Sonia & Preston – Instructing You

Sonia listens to her sub regale a classroom fantasy.

“I was already a great student, in some classes putting my contemporaries to shame, or so they’d complained to me. I often didn’t need any real incentive to do good in a class; the high grade and GPA was enough for me.”

“Until she became your teacher, right?”

“Yeah…” the contemplative voice trailed off as a silken one reminded him of one such incentive.

“She was…remarkable.”

“How did she make you feel?”

He let himself feel what there was to feel momentarily, lost in it more than momentarily.

“Speechless is quite the compliment,” she commented.

“…and dazzling.”

“Oh, I like that one too. How did she bedazzle your brilliant mind?”

“With everything. Her fashion sense, her posture, her intellect, her prose, her essence, her….”

“Everything?”

“Yes! Her everything.”

“What is she wearing?”

“A frilly off-shoulder top, black pencil skirt, shiny black nylons, shinier black heels with tassels on the back holding her…” he trailed off dreamily without noticing.

“You certainly take note of her, that’s for sure. I like her fashion sense for sure. The tassels would be a nice touch. I hope you don’t forget what she’s teaching.”

“Um…”

“That sounds like cause for concern right there. Focusing on her and not what she has to teach you.”

“No, I’d be her most apt student, taking in everything she has to teach.”

“Even something as boring as…let’s say, Shakespearean literature?”

“I can’t speak for the rest of the class, but I would be riveted.”

A gentle, feminine laugh expressed amusement at his assertion.

“It’s hard not to believe your sincerety, but I’m still curious as to how you see her instructing you and that whole class.”

“Well, it would be hard for me to tell anything about them. I would be front-row, open-eyed, open-eared, totally open-minded.”

“Mmmhmmm,” a voice seemingly agreed.

“I’d be completely focused on her words.”

“Just like the rest of the class?”

He laughed for a few reminiscent seconds.

“If they’re anything like the class I actually had, the class would be the inverse of me. We read MacBeth in the class once, and the attention spans in class were like the end of the book somehow. They just didn’t care.”

“If she is as attractive as you say she is, I could see her leveraging some assets to her advantage, don’t you?”

“Yeah…” his head trailed off back to his old Shakespeare lecture, a bored class behind him, and an awkward, obvious 1st year TA in front of him that looked the same age as her students, and tried to bear more than the same amount of interest as the rest, but didn’t seem to be doing a good job of it. The mutual disinterest of the past shone on his face clearly.

“How would she command her class?”

Mentioning “she” visibly brightened his expression as that TA was replaced by a wiser, prettier, raven-haired deity that could easily command the class. The smile never went away as he voiced thoughts of a revamped classroom experience.

“She could’ve used her visage to leverage her lessons; it was so easy to. Unlike the TA, she knew what she was teaching well, and didn’t need the book in-front of her to teach. She simply sat atop the desk, legs crossed, confident posture, speaking passionately about MacBeth. The class, the ones awake that early in the morning, were more fixated by her than her teachings, took more stock of the sound of her voice instead of the context of her words. She noticed her one diligent student taking it all in like a sponge, always cutely on the verge of drooling, aware of how only he acted like an ideal student.”

“Somewhere along the line, she veered off from the book to speak personally about how the story made her feel. She described with a hint more passion verbally in how elements made her feel, but her body language elicited a stronger sound of passion. Subtle and warming, it wasn’t a “squeaky wheel gets the grease” kind of loud other instructors might use to shock students awake, it was more like the first few notes of a symphony, the beginning allure of coming attractions.”

“Eyes that took in her form brazenly looked upon her more appreciatively. Half open lids not preferring am classes, noticed the change in her speech pattern and cadence, and woke to a reason to stay awake. Their teacher seemed a little more animated, speaking with her hands, letting black strands of her billowing hair swing gently every time she turned her head or ran her hands through them. She let her legs rock back and forth, unconsciously letting her feet tap the air beneath them as if they laid on the ground to make a rhythmic sound.”

“It all looked like someone talking about their favorite hobby or topic, so into it that it all seemed so natural, urging listeners to follow at the speed she set. It was natural, though intentional, for her class to follow. She knew their impressionable minds paid attention to every last minute motion she made. It only took one of any number of little things she did to hook them, but once they did, everything else reeled them in. She let her hands sway side to side, highlighting black nails against the overhead highlight and sunrise. She let them touch the skin of her collarbone, toying with the pendant hanging there. She let them rest on her silky legs, making circles or spirals atop the knee, ever so close to the thigh.”

“Sexual preference or experimental college experience didn’t seem to matter to her students; the attraction was undeniable. But unbeknownst to their distracted minds was her extra-honeyed voice and understand words their minds could readily grasp.”

“‘I was a freshman too when I read this for college. It didn’t really click with me before, but once it did, I found it really compelling. The writing, the prose, how it spoke to me, I just get lost in it all. Everytime I would re-read the book, it grew more compelling. I feel like I would find new things I’d missed before. I felt so alive, so invested, but comfortable and totally at ease. It was if I was awake, but also as if I was still in bed, knowing I was missing a class but my body rejoiced that it won the battle of sleep, that I could rest myself, be lost in a blissful slumber, loving how I’m feeling, loving that there was nothing to feel but that. Each word driving that sleepy mind deeper, each word more attractive and engaging than the last, lost in the narration of those speaking, lost in what they conveyed, lost in their instruction, lost in their generously-shared beauty, lost in them completely, without question…'”

“Her whole class would be hypnotized, mindless, open and obedient. Her star student past riveted, blissed out of his mind, practically leashed and owned by his teacher, not only ready but need to be given a command, and follow it to please her. It’s like….he can’t tell the point where he ends and she begins…”

The parts of his mind visualizing everything remained totally unaware of his lips moving, laying out each detail he witnessed as if with his own eyes. It helped that his dream teacher sat atop a table, dressed like in his dream, limbs, fingers, strands of hair, and the rest of her flowing like in his dream, speaking soft words at a volume beneath his while his well-programmed mind caught every one of them. Fixation on the sight of her, thinking of her as his instructor, was greatly bolstered by the podium, white board, and other elements not really there, but set the scene perfectly. He smiled as he watched black lips smile at his recurring loss of words of her hypnotic magnificence.

The dream world shook apart, the thick silence of adoration in the room broken with the sudden sound of a school bell ringing out of nowhere.

Vigorous headshaking brought him to the source of the sound, her smartphone lying next to the seductress with a cheshire grin, holding in laughter while he couldn’t. Even if he typically hated being awoken from such a good dream, credit was still due to her for how she did it.

“Bravo.”

“It seemed like a fun idea at the time. But you were the real performance here. Bravo and encore to you.”

“I’m not sure I could handle an encore.”

“I am. And that should be all you need.”

He looked at her sitting above him, marveling at how often that happened, even when he wasn’t kneeling or lying at her feet. It didn’t feel wrong, just very natural, just like her assurance told him there was more to come, whether he liked it or not. And because it was her, he would love it.

“You know, if what identifies a teacher and her student is indeed shaded, that sounds like a teacher’s pet. Which means, the teacher’s pet is a good pet. Which means, the teacher is pleased with her pet. Which means, she could feel incentivized to reward them, to give her good pet a treat.”

Without being told, his senses honed in on the sound of silk stroking silk. Hearing the soft fabric serve as sweet background music to her words, eyes getting wider as the shoe of the crossed leg leaned gently against the other leg, slowly and nearly enough for the back heel to slip off.

“Good pets like going deeper, don’t they? Wouldn’t that be such a treat?”

“I obey Sonia.”

She expected a simple, breathless confirmation, but got an answer somehow righter than right. It ironically proved how good a pet he was, to skip a few steps past leading him into surrender and to stating his purpose right away.

“You’re so well-trained, you even surprise me sometimes, you know that?”

Had she not looked at him, she would’ve missed the barely shifting of head left to right.

“Those other students, I had to trick them into paying attention. Of course they all obey me in the end, and a few more influenced minds at my disposal is never a bad thing, but the ones who practically throw themselves at my feet, deserve everything coming to them.”

One careless, calculated shifting later, and her black leather heel dangled lazily, bedazzlingly against her toes. To the rest of the class, it could’ve been the beginning of the spell she cast over their minds. For her teacher’s pet, the spell cemented and locked him in her power. A prolific hypnotist like her was so used to using anything handy, and often enough classic, conventional means like pocketwatches, crystals, spirals, etc., that it surprised her how dangling her shoe held more mind controlling significance to her than other things; a testament to how often she triggered her slave with it, to the point where she was practically conditioned to think it was a hypnotic trope too.

It was difficult not to when she had not only a strong command of dangling, but it felt good to her feet to do so. Losing herself in compelling lecturing, or just grading papers, letting her legs rock forwards and back in tandem with dangling heels, instilling deeper obedience in her pets to a point they were to bespelled to even appreciate. But their bodies did, their minds always appreciated the concept of deeper, and it would inevitably please their teacher/owner, so its inadvertent purpose was appreciated.

“And good teacher’s pets, deserve a pop quiz, to prove to me they are good teacher’s pets. Let your eyes take in every detail of my feet, while your minds eye looks in your lap and notices a pencil and a piece of paper, listing several questions about the book MacBeth. Prove to me that I’m a good teacher, and answer each question correctly.”

The student in his minds eye looked down at his paper reading the directions and the questions carefully, while the literal student gave even more consideration to her lovely feet. Drool dripping from his mouth dropped never landed on the quiz paper in his lap, but lead from his pencil clearly completed each question asked. The answers were so easy to him, a product of his academic diligence and wanting to impress his instructor with a perfect score. Finishing the last question with confident gusto, he set the pencil down and delivered the paper to her from on his knees.

“Hmmm,” she sounded unclearly, not filling him with the same amount of confidence.

“Are these your final answers?” she asked him, as he read the paper.

“1) I Obey Sonia.

2) I Obey Sonia.

3) I Obey Sonia.

4) I Obey Sonia.

5) I Obey Sonia.”

“Yes…final answers,” he said out loud. The student felt like something was wrong with his quiz, but he couldn’t place what. The format seemed alright, the questions seemed irrelevant, and the answers seemed perfect. It pained him why he couldn’t figure out what was wrong.

“As I grade this, maybe your mind’s eye should go up to the board, writing more about the details of the book, perhaps give your insightful thoughts on why Shakespeare wrote such a play. If another part of you happens to get distracted by something, something catching your attention, keeping it, swinging in front of your face, you can let that other part reach as it wants. And if a significant sound is made, and something is revealed, maybe your elsewhere response will be an engaging, passionate one. Let that passion drive you in your writing. I insist.”

Strong insistence became supported by that heel barely hanging on by the skin of her toes, and the seam of her stockings. The room quickly grew silent again, enough for a pin dropping to be noticed. The sound his ears requested was granted as the soft heel collided with the floor, and a owned mouth set upon a silken foot like the student’s mind’s eye set upon the board to fulfill his assignment.

Each kiss was a new word on the board. Each lick of her skin and fabric tasted like the victory of a cohesive, correct argument materializing with ink. Each deep inhale of her fragrant feet yielded a higher response than sniffing a whiteboard marker. Each moan from him reflected the passion of sucking on her toes. Each moan from her felt like a reflection of her teaching efforts bearing fruit in his composition. When he was finished at the board, he stood back, satisfied with his work, heightened by the dual satisfaction of his other, realer self worshiping Sonia’s feet. He couldn’t wait for his instructor to be pleased with his work.

“And those heel tassels you mentioned earlier. I bet those made the shoe so much easier to follow. Such a stylish choice, such a draw to her sense of creativity and allure. And though they can simply draw the viewers eyes, I think the wearer can even appreciate the concept metaphorically. By that, I mean when you think about it, the tassels is and moves so reactively to it’s wearer. On my shoe, my slightest step or foot dip and it shakes and swings like it could fall away at any point, but it’s firmly attached and anchored to me. It brings a smile to my face when I think that I may not have to wear a tassel to have them attached to me.”

“Because aren’t my most devoted teacher’s pets the same? Reacting to every little thing I do, following without question, practically spinning out of control while fully in my control if I get just a little excited, perhaps quivering a little with every step I take, as if wishing me to come closer to them. I’m sure your pretty pet’s mind can manage seeing, imagining exactly what I tell you to, worshipping my feet, writing on the board, but also still watching those tasseled heels swing. And every written word on the board is them swinging, your eyes following, your trance deepening, your being my pet strengthened as the words stroke you like a pet’s submissive skin is stroked.”

I Obey Sonia. I Obey Sonia. I Obey Sonia. I Obey Sonia.

I Obey Sonia. I Obey Sonia. I Obey Sonia. I Obey Sonia.

I Obey Sonia. I Obey Sonia. I Obey Sonia. I Obey Sonia.

I Obey Sonia. I Obey Sonia. I Obey Sonia. I Obey Sonia.

I Obey Sonia. I Obey Sonia. I Obey Sonia. I Obey Sonia.

I Obey Sonia. I Obey Sonia. I Obey Sonia. I Obey Sonia.

I Obey Sonia. I Obey Sonia. I Obey Sonia. I Obey Sonia.

The hand on his shoulders, reassuring him of his answer at the board, matched the hand in his hair, affectionate caressing at how pleased she was with his attentive mouth, still greedily sucking her toes. It only stopped as she pulled her foot away, to place it under his chin and bring his sight upwards.

“It’s nice when the grade on the board matches the one on your paper, isn’t it?”

She showed him his quiz results and saw him beam with pride. 100% perfect score.

“And I expect nothing less from my good teacher’s pet. Obedience is pleasure.”

His quivering form shook from the obedience he knew he gave her.

“In fact, education is pleasure too, right?”

“Yes Mistress.”

“And no one feels more educated than you do right now, yes?”

“Ohhhhh, yes Mistress.”

“A happy little benefit of being Mistress Sonia’s good teacher’s pet.”

“Mmmmmmmmmmm,” he moaned luxuriously.

“I think all this is a good reminder to keep teaching my pet new things, new tricks to respond to every now and then. And you’ll want to learn and absorb every trick, because education is pleasure.”

“Education is pleasure,” he spoke with the dumbest smile capable.

The irony was not lost on her as she laughed from that and the future she relished in as a teacher. So much to learn, so much pleasure to garner, so little thoughts but hers.

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