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Coxworth Academy 20

By KC Crozetti







Published on Smashwords

Copyright 2017 by KC Crozetti

License Notes

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It is the copyrighted property of the author and may not be reproduced, copied, and/or distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy online where you bought your copy. Thank you for your support.

This is a work of fiction intended for adults only. Names, characters, and locations are the product of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously. Any similarities to actual persons, living or dead, or real events, are entirely coincidental and not intended by the author. All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.

The cover photograph, Athlete Holding a Discophorus, by rai_19, is used here according to creative commons license. Use of this photograph does not suggest in any way that the photographer endorses the author’s work.







Table of Contents



Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

About the Author

Preview of Double Standard School: Stories 71-80







Prologue

“Welcome to The Cottage, Amelie,” was Mrs. Coxworth’s terse greeting.

On a Friday evening after Coxworth Academy classes had finished for the week, an unusually stern Eleanor Coxworth welcomed nervous Amelie Tuckerman to her Hesperides Island home. Contrary to its homey nickname, The Cottage was a colossal manor that from the outside resembled the famous Parthenon in Athens, Greece. The largest structure atop Acropolis Hill, The Cottage overlooked the picturesque bay on the south side of the tropical island.

“Follow me, please.” The usually jovial college founder was uncharacteristically solemn as she led her invited guest down the Long Gallery of the mansion. At the end of the hallway, they walked through an open doorway onto a semicircular portico that overlooked the Greek garden behind the mansion. A semi-dome supported by a pair of white, Ionic columns covered the otherwise open-air, stone portico.

“The Greeks and Romans called this an exedra,” said Mrs. Coxworth as she guided Miss Tuckerman around a wide, curved sofa made of plush, deep-ruby red velvet. “Exedras were used for meetings and discussions.”

“That’s interesting,” Amelie lied. She was too worried about the reason for her visit to be concerned about architecture.

When she had first come to tropical Hesperides Island, Amelie Tuckerman had made some mistakes that had angered her wealthy employer. The first was her infamous night raid on Insula Beta, the men’s dormitory. To discover the identities of two malefactors, she had embarrassed all of the male students by forcing them to remove their pajamas and then threatened them with further humiliation if they didn’t name the culprits. Another time, she had strip searched a campus trespasser named Tyler, chained him spread-eagle to a security cell, humiliated him by coaxing his cock erect, and then threatened his balls until he’d identified himself. Unfortunately, the trespasser had turned out to be the grandson of one of Mrs. Coxworth’s influential friends.

Demoted, Miss Tuckerman had become the college founder’s least-favorite employee. Judging by this evening’s unexpected invitation, and by her boss’s sober demeanor and terse greeting, Amelie suspected her dismissal was imminent.

“Please sit,” said Mrs. Coxworth, gesturing at a spot near the center of the couch.

The two adversaries tried to get comfortable; but an uncomfortable silence ensued. Sitting side-by-side, employer and employee watched the Greek garden’s marble statue of an orgasmic Eros ejaculating water that splashed into the fountain. Amelie clasped her hands on her lap, trying to stop their shaking while she waited to be fired.

Presently, Eleanor Coxworth turned towards Miss Tuckerman and astonished her by offering an unexpected apology. “I am sorry for mistreating you, Amelie,” she began.

“Mistreating me!?”

“Yes. When you first came to Hesperides, I should have given you more guidance on what I expected from you. This led to some missteps that were more my fault than yours. Since then, I have treated you unfairly; and for that, I offer an apology.”

Startled and speechless, Amelie gawped at her boss.

Will you forgive me?”

“Of course! I mean, there’s nothing to forgive, Mrs. Coxworth.”

The college founder chuckled. “It’s still Eleanor,” she reminded.

“Eleanor.” Relieved and confounded, Amelie released a hearty laugh.

Eleanor Coxworth laughed with her; long and hard. When she could catch her breath again, she said, “Amelie, I have an idea that would employ your special talents; but before we get to that, let me tell Sextus that we’re ready for some refreshments. I’ll be right back,” she added as she stood and walked away.

Alone on the portico, Amelie beamed with love for her incredible employer. She gazed at the triumphant Eros statue and laughed out loud. The Roman god’s ecstasy as water spurted from his oversized, engorged penis seemed to reflect her own feelings of joy and happiness.







Chapter 1

The following Monday morning found Spartacus, the loincloth-clad bodybuilder who served as door guard and receptionist at Insula Beta, standing at his station behind his desk. He watched as the door to the women’s dormitory opened, and the first of the twenty-six residents emerged. He smiled a greeting and said, “Good morning, Bess!”

“Hi, Sparty!” chirped Bess.

The nineteen-year-old looked radiant, with her long, golden-blonde hair freshly combed, minimal makeup applied, blue eyes flashing, and lips parted in a joyful smile. Her cheerleader figure looked curvy in a Coxworth Academy uniform: a burgundy polo shirt with the college’s horny unicorn logo, a pleated gray skirt, white bobby socks and sneakers. After her hurried greeting, she strode across the lobby towards the front door.

“Before you leave …” said Spartacus.

The coed stopped with the outer door open and turned back to reception.

The dorm guard nodded towards the lobby bulletin board and said, “I think you’ll be interested in the new announcement I posted this morning.”

Curious, Bess returned to the lobby and started reading.

NEW COURSE ANNOUNCEMENT

Course Name: Introduction to Female Superiority and Domination.

Course Goals: This is a one-day course to introduce the concepts of female superiority and the training and domination of submissive males.

Who Should Attend: Each class is limited to five liberal-minded women who are not offended by male nudity or submission.

Cost: There is no cost for attendance, and course materials will be provided.

Location: Domus Tuckerman on the Coxworth Academy campus.

Registration: Contact Amelie Tuckerman. Additional details, including date and time, will be provided upon acceptance.

Bess couldn’t stop grinning after she read the notice. The so-called White Dominatrix was holding classes on female domination, and Bess planned on attending.

“Thanks for showing me this, Spartacus,” she said.

“You’re welcome,” he chuckled as the vivacious coed strode to the dorm’s phone and dialed Amelie Tuckerman’s number.

Bess was determined to reserve a class for her and four friends. She knew three girlfriends she wanted to invite; but who would be the fourth?







Chapter 2

On the following Saturday morning, shortly before nine o’clock, Bess and her four invitees arrived outside Domus Tuckerman, the home of Amelie Tuckerman on Hesperides Island. All five women wore their school uniforms, for ‘Mistress’ Amelie had warned, “Body fluids tend to splash at these events, and you don’t want to ruin any good clothes.” That advance advice explained the wide grins on all five girls’ faces.

Bess had invited her three closest girlfriends: tall and curvy, brown-haired Trina; nubile brunette Jenny; and perky, blonde Trish. The four of them had agreed to invite Marilyn as their fifth friend.

Black-haired Marilyn stood out amongst the college students, for the nineteen-year-old weighed nearly three-hundred pounds, making her two- or even three-times heavier than the other coeds. The largest of her large assets, however, was her enormous personality. Everyone loved Marilyn. Her cheerfulness and joy of life exceeded everyone’s except for the fun-loving spirit of Eleanor Coxworth herself. Marilyn had a voluptuous body sculpted by her youthful age and an athletic regimen of swimming and power-walking. Like the other four women attending Mistress Amelie’s domination class, Marilyn loved playing with a willing dick until its owner was panting and squirming.

“Is everyone ready?” asked Bess, suddenly feeling nervous.

Now that the moment had arrived, the women’s grins faded. Amelie Tuckerman was not known for warmth or cordiality. Perhaps coming here was a mistake. Despite their last-minute misgivings, the five coeds agreed that they were ready to proceed.

Bess knocked. After a brief wait, the front door opened. The grins reappeared.

A tall and handsome man, wearing a black bowtie, a silver wristwatch, and nothing else, greeted them. “Good morning, mistresses,” he said, keeping his head bowed and his eyes down, not looking directly at the guests.

“Good morning!” chorused the cute quintet as five pairs of startled eyes gazed down the man’s attractive body and glanced at his reasonably long, somewhat limp, circumcised dick. Like all the students on campus, he had been shaved of all body hair, except for the short-trimmed, brown hair on his head. His lack of hair and two, small accessories emphasized his bareness.

“Please follow me to the atrium,” he said.

When the man turned his back on them, the girls swapped lecherous looks. Their attention then turned to his strong shoulders, long back, and muscular backside and thighs as they followed him into the domus.

Their nude guide led the women through a vestibule to the atrium, a rectangular room with a tiled floor. Beneath an opening in the roof was a square pool surrounded by Ionic columns. The man led them around the pool to an open space beyond, where five white-strap patio chairs had been placed in a semicircle facing a sixth patio chair, presumably the instructor’s seat. A wooden, shoebox-sized chest rested beneath the sixth chair, and a round, braided rug lay on the floor in the center of the grouping.

The man stepped behind the left-most chair, turned, and for an uncomfortable moment, seemed to be staring at the girls’ boobs; however, it soon became apparent that he was reading their nametags, sewn into their polo shirts just above their left breasts. He pulled the first chair back slightly, saying, “Mistress Bess, please sit here.”

“Okay.” The leer that the golden-haired blonde gave the naked hunk went unnoticed, for he kept his gaze lowered. She glanced down at the appealing head of his beautiful cock, and then turned to take her seat.

The man pushed her chair in as she sat down, and then moved to the next chair. He proceeded to seat the rest of the students in alphabetic order. Left-to right, there were “Mistress Bess,” “Mistress Jenny,” “Mistress Marilyn,” “Mistress Trina,” and “Mistress Trish.”

When the guests were seated, the nude butler knelt on the round rug in front of them. He bowed his head, keeping his eyes on Marilyn’s feet. “My name is Jonathan,” he told them. “I am twenty-eight years old and here to serve you, Mistresses. May I offer you iced tea this morning?”

After everyone accepted his offer, Jonathan got to his feet and left the room. The girls’ tittering chatter was interrupted by the arrival of their instructor. They gawked at what they saw.

Amelie Tuckerman lived up to her nickname, the White Dominatrix. Her all-white attire included an extremely low-cut, strapless bustier, a leather miniskirt, gloves, garters and stockings, and spike-heeled shoes. Even her crop, with a leather loop at one end and a wrapped handle at the other, was white. The jet-black of her long, wavy hair contrasted with the white of her uniform. Her flat belly was bare, from her bustier to the waistband of her miniskirt.

“Hello, girls,” she said. “Thanks for coming.”

“Hi,” they replied, intimidated by her outlandish outfit.

She recognized their discomfiture, smiled, and tried to explain. “I know: my getup is campy; but I’ve dressed for the boys you’ll be meeting. I may be scantily dressed, but they will be nude.” She sat, snickering, “What did you think of Jonathan?”

The titillated coeds gave her their delighted opinions.

“He’s sexy,” said Trish.

Marilyn gushed, “I couldn’t believe it when he opened the door!”

“Does he live here with you, Miss Tuckerman?”

“Yes, he does; and please call me Amelie.”

“Does he always walk around like that?” inquired Bess.

“No; I dressed him – or rather, didn’t dress him – especially for you. I don’t always dress like this, either, but my outfit is appropriate for today’s discussion. Provocative clothes remind the boys of the differences of our sexes. Dressing like a dominatrix hints at the benefits of obedience and the consequences of disobedience.” She sliced the air with her crop and struck her patio chair with a sharp snap.

“Coming, Mistress Amelie,” called the quavering voice of Jonathan.

The White Dominatrix winked at the coeds and whispered, “See what I mean?”

The amused girls watched the essentially nude servant hustle into the atrium carrying a tray with six frosty glasses of iced tea. He served the five students first and then their instructor. After striding out of the room, he returned a moment later without the tray.

“Jonathan; Come over here and stand beside my chair.”

“Yes, Mistress Amelie,” he said. He moved to her right side facing the five coeds; head down; back straight, feet apart, and hands clasped behind his back.


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