Anton, a highly successful International Law barrister in 'the City', London's premiere financial district, and his brother Frederick waited with Ned in Anton's well-furnished office, idling with small talk for the arrival of the overdue pair of Monica and her mother. The day had finally arrived when Monica would leave for her impending attendance at a mysterious elite educational institution in Mid-western America.
There was a clatter in the outer reception office; Anton's Special Executive Assistant, Maria, was heard welcoming and pacifying the late arrivals. The mother loudly expounded on how the pair had shopped all day at Harrods's for last minute school outfits, fitting out Monica with a stylish collection of college wardrobes, like the powder blue business suit she now wore.
Maria took their coats, performed her gate keeper duties and opened the security inner door. Monica and her mother Sharon finally hustled breathless into the meeting.
Sharon never missed a beat in dialogue of woes and worries; she caterwauled about the department store's useless sales assistants, the slow service, and Anton's chauffer who dawdled while schlepping the four oversize suitcases of new purchases out of the corporate limousine's trunk. And couldn't the ritzy office tower's doorman understand simple instructions, balking when ordered to transfer the luggage carefully to the educational institution's town car?
Monica slipped away from her bossy mother. She had heard this constant diatribe of gripes 'forever'! She plopped into a cushioned side chair, looking like she couldn't be bothered either way, twisting a curl in her hair and pecking on her cell phone, texting replies to her chums' last minute 'bon voyages' and 'good wishes'.
The brothers introduced Ned as the exclusive institution's official representative. The details of the education and facilities disclosed by Sharon's husband and brother-in-law had been vague. But the mother was grateful for any forward looking opportunity, a chance for recalcitrant Monica to break away from the lackadaisical lifestyle she currently indulged in with her likewise do-nothing cronies.
Sharon looked askance at her daughter, carelessly slouched in her chair. Monica was focused on the little pixel screen in her hand.
"Monica, sit up straight! Pay attention. We're talking about your future. Don't you care?"
"Oh, Mother!"
Monica looked up, rolled her eyes and threw her mum a disparaging look before returning to her tapping on the cellphone screen. She had heard this all before. Her mother wanted her to turn out just like her, a society matriarch with sniveling accomplices lauding their trivial community amusements. Sharon let out an exasperated sigh.
"I don't know what to do with her. She lounges around all day in pajamas and sweat suits and then is gone most of the night to God only knows where with God only knows who. I want her to learn etiquette and worldly ways that will lead her to a prosperous and fulfilling life. Is there anything anyone can do with her?"
The mother looked around the room for support. Anton and Frederick studied their shoelaces, knowing better than to open a debate with the difficult woman when she was in this foul mood, which she usually was. Ned took his cue and addressed the apprehensive mother's ineffable questions regarding Monica's bright future.
"I assure you Monica will experience unprecedented exposure to our genteel instructors and find great joy in the practical application of beauty, intelligence and poise. Our elite group of coach tutors will drill her in the urbane nuances of human affairs. When fully imbued with their bountiful largesse, she will learn to respect deferential rules and roles and thereby earn admiration for her learned skills and abilities. I promise you she will be a changed woman when you see her again."
The mother half-smiled with half-confidence; Ned's words were so cultured and sophisticated. Monica would surely be better off in the hands of dynamic men like him. She resolved that this was the right course of action for her wayward drifting daughter.
"Please teach her well; make her one of your special pupils."
"Oh, I assure you, ma'am, we will all see to that."
The moment of truth was upon them; Monica's mother cuddled her impassive offspring and poured forth her tearful goodbyes, enjoining her apathetic Monica to absorb everything offered and take full advantage of this great opportunity.
Then Sharon looked at the time and said her hastily goodbyes; she hurried off to one of her vainglorious society club occasions, leaving the men to handle the last details. The room stood on a quieter, calmer aura; Maria popped her head in to confirm the woman's departure. Anton thanked her and said it was 'Do Not Disturb' for the remainder of the day.
Alone with the subject young lady, Ned, backed by re-involved Anton and Frederick, informed Monica that from then on the elite institution she was destined to attend would provide her with all of the essential clothing, sustenance and education she required.
And the change in her support system was to begin immediately. For instance, they informed her that her unsightly new business suit was inappropriate for the coming travel arrangements. She would need to exchange it forthwith for suitable institutional-approved travel wear.
Monica hesitated, waiting out their steady stares, before she realized that they were deadly serious and her promised brighter future started now with new rules and roles.
The men smirked at her tarrying; her father laughingly invited Monica to take off the blue business suit.
"Here?"
"Yes, here."
She frowned, setting aside her cell phone on her father's desk, before she walked to the center of the high rise power office. Unnoticed, her father slipped her cell phone quietly into his desk drawer, out of sight, out of mind, to be forgotten. He would deal with erasing its contents and ending any inter-communications at a later time.
Uncle Frederick hummed a slow burlesque song, adding levity to the situation. The men chuckled at his jest. Monica glared at them and the jibe died off. She unbuttoned and sluffed the jacket came off, pressing her breasts forward into the stretched blouse. A scan of their faces confirmed that the men were waiting for the top and skirt also; her look of annoyance apparent.
Frederick grew less jolly and snapped his fingers, whirling one in a horizontal circle, silently advising her to get on with it. She complied, grudgingly, a little peeved at this game. Now wearing just heels, bra and panties, she looked around expectantly for the promised replacement clothes.
The trio of males giggled. Uncle Frederick spoke up.
"Monica, your underwear, too. They wouldn't be compatible with your new travelling dress."
She hesitated again, faced their stares and deduced they were committed to getting her naked. Offended by their mirth but spurred by the promised rewards of America, and the opportunity to escape out from under her mother's domineering thumb, she reached back, thrusting her breasts forward and popped the bra's back clasps. She slid the straps off her arms to the floor. Leaning over at the waist, she slid down her panties. Her full firm boobs barely shifted on her chest.
Ned was impressed by her overall appearance. Her bullet shaped tits rode high and forward on her chest; her tight toned ass was well proportioned and balanced the mass of her boobs. She still wore her heels and Ned liked that; it made her look taller and enhanced her hourglass stature. Her pussy was shaved but her tresses were a natural wavy brunette, falling past her shoulders. Brown eyes, tawny skin and dark nipples, not the Scandinavian blue eyed paleness he expected in Anton's children; more of a nod to her darker complexioned mother.
The trio of elite males were inwardly captivated by her budding womanly assets but outwardly straight-faced at her embarrassment. With the men seated at the periphery and Monica standing near naked in the carpeted center, she timidly tried to use her hands to cover her shaved pussy and nubile tits, shying away from their lurid gazes. But they were seated in a rough circle and there was no way she could turn her back to all of them at once.
"Monica! Stop with the coy routine!"
Monica heard the abrupt stern tone behind her and turned on Ned, ready to retort his admonition. She saw that he held a single drape of white cotton, her supposed travel clothes, suspended by a finger of one hand and his exposed cock wrapped by the other.
"This first college audition comes from the Poise portion of the curriculum. It requires you to demonstrate obedience to instructions. And here is my first instruction: give me a blowjob."
Monica's eyes popped wide at the command. She stood stiffly, staring, unmoving. Ned softened his voice just a little, a trace of empathy.
"Oh, come on... It's not like you haven't done it before, what with the rowdy crowd you've run with."
He waggled his erection before continuing.
"This is just one more cock out of many. But this one's most special: elite alpha male cock, your destined preference. Now get over here and kneel between my legs."
Monica's haughty expression melted. She felt trapped by the circumstances, pulled between her fading sense of pride and overwhelming desire to get away from her overbearing mother. She reluctantly stepped to Ned, knelt, clutched the shaft as he let go, and lowered her face to his crotch. She had gotten a facial makeover while at Harrods's and her cherry red lips slid up and down his shaft, but only half way. She used her hand to stroke the lower exposed portion; she sloppily licked and sucked his erection. It was a very amateur attempt.
If this was anything other than a test of obedience, Ned would have been very disappointed at her efforts. But she had taken the challenge and Ned let her off easy. He relaxed and willed his ecstasy to peak quickly. He held her head steady so she couldn't back off when he ejaculated in her mouth.
"No wasting it, now. Swallow!"
She did and he released his clutch. She sat back on her ass, grimacing as she tasted the lingering dregs of sperm from a man better than twice her age. She wiped her lips with the back of her hand, throwing Ned an insolent look of disgust.
Ned talked right past her, informing the other men that he usually enjoyed much better oral sex than Monica's minimal efforts. However, considering that she had complied with all their instructions and would receive extensive fellatio training later, he would now endorse her transfer enrollment to the Total Woman Academy.
Anton executed the special pledge contribution on his computer and gathered the other transfer matriculation papers with lawyerly flourish. Ned's cell phone dinged and he confirmed Anton's funds transfer; it was the final detail of Monica's acceptance into TWA.
