Student Teacher

[EddieDavidson]

The only bondage will be simple things like finger stocks, (A real thing) and II have illustrated it some but I Am not ready to publish. I am just curious if anyone likes this.No one seemed to like the short 1950s story I did. This one is about Honey Cummins in a fictional Domestic Bliss type of idealized 1959 that I call Peach Valley. I created a huge amount of lore for it, and base some of the characters in an alternate universe on real people.

W.H. Sheldon was a terrible fucking dude. He took nude pictures at colleges and universities of some of the most powerful people alive today - way back when Hilary Clinton attended. Dont get too excited about googling it, the wealthy are wealthy enough to bury those. He wrote "They practically gave me those subjects" (of females). He could predict their value based on different formulas including breast size. In this world, he's living high off the hog as a potential villain with his partner Provost C.M. Neff. CMNF is my alter-ego's dad. He writes all those sexist quotes I throw in the story as if they were scientific fact.

"Expecting women to act logically, is like expecting hurricanes to repair the damage they do" stuff like that.

Then i've got Ian Neff, who is his young version of me. He's not quite as sexist, but he lives in a world of men, by men, run for men. It's that simple. no civil rights, no equal rights. My version is a little campy, like a movie - but that's because if I tried to write it straight I'd probably feel sorry for them. Most of the women reinforce this Stepford Wife ideology. It isn't because they are mind controlled. It's because they were brought up to think that women's only ambition should be to be good daughters, so they can find a good husband and become a good wife, so they can be a good mom and have good daughters and sons.

My grandmother never learned to drive. She didn't think women should be uppity. Young girls really didn't modesty. "You aint got nothing anyone wants to see, honey...that little ass crack is about as big as your front crack" type of thing.

So, this one is a little different. I start off with sex which is a good idea. I originally started on an epic idea for Spanksgiving. I took a real chance and wrote the opposite of all my instincts. I wanted to pull the reader in slowly and build. I realized that was just not fun, so I thought perhaps I could write some shorter stories and connect them via Mental Hygeine films from that era.

These are propaganda for social norms, plain and simple. They are as over the top as this story. "Jeanie, you could have been popular and had boys like you but you never learned anything interesting to say...You only have yourself to blame."

They were also "Educational" and there are ones about discipline in the classroom being more humane with standing in the corner over traditional spanking, and how to actually wash your ass, type of movies.

So, just writing a story about filming one would probably be fun. I've got a few ideas including breaking Spanksigving into components. I was originally going to wind through the entire park and I build something akin to Disneyland.

I'll continue if there is interest, pm me or reply here. please don't reply with something snarky though. With all the shit, and 4 dollar a gallon + gas, I really don't have the energy or will to deal with negativity. Constructive, positive all day. But only if you really want to read more of it.

[EddieDavidson]

I awoke before dawn as I did every day. It was the weekend, but I was never permitted to sleep in and my daily activities on the weekend were seldom mine to plan any longer.

My husband Bill looked so cozy as he slept next to me. I loved the smell of men in the morning. I inhaled his masculinity without waking him and marveled at his square jaw and his strong muscles.

I honestly didn’t know how I could have found a man more understanding, handsome and perfect than Bill Cummins. Even his steady baritone voice talking about stock invoices and factory overruns at the Coppertone factory where he worked nearby could make me cream myself. I wanted to jump his bones and start my morning off with a bang.

I teach feminine studies at the W.H. Sheldon Academy. It is one of the most exclusive schools for young women looking to complete their education in domestic services and homemaking. Our graduates are highly sought after by potential suitors for marriage and motherhood.

My lessons on how to be a good wife are that they are to be passive and obedient and never initiate sex because the husband is the one in charge in the bedroom.

It was time to give in and admit to myself that I was a better teacher than a student. I wasn’t going to practice what I taught this morning. I leaned in and lightly kissed my husband on his dry lips and brushed his sun-kissed skin. I didn’t want to wake him abruptly. I just wanted to love him.

He moved abruptly and snuggled into my bare breast. I always slept completely naked because a good wife is ready for her husband anytime he does want to initiate and I usually wasn’t this aggressive in bed.

I stuck my tongue lightly in my husband’s ear and ran my hand across his hairy chest lightly. I wasn’t trying to wake him up. I was trying to savor Bill and inhale him while he rested so soundly.

I didn’t have the heart to wake him. He worked all week and he was a good man, possibly the best man.

My twin sister and her family had arrived last night to stay with us because my husband found her husband a job at the Coppertone factory where he works as a floor manager and I knew I couldn’t just lie there admiring his dimples and strong jaw.

I’d have to fuck him fast.

He’d put his reputation at work on the line for my brother-in-law without even knowing him. Bill told me that he didn’t need to know him. He loves me, and I was probably going to get in big trouble if I didn’t have breakfast ready on time for our company.

I kissed his lips breezily but not so much that I’d wake him. I wanted him so bad, that I couldn’t take my time and play Kissy-face with him this morning. I wanted to saddle him and ride him, but his cock wasn’t ready for me. I reached under the covers into his striped boxers and began to stroke him with slow precision. I wasn’t going to let him cum, and I wasn’t planning to wake him abruptly just to satiate my wifely needs.

I love giving handjobs, almost as much as I loved giving head.

I suppose practice makes perfect, I giggled as I repeated one of the core principles of the W.H. Sheldon educational curriculum. Even if you do it right, we make you do it again until you do it better.

I wanted to pull his covers off and slurp on his dick, but his python needed a little more time to firm up. There are some wives that think sucking dick and swallowing cum is disgusting or demeaning. They say that they don’t get any physical pleasure from it. I have never been able to understand that.

I get to hold his manhood in my hand. Even though he was half asleep, I was the center of his universe in that moment and I can gift Bill the pleasure of releasing his hot, warm cum or prolong him until I am ready to taste it. That isn’t why I loved sucking dick so much.

It’s not the control, and it doesn’t stimulate me physically – how could it? I felt like it was my purpose to give him pleasure, and turning him on, turned me on.

I couldn’t wait any longer for him to get a full erection. I slipped my head under his covers and sought out his crotch. Bill never minded that I snuggled next to him. Our training book for new wives suggested that we not crowd our man at night and let him hold us if he wants warmth.

In principle, I agreed but in practice I wanted his pecker.

“Mmm, my horny Honey,” his gravelly, baritone voice sounded scratchy and manly and I creamed myself when I heard him call my name.

“Do you mind if I suck your cock, my love?” I waited politely as I stared at his cock like it was a Beaver Dog fresh from the cooker and licked my lips.

“I’d rather fuck you, but I stayed up all night talking to your Joe and Bunny,” he muttered, and patted me on the head like I was a faithful dog to be stroked.

“I am sorry for the inconvenience, Bill and thank you for allowing them to stay here while they get settled. I know it’s going to be a little crowded and chaotic for a while. As a wife, I should...” I couldn’t talk any longer as he gently pushed my mouth on his cock and allowed me to pleasure him.

“We already talked about this, Honey,” he explained in the deeply satisfied tone he uses when I am going all the way down from the tip to the base of his hard cock. Bill was awake now!

I didn’t reply, I focused on deep throating his shaft, controlling my breathing and keeping his dick wet with my slobber. Practice makes perfect.

“Mmm, I wonder if Bunny is going down on Joe at the same time you are swallowing my salami,” Bill mused. I had no right to be jealous if my husband thinks about my sister while I was sucking his cock.

I smiled and ran my tongue down the tip on the lower part of his cock and twirled it at the connection between the head where the vein meets the base. “I don’t think my sister ever learned to pleasure a man like I did,” I went from the opening of his penis to his balls without gagging or choking to demonstrate for him what I learned to do while I was in college.

“Oh, yeah, that's the stuff,” he was putty in my hands, on his back, gently playing with the curls in my blonde hair and letting me do my thing. “Didn’t your sister get an Mrs. degree?”

He was talking about my sister and that meant he was thinking about her too. I looked on the bright side, at least she looked exactly like me.

“No, she met Joe in high school, and became a housewife of leisure is what I understand,” I pulled my throat off of his dick long enough to answer him.

“I didn’t go anywhere special to get my Maiden of Residential Services (Mrs.) degree and they taught me how to peel potatoes and polish silverware, not throat a cock from base to tip,” I held his cock in one hand, and did it again.

I loved how excited Bill got. He grabbed my hair and yanked hard. It hurt but the intensity of his strength and the reason he was grabbing me so roughly was because he was close.

“I am so close,” he huffed.

“Can I ride your dick, Bill? You don’t have to do anything,” I begged as he slowed down to ensure he wouldn’t explode quite yet. I wanted him to cum but I needed to feel it in my soaking wet pussy.

“Yes, yes,” he slapped my face after I slid my tonsils off of his cock. My throat was burning as I scraped the inner wall of my neck muscles on his cock to pull his dick out like a sword from its scabbard. I had to hurry because I could tell his volcano was going to erupt soon.

“Sorry,” he casually apologized for slapping my face. One word of apology was all a man had to say. Women from Sheldon are graded on our delivery of an admission of guilt, and a thorough apology as we beg to atone.

I felt the world would be a better place if everyone had to execute a complete 4FA (four part female atonement) and then record it in their failures, flaws, and fumbles journal for review. The process is intended to be a tedious, humiliating process to act as a deterrent to act without consideration for the consequences.

Then again, there was no need for my husband to apologize to me for what he did. It was perfectly understandable because he was deep in the moment when I extricated his long dick out of my gullet.

The smack was just a lover’s tap in the heat of the moment. I barely registered the pain and I was used to it, just not on my cheeks. “I’ll take a hundred slaps every morning for just two minutes riding this pole,” I emerged from under his covers and thrust myself down on his dick like I was trying to squash it.

I glided down his cock and thought to myself that I was the luckiest wife in the world. “Are you ready? I only need thirty seconds,” I assured him I would be able to cum quickly if he could just hold off. He wanted to touch his dick while it was inside me and that prevented me from getting the leverage I needed to be able to impale myself down on his pecker.

I felt the hot creamy fountain of sperm, long before I noticed his eye quiver and his expression change from got to have me, to please get off of me. He had cum just before I had my orgasm.

“Can I still ride it?”

自由“It’s soft,” he assured me.

“I’m so close Bill, just let me finger myself this morning in front of you?” I begged and flashed him my puppy dog eyes.

“Don’t you scold Betty for using that same look on me to get what she wants?” Bill laughed in a tone that suggested it was time for me to get up.

“Where do you think she learned it from?” I admitted with chagrin, as I came to the realization that the eyes worked about as well as they did when our daughter tried it on him.

He no longer wanted anything sexual and it was as if every horny, dirty desire in him drained out of his dick and into my gaping wet hole. He yawned. “Be a dear while you are up, and clean my prick off, before you get into your presentation garments,” he was clearly turning into a pumpkin now that his pecker had exploded. He made me feel like it was his fault that he shot his load and he never wanted that.

I had instigated it, so in a way he was right about that.

I wanted so badly to have an orgasm, too! I wanted to be good, I really did but I wanted to be naughty sometimes as well. I opened my mouth and planned to make a meal of his cock by cleaning Bill’s pecker with my tongue. I had developed a strong love of the taste of a man’s source of life that only his magic wand could grant.

At least, until he fired it off one time.

“Horny Honey,” he shamed me for being so greedy. “Use a towel. I am done, really. I just want to get some sleep before breakfast,” he sounded so relaxed, and completely at ease.

I had given him that feeling and made it possible. I may not have had an orgasm, but I took pride that I pleased Bill to the point of total euphoric relaxation. I gently got off my husband, careful not to spread anymore of his jizz all over his bed.

“How long do I have until breakfast is ready?”

“You have as long as you want, my love. We will keep your food hot and fresh, and fresh coffee just the way you like it with cream and three packs of sugar,” I said generously as I returned with a towel. It pained me to waste my husband’s semen, but I did as he wished.

“I know that, I can come anytime I want,” Bill became frustrated immediately. He didn’t like to talk after he came. He needed silence and a clean bed and that was what I planned to give him. “Breakfast is served at 8:30 am. How long do I have until then?”

He was right. On the weekends, he came downstairs at 8:30 am. I started preparing it and doing my chores at the same time I did through the week.

I had lost track of time and lost a half an hour. “You have two and a half hours,” I informed him as I finished thoroughly cleaning around his hairy cock and admiring the magic of his penis.

In 1959, if I had been born with one of those between my legs instead of the insatiable wet hole that was my source of shame and constant desire then my life would have been entirely my own to choose how and where I live.

I could have gone to any university and studied the empirical sciences and economics instead of ones designed for young ladies to perfect domestic sciences and home economics.

I could choose what to wear and eat what I want anytime I wanted. It sounded so surreal. I wasn’t sure how men had the willpower not to graze from the refrigerator all day long. I would have stood there with my mouth hanging open wondering what I should eat because I was overwhelmed with choices.

In 1959, men like W.H. Sheldon, Drew Peacock, and even my husband could largely do as they please and go where they wanted to be that day. My husband had control of the bank account, and a credit card.

No woman could legally apply for a credit card without a signature from her father or husband guaranteeing the bank that we’d pay them back.

It was intended for our own good, because it was widely understood that women were terrible at budgeting and made frivolous choices with money. I didn’t even know how much I made per week at Sheldon Academy, because my husband handled our finances and deposited my paycheck.

I was certain it was considerably less than the male instructors in the Professoriate assembly. They lived in stately mansions on High Road in Peach Valley but taught less students than I did and had only one income.

Don't get me wrong, We lived in a modest five bedroom split level ranch-house, with a two-car garage and cutting-edge appliances. My Electi-glide laundry machine brought washing clothes down from 21 hours a week, to 17 hours a week! It was a marvel.

I had no idea at the time that was rather spacious compared to many other people in the country. I’d never lived anywhere but Peach Valley or Philadelphia when my parents and sister lived there. I also had no idea how much a person would need to earn to afford it.

I honestly had no idea why we needed a two-car garage when we only had one car. We lived walking distance to the Academy, so it wasn’t so bad except in the dead of winter or during heavy rain.

I mused that everything is walking distance if you have the time as I walked into the bathroom and admired my nude body in the mirror. I’ve been told that my sister and I look just like Sandra Dee. I should hope so, it took me ages to emulate the way her blonde Bouffant curls up on the side just right.

I was hoping to have messy, freshly fucked hair but I had to settle for the frustrated but doting wife that had to stop riding her husband’s cock when she was seconds away from exploding look.

If I had been born a man, I’d have been the one to blow my load and stop the moment I shot it inside her. The things I could do to women that most men had no idea they could even try would have blown their minds.

Then again, most women are insufferable, petty, backbiting, vain shrews that are more trouble than we are worth, so I had to be thankful that Bill allowed me to take his dick out for a spin even if for a brief moment.

I washed his cum out of my pussy first and sniffed the tissue, before discarding it and washing up quickly. I was well aware of what getting a late start was going to cost me and I resigned to suffering for it.

I wouldn’t have time to shower, set my hair, and apply makeup thoroughly. I was certain that alone would cost me dearly. Once I was relatively satisfied that my breath didn’t stink, or that my sweaty, needy pussy wouldn’t smell even worse, I began to put on my presentation outfit.

The first thing that I did was apply white pasties to my nipples and pinched them to clip on a set of white tassels. I was clear with my sister on the phone about what I wore around the house in the morning. I was still a bit nervous about her family’s reaction because this would be the first time they actually saw me dressed this way.

Annie and her twin brother Archie would accept that this is just how things are very quickly. I had this weekend to prepare them for Sheldon Academy and on Monday they would enter orientation.

I had to pull a lot of strings to manage to get them both enrolled. I am just a lowly Domestic Teacher, and Chancellor Sheldon probably doesn’t even know I exist. I am just a blonde-haired, blue-eyed bimbo in a gaggle of bimbos when he and his provost come to inspect the female teacher lounge and announce changes to the curriculum.

Provost Neff fancies me, ever since he caught me tiggling myself like a naughty first year student in the bathroom. He had to discipline me but that is entirely understandable. The Provost has taken a special interest in me. It was probably the first time getting caught masturbating worked in my favor.

I asked him nicely, and did a little more than heavy petting with him but he kept his word and made arrangements for both her son and daughter to attend in the middle of the term.

I was driving my middle finger up and into my pussy without even realizing it as I stared at myself in the mirror. I have to admit that I was remiss as a sister. I hadn’t seen my sister since I married Bill before our kids were born.

I seldom ever thought about her or spoke to her on the phone, even though I was probably allowed to call her if I asked nicely. I assumed it cost money to make a long-distance call and decisions on spending were solely the domain of my husband.

Bunny called a few months ago and told me that her husband had lost his job as an executive when the United Steelworkers went on strike. She asked me if I could do her a favor and speak to my husband about getting him a position at Coppertone.

Peach Valley is a small rural town and most people here work at the Coppertone plant, Kellogg’s Dairy, Fort Gilead amusement park, or a company that supports it. Jobs at Coppertone are highly sought after but when I asked Bill about it, he was happy to arrange an interview.

My husband even prepared Joe to impress the hiring manager and that definitely helped my brother-in-law land the job. They bonded as friends and started calling each other daily.

Joe admitted to Bill that his son Archie was bashful and nerdy and he recommended enrolling him in W.H. Sheldon leadership academy for boys.

Joe wasn’t so sure that would be money well spent, but he had heard about how our girls academy produces some of the most sought after and eligible marriable bachelorettes in the United States.

I was happy to mail them the brochures and campus catalogs that we send any parent that is determining if they want to enroll their son or daughter. I didn’t expect my sister to be excited about the prospect of Annie attending my Alma mater. Bunny called me a few days later and asked me how my daughter felt when I enrolled her.

“Betty and Bobby grew up in Peach Valley, and both attended grammar and high school at Sheldon. Their standards are high, but we invest a great deal of effort to ensure a high graduation rate is met every year. Betty and Annie will be in the same grade as their brothers. They have a built in cheering section to help motivate them to get through it.”

Twins run in our family, and my sister and I are identical twins. My family like to joke that we are so alike that we both had fraternal twins in the same year.

“I agree, Honey,” my sister agreed but still sounded skeptical over the phone. “I just worry that Annie may think we are being unfair by uprooting her and sending her to a school that is much more strict than the ones they have in Philadelphia.”

“If Annie conforms and behaves, she has nothing to worry about. It won’t really be an issue,” I assured her. “Betty had to put in the work to get accepted and there were times she wasn’t motivated or backslid, but part of the reason she is such a good daughter is that she tries to stay optimistic and Bill and I simply won’t allow her to give up on a good thing just because it gets difficult.”

“Annie is a good girl for the most part. I am a little worried she will end up as an old maid simply because she shows little interest in boys and boys show little interest in her because she’s not as well endowed as we were at that age, and she’s very shy.”

“We are experts at polishing social graces and helping shy girls use their meekness to their advantage. Betty is usually bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and can be a little loud and excitable. The two of them may just rub off on each other when they are sharing a room!” I smiled and paused before giving my sister the good news. “You can ask Betty yourself when you pack your things and come and stay with us. I have great news! Joe got the job; Bill just told me they will make him the offer in a few days!”

My sister was thrilled. “I can make the arrangements for Archie and Annie to go through orientation and you can always decide that you’d rather homeschool or make other arrangements if Joe doesn’t think its for the best.”

“Joe and I will make the decision,” my sister sounded perturbed.

“Of course,” I corrected. “I would never presume to make a decision like that for our kids on my own. If Bill asked me my opinion, I’d definitely offer one!”

My sister grew quiet on the phone. At the time, I didn’t realize that they had more progressive ideas about the role of a wife in the household. “I only meant to say that you won’t know how effective it is until they try it, and you can always take them out if you think it’s not for them.”

“No,” my sister sighed as if she were reluctant. “We have to make this work. Joe is so excited for the career opportunity that working at Coppertone is going to provide. Sheldon is the only school system nearby and we appreciate you getting us to the front of the admission line. We just have to make it work. Archie needs to become a leader like Joe, and it won’t hurt Annie’s chance of landing a dreamboat husband like yours with an Mrs. degree from Sheldon.”

I blushed. I noticed she didn’t include Joe as a dreamboat, but I was too polite to bring it up. “Annie is just a little worried about all the discipline mentioned in the curriculum. It’s right in the name.”

“W.H. Sheldon believes in caring discipline,” I explained patiently.

“Like the old fashioned discipline that mom and dad cared enough to inflict on our butts every week whether we needed it or not?”

“Yes,” I said. My sister gasped but I told her that we both turned out fine and were no worse for the wear. “My bottom didn’t fall off, and I’m better behaved as a result. Our parents took the time to tell us every week what we were doing well, what we were doing wrong and what we needed to do more of.”

“Yeah, then they made us pull up our skirts, hike down our panties in the living room while our brothers laughed and didn’t have to be teased.”

I really didn’t understand why my sister seemed so ungrateful. “Boys will be boys, Bunny. You can’t discipline them the same way you do girls. Our parents knew we needed the paddle to make us actually listen and you clearly haven’t forgotten the lessons they taught us. Right?”

自由“Do you spank Betty every week the same way?”

“Oh no, I never spank anyone. We are both disciplined the same way and I would imagine Annie needs to be as well.”

There was a pause for a moment and I thought I heard my sister cluck a little chirp like a chicken. “YOU get spanked?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Is Bill going to expect to spank me?”

“That’s entirely up to Joe,” I assured her. I knew for sure that Bill would not interfere in another man’s rules for his wife. “Are you saying you don’t spank Annie?”

“I don’t believe in it. It was very embarrassing when I was growing up. Joe has spanked her, but not every week whether she needs it or not.”

“I used to think we were exactly alike on everything, Bunny,” I replied curtly when my sister scoffed. “It’s not whether we need it or not. I have seen what happens to bratty girls who stop getting disciplined in weekly attitude adjustments. It happened to me right before I married Bill. I started to become uppity, and challenge boundaries. I began to expect to be treated special as the bride and set unrealistic expectations as the woman of the house. If you don’t want Annie to get a weekly attitude adjustment with me and Betty then you should ask Joe to speak with Bill first. If she is going to go attend Sheldon Academy, they expect parents to take an active role in student discipline.”

I fully expected my sister to change her mind about moving in with us, but she didn’t. “I just don’t feel the need to punish Annie if she did nothing wrong.”

“It’s not a punishment. It’s a reminder and a review of your performance in your role, and a reset of expectations. Girls who don’t receive discipline statistically make often dangerous, impulsive choices and frankly we can’t help but act like brats. Did you ever dare talk back to Dad?”

“Once!”

“Yes, once. That was all it took to go cut a switch and wait for him outside, ass up over a log. I watched your switching and it served as enough of a lesson that I never talked back to our parents. Dad was smart to let our brothers watch us get spanked because that is enough for rational men to know to follow the rules.”

“So, basically the fact that my ass was so red and tender that I couldn’t sit down for a week and that saved you and our brothers from meeting the same fate?”

“Would you rather I got switched for making the same mistake?” I replied. “Old fashioned discipline has been around for years because it works. If it didn’t they would have stopped doing it. I’ve spoken with plenty of girls on their first week and they get nervous and defiant, but in a room full of dozens of girls waiting their turn to get spanked, you are just another butt crack on the receiving end of a paddle. If all the other girls can take a licking, Annie can as well.”

“I just don’t see a lot of value in spanking girls if they didn’t do anything wrong,” Bunny said.

“If you look hard enough, you’ll find something naughty a girl did that she got away with to punish her for,” I smiled as I quoted one of our mother’s favorite lines.

“You even sound like Mom,” she chuckled. “I am looking forward to seeing them. I suppose if its good for Betty, then it’s good enough for her. I’ll have a talk with her and we’ll see you soon, Honey!”

I told her that I loved her and left her with one final thought before hanging up. “Annie is very lucky to be attending Sheldon Academy, whether she thinks so or not. We take choices like what to wear out of their hands so they can have peace of mind and focus on what girls are meant to study – how to be good wives and mothers. It’s really that simple. We don’t set unrealistic expectations that they can be scientists or engineers.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t have enrolled Annie in a school like that anyway,” Bunny agreed that ambition for females was silly in a world run for and by men.

“She’ll learn how to run a home without the constant anxiety of trying to figure out the world on their own. My daughter and I can get involved in her homeschool as long as Joe consents and that will catch her up to speed quickly.”

“I think that would be good for her, thank you Sis!”

“Betty grew up in Peach Valley and I’ve never met anyone who thought girls couldn’t weather 20 swats on the rump on Sunday as an attitude correction. We are built to take pain and make babies. It has to sting for us to register it.”

“As long as I don’t have to join you, I agree. I took my licks. I am well behaved,” Bunny decided before we said our goodbyes. I submitted the paperwork to enroll her before they arrived the night before.

I took a minutes to reflect upon that conversation as I finished washing up and imagined a world where I wasn’t getting spanked because “I didn’t need it.”

I almost laughed. It’s not that I am afraid of being spanked at all. It’s that I can’t imagine Bill not caring enough to make sure that I am spanked when I am naughty. I reflected upon what I would have told my sister and didn’t.

I would have said that Betty doesn't spend her days worrying about finances, or what to wear, or making choices that she isn't equipped to handle yet. She knows her role, she excels at it, and she is genuinely happy because her life has absolute structure and security. That is the real benefit, Bunny. You are giving Annie a guaranteed future as a protected, cherished wife instead of leaving her to stumble through her youth and make mistakes she can never take back.

I managed to say all that last night before Annie and Betty went to bed. My daughter shed a tear of joy and hugged me right after. Annie didn’t seem thrilled about the decision to enroll her, but many girls don’t. That’s why the decision is taken out of their hands and made by someone rational like their father.

Betty was shocked by what I wore to greet her at the door. I was still in my Presentation wear, the same thing I started to put on that morning.

Good Housekeeping Magazine’s article on PDS (Presentation, Demeanor & Submission) is to have dinner ready on time, table presentation impeccable, prepare yourself with refreshed makeup and dressed as he wishes for his pleasure not my own.

Bill has a greeting routine for me that hasn’t changed in four years. When he walks through that door, I drop what I am doing and patiently wait a few feet away. I wear the same white tassels on my nipples I clipped on as I looked at myself in the mirror and ensured my tits were straight and not lopsided.

The clips bit into my tender flesh but it’s just a moment of discomfort and then my nipples are not only covered, but take on the sex appeal of a burlesque dancer. The article says we should be a little bit interesting, and I think it makes my tits look sexy and more inviting.

I finished ensuring my hair, makeup and nails were as perfect as I had time to make them. Women aren’t perfect, we are full of flaws and weaknesses. When Bill enters, I am always patiently waiting a few feet away freshly dressed.

I have a glass of bourbon or a cocktail ready for him the moment he steps through the door. The Peach Valley Gazette open to the sports page so he can sit in his favorite recliner and enjoy it in peace. I light a cigarette, and take a quick drag because I enjoy the cool menthol flavor so much. Bill doesn’t want me to smoke because it makes my breast unpleasant for him.

I leave the lit cigarette in the ashtray, and another one out so he doesn’t have to open the pack to get it. I give him a kiss if he wants one. Bill usually lets me know if he wants a rundown of my SCR for the day.

SCR stands for situation, complication & resolution. I have to have them written in my discipline journal before he comes home whether he reads them or not. Day to day discipline is usually not recorded, but if I have made a mistake or broken rules then they require a report on the situation that led to the infraction, noting the corrective resolution along with any complications that need to be further addressed.

I have to admit that it can be rather cathartic to confess every mistake and record it because it really does help me learn to be a better wife. It can also be quite embarrassing to balance the book on my head and read them out loud.

[[[ image 01_goodwife.png goes here centered ]]]

Bill likes to hear me go over mine at the front door, and people walking past can often hear my confession. Bill doesn’t mind the negative reflection it casts on him because he knows the humiliation will serve to make me be more careful next time. My son Bobby reads every one of the reports and lets him know if I’ve done anything particularly naughty.

Even before he entered the Academy, it was impossible to keep Bobby from finding out about any of the mistakes that his sister and I make that are worthy of correction, so we’ve always been honest with him. He’ll need to know what sort of illogical and silly mistakes women frequently make when he is married, anyway.

I took one more look at myself in the mirror once I was fully dressed in house stilettos. They were incredibly trashy like something a hooker wears when she works the alleys in the big cities. It would be very humiliating to be seen in them in public.

My sister took one look last night and I instantly recognized that quick clucking chirp she made on the phone call again. It was the sound she made when she was laughing at me.

As a Domestic Teacher, I am permitted to wear pantyhose, garters and stockings as part of my presentation outfit. Regulation panties are embroidered with “W.H. Sheldon” in the school color of royal blue.

My chancellor’s name written across my pussy makes it seem like he “owns” it but it’s simply that he expects us to show school pride. They are the only panties we are permitted to wear other than punishment panties even on a Saturday.

Provost Neff says that if we are proud of the name on Monday, we should be proud of the name on Saturday.

I also wear a white braided rope around my waist to indicate that I am a domestic teacher. There are many students like my daughter who could easily be mistaken for a first year teacher without it. The rope serves a lot of utilities, and ribbons or flags are often hung from it to indicate some infraction that we recently committed. If no other rope is available, it can also be used to tie up our hands.

Bunny might cluck, but she was enamored with my husband. I assumed it was because Joe is heavyset and balding. We are taught men don’t have a beauty standard, so treat every one of them like they look like Cary Grant.

I tip-toed past my son’s room so that I didn't wake him. He sleeps with his door closed so I assumed that Bobby was in there sound asleep. I’d have to learn to start calling it “Bobby and Archie’s room.”

My daughter’s room has a door even though she’s not supposed to ever close it. It would be rude to remind Bill that he said he’d take it off the hinges until she graduates. It’s for her own good, all that privacy breeds temptation to play with herself.

The door was half-open, and my beautiful daughter’s naked body was wrapped tightly around Annie, like she was protecting her cousin from the cold air. I noted how much my daughter resembled my sister and me, and how she looked like a little angel all asleep on the bed.

I wasn’t going to say anything to them about sleeping so closely. My sister and I used to do the same thing because our bed was even smaller than the tiny one that Betty and Annie shared. I was going to say something about Annie wearing her sheer nightgown to bed. That was a big no-no.

“Girls, it’s time to wake up,” I abruptly welcomed them by opening the windows and throwing open the curtains. “You know you aren’t allowed to have curtains closed and the door halfway open, Betty,” I warned sternly as the girls parted and wiped the sleep out of their eyes.

“Why are they even in here then,” she groaned.

“You may close them after you get dressed for presentation!”

“Instructor,” Annie asked me formally as she slowly shifted her sheer nightgown and looked at my tassels like she was afraid of my tits. "Why do we have to leave the door open and the curtains when we are sleeping? wouldn't that invite peeping Toms?"

My daughter seemed puzzled by the question. It was absurd to her but I understood what Annie was really asking.

“You seem obsessed with protecting your own modesty, Annie,” I said firmly. “Do you really think with all the houses in this neighborhood, that a peeping Tom is going to take the time to stop here and stare into the window to see your little bitty boobies?”

My daughter giggled playfully and started brushing her hair at the vanity in her small room. The girls would have to share or go to the bathroom and I wasn’t sure how that was going to work. That was a logistical problem for the men to solve.

“Excuse me though,” she shifted uncomfortably and looked at her bare feet on the tile. “That still doesn’t explain what is to be gained by inviting the possibility?”

“I am glad you are asking questions, Annie. It means you want to be successful at Sheldon,” I began. Her expression didn’t lighten when I encouraged her. “The hairy, smelly gash between our legs is a fascinating toy and it’s been proven by a study that our own Chancellor and Provost published in men’s scientific journals that girls are highly likely to tiggle themselves if they have privacy and free time. The recommendation to parents is to limit both for our own good.”

“My own good? What’s tiggling?” Annie scowled and put on her red framed glasses which gave her a more studious look. My daughter thought Annie was pretending not to know tiggling was another word for female masturbation.

“They probably have another word for it in Philadelphia,” I explained. “It’s like being buggered, except in the front and you do it yourself,” I explained with a finger near my panties as I simulated the way I tiggled myself whenever I had a closed door and some free time to spare.

I’d never admit that to the girls, though.

“Masturbation?” Annie said very loudly.

“Shhhhhh….” I shushed her so that she didn’t wake the boys. “If you don’t want a sore butt, you won’t walk around talking about masturbating, Annie. You two probably don’t want to sleep quite so close, either.”

“Why not?” Betty looked very innocent as she applied her makeup, and stood at the vanity admiring herself. “You can slip off your nightgown and stand next to me at the vanity, Annie!”

Annie was reluctant to remove her nightgown.

“Girls even playing kissy-face with other girls is enough to have you suspended or worse. It can be very scandalous if they even suspect the two of you are playing with each other.”

“What are we supposed to do, Mom?” Betty asked me sweetly. “The bed is too small for us.”

“That bed is fine for two skinny girls,” I assured her. “You lie on one end by Annie’s feet, and Annie will have to sleep facing your feet,” I explained how my sister and I used to share a bed to avoid being accused of lesbian behavior. “It’s almost as bad as being accused of sleeping with black men. You won’t be able to recover your reputations after that.”

Gentlemen within the Professoriate at the Academy had been caught with male students or fellow professors having sex but the administration found ways to bury those scandals. They would most certainly make an example of a woman who was found to dally with other females.

“You were instructed last night that you may not sleep with that nightgown,” I encouraged Annie to take it off. She had even worn panties under it.

“What on earth?” Betty laughed at the cotton undies that Annie wore. I assumed it was because they weren’t the standard issue white that we wore but I was wrong. “You needed underclothes AND a nightgown? Were you that afraid for our skin to touch?”

“N-no,” Annie mumbled as she slid her thumbs into the skimpy panties and began to roll them down. “Where I come from, all the girls I know wear panties under their nightgowns.”

I found that odd to believe as well. “Lingerie is for around the house to please your husband, dear.” I indicated my own garters and stockings with pride. “You have no need of undergarments when you are sleeping with your husband. He won’t want to waste time with all the snaps, buttons, zippers and bands.”

“You explained that last night,” Annie seemed reasonable and crowded into the mirror with my daughter to get herself ready. The girl moved far too slow for my liking. She also had a tremendously thick, untrimmed bush of pubic hair that appeared very unsightly.

“School isn’t until Monday. It just doesn’t make sense to me that we can’t stop following the rules on Saturday.”

“Good news bank robbers,” Betty teased. “Did you hear that? You don’t have to follow the rules on Saturday!! Rob away! Break the speed limit!”

I chuckled. “You need to understand that the rules are not there to prevent you from doing things you want. They are there to protect you from doing things you shouldn’t, Annie. You have every right to ask these questions if you really don’t understand, but is it your understanding that my sister has weekend rules for you and different ones on school days?”

“Not so much as they are published, but I don’t have school work and I can go outside and play,” she said.

“You can still do different activities, Annie. The rules don’t change from day to day. You’ll need to sleep naked from now on, doors open, curtains open and if the peeping Tom comes to your room to look at your boobies, I hope you wave at him and are flattered he thought you were pretty enough to make him smile.” I shook my head and encouraged the girls to hurry. “We have to get breakfast started. I am running behind and the table has to be set for three extra people.”

“How come my mom doesn’t have to make breakfast?” Annie seemed ready to ask a steady stream of questions.

“If Joe wants her to make breakfast with us, I wouldn’t stop her but she’s a guest. The three of us should be more than sufficient and you two are along to ensure you learn your way around the kitchen and pantry.”

“Didn’t you and your mom make breakfast together where you used to live?” Betty straightened her pink tassels and struggled to paint her nails. There were no chairs in her room and she was used to bending forward and being limber enough to paint her toes.

I was jealous. I have to squat to paint mine.

“Yes, but not half naked,” Annie said.

“Oh, that would be fun!” Betty smiled sweetly and looked up at us both. I’ve never seen someone look so innocently sweet when they don’t have a proper thought in their head. “Mom, how come we can’t prepare breakfast in the nude sometimes?”

I knew that wasn’t what Annie meant, and Annie dropped her head down and shimmied into a fresh pair of white panties with “Property of W.H. Sheldon” embroidered on the front.

“Somehow I don’t think that’s what your cousin meant,” I explained patiently. My daughter was pretty and that was enough. She didn’t need to be smart. Sheldon and Neff proved that girls like me usually have difficulty finding a husband because we scare them off.

I just played dumb and let Bill solve all of my problems, and it was the smartest thing I had ever done.

“If Bill or Bobby decided that we should remove our presentation uniforms then we’ll fold them neatly and take them off. They probably don’t want our unshaven cave woman pussy hairs falling into their stews. I hope we have time for a proper shave and trim today. I am sorry, Annie. When is the last time you trimmed your bush?”

“Bush?” she looked down. “Vagina? My pubic hair?” she looked at me like I was talking about shaving off her skin.

“Yes, proper women take care to keep their holes from being sweaty, smelly, hairy, and otherwise unpleasant.”

“Bobby calls it snail trails,” my daughter straddled a broom and slid her pussy slobber along the wood with a grin.

“If your brother catches you with that between your legs, he’s likely going to make you ride that and leave mud trails not snail trails!”

My daughter may have been a little dense, but she instantly understood I meant she’d have to put it up her ass and set it down. “Are you going to tell on me?”

“You should tell on yourself. You know your brother prefers a confession, not witness testimony.”

“It was just a joke though, mom,” Betty explained in her overly dramatic fashion.

“Then if he laughs, you may not have to sit on the tip of the broom while he and Archie tell you to spin like a Merry Go Round.”

I painted an amusing spectacle and my daughter giggled.

“Do you have to do what Archie tells you?” Annie seemed to think that was a silly idea.

“I will never ask you to do something that you aren’t capable of doing, Annie. I will never ask you to do something that I am capable of doing and I won’t do,” I added.

When I say that to my daughter, she smiles, and I see the vacant stare in her pretty blue eyes. She knows that it means I won’t ask her to do anything I wouldn’t do, but the longer way I say it puzzles her.

“Bobby is confident and he obviously knows the rules,” Annie instantly got my meaning. She was enrolled in the disciplinary academy as a nubile, and her brother would be enrolled in the leadership academy as a first year cadet. “I love my brother, but he doesn’t know the rules any better than I do.”

“I am glad you respect my son enough to see him as an authority, but he’s in the same year as your brother at the academy. Your brother lacks experience, but how else can he get it if he doesn’t practice leadership?”

I could tell that Annie didn’t have a lot of faith in him to make all the right decisions.

“You’ve got me and mom to help you learn the rules. If I was caught wearing a nightgown, they would definitely punish me. They’ll probably just make you stand in the corner,” Betty tried to make it seem like it was not that big of a deal, but it didn’t calm Annie. “Archie has Dad and my brother to help him the same way.”

“Yeah, but that’s not fair that he would get to put me in the corner but I can’t put him in the corner if he breaks a rule?”

“Is it fair that the police can put the criminals in jail, but the criminals can’t hold a trial and lock up the police?” I asked rhetorically before adding, “Should the factory boss get out on the factory floor and sweep because it’s not fair the janitors have to do it?”

“What if I disagree with something my brother tells me to do?” Annie looked cute when she pouted. I took the liberty of re-brushing her hair more forcefully because she had left it frizzy on the ends.

“The same thing you would do if your father, Bill or my son tell you to do something,” I replied with a knowing grin. “You do it,” I said as Betty joined in with me when she anticipated how I’d respond.

“In the future, put your panties on last,” I told her. “And before you ask, you put on your nipple tassels first because if a man is observing you change, it’s sexier this way.”

“What about my socks?” Annie made a pained expression that didn’t match the level of discomfort when she clipped on her pink tassels. “The tile is cold!”

“No socks during presentation,” I explained. I thought that would be sufficient but Annie still seemed confused. “We are just going to make and serve breakfast to the rest of the family. Then we will be inspected and allowed to dress for the day. Your brother and my son will check our fingernail and toenail polish and they won't want to wait for us to remove our socks.”

“Yeah, and you’d get the bottoms of your socks dirty without any shoes, silly!” Betty leaned in to her cousin and smiled sweetly. “We are going to get along so well. People say I am dumb, but socks with no shoes around the house? Is that something they do in Philadelphia?”

“No,” Annie remained glum. “It’s just the floor is REALLY cold.”

“It’s the Electi-glide floor chiller,” I explained and added, “you’ll get used to it.”

“Once your cousin gets her panties on, I’ll show you. We have an in-floor refrigerated pantry. All the houses in Peach Valley are equipped with the latest high-tech appliances.”

“Yeah, if you don’t like it on your feet, wait until they tell you to sit down on it.”

“Are we never permitted to sit on furniture?” she asked as she hopped from foot to foot. I found it hard to believe it was that unbearable. My daughter and I walked on the cold tile all the time and were used to it.

“You saw me sit in the family room last night when you first arrived, didn’t you?” I reminded her that we gathered to discuss the rules and sleeping arrangements. Thankfully, Joe and Bunny had already discussed many of the new rules with them.

“There is no chair in here, and you have to sit on the cold tile?”

“No one told me I can’t sit in my own room,” Betty grew a little annoyed. “Nothing seems good enough for you, Annie. The room is too small for a chair to fit.”

It was unlike my daughter to lose her temper so easily. I asked her what was the matter and she showed me by unbaling the mustard yellow pair of panties in her fist. The letters “P.P.” on the front indicated they were punishment panties.