Your Servant, Abigail - Sex Stories

Your Servant, Abigail

... serve the staff and the community. We need you to do this for us, for the school, womenkind, truthfully. Do you understand, Ferguson?" She looked down and saw the fine creature squirming slightly. There was a small bead of sweat that hung on her neck then softly traveled down the woman's lovely cleavage.

Abigail Ferguson was finding that with her superior so close her heart was beating faster. The room had grown a bit warmer, and she instinctively adjusted the collar on her white blouse. "Oh no, I think I am being sacked!"She misconstrued. She suddenly wished she had not worn the jumper to the meeting.

"I believe so, yes Headmistress. We have a responsibility to lead."

"And to serve."

"Yes, and that as well..." She cleared her throat and wished she had a glass of water. "Ma'rm." She noticed her posture had slumped, so she sat up erect again and Headmistress was delighted to see her push out her lovely bosom.

The headmistress walked over to the wall opposite the windows to an old cupboard. "Inside this cupboard are artifacts of the legacy being forged here. It is a vibrant world of discipline mated with progress. It is one of struggle, certainly, but also of...reward." She reached for something. "It is a world that we as the women of this community need to make our life's work. Do you not agree?"

Abigail looked over and was taken by the strong and forceful gaze of Marta Swan. Her brown eyes seemed to burn right into Abigail's soul. She felt this deep need ...

... to want to make this tall commander woman proud, to do the right thing, to accept the challenge of legacy. She took a breath and said softly, "I do."

Headmistress Swan stood taller, if that were possible, and stood arms akimbo. "I cannot hear you, Ferguson,"

"I - I do...Ma'rm. Aye." As soon as she said it, she saw disappointment on Headmistress' face, and she felt her stomach twinge. "Oh, so sorry, Ma'rm. Yes. Yes, I do." Headmistress nodded with the faintest up turn of her lips. Abigail's insides were strangely in turmoil. She was feeling something deep inside her. Something strange and unexpected. Why was she putting so much emotional reaction into a spirit rouser akin to a commencement address?

Headmistress stepped away from the cupboard and was holding something brown. A long wooden paddle slightly smaller than a cricket bat was perfectly, almost elegantly, balanced in her right hand. It was made of dark stained wood and had gold script on it that said "Hatley Staff Only." A small leather strap was wrapped around her wrist.

Do you know what this is for? It is a disciplinary tool from days past. It was used regularly to cause physical...discomfort in students who misbehaved. Perhaps you may have seen it used in your own youth."

Abigail's eyebrows raised as she remembered her father telling of such things in his youth in Glasgow. But she herself had never seen such usage except in film and television. She wondered why Headmistress had taken it out of the ...