The Short Skirt Ch. 01

Turning to the girl, he continued: "But before that, I want both of you to list Miss Jennings' ten most attractive physical qualities. Then compare notes."

Earnestly facing Tom once again, he implored, "Miss Jennings has self image issues. I want you to reassure her she is indeed attractive even when she isn't displaying herself in a lewd manner. Is that clear?"

The boy nodded.

"Both of you stay here for the rest of the day. Anna, do not forget to retrieve your property from my office at the last bell." The harried official stormed away.

Other students came and went through the afternoon. Several greeted Anna. A few boys tried to look up her skirt, but she retained her modesty. She didn't even know some of the boys. Rumors must have spread to everyone.

Tom attempted hushed conversation several times, but Anna turned away from him. Her mind reeled with conflicting thoughts and desires. It felt good to be admired. What girl doesn't like feeling pretty? At the same time, she wondered about feeling violated. Should she call the police? Should she complain to her parents?

The thought of involving her parents made her cringe. Shame and certainty that she seemed like a cheap slut clashed with a desire for justice. Anna imagined disappointment on her father's face. For some reason, she pictured her future wedding day, and her father refused to meet her eyes. The ridiculous fear seemed absurd even to her, but she felt it deeply nonetheless.

Tom tried to be light hearted about it all. He started with jokes before he realized she wasn't in the mood. Then he told her an embarrassing story about the time older boys pulled down his underwear in the gym locker room and shoved him out the door. Everyone laughed at his nudity before someone took pity and let him back into the changing area.

Anna appreciated Tom's effort. Had he really defended her in the cafeteria? She reminded herself to thank him some day, but right that moment, she wished he would go away. She couldn't stand the way he looked at her. Did he know how she lowered herself? Would he still defend her if he knew? What would he say if she got naked for him? Where did that though come from?

The next day, Anna pleaded with her parents to let her stay home from school. She didn't feign illness because she considered such a lie beneath her, but she insisted she needed a break. Her father appeared sympathetic and agreed to discuss the issue as her mother corralled her into the town car taking her to the bus terminal. Alas, her mother insisted the driver wait to verify she actually boarded the bus.

Morning classes where not as bad as she feared. Mrs. Kant in home room looked at her sideways but made no comment about her capri pants. Remarkably, few students raised the subject of her humiliation. The worst included a brash remark from that dramatic boy, Kyle. Mr. Mortar shut him down with a fierce look. Again, her gratitude wafted silently across the room to the white knight who saved her from expulsion and police.

Right before lunch, Tom arrived at Mr. Mortar's door with a note from the office. He collected Anna, and they silently made their way down the stairs to the office. She hoped he looked at her round little buttocks displayed by her tight pants. In spite of everything, she wore her only thong panties that day. She didn't want unsightly lines marring the look. Even as she though it, she wondered why she wanted people to see her ass.

"Miss Jennings and Mr. Lloyd, please come into my office," Mr. Marshal appeared pleased with himself. "I want you each to read your lists."

Anna scrambled through the dusty corners of her mind. What list? Oh, crap, he told her to list ten things she liked about her body.

"You start, Mr. Lloyd. Read your first three."

"Um," he fished through papers, "She has nice eyes," he extemporized before he even produced the list.

"Go on."

"She has pretty hair."

"What about you Anna? What does your list say?" The Principal looked at her expectantly.

Anna broke into an involuntary smile. She liked her hair too. It distinguished her. That's what she remembered her father saying when she was a little girl. "Tom likes my eyes," she though without words.

"Well Miss Jennings?"

"I like my hair too," she admitted. "I like my buttocks." It sounded wrong as soon as it left her smiling face. She frowned and quickly checked the reaction of man and boy.

"Very good Anna. What do you say Tom, does she have a lovely derriere?"

"I'm not sure I should say, sir." Flush colored his handsome face.

"It is fine, Mr. Lloyd. This is a special situation. You should express every genuine compliment you can because Miss Jennings needs to hear them. She has self image problems and doesn't believe she is pretty enough to attract boys."

Tom's jaw sagged. "Really?" He looked into her downcast eyes. "I think you're the prettiest girl in school."

Anna's mouth turned up a bit at that compliment.

"Is there anything else on your list, Mr. Lloyd?"

"Um, yes sir. I wrote, long eye lashes, big smile, attractive figure, athletic, nice legs, ah - um, nice hands, long neck, and ah good fashion sense."

"I see. Is there anything you would add to the list today. I surmise that you restrained yourself to be polite when you made that list."

"What do you mean, sir?"

"You said 'nice figure.' What specifically is nice about it?"

"Um, you know. She has a pretty waist and hips and stuff."

"What about her breasts? Do you like Anna's breasts?"

The blush on Tom's face deepened to almost plum purple. "Ah yah. She has very pretty breasts."

"Is that what you really meant when you wrote 'nice figure'?"

"Ah, yes sir." Now his eyes were down cast, but Anna studied him. Why did he like her breasts? They were so small.

"Miss Jennings, do you have anything to add?"

"No sir."

"What about your derriere do you like?"

"Sir, it's just nice. It looks good."

"I think Tom and I agree."

Anna smiled, and Tom looked up to make eye contact. The initial fear and self loathing Anna felt when she entered the office evaporated and was replaced by pride. There was something else too. If she dared to admit it, she became a little aroused.

"Alright Tom. Go eat your lunch. Miss Jennings and I have a few more items to discuss. Please shut the door firmly behind you."

"Well Miss Jennings, how do you like hearing Mr. Lloyd's honest opinion?"

"It's good - I guess."

"OK. Take off your clothes and tell me more about that buttocks of yours while I eat my lunch. I have a busy day."

"Sir. You can't mean it!"

"Rejecting therapy again already? I took the liberty of finding several psychologists for referral. Shall I call your parents and ask them to select one?"

"No sir." Anna reluctantly disrobed again. It felt odd to remove her blouse and expose her uncovered breasts again. For some reason, she wasn't as self conscious as the day before. Knowing he saw her before made it easier.

"Go ahead. Take off the panties. Show me your rear." He said it as if disinterested while he chewed a turkey sandwich. His attitude strangely affected her. She wanted him to admire and praise. Why wasn't he fawning over her like yesterday? It felt so nice yesterday. The realization shocked her.

"Touch yourself every place you think is attractive." He commanded while gnawing on his lunch and scanning some report. "Go on. Just keep talking. Tell be about each place you are touching."

Anna touched her ass and hips. She moved to her hand sheepishly describing each place as she explored.

"What about your breasts?"

"Yes sir, I'm touching my breasts now."

At that remark, he looked up to see her hands caressing. He smiled, and that glaze of lust or longing returned to his eyes. Anna blushed again, but it thrilled her. "He likes my breasts." The thought settled deep and filled an emotional hole she hardly noticed before. "My breasts make him horny," the silent realization continued: "I'm getting a little horny."

"Thank you Miss Jennings. That's enough for now. You just have time to wolf some lunch before your next class. Run along. I'll see you again tomorrow."

The young woman lost track of time. She forgot where she stood. The dismissal almost disheartened her, but she dutifully scrambled to dress. She stuffed the thong into her front pocket rather that put it back on. It felt deliciously naughty. She planned to leave it in her locker for the rest of the day and savor her private knowledge.

Anna dragged herself to breakfast the next morning. She stayed up most of the night masturbating. Her libido raged. She wondered if she set some kind of record for orgasms.

At school, she watched the clock. She dreaded lunch hour, but at the same time, she squirmed in her seat with the beginnings of arousal. No note arrived, so she practically ran to the office when the bell finally rang.

"Go ahead. Get started." Mr. Marshal didn't even look up from his paperwork. The previously eager student became crestfallen. As she neatly folded her white satin top, a loud knock at the door heralded the first change to her routine.

Without waiting for answer, Mr. Mortar let himself in, and promptly stared at the scene of nubile beauty.

"Thank you for coming Mr. Mortar. I believe Miss Jennings has begun to doubt the value of my opinion, but I know she values yours highly."

"What can I say," Mr. Mortar stammered in awe. His involuntary excitement tented tan slacks and prompted a subconscious lick of his lips. The word, "Tasty," leapt to mind.

"All right Miss Jennings. Let's repeat the routine. Please describe aspects of your physical beauty. Watch your teacher for confirmation."

Shame and embarrassment swelled with the new exposure, but at the same time, it thrilled. Her hands started innocently with hair, but soon, Anna touched her nipples and commented that she started to like the way they looked.

Mr. Mortar seemed embarrassed, but he nodded agreement.

"What about your derriere, Miss Jennings? Yesterday, you seemed quite fond of it."

"Yes, sir." The student acknowledged the truth. "I think it's one of my best features." Her hands roamed along the firm unblemished skin.

Mr. Mortar's mouth hung slightly open.

"Do you want to masturbate now, Anna?"

Her head jerked to the face the Principal. What?

"If you are aroused by your exhibition, it is only natural to want release."

"No, sirs. I couldn't do that!"

"But you do masturbate at home don't you?"

Anna hated answering in front of Mr. Mortar, but she confessed, "Yes."

"Alright then," the distracted Principal mingled. "I think we are done here Mr. Mortar. I'm sure you want to resume your lunch."

"Ah, right you are sir. Thank you Miss Jennings." A sly smile flashed.

Anna watched her favorite teacher back out of the room. His eyes continued to dart along her nude physique giving her a slight tingling thrill. Once the door latch clicked, the student turn to face her tormentor, her therapist, the man who infuriated at the same time he placed her in position to experience the rush of living.

"Would you like to reconsider? You look ready to explode. Masturbation is a natural reaction and will indicate your progress."

Her head shook, "No," but her downcast eyes burned.

"Well, perhaps next time. Get dressed an run along now. I have a busy day."

Anna relived the scene twice that night. For the first reenactment, she imagined Mr. Mortar watching. When she recovered from the most intense orgasm of her young life, she replayed the scene again: She imagined Mr. Mortar caressed her and touched her everywhere. She imagined the boys from Mr. Mortar's class standing in a circle to watch as Mr. Mortar slid fingers into her.

Sitting alone in the library, Anna examined her emotions. Was she disappointed earlier when the Principal said he was too busy for another session? Did she want to expose herself? She squirmed and clenched her thighs with recognition of arousal. "Damn," she thought, "I'm horny."

Lunch spent alone in the library became the new routine for a several days. Ms. Crawly, the Health teacher, sometimes kept her company for a few minutes.

"Anna, how do you assess the progress of Mr. Marshal's treatment?"

"You know about that? He said everything was confidential."

"Oh, dear. He consulted me for a second opinion. He's very conscientious about the best treatment for you. I want you to think of me as part of the treatment team."

Anna looked around the room to confirm their privacy.

"I don't think it's working," Anna whispered. "I, ah, want to do it even more now."

"What do you want to do, dear?"

"You know, expose myself or something." Anna blushed.

"Why do you think that is?"

"I just - I get a thrill. I'm so sorry. I can't explain. I just have this urge."

"Well, I think I understand." Ms. Crawly seemed unconcerned. "It's part of our evolutionary biology. We all subconsciously want the best selection of mates. For most people, especially girls, it's deeply satisfying to realize that we can pick from the best. Making the best men desire us confirms our genetic value. It's more than just flattering: It's life affirming."

Anna acknowledged: that made sense.

"Here's the thing though," Ms. Crawly instructed. "With great power comes great responsibility."

Both women smiled in recognition of the pop-culture quote.

"What should I do?"

"There are constructive ways you can obtain the satisfaction you crave. You can have all the admiration you desire without disrupting order or getting into more trouble."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, start in the privacy of Mr. Marshal's office. He suspended your therapy to give you time to know your own mind. When you are ready to resume therapy, just let him know. Keep it discrete, but enjoy yourself. I'll come watch you. Would you like that?"

Anna considered. Did she know her own desires?

Correctly surmising Anna's next thought, Ms. Crawly added, "I'll invite Mr Mortar too, if you like."

That night, Anna imagined Mr Mortar was right there in her bedroom watching what she did. It felt good.

In the morning, before home room, Anna poked her head into the office. "Mr. Marshal," she spoke, "I'm ready to continue now, I think."

He looked distracted but nodded recognition. "Lunch time."

The student practically whistled and skipped on her way to class. Somehow, she felt confident and proud. Maybe the Principal really knew what he was talking about.

At lunch time, Mr. Marshal and Ms. Crawly awaited her. As soon as the door closed, she began to disrobe. She experience little inhibition. Ms. Crawly stopped her though.

"Anna, you're an adult and are capable of mature and well considered decisions." Ms. Crawly gave the impression of being gravely serious.

"Yes," the student acknowledged.

"We need your permission to continue the therapy. I have some forms here that you need to sign."

"What are they for?"

"They permit me to record your therapy sessions."

"I'm not sure." Anna glanced from face to face. "What if I don't sign?"

"Well then," Mr. Marshal interjected, "We suspend your therapy and refer you to another psychologist."

"Will I be able to stay in school?"

"I'm afraid not."

The pile of paperwork daunted her. Impatience warred with reasoning and caution. The first page granted permission for audio and video recording of her within the office. The next bunch of pages described privacy provisions and granted permission to duplicate the recordings and provide them to individuals involved in her care. She thought of Mr. Mortar. Bored with the tedious legal language, she eventually signed everything. Each page had multiple places for her initials and signatures and dates.

"Is everything in order Ms. Crawly?"

She answered the Principal with a nod, "I'm satisfied."

"Then let's get this show on the road. Go ahead and disrobe, Miss Jennings."

Ms. Crawly hastily dug a hand sized video recorder from a bag.