? You absolutely *must* share her with me."

"I fully intend on it, Jen. But later. After she's been properly trained. She still has a tendency to forget the rules. Now, why don't you pull those jeans down. I want to see if she's failed to remember the rule regarding panties as well as she did one regarding bras."

Jen let her long fingernails dance across Steph's skin on their way down to the waistline of the well-worn jeans. "Pop!" Jen quipped as she deftly slipped open the snap. She purred with a skill to rival Eartha Kitt as she took 10 seconds to draw down the zipper. "Oh my my my my. It seems she's been a very forgetful little slave, P." The jeans were pulled open to reveal simple cotton panties. "You're going to have to add on to whatever punishment you have planned for her."

Back to humming to herself, Jen worked the faded denim down over the young girl's hips. Once they were pulled off the dainty feet, the jeans were tossed carelessly to the side, no longer of importance. She took almost a minute to stroke and scratch her way up the smoothly muscled curves of the legs she had so recently revealed. When she reached the top, she looked up into Steph's face, tsked dramatically, and yanked the panties down suddenly. Tossing them aside without a second thought, she again worked her way up the pale legs until she cupped the full, round ass of my slave. With a wiggle, Jen stood and pulled herself tight against the young girl, pressing her lithe, naked body against the softer one. Still cupping Steph's cheeks, she purred again. Looking into Steph's eyes, she wiggled a bit and squeezed her hands tighter.

"Oooo.. P, she has the sexiest ass. Nice and round and firm. You're going to fuck this sweet little ass, aren't you?" She looked over her shoulder at me with a wicked smile. I tossed a look at her and she giggled knowingly. "Oh, what am I saying. Of course you're going to fuck that sexy ass. Forget I even asked such a ridiculous question."

Jen let her fingernails dance once more across the pale skin of the blushing, yet excited young girl, then spun to face me. "So! What exactly do you have in mind for this naughty young girl, P?"

I smiled.