platter, Desi. The keyword here is living." Miss Chowdhury knocked back another swig before leaning forward to kiss me on the forehead. "Are you quite alright, dear?"
"Yes, Miss." And I was actually. The booze on her breath nearly put me under and I couldn't move anything that wasn't part of my face or my toes, but otherwise I felt OK -- a little helpless, but OK. I tried to relax the best I could and just watch the events unfolding around me while I mentally reorganized my dominant dating list, pushing Miss Chowdhury into a solid tie for last place along side Mistress Nguyen and her nipple flicking riding crop.
I watched Miss Chowdhury and my two classmates as they all pulled forth matching food processors and several food items, some of them coming from the refrigerator, others from cabinets. Everything was lined up ready for use. I saw chickpeas, garlic, some lemons, a few vegetables, and several jars and bottles being taken out and arrayed on the island around me. At least one of the jars contained green olives. I know this because I watched Miss Chowdhury pull one out. She offered it to me and when I shook my head she tossed it unceremoniously in her glass to splash in the vodka.
So it's morning martinis now, is it?
After some combining of ingredients into the three food processors and a considerable amount of whirring, Miss Chowdhury and her eager grinning apprentices had produced three batches of hummus each with its own unique flair. Miss Chowdury was kind enough to let us all have a taste of these concoctions. I got mine via the index fingers of Desi and Celia, but that was OK, I knew they had washed and sanitized their hands. They still tasted a bit of booze.
"Oh, you look simply scrumptious Karin," Miss Chowdhury clucked as she stroked my cheek. "The faculty will be very impressed with your efforts, girls. Very impressed indeed."
So wait a minute. I'm going to be the appetizer platter for the
faculty
luncheon?
"Desi, Celia." Miss Chowdhury turned from me to face my classmates with a newly filled glass of spirits in her hand. She knocked back a big slug. "Do please fetch the soup tureens from the warmer. And be careful not to burn your delightful little naked bodies as you do. It would be a shame to lose my two best helpers to the infirmary so early in the game. There's also a large bowl of salad greens in the chiller."
Apparently a few glasses of nine-thirty A.M. spirits was all it took to put Miss Chowdhury in a rare mood, and she was getting awfully handsy with Desi and Celia as they tried to organize the cart for the faculty luncheon. I understood now why the class had all of its seats empty this morning. Fortunately though Miss Chowdhury laid off the groping and the spirits while they were transferring the hot soup to the cart. The appetizer tray, otherwise known as me cling-wrapped to a surf board and covered in hummus, was very grateful for their caution. I let out a long sigh, thankful that that part was over and stared at the ceiling, counting the light fixtures as they wheeled me down the hallway and through several sets of double doors before finally coming to a halt.
* * * *
I looked around at what I quickly dubbed the hall of mirrors. It wasn't Versailles by any stretch, but still opulent in a modern corporate headquarters sort of way, and both the wall next to me and the one on the far side of the long polished hardwood conference table were floor to ceiling mirrors. This place must be hell to keep free of fingerprints, I thought as I was hoisted up onto a side table by Desi and Celia under the direction of Miss Chowdhury.
My surfboard had been placed atop some unseen -- at least unseen to me -- risers because I was definitely several inches above the plates and bowls that were laid out in front of where I was perched. The salad and soup went at my head and my feet as Miss Chowdhury made sure Desi and Celia had everything just right before directing them to filling pitchers with ice water. And as the home ec entourage scurried back to the kitchen for a few last items, I was left alone with my thoughts and a stupendous view of the ceiling.
The ceiling got pretty old after about thirty seconds and I began to think about lab coat girls, specifically like where the heck were they? They were always the ones running around and feeding us -- and tying us -- at dinnertime. That got me thinking about two things -- the hierarchy here at the school, and boobs. The boobs were all due to the gilded Venus statue from the garden. I could see it out the large picture window if I craned my neck just so, but I couldn't hold the position for long without getting stiff. So I lay back and thought about hierarchy instead.
The faculty here were definitely the top dogs, because one, they were dressed all the time, and two, they had us full-time girls pretty much at their beck and call along with the lab coat girls. I liked to think that those of us on the full-time submissive track were next in the pecking order, but that was kind of hard to do while I was wrapped to a board as an appetizer tray. I don't ever recall seeing a lab coat girl subjected to such indignation, hell they even got to wear clothes. But then they also served us meals and took care of things like grooming and post-calisthenics massage. That was a bit of an enigma, but it was something I was going to have to figure out later since the doors were open now and the faculty members were assembling.
I turned my eye to the mirrored wall and watched them all filing in. Each woman dressed to the nines except for good old Mistress Nguyen, she wasn't as casual as a her red track suit, but she was wearing black slacks and a school logo polo shirt while the rest were attired in jackets combined with either pants or skirts. Some of the faces were new and others I had seen before, like Headmistress Hendricks in one of her signature pencil skirts with the sexy seamed stockings. I was sure now that her wardrobe consisted only of pencil skirts and stockings. She paused to balance her plate on my knees as she selected a bit of each kind of hummus and a slice of pita to go with it, and before she reached for the salad, she pinched my cheek and told me that I looked absolutely lovely. That was quite a step up from Mistress Nguyen who dug around in the plastic wrap to find my nipple and pinched it mercilessly while she told me about all the things she was going to do with Desi while I was incapacitated. She had a kind of half-smirk so I don't know if she was serious or not. For Desi's sake I kind of hoped not, because most of it sounded pretty uncomfortable.
Trailing along right behind Headmistress Hendricks and the P.E. teacher from hell was another woman I had never seen before, but she had obviously seen me, because she complemented me on yesterday's shower performance, told me that I had a lot of chutzpah as she gently touched a finger to my cheek.
I know I've described a lot of women as beautiful so far as I recount my experiences at The Academy, but it's all true, they are all uniquely attractive and desirable to me, even Mistress Nguyen in her own slightly scary way and Miss Chowdhury if she could just lay off the booze. But this woman, the one who had just laid her finger across my cheek was by far the most stunning of them all. She had these beautifully expressive brown eyes that twinkled as she gazed down on me, set into a round face that was the color of an iced latte framed by short dark ringlets and accented with full red-painted lips that stretched into an easy smile as she complemented me. And she smelled faintly sweet, like sugar cookies or spiced cider or something. For the first time since this morning I began to strain at my bonds, trying to get another look at her gorgeous face as she passed, but all I caught was a flash of her tailored white pants and jacket in the mirror as she strode the length of the buffet table, trailing her finger over my cheek until it was no longer possible to maintain contact.
I sighed, and after a while I went back to contemplating the ceiling. About fifteen women had been through the buffet line and by then I was mostly denuded of my hummus and pita selections. I was looking forward to having a pee and then maybe spending some time in the hot tub to work some of these kinks out of my body. Lying supine on a surfboard for a couple of hours can put some knots in a girl, but I guess that comes as part of the territory when you're a living appetizer tray. Maybe I could even find myself a sympathetic lab coat girl to take care of me properly. That sounded nice, I could use a happy ending right about now.
But it was not to be. After I was taken back to the kitchen and unwrapped, Miss Chowdhury informed me that there was one more duty over the lunch hour that I had yet to complete, and as she whispered in my ear it suddenly made sense why several of the women around the table were wearing dresses or skirts. I was to be in charge of the lunchtime happy endings.
When I got back to the room clutching a small pillow in my hands, there was already a chair pulled out for me, so I dropped to my knees and crawled under the table to get started. I have no idea what was being discussed at the staff meeting above me, because it was all muffled by the time it filtered down here. I sat back on my haunches and placed my hands gently on the knees of the woman closest to me. She parted her thighs to let me know she was indeed interested and I leaned forward to get to work. I started in slowly as I had been advised by a now seriously sloshed Miss Chowdhury. She was actually my first client as she gave me a rundown of what was expected while sitting on a barstool in the kitchen classroom, martini in hand and chef pants pooled at her feet. She's definitely the whole package, this beauty we call Miss Chowdhury and I really enjoyed my practice run, but all I could think of as I knelt at her feet was what time of day her pussy would start to smell and taste of booze.
