The Janitor Who Was King Ch 01

Cheryl Thomson arrived at Sherman High School in Potoxy, GA to begin her new teaching job. She was very excited to get this opportunity. While her husband Rob earned enough money so that she didn't need to work, she had gone back to school to get a masters degree in education and wanted to use it now that she finally finished the program. Rob was a trader and could relocate his office anywhere as he did everything over the internet and he felt lucky to find lower cost labor with good education just outside of Potoxy.

Cheryl felt very lucky to land this job. At 41 years of age, she was well past the typical graduation age for a recent grad student, but she didn't regret taking time away from her goals so she could raise two wonderful children, John who was 20 and Lisa who was 18. Also, now that John was already in college and Lisa was off to college, Cheryl felt she could use this time to get back into the workforce.

She had taken great care in dressing today also. One source of embarrassment for her was her breasts. Prior to the birth of her children, the were a large and firm 36C, but following the pregnancies they enlarged to a 40D, before reducing slightly over the years until now they were a 38DD. What embarrassed her was she came from a very religious household where bodily sin and shame of her good looks were preached to her from her father and mother. Although Rob was able to get her pregnant and still found her body incredibly exciting, he stopped trying after years of rejection as Cheryl was taught sex was for pregnancy and she had already given birth to her two babies, and did her duty raising them, so now it was time to work.

Her attire consisted of a loose-fitting white blouse, as well as loose-fitting black skirt and matching black blazer jacket. Even though she had made it a specific point not to look overly sexual, but with her body, which in addition to her large breasts consisted of a slim waist and womanly curved hips rounding to a perfectly shaped ass, there was not a clothing choice Cheryl could make that did not just exude sex appeal. Yet sex appeal was the furthest thing from Cheryl's mind as she only wanted to look professional and pure for her first day of what would hopefully be a long and successful teaching career.

Cheryl drove her car into the teacher's parking area, but almost all the spots were filled. She noticed a sign for the janitor's parking space and felt it strange a janitor would have a dedicated space, but also felt lucky that there was a free space next to it and she pulled in, put her Audi A4 in park, gathered her purse and some supplies, and walked towards the school.

Walking towards the school, Cheryl heard a few catcalls and whistles, but didn't think anything of it. Her teacher training had emphasized not to show reactions to the students and their overactive hormones and also thought they could be whistling at someone else as there were high school girls near her as well. As she approached the front door, she realized she had forgotten the way to the school office and saw several large black students to her right and two smaller and pimply faced white students to her left. She felt safer going to her left to ask the two white students directions to the office.

"Excuse me," stated Cheryl to the two white students, "could you point me in the direction of the school office?" she asked.

Both boys looked up at Cheryl in awe of her beauty. More precisely, they were in awe of her breasts and stared openly. One of the boys began to stutter... "Ummm... umm..."

Cheryl quickly interjected, "Boys, my eyes are up here..." pointing to her eyes and laughing a little bit to try and lighten the situation, but again hearing her mother's voice in the back of her head telling her that men are sexual animals and one must resist those urges as they came from the devil.

The boys laughed nervously and looked at her face, which was also beautiful, but kept sneaking glances at her breasts which Cheryl noticed and felt her face beginning to flush a little in embarrassment.

Just then, one of the sets of the front doors to the school opened and an elderly African American man in overalls exited and walked straight towards her and extended an open hand and inquired, "Mrs. Thomson I presume? I'm Claude Johnston, the janitor here at Sherman High School. Principal White asked me to be on the lookout for you today."

Cheryl stared at the coal black face which was topped by silvery white hair and although he was of an intimidating size since her towered over her 5'5" frame with him being 6'5" tall. The one thing that amazed her though was how fit he was. Then she thought that maybe the overalls hid any excess fat Mr. Johnston might have. She extended her hand, timidly at first, but then more confidently, and answered, "Thank you so much Mr. Johnston, you're a lifesaver, as I forgot where the office was."

"Then it is both of our lucky days Mrs. Thomson, as I got to greet you first, and I DO know where the office is," laughed Mr. Johnston, "And please call me Claude, almost everyone else does. Either that or Janitor Claude."

"Of course, Mr. umm... I mean, Claude," said Cheryl a little sheepishly. The two then entered the school, saw many students at their lockers, different groups and cliques huddling together as they walked by and finally they walked into the school office.

"Why you must be Mrs. Thomson," said the woman behind the office countertop in a thick southern drawl, "welcome to both Potoxy and Sherman High School. I'm Mrs. Harris, the lead administrative secretary here, and why don't you take a seat. Can I get you a coffee? Would you like to use the washroom to freshen up before you meet with Principal White?"

Cheryl almost giggled hearing the name White, as, except for the two nerdy white boys outside the school, almost everyone she has seen at Sherman High School has been black. "Why yes, a coffee would be nice, and I would like to freshen up quickly, thank you," answered Cheryl.

Claude smiled in a grandfatherly way, smiled and put his finger to his lips in a "Shhhh..." way and said, "Let me guide you to the executive washroom, it is much nicer, oh, and how do you like your coffee? I do say we have the best cream with the local farms here and all..."

"Why thank you Mr. J... I mean Claude. I will try the cream," answered Cheryl and then Claude showed her the back of the office with an immaculately clean and well-designed washroom. There were brushes, combs, hairsprays, and even mouthwash. Cheryl couldn't believe her luck as she noticed some of her hair had become a bit ruffled from the wind on the drive and walk over to the school.

As she exited the washroom, Claude greeted her again with a cup in each of his hands. One hand held a full-sized mug and the other hand held a miniature sized cappuccino-sized cup. He smiled and said, "Here you go Mrs. Thomson, the mug is for your sit-down with the principal and this little mug is for a little quick caffeine jolt," and he handed her the smaller of the two mugs. "Go ahead, you can drink this one like a quick shot."

Cheryl took the miniature-sized coffee cup and looked inside at the thick, rich, foamy surface and placed it at her lips and dipped her tongue inside to test the temperature. The thick cream had a strange taste, but Cheryl figured it must just be the difference between fresh squeezed milk and store-bought processed milk. The coffee drink under the cream had a sweet taste and Cheryl lifted the shot-glass sized mug up to gulp down the drink in one fell swoop. At least she tried to, the thick cream sat in the back of her throat and Cheryl had to gulp about three times for it to finally go down her throat.

Claude smiled and reached out his hand to retrieve the smaller cup from Cheryl while at the same time handing her the larger of the two coffee cups. "How was it?" he asked.

Cheryl had to ahem several times to clear her throat, as the thickness of the cream almost felt like the phlegm from a sinus infection still sitting at the rear of her mouth. She also worried as, in addition to the aftertaste in her mouth, her toothpaste-fresh breath now had a strange odor to it. A frown formed on her face and she looked at Claude, asking, "Do you think my breath is bad for the meeting with Mr. White?"

"I don't notice a thing, Mrs. Thomson," answered Claude. "Mr. White will see you have a coffee in your hand, and it might just be the difference between the cream where you're from and the cream we make down here," continued Claude with a compassionate smiling face.

Mrs. Harris walked up to the two, looked at Claude and said, "Now let this Mrs. Thomson speak with Mr. White now Claude and be on your way," in a somewhat curt voice.

"Right after I clean the washroom Mrs. Harris," replied Claude, "I let Mrs. Thomson tidy up a bit before her meeting," and he walked in the direction of washroom while Mrs. Thomson entered Mr. White' office.

Claude entered the washroom and was rejoicing at his luck. A thick layer of Cheryl's lipstick coated the edge of the cappuccino cup and plenty of her stray hairs from when she brushed her hair lay in the sink in the washroom. Claude quickly collected the hair and went back to his office to extract the lipstick and Cheryl's saliva from the cup.

"Welcome Mrs. Thomson," greeted Mr. White as he stood and walked around his desk to shake Cheryl's hand. "How are you liking Potoxy?" he asked, while noticing a cup of coffee in her hands. "I see ol' Claude already fixed you up with some fresh coffee," he continued smiling while nodding at the cup in Cheryl's other hand, "and did Claude convince you to try some of the cream? I swear he really pushes the fresh cream from his farm."

Cheryl giggled, relaxed and smiled. Mr. White was indeed white and much younger, and the first on the administration she met thus far who actually was Caucasian. "Indeed he did Mr. White," laughed Cheryl, "and I'm not used to such thickness in the cream, I nearly choked." Cheryl guessed Mr. White was about her age at 40, or maybe even younger.

Mr. White smiled knowingly, but tried to put an innocent look in his eyes as he explained, "Well, I mentioned a few weeks ago that today would be your first day. Claude intentionally did no milkings for about a week before this morning so your first batch of cream would be extra thick and potent."

"That it was Mr. White, that it was," said Cheryl, still trying to clear the thickness sitting in the back of her throat, and now feeling a bit flush as well, sitting with Mr. White. "I guess it is that natural coffee and cream from down south that I will hopefully get used to," as she said this she was feeling very warm as if hot flashes were shooting through her body. She quickly thought to herself,

"Oh no, I can't be entering menopause yet and getting hot flashes, can I?"

Mr. White smiled wider as he saw the reactions occurring in Cheryl and he continued, "Yes, your body will get used to the coffee and cream. It really is like any new thing, I suppose. Please continue drinking your other coffee in the larger mug, the cream is more diluted in that one so it should go down smoother."

Cheryl smiled and reached for her mug and brought it to her lips. As she drank this coffee, the cream seemed more diluted with more coffee in the cup, yet it still had a thickness gathering in the back of he throat. She tried to drink the coffee more to wash down the cream, and before she knew it, that cup was gone as well.

"Oh no!" exclaimed Mr. White in a concerned voice, "two cups of our southern coffee with cream in such a short time period may be too much of a caffeine jolt for you. Claude makes especially potent coffee, and I already mentioned the special care taken for the cream for you."

The jolts and flashes going through Cheryl's body increased and a slight haze and fogginess fell over her. Her thought patterns felt strange, but she wanted to, no, she needed to make a good impression.

"I'm sure I can do this," said Cheryl as she stood to try and clear her mind, but the words came out very measured and staccato like a drunk person trying to pass a sobriety test.

"Lucky for you Mrs. Thomson," answered Mr. White quickly, "your first class of today isn't for another 30 minutes. I blocked out your first period with a substitute teacher so we could have our meeting. There is a sofa near Claude's office. You can relax and rest there."

Cheryl looked at Mr. White exasperatingly and replied, "Thank you so much, this coffee really is strong. And even the diluted cream was quite, what was the word you used? potent?" explained Cheryl as she did not want to explain these hot flashes that were shooting through her body. Sexual desire was not something she had thought about for years and she was feeling a wetness from between her legs dripping out from inside her.

Mr. White guided Cheryl through the school and as she passed by the window, she saw her car parked just outside, so she guessed this was the direction in which Mr. Joh... Claude's office was. She saw a well-lit area in which the sofa was featured. Mr. White instructed Cheryl to sit, and then lay down which she gladly complied. Her head and body were spinning and these jolts of energy and excitement coming from between her legs were scaring her. Cheryl heard Mr. White's voice gently saying, "Please feel free to take...." and her mind fell into a deep sleep, as he finished, "... a nap."

Mr. White continued back into Claude's office where he found Claude with a candle underneath an urn filled with a mixture of what looked like the cream. "Things are proceeding nicely," he said to Claude.

Claude looked at Mr. White and smiled, his shining white teeth a deep contrast to his coal-black face. "Our first new student from the 'Online Academy of Education' is here. I am so glad we created that school and especially that we were able to put your white face as the administrator of this school to give it validity. We even got some accreditation if one can believe that. So, she really has a degree from our online school, but in all likelihood, the only place that will hire graduates as teachers from our 'school' is us," and he chuckled at the irony.

Mr. White asked Claude, "What is the next step?" as he looked at the contraptions and pagan religious symbols on the wall of Claude's office.

Claude Johnston was indeed one of a long line of voodoo witch doctors dating back to pre-Revolutionary War Haiti. He ground up the mixture of Cheryl's lipstick and hair and burnt it into a powder while chanting, "Ye Ghede ah kok renmen; ye Ghede ah kok renmen; ye Ghede ah kok renmen..." meanwhile, Mr. White was still not accustomed to seeing this but Claude had his massive cock out and was stroking the monster, he stiffened and at the moment his cum shot out onto the dish in front of him, he poured the powder on it, and said decisively, "Cheryl Thomson ye Ghede ah kok renmen."

A yellowish-red aura glowed around the mixture as Claude finished the stirring process. Mr. White said matter of factly, "I'm not sure she can handle another dose today. Her throat is almost closed from the thickness of your week-long buildup in the cum, or rather, cream earlier this morning."

"Well James," started Claude to Mr. White, "luckily this is my third load of the day, so it is not nearly as thick as the first two loads I lined her coffee with. Obviously, the cappuccino had the thickest first load," he smiled as he continued, "and the majik fizyon (Haitian for magic fusing) process of her cells thins out the fluid to make it more watery." He then looked up at Mr. White, handed her the cup of the infused liquid cum, and said, "It is much more effective if delivered warm and fresh. Shall you do the honors? She might trust you more than me after the two coffees I fed her this morning."

Meanwhile, deep in her slumber, Cheryl was having the strangest dream. She dreamt she was on her back and could not move, and above her was a large black cow and a black farmhand. The black farmhand was pulling the udders of the cow and shooting the milk straight into Cheryl's mouth. In the dream it did not make her gag, but it left a craving feeling for the milk.

James White considered himself a Christian man, yet for some reason, this mystical aura of power surrounding Claude Johnston left him wanting to comply with him. In addition to that, the sexual repression within his faith added to the exciting naughtiness of what he was doing. He quickly took the glass of infused cum to Cheryl, shook her gently to wake her, and put the glass to her lips, saying, "Here Mrs. Thomson, you passed out pretty hard. Here is a glass of warm milk to help you."

Cheryl quickly sat up, albeit groggily, and lifted the glass up and began drinking the fluid. It had a similar taste to the cream earlier with something new in it, something almost burnt, but she was thankful she was able to swallow it without issue this time. After finishing, she looked up at Mr. White and almost sobbed, saying, "Mr. White, I must be leaving the worst first impression. Taking a nap, and just what I feel is lack of professionalism, I'm so sorry!"

"Are you sure you can handle this job Mrs. Thomson?" asked Mr. White in a concerned tone of voice. "The demands put on you, as well as moving to a new area and getting used to it all might be too much for you."

"Mr. White," pleaded Cheryl, "please give me a chance to show you what I can do. I want to..." and just then Cheryl's arm rose up with her elbow to the side and began twisting in a strange contortion. "I mean..." at that moment, her knee jerked upwards and then to the side.

Claude had the miniature doll in front of him and was adjusting it, first the arms, then the legs. He received a beep on the intercom as a signal from Mr. White that the voodoo was in fact working.

Cheryl was so embarrassed. Was she having an epileptic fit of some sort? Were her nerves telling her she was too old for this job? No, she had to go through with this. Rob would be so disappointed in her after they moved to a whole new area and uprooted everything for her and her dreams.

"Please Mr. White, I know I can do this," Cheryl again pleaded.

Mr. White smiled encouragingly and replied, "I know you can also Mrs. Thomson. Let us get you to your first class. You're taking over Miss Sharice Long's class. She's on a maternity leave. Sharice Long was dedicated. Sharice Long was firm, and... oh Harry can you stop over here for a moment?" Mr. White called out to one of the few white students in the hallway. "I was telling Mrs. Thomson here about Miss Sharice Long's class she will be taking over." He looked at Cheryl and continued, "Harry here was one of Sharice Long's favorite students. We at the administration couldn't help but notice Harry and Sharice Long." he stated, and continued and kept repeating, "Harry and Sharice Long."

Cheryl blinked and with all of the sensations going through her body, she thought her mind was playing tricks on her, it truly sounded like Mr. White was saying Harry and Harry's schlong. With an urge she could not resist, she glanced in the area of Harry's crotch.

"Oh no,"

she thought,

"now I'm a pervert looking at students and hearing things like Harry's schlong when he's saying Sharice Long. I'm such a failure. I keep thinking of Harry and Harry's schlong."

Noting the glance, Mr. White knew Cheryl was ready for the next step and he guided her towards the classroom. "Unfortunately, Harry won't be in your first class, but you may see him later today. In fact, since you're not feeling so well, if you'd like to nap again later, please feel free, but let me know so I can sub for you if need be."

Just before they entered the classroom, Mr. White said to Cheryl, "Ummm... Mrs. Thomson, do you want to maybe go to the ladies room over there and just check yourself. The classroom is right here, but, umm... nevermind, I'm going to head back to the office."