The School

My warmest and deepest thanks to LadyM12 for her constructive comments as well as her efforts in editing this document.

"Are you Mr Williams? I think I'm expected." Martin Williams looked up from his desk to see a rather tall, long-legged blond standing in the doorway. She was about 5 feet 11 inches tall, with long hair past her shoulders. Probably 36-24-38, but the jacket hid the true size of her waist. Her lips were painted a bright red, drawing attention to them, and giving thoughts as to what they would look like wrapped around a pencil or a thick straw. She was wearing a dark skirt and a jacket top. Normally this would be worn over a blouse, but the lady had decided that the jacket was enough. There was plenty of creamy skin on display. Her high heels were very high, which meant that she was not embarrassed about her height, and probably that she liked the idea of being rather tall, and the dominance that this afforded her.

"Yes I am, please come in," he said

"Sorry. There was no one at the reception desk and I have an appointment, so I thought that I would come in."

"My secretary must be off elsewhere. She has a wide range of duties and these often take her away from the desk. Normally she tells me, but in this case she must have forgotten."

"My name is Laura Ashton." Laura held out her hand, which Martin accepted. The grip was firm; she was obviously accustomed to shaking hands with men. Her skin was cool and dry and the handshake was an almost erotic experience. "My doctor, Dr. Hawood, said to give you this letter." Again Laura held out her hand, this time with a letter. Martin took it and placed it on the desk.

"Please sit down." Lara sat in the chair, somewhat on the front edge of the chair. Her tight skirt rode up her thighs, revealing a delicious show of creamy flesh. Her back was perfectly vertical, and her hands were clasped in her lap. She looked like a tiger defending the pack, on the alert and very watchful.

"Let's fill in this form while we talk. Most of the details are on the back of the envelope. We finally got Dr. Hawood put them on the outside and it saves so much time. It says you are a 'Ms.', which type?"

"Miss." Martin transcribed the details from the envelope onto the standard interview form.

"Okay that's all done. What seems to be the problem?" inquired Al.

"It is all in the envelope. Doctor said the notes were very complete."

"Yes they probably are. However, they were written by a doctor for a doctor and I am neither."

"Then why am I here?"

"I run a type of resort. In the past we have been able to help many patients of Dr. Hawood, and others, in areas that traditional medical practices have been unsuccessful. We have doctors at the resort, but they are for medical problems that arise while guests are staying. Occasionally there may be a 'flu case or strained muscles from the activities but nothing more serious."

"Well the doctor did send the note and perhaps it is all clear in the letter."

Martin groaned internally. She was going to be one of those! Martin did a quick estimate and decided to go with his gut instinct.

"Let me see. Your sister is younger than you." It was a statement rather than a question.

"Yes."

"By?"

"Three years."

"Two children?"

"Yes," replied a perplexed Laura.

"Type?"

"Both boys."

"No more planned?"

"Medical problems left her unable to conceive after the last birth."

"Live close to your mother?"

"Around the corner," Laura was getting somewhat frustrated. The purpose of the visit was to help her and instead this non-doctor was asking very personal questions about her family.

"Does your sister work?"

"No she is married to an accountant and he has a reasonable income; nothing special but enough for them."

"Your mother spends a lot time at your sister's?"

Eventually Laura's frustration became too much to bear, "Yes! What has all this to do with my being here? You haven't started to discuss my problem!"

"Haven't I? You own your own company?"

"Yes," responded Laura, rather shocked at both the change of tack and the accuracy of the question.

"This is a guess: advertising? About ten people work for you."

"Public relations. There are about twenty people, but not all are full time. Many work from home. The Internet has been great in allowing us to expand the business without people needing office space."

"The business must be very good. Only the high-income patients are referred here. There must be long hours involved in such a high-pressure business; some clients would need 24/7 care and attention."

"Yes! Some of our clients are so demanding, and most are high maintenance! As well as their own needs there is additional trouble they can get into and need some help in extracting themselves. Others are never happy and I seem to spend my entire life dealing with other people's petty problems. A ninety-hour week is nothing. But my clients pay big money and they expect a corresponding level of service. They can easily change companies and, to be truthful, there is probably not much between the various organisations. We all offer the same service, which is often damage control. And we all try and make egocentric overly demanding people happy." Laura visibly relaxed as the topic of the conversation turned professional rather than personal. "We need to convince each of our high paying clients that we are doing something more than they can get from another company, when probably any differences are very insignificant and handle problems that should never have happened. And if a ten year-old did the same things you would smack their rear, at least that is what my mother would have done. Today, who knows?" However, the next question was very disconcerting.

"When did you break-up with you last partner? Male?"

"Most definitely male! VERY male! On our holiday in January. We went to Vietnam for two weeks. We left as a couple and came home on different planes. He arrived first, and cleaned out his stuff from my apartment. The last I saw of him was him leaving the hotel screaming that the he was sick of me and sick of being on vacation alone."

"When did the problem with sleeping start?" Laura glanced at the doctor's letter to reassure herself that it was still unopened.

How could he possibly know that?

she wondered.

"About a month after that."

"The lack of concentration? Headaches? Lack of energy?"

"Around the same time."

Martin decided a change of topic was necessary. "How long did you dance for?"

Laura sat bolt upright in her chair. "How the hell did you know that?"

"You just told me." Laura looked less than pleased with this flippant answer. "It was the way that you walked and sat. Rather than a flop it was a very elegant sit. You have very powerful and graceful legs, someone who is concerned with appearances. We have had several people that have previously stayed with us who were dancers for some time. They all moved the same. It seems to be a once learned and never forgotten thing.

The next question was even more disconcerting than the previous: it was completely different and unnervingly accurate. "Since the break-up, have you been spending a lot more on clothes and shoes?"

"Well I never! I did not come here to be insulted, or to be interrogated about things that are of no concern to you. Goodbye." She started to get out of the chair, pivoted and bent down to pick up her handbag. She was so upset that she hadn't considered her position and Al's location. Rather than bending at the knees she simply bent at the waist and this presented an excellent view of her almost perfect behind. Her tight cotton skirt was pulled tight as she bent showing a perfect circle and a smooth surface. Either she had neglected her panties today or she wasn't wearing a full brief. No panty lines for this girl.

The next question was a slap in the face. "How long do the batteries last? A month?"

"What the fuck? How dare you? How dare you! I came here for help and all you have done is to insult and degrade me, and generally treat me like dirt. Thank you. Thank you for nothing! I am so out of here!" Laura stomped past Martin to the door.

He waited until she was almost to the door before he gently said, "This is the first part in the process. A solution requires an understanding of the problem, and we both need to understand the problem. All of these questions help us both to define the problem. People only come to me as a last resort. If you leave now, where will you go next? If you want a solution then please sit down, but sit down with an open mind. Remember that I am not a doctor, and I am looking for a solution. The other medical practitioners have not been able to help you. We have over 200 guests that came to this place with a similar problem. Some found this to be a permanent solution; others found it a workable temporary solution. In all cases the client found the initial concept hard to understand and then hard to accept. It may not work for you, and in ten minutes you may again be going to the door. In that case I will not try and stop you."

Laura returned to the chair and again sat gracefully on the edge. "The clock has started. It's your ten minutes."

"Would you like a cup of coffee? I have my own cappuccino machine. One of the perks of the job."

"A cappuccino would be nice. No sugar."

Martin left her to cool down while he made the coffee. He quickly returned and placed the coffee beside her on the table. As she was sitting and he standing, he was offered a great view down her jacket. Her low cut bra pushed her breasts upward and provided a nice curve. The deep valley between them and the shadows were intriguing. Laura caught him looking but did not look displeased. She rather looked bored. She interrupted his concentration with, "You were saying?"

"Oh yes." He picked up the letter for emphasis and moved it across his desk, near the edge. He then picked up his folder and started to read. "This is profile that I have of you, based on the questions that you have answered and the similar cases that have stayed in this resort."

Laura nodded her head and seemed to become more interested in the conversation. "You are a workaholic. Your business is the most important aspect in your life. On the last holiday you probably spent more time ringing the business each day than with your partner." Laura looked down at the floor and barely nodded her head. "Your staff are uninterested in the business and constantly make mistakes. You need to check all their work as well as you do your own. Your mother is continually nagging about your marital status and never fails to remind you that your sister is married with two gorgeous children.

"Although you have a high income you also spend big time. Often as a reward for the alone time that you have and as a reward for the work that you do. However, there is also the need for some affection and a moving toy is a poor substitute. But, it does allow you to sleep at night.

"At the end of the day the thought of looking for someone requires too much effort and a late night bottle of wine, an application of a vibrator between those beautiful legs and the day is done." Laura's eyes grew bigger and bigger as Martin spoke. When he mentioned about being "between those legs" Laura turned a bright shade of red and started to glare and almost stood up to leave. Before she could act on the impulse Martin continued.

"The first step in the process is to recharge and rejuvenate you. This means have a holiday."

At this Laura leaned forward and said with a great deal of venom, "After being insulted, degraded, and embarrassed, this is your solution: have a holiday? That's it? Have a holiday!"

"You did not let me finish," replied Martin with some authority. "Obviously a typical holiday will have you calling the office everyday, frustrated with how they are doing things. Frustrated with all the other couples having a good time, and you will end up flat on you back, legs spread, with the first young guy that asks you the time of day. The holiday will end and you will be poorer and worse off than you are at the moment."

"So what is you solution?" the sarcasm dripping from each syllable.

"You need a holiday from," here Martin paused for emphasis, "you. Rather than a holiday where you make decisions and still do work everyday, we give you a holiday free of decisions. Every minute is planned and the only questions that you will face are what to order off the menu. Your telephone is confiscated. A receptionist will answer all calls. If they are deemed important they will be forwarded to you. Since we opened the only call that has been forwarded was about the death of a relative. You will be placed in a team of 4 and there will be group and individual activities with a team leader. Most people find that the complete change of pace and the loss of control changes them: it breaks the cycle. Sleep patterns improve and they leave here much better prepared to handle the stress of their working life."

Laura looked at Martin with a great deal of disbelief. "I understand what you are saying, but I am really having trouble believing this is going to solve my problem."

"How about a very simple experiment in losing control and developing trust?"

"Well … Ok."

"You must trust me! Through that door is a bathroom. Go in there and remove your stockings and panties. Put them in your bag so that I can see them. Return and sit down. Do not cross your legs."

"This is getting ridiculous!"

"Trust. Anyway, it is not really a big thing. Many people never bother with these items every day."

Laura could see she was cornered. If she refused then it was proof that Martin was right. However, the idea of being exposed in such a manner before this man was very threatening. Of course, this is exactly what Martin was after. It was the change of power that would bring the change in Laura. With a grim face and she went to make the required changes. Martin made them both another cup of coffee. He also moved the chair so that it was facing him directly.

When she returned she sat down with her legs clamped together. She took a sip of coffee.

Okay a do or die effort

, thought Al.

"Now Laura, please take the Sharon Stone pose." Laura went white. What was he suggesting? He couldn't be really? She decided to act dumb and hope that she had misunderstood him.

"Huh?"

"In Basic Instinct, Sharon did that famous scene. You know it of course?" Laura nodded. "In that scene she crossed he legs but left them slightly apart as she did when she re-crossed her legs. Just sit as she did with your legs not touching, just slightly apart. Your dress is so long that you will still be hidden."

Okay that's true

, and he is over there, thought Laura. The change in the power relationship was becoming unsettling for Laura. She moved her legs slightly apart.

Martin left the far side of his desk and sat in front of her. "Laura, how do you feel?"

"Okay I guess."

"Now lift your dress higher, above your knees." Without comment, Laura moved the hemline just above her knees. "No, higher. Mid thigh." Laura took a breath a moved the dress even higher.

"Now you are not sure what I can see or not see. Move you legs further apart." In salience Laura did as she was commanded. "It is exciting to think that you could be on display? No one is forcing you. Now put your hands on the arms of the chair. Remember trust." Laura moved her hands, grateful that she could grip the arms of the chair. As she moved he hands Martin stood up and picked up a roll of duct tape.

"Do not move," he commanded, for the first time putting some authority into his voice. Rather fearful of his authority, she did not move and he bound her hands to the chair.

"Now I am in control. You will not be harmed. You are safe. But you have no control, no self will." Martin kneeled down on the floor directly in front of Laura. He put his hands very gently on the inside of each knee and applied outward pressure. When Laura refused to allow her legs to be spread any further, Martin gently massaged he legs with his thumbs, in a gentle but firm pressure. Both thumbs started from the inside of her leg and moved up and over the top and then down to the inside. The left hand moved in a counter-clockwise circle while the right hand moved in a clockwise pattern. Both had gentle but firm pressure subtly pushing outwards. The continued movement, the lack of male attention for so long, combined with Al's authority reduced Laura's resistance. Gradually there was a slight movement, very slight, of her legs.

"Laura you are now totally exposed, but I cannot see anything because your skirt is in the way. How do you feel?"

Silence as Laura was unable to comment.

Martin asked in a softer but more commanding voice, "Is it wet?"

Laura went white as the colour drained from her face. She refused to consider the question. It was too obscene; too personal. She had never been asked such a question before. She sat there, dumb. However, Martin was not going to let her escape. Even quieter he repeated the question, this time with greater emphasis on "it".

Laura could not look him in the eye. She knew that she had to answer the question or he would simply keep repeating it. The emphasis on the pronoun somehow made the question even more threatening. With barely a hint of movement she nodded her head. Martin was pleased with the developments. Here was a true submissive. She was unable to hold his gaze and the smell in the room left no doubt as to the degree of her arousal. He moved each hand further up the leg and slightly downwards so they were now actually between her legs and continued the gentle massage in wider strokes so that each pass of his thumbs covered more area and increased the pressure to open her legs further.

"I can stop if you wish. Simply ask me to stop." Laura knew that she should and also knew that she could not. His hands continually moved. "I am in control." Her breathing became shallow. Afraid of what he would do next, and just as afraid that he would stop.

His voice dropped a tone and had both a hypnotic effect, laced with control. "Everything is mine for the taking. You are exposed and your mouth is just at waiting to be used. That red lipstick is very striking. The idea is to make someone think of using those lips. A kiss somewhere." His hands moved up and slightly rotated down on the inside of her leg. Each hand was barely under the skirt; just the fingernails on each finger. He applied pressure and gripped the warm, soft flesh. Again there was a gasp and an almost imperceptible movement of her legs further apart. They couldn't open any more because of the arms of the chair.

His hands went further up her leg, under her skirt to the second knuckle of each finger. The thumbs were almost touching between her legs. Again the massaging pressure of his hands, kneading the wonderfully soft flesh. Laura's eyes were closed, mouth slightly open as she prepared for the inevitable, almost moving her hips forward to make contact with those fingers.

"Further?" he asked.

"Yes."

He moved his hands further up her legs til they touched the outside of her pussy. Very gently he moved his fingers down the most sensitive folds of her sex. He could feel the moisture mix with her almost silky fur.

It had been so long since there had been a male this close to her. It was even more powerful because the owner of the fingers was virtually unknown, and within a few minutes of meeting him, he had his hands under her skirt, her legs apart and had taken total control of her. Yet he was denying that which she wanted most: penetration and release.

"You are very close, aren't you?" An even smaller nod of the head.

"Move forward and sit on the edge of the chair. Open your legs as wide as you can." Laura had given up all resistance. Normally she would have been affronted by these words, now she meekly moved forward and finally exposed herself to this virtual stranger. Martin could see the sparse blonde hair each side of the widely spread puffy lips of her sex. The smell of lust filled the room and Laura bit her bottom lip.