     


                       BACK IN SCHOOL

                             by 

                          Joe Doe


A VENGEFUL BUTLER INVITES HIS FORMER EMPLOYER FOR A "VISIT" TO A 
GIRLS' REFORMATORY.  TWENTY-EIGHT YEAR OLD SUSAN IS SOON STRIPPED 
NAKED, SHOWERED, AND SHAVED....  (THIS STORY WAS INSPIRED BY COLE; 
THANKS COLE!)



I had never gotten along well with our family butler, Winston; he 
had always been overbearing when I was in school.  So, after I got 
my Master's and took over the family business, I naturally lorded 
it over him.

When my father died and I inherited the family estate, the first 
thing I did was to fire Winston.  It was no surprise when he 
decided to return to his old teaching job at the local girls' 
reformatory.  What surprised me was when he called me a month 
later and invited me to spend a week there as his guest.  I was 
reluctant at first, but when he told me about the golf course, 
gym, running track, and Olympic-size pool, I finally agreed.  He 
just wanted to show me there were no hard feelings, he claimed.

The girls' reformatory was an imposing set of buildings surrounded 
by a huge concrete wall.  For a place so remote, it certainly 
seemed secure!

Since I was interested in the swimming pool, Winston suggested we 
stop by the field house first.  He took me through the faculty 
building and walked me out onto an outdoor balcony adjacent to 
the teacher's lounge.

The balcony was actually a rather large second floor patio area.  
Several teachers sat and chatted on the patio while they enjoyed 
their morning coffee.  The balcony overlooked the athletic field, 
where at least 50 girls were being put through a demanding aerobic 
dance routine.

I did a double take.  All of the girls were absolutely stark naked!

At first, I didn't know what to say.  What does one say to the 
sight of 50 teenage girls, naked as newborns, bumping and 
grinding their hips 15 feet in front of you? 

"Adolescents shouldn't be forced to take gym classes in the nude," 
I said, huffily.

"I quite agree," Winston replied, calmly.  "All of the young ladies 
at this reformatory are between 18 and 35 years of age."
  
I looked more closely.  Although the "girls" had no pubic hair, 
some of them were quite well developed.  Was it possible that they 
were adults?  I looked more closely.

They WERE adults, but in their current predicament, you could 
hardly tell.  All of the girls had their hair cut short, or they 
were wearing ponytails or even pigtails.  And all of them had 
clean-shaven pussies.

"What about the girls I saw earlier, who were wearing school 
uniforms?" I asked.

"I can assure you that they are all 18 or older, with birth 
certificates on file.  We simply dress them like the misbehaving 
students they are.  Naturally we hold their adult clothes, credit 
cards, and identification off-campus, just for safe keeping."

He warmed to the subject.  "You are 28," he observed.  "But, if 
you were a student here, instead of a guest, you would be required 
to wear a school uniform."

I am rather small, standing only 5'2", and I do sometimes get 
carded at bars.

"Do you really think you could make me look like a schoolgirl, 
Winston?" I asked, still dubious.

"Easily.  Your jewelry, clothing, and identification would be 
confiscated immediately after we changed your classification from 
guest to student.  We'd scrub off that makeup and perfume,and we'd 
take away that pricey designer business suit you're wearing...so 
you wouldn't get it dirty."

I felt myself blushing, and I looked down at my Gucci shoes.  But 
I also started to feel a certain dampness between my legs.

"Only after we had stripped you naked as a jaybird would we give 
you your new clothes -- sensible shoes, sensible cotton underwear, 
and a proper school uniform.  And, if you didn't follow the uniform 
regulations to the letter, I'd take you over my knee and spank your 
bare bottom!"  He laughed, obviously amused at the idea.

"Of course you would be treated like an adult woman some of the 
time.  Any one of the staff can request a student as a 'bed 
warmer.'  I suspect a lovely young lady such as yourself would 
have her dance card filled every night."

He looked me up and down and said, "You know, I have collected 
several fetching costumes in just your size, Miss Susan."  He 
winked at me, and I actually started to blush.  I seriously 
considered slapping his face, but decided to bide my time.

After a quick tour of the pool area, Winston introduced me to 
the gym teacher, Ms. Dyke, a thin, no-nonsense woman in her 
mid-thirties.  She was in good shape, hard and lean, with a short, 
boyish haircut (complete with plenty of "greasy kid stuff").  As 
soon as I walked into the room she looked me up and down in a way 
that left little doubt about her sexual orientation.

Winston introduced us, and we exchanged pleasantries for a moment.  
"The girls are outside finishing up their exercises, and they'll 
be coming inside soon," she explained.  "Let's go to my office and 
wait for them."  And then, much to my surprise, she marched us 
directly into the girls' locker room.

Winston explained that, on most days, the girls would exercise, 
shower, dress in their school uniforms, and return to class.  
There were exceptions of course; after the showers tomorrow each 
class of naked girls will be escorted to the field house for the 
annual school physical.  I was shocked at first to learn that 
Winston actually participated in examining the naked women, but 
I had to admit that, after that aerobic dance routine, the girls 
had very little modesty left to violate.

"That reminds me, Mr. Winston," Ms. Dyke interrupted.  "Did the 
shipment of thermometers arrive?"

"Yes, it did," he assured her.  "Unfortunately, they all turned 
out to be rectal thermometers.  However, there are plenty of 
rubber gloves in the supply cabinet, and I've already asked cook 
to send a big tub of bacon fat down to the gym in the morning, so 
it really isn't a problem."

I winced when he explained his plans, and he smiled at me, 
enjoying my discomfort.

The locker room was empty, and Ms. Dyke took us into her office, 
which had a glass wall that directly faced the shower area, a 
large concrete "gang shower" with nozzles hanging down from the 
ceiling.  It was the kind of shower I used to hate when I was in 
school because it offered no privacy whatsoever.

Her desk had an elaborate control panel with several built-in 
video monitors.  As I looked around, I noticed that there were 
security cameras throughout the locker room, so she could watch 
the girls change clothes or shower from a variety of angles.

"We take physical fitness very seriously at this school," she  
explained.  I keep shower videotapes of every girl, as well as 
standard photographic studies and detailed weight and body fat 
percentages.  That way I can track their progress as I slim them 
down.  Gym class is two hours every day, and I work the girls 
hard."  She sniffed.  "I like 'em fit and trim."

I'm sure she did.

"How many tapes do you have per girl?" Winston asked.

"I record each girl at least once a month.  We start out with a 
baseline, which I use to make my standard evaluation.  Of course, 
we need a lot of cameras, since it's important that we get 
everything on tape...from head to toe."  She winked at me, and 
I felt myself blush yet again.

"You look like you're in pretty good shape, Miss Susan," she said, 
again looking me up and down with an appraising eye.  "Do you work 
out regularly?"

"Yes," I replied with pride.  "I run every day, do yoga, and lift 
weights.  I keep in shape."  It was true.  Although I was too short 
and skinny to be very competitive at sports, I trained faithfully 
every day, and I was in wonderful condition.

"I used to work at an Olympic camp, training both sprinters and 
marathon runners," Ms. Dyke said.  "Perhaps you'd like me to give 
you a free fitness evaluation."

"I would love that," I replied, enthusiastically.  I looked over 
at Winston.  Why was he smiling?

I turned back to Ms. Dyke.  "What do I have to do?" 

Ms. Dyke handed me a towel.  "There's an empty locker just around 
the corner.  Strip down to your birthday suit and hop into the 
shower.  We'll start with a baseline evaluation tape," she said.

"Uh...you mean...t-take off my clothes?" 

Winston's smile broadened.  He was obviously enjoying my 
predicament.

"Is there a swimsuit I could wear?"  I was getting nervous.

Winston's face hardened.  "The only suit you'll have on is your 
birthday suit, Missy!"  He turned me around and pointed at the 
lockers.  "I want you naked and in that shower in two minutes...and 
I mean BUTT NAKED!"  With that he slapped me on the bottom, and, 
before I knew it, I found myself trotting off to the lockers like 
an obedient schoolgirl.

I couldn't believe this was happening.  Winston hadn't talked to 
me that way for years!  After all, I was the lady of the estate, 
and he was just the butler I had fired.  Part of me knew that I 
shouldn't be going along with this, but the truth is that I was 
too turned on to stop!

Ninety seconds later I found myself wrapped in a towel, standing 
outside Ms. Dyke's office.  My pussy was dribbling like a faucet, 
but I was still scared as hell.  I nervously knocked on the open 
door before meekly entering...I felt like I was going to the 
principal's office!

"What is it now?"  Winston's voice was cold.  His eyes ran up and 
down my body in a way that made me very conscious of the fact that 
I was absolutely naked underneath my short towel.  I couldn't 
believe that I was standing 3 feet in front of my former servant, 
half naked, about to beg a favor.  I could barely get the words 
out.

"Please don't...don't watch me when....when I'm in the showers, 
Winston," I pleaded.  "I mean...I won't have a stitch on!  I'll 
be...stark NAKED."

He began to lecture me in the most patronizing tone imaginable.  
"First of all, I think you should start calling me 'Mr. Winston,' 
Suzie."

"Suzie" was what he had called me when I was a child, and I had 
hated it.  My name was Susan, damn it, and he knew it!

"Secondly," he said, handing me a razor and a small tube of cream, 
"I think you'd better get busy.  Ms. Dyke says that, if you are 
going to use her facilities, you will have to wash off that 
perfume and makeup and shave all the hair off that randy little 
twat of yours."

My jaw actually dropped.  He wanted me to shave myself while he 
watched!

He continued his lecture.  

"A randy little strumpet can't be running around with a lawn of 
wet, putrid crab grass between her legs!  That stinky little hole 
of yours will just breed disease.

"Use the cream in the little tube when you're done, and leave it 
on for about 30 seconds.  It will burn, but the hair won't grow 
back for a LONG time.

"Thirdly, why are you standing here in the office wrapped in a 
towel when I told you that I wanted you in the showers, BUTT 
NAKED?"  With that, he reached out and yanked off my towel, 
leaving me standing in front of him without a stitch on.

I quickly scampered into the shower area, anxious to avoid his 
amused gaze.

I selected the shower nozzle farthest from the office and switched 
on the water.  It was cold, but it felt good.  I turned my back on 
him.  It exposed my bare butt, but I didn't want to give him the 
pleasure of watching me lather up.

I took my time soaping my breasts.  The truth is that the 
experience thus far, while totally humiliating, had totally 
turned me on, and I was desperate to touch myself.  I ran my 
fingers between my legs.  Winston and Ms. Dyke were a good 15 
feet away, and my back was turned.  If I did this discreetly, 
they wouldn't even notice.  I slipped my hand between my thighs, 
and began to massage myself....

It was only after the first orgasm that I bothered to look behind 
me.  Winston and the teacher weren't even looking at me; they were 
staring at the monitors on their desks.  As I faced the wall again 
I saw what I had forgotten -- there were video cameras in the wall 
I had been facing!  I screamed in shock as I saw the cameras, 
and from behind me, I heard Winston laugh at my surprise and 
humiliation.  I had just tossed myself off on film in front of 
the family butler!

He sauntered over.  "That was quite a performance, Suzie", he said. 
"All of the faculty members are really going to enjoy the video."  
He winked at me.  I had never been so embarrassed in my life.

"Ms. Dyke says you have a good baseline," he said, appraising me 
like I was some type of research animal.  "She's especially 
impressed with your tight little ass.  She thinks you're a little 
flabby in some places, but, if you were a student here, she would 
sweat that off you in no time."

I'm sure she would.

His voice turned cold.  "Now spread your legs!  No, wider!"  

I spread them shoulder width.  He smiled as he stared straight 
at my crotch.

"Not bad," he mused.  "But now it's time to wash out that 
disgusting slash between your legs.  And then you have an 
appointment with 'Mr. Razor.'  And you needn't bother turning 
around, Your Highness.  Ms. Dyke has cameras everywhere!"

And so, as he stood there grinning at me, I spread my legs and 
shaved my crotch.  He counted to thirty after I put the cream on, 
rather too slowly for my taste, since the solution burned like 
fury.  But the noxious chemicals did their job, and I was soon as 
smooth as a newborn.  I felt tears in my eyes.  My beautiful bush 
was gone!  It really did make me look years younger, and I began 
to understand fully the awful humiliation that the so-called 
"students" in this school faced.

He took pleasure in directing me through my shower, telling me 
which parts of my body to soap up, when to bend over, and when to 
rinse.  Although I know it was primarily for his own lecherous 
amusement, the movement of the video cameras meant that he was 
also directing me for the benefit of Ms. Dyke's baseline tape.

After I was thoroughly water-logged, I stepped out of the shower 
and reached for the basket of towels.  Winston grabbed my wrist.

"Not so fast, young lady," he said.  "You may not be a student 
here, but you are still using the locker facilities.  That gives 
me the right to perform a contraband search."

"I don't have any contraband," I whined.

"Of course you don't, but it doesn't hurt to check."  

Who was I to argue with that kind of logic?

"Now, put your hands against the wall and spread your legs nice 
and wide, like a good little girl."

I assumed the classic frisk position.  But it wasn't classic 
enough for him, and he kicked my legs farther apart.

"That's better," he said.  "Now we can check out every inch of 
that bare little pussy of yours."

He ran his hands down my arms and then over my chest, even though 
it was ridiculously obvious that I didn't have any contraband 
there. 

"Both of them together are hardly a handful," he teased, squeezing 
my breasts in his hands.  I've always been sensitive about my 
small bust, and I felt flushed again.

I have a short pageboy haircut, but he ran his fingers through my 
hair anyway.  Then he made me stick out my tongue.  He got my 
tongue between his fingers and moved it around while he used the 
index finger of his other hand to feel around the corners of my 
mouth.

He knelt down on the floor behind me and took a small flashlight 
out of his breast pocket.  He teasingly tickled my belly; when I 
winced, he smiled.  "I've already checked out your headlights.  
Now it's time to examine your glove box, Suzie."

He ran his fingers over my exposed vaginal lips.  "So bare, so 
smooth," he taunted me.  "Not a hair in sight."  I tried not to 
blush, because I knew he loved it, but I couldn't help it.  He 
then inserted his middle finger and started slowly finger-fucking 
me, laughing as I wiggled helplessly.

"Does little Suzie have ants in her pants?" he teased.

Next he spread my pussy lips, using the small flashlight to 
explore every nook and cranny.

"You know, I should really look into this situation more closely," 
he said, mockingly.  He put the flashlight in his mouth and used 
both hands to spread my pussy open for his probing fingers.  I 
was spread wide enough for a platoon of sailors, but at least he 
couldn't make his humiliating comments while the flashlight was 
in his mouth!

He was nothing if not thorough, fondling my inner and outer lips, 
running his fingers over pink and white flesh alike.  Finally he 
took the flashlight out of his mouth.

"You know, that sweet little cunt of yours is as tender and smooth 
as velvet," he said.  "Too bad you aren't a student; I'd like to 
take it out for a little test run."

I thought he was done, and I started to straighten up, but he 
slapped me hard on my naked buttocks.

"Not so fast, sweet cheeks!  I need to check out your rear blow 
hole, too!  After all, it doesn't hurt to check."

His rectal search was less detailed, but it was much more to the 
point.  He took the longest finger of his hand and began slowly 
driving it deeper and deeper into my bowels.  When he got it in 
to the knuckle, I tried to wriggle away, but there was no escape.  

"You have a really tight little poop chute here, Your Majesty," 
he said, mockingly.  "I don't know if I could get my big old love 
stick up there, but I'd surely like to try!"  With one last push, 
his finger went all the way in to the hilt.  Triumphant, he began 
wiggling his finger up and down, doubtlessly enjoying the way I 
was squirming helplessly under his probing.

As he was finishing my rectal exam, a large group of naked girls 
began to trickle into the shower area.  They stopped smiling when 
they saw Winston standing there, openly ogling them.  It was 
obvious that none of them was excited about showering in front of 
him, but they were smart enough not to protest.

I didn't feel comfortable standing in the shower area with the 
naked girls, most of whom were taller and more generously endowed 
than I was.  I really felt like a kid again, and I remembered why 
I had always hated gang showers.  On the brighter side, the arrival 
of fresh game prompted Winston to finish up with his detailed 
examination of my backside.

"You know, Suzie, if you were a student here, I could do this 
anytime I wanted," he teased.  "A drug search would be part of 
your daily routine.  I could strip you naked and stick my finger 
up that tight little twat whenever I felt like it."

I shuddered at the thought, but had an answer.  "Yeah, too bad 
I'm not a student here, asshole!"

I thought he would be angry at my reassertion of independence, 
and I was surprised when he smiled at me instead.

"You'd better hurry up and get dressed, Suzie," he said, 
pleasantly.  "You have a busy day ahead of you."

"The name is Susan," I said curtly.

He smiled again, and walked away.

As I grabbed a towel I looked back over my shoulder.  As I'd 
suspected, Winston had found himself an excellent observation 
post and was standing in front of several of the more luscious 
girls, who were blushing beet red as the old man ogled them 
during their shower.

I scurried back to my locker.  Although the experience had been 
intensely erotic, I was anxious to get dressed.  I knew that, 
once I put on my $2000 suit, my self-confidence would return, 
and I would be ready to face Winston down again.

"It's been a fun game, old boy," I thought.  "But now I'm in 
charge again!"  I knew my revenge would be sweet, and I was 
smiling as I opened the locker door....

EMPTY!  My locker was empty!  My purse, my keys, my driver's 
license, my credit cards, my designer suit, even my underwear 
and shoes were gone.  They had taken away everything!

It wasn't until I sat down on the bench that I noticed the 
uniform.  It was a standard school uniform like those the other 
girls were wearing: white t-shirt, white ankle socks, black shoes, 
white blouse, blue tie, blue cap, blue blazer with the school logo 
on the breast, and a short blue skirt that would barely cover my 
plain white cotton panties.

On the lapel of the blue blazer was a cheap paper name tag with 
Winston's handwriting on it:

HI! MY NAME IS SUZIE!

What a coincidence, I thought, bitterly.  The uniform was just my 
size!

When I looked at myself in the mirror, I couldn't believe it.  
The self-confident, haughty professional woman was gone, and 
she had been replaced by an awkward, blushing schoolgirl.

I was just another student, and Winston was a teacher.  And now he 
could strip me naked whenever he wanted and perform his humiliating 
little searches, and there wasn't a thing that I could do about it.

I knew that I would spend tonight in Winston's bedroom, parading 
around, being degraded.  I knew he was going to use me, and use me 
well.  I knew that in the morning I would have to strip naked and 
dance in front of him on the athletic field while he sipped his 
morning coffee and gloated over my humiliation.

And it was just going to get worse.  After my shower, I would be 
marched to the gym for my physical.  I knew that Winston would be 
waiting for me with a greasy, gloved finger and an icy cold 
thermometer.

I was back in school.  And Winston was back in charge.



Edited by C. Lakewood

		