PRINCIPAL TRACY'S LESSON by Joe Doe

 http://mle123.co.uk/tracey/principal%20tracy%27s%20lesson.php

A JOE DOE VERSION OF A TRACY STORY -- AS A TRIBUTE TO KATIE SMITH
Tracy nervously looked over the forms as her friend's car drove
through the heavy iron gates and barbed wire fences of the girl's
reformatory. "I still don't understand why I have to sign all of
these admission forms just to try on a school uniform," she
complained.
"You're not faculty or staff, and you're not visiting an inmate,
so I have to classify you as a student for insurance reasons,"
Amanda explained, dismissively.
Tracy was visiting Amanda out here the country for a couple of
weeks, and they had agreed that they would try on Tracy's new
costume as soon as possible, in case alterations needed to be
made. It was only mid-June, and Halloween was a long way off,
but still.... Last year's costume contest had been the only
competition that she had ever lost, and she was determined to
avenge her defeat with a first place trophy this year.
She had graduated from high school at 16 and, at 26, was the
youngest high school principal in the district. Although her
school was not that far away, she had visited the reformatory
where her friend Amanda worked only a few times.
This private correctional institute was an alternative prison that
housed a large group of women between 18 and 40 years of age.
Although all of the women prisoners were adults, the reformatory
rules required them to dress in school uniforms at all times, and
the "students" were subjected to a wide array of humiliating
punishments.
In the past, Tracy had found the sight of the adult women running
around in their ridiculously short gray skirts, white shirts,
striped ties, gray blazers, and gray caps to be highly amusing.
The uniforms made the women look like teenagers, and she always
enjoyed watching as the humiliated women were paraded around town
on various "school outings."
But now that she was about to be fitted for HER uniform, she felt
strangely apprehensive…
She had already talked to Amanda about lengthening the skirt. Yes,
she would definitely have to do that. As it was, the smallest
movement would cause the skirt to ride up and display her childish
navy blue underpants. It certainly wasn't the type of outfit that
a respected professional like Tracy should be wearing.
She did want to win the contest, but realism could go too far.
Amanda led her to the girls' locker room and handed her a small
cardboard box with her name and a mysterious number written on
the side.
"Put your purse, jewelry, clothing, and underwear in the box,"
Amanda said, curtly.
Tracy was slightly startled. She noted that Amanda's manner seemed
more brusque and peremptory now that they were actually inside the
prison-like reformatory.
"Where's my uniform?" she asked.
"That'll come later," Amanda replied.
But don't you think...?" Tracy protested, looking nervously around
the room.
"No, I don't!" Amanda cut her friend off. "First things first.
Step one is to confiscate all clothes and contraband. I process
new students every day, and I know what I'm doing. You can start
by taking off your jacket."
Tracy didn't like Amanda's snippy tone, and she didn't understand
why she couldn't see her uniform NOW. But she decided not to press
the issue. Amanda was doing her a favor, after all, and, besides,
there was something in Amanda's voice that discouraged argument.
She knew that tone well; it was the voice that she herself used
when disciplining HER students....
Tracy took off her expensive jacket and handed it to her friend.
Amanda smiled when she saw the label. "This cashmere jacket is
so beautiful," she said, admiringly. "Of course, the gray blazer
that you'll be wearing will be polyester, and it won't wrinkle so
easily."
"A lot of the girls complain that the logo on the jacket and the
cap makes it obvious that it's a school uniform, but I think it's
important that STUDENTS be clearly marked as such. Don't you agree
it's more appropriate, Tracy?"
Tracy nodded and awkwardly took off her shoes. Once again, she
handed them over to Amanda, who said, "I'll bet these cost a pretty
penny! You could probably buy 10 school uniforms for the price of
just one of these shoes," she giggled. "Of course, your school
shoes won't have high heels or lifts, but I'm sure you'll get used
to that, 'shorty.'"
Her expression was smug. Tracy was sensitive about her height and
youthful looks. She was always embarrassed when she was carded in
bars. She compensated by wearing shoes that increased her height,
but, even so, Amanda was nearly 6 inches taller.
Tracy took off her blouse, but hesitated about removing her
beautiful charcoal skirt. Amanda quickly prodded her back
into action.
"Hurry up, young lady!" Amanda said, folding her arms and tapping
her toe as Tracy stripped for her. "We don"t have all day for
this!" Tracy obediently took off her skirt and surrendered it.
"Your legs are a little skinny, dear; I can see why you hide them
under that knee-length skirt," Amanda observed. "Of course, you
won't have that luxury with your uniform skirt. I imagine it will
feel a bit awkward for you, showing so much leg after running
around in these adult clothes for so long."
"Remember that we talked about making the skirt longer, Amanda,"
Tracy said, trying to regain the upper hand.
"Hush, child," Amanda said in a patronizing voice. "What I said
was that the skirt length would be appropriate for you. There'll
be no further discussion. Now quit stalling and get out of that
pretty little slip. We don't allow fancy underwear like that in
school, Missy!"
So Tracy surrendered her expensive slip. And then Amanda added,
"Nor pantyhose, either...much too grown-up, under the circumstaces."
After skinning out of her pantyhose, Tracy found herself standing
in front of Amanda wearing nothing but her lacy lavender bra and
panties. "Could I have...my uniform now, miss?" Tracy asked,
nervously. She wasn't sure why she'd added the "miss" at the end,
but somehow it had seemed appropriate.
Amanda, arms folded, looked down at Tracy with a wicked gleam in
her eye. "Not so fast, little lady!" She re-crossed her arms and
began tapping her foot again. "I believe I said, rather clearly,
'the underwear goes in the box.' Did I not?" she demanded. "Do
you have a hearing problem, perhaps?"
"Well, I just thought I could put my uniform on over the top,"
Tracy replied. "No one will see my underwear...at least not if
you get the skirt lengthened the way you promised."
"That attitude is the difference between a first place prize and
third place," Amanda replied, sharply. "Of course, if you'd rather
lose, then...."
"It's not that. I just feel strange, stripping in front of you.
It feels strange to have you standing there fully dressed in your
business suit, watching me...take off all my clothes."
"I understand, dear," Amanda said, sympathetically. "You know,
Tracy, a lot of girls are shy about taking off their clothes in
front of the other girls in gym class the first time. But you'll
get used to it, eventually. I'm sure some of the 18-year-old
cheerleaders at your school aren't thrilled to have you walk
though the locker room when they're dressing. Imagine how
embarrassing it is for them to be putting on their little sexist
uniforms while you strut through the locker room in your expensive
power suit....
"But you never stopped to worry about THEIR feelings, did you?"
Tracy had never thought of it that way, but maybe being forced to
strip while Amanda watched smugly, arms folded, was really just a
taste of her own medicine. She did have a reputation for being
haughty and demanding....
"What am I thinking?" Tracy wondered, scolding herself for having
such bizarre thoughts. She was still a school principal, after
all, not some nervous 18-year-old too shy for the locker room!
"I really think I should keep my underpants, at least," she said.
Amanda cut her off. "Bra and underpants go in the box, NOW, young
lady!" Amanda put one hand on her hip and held out the other for
the offending garments. "Hand them over, this second, and quit
stalling! I have other students to process today!"
Tracy glared, but unhappily shrugged off the bra. A few seconds
later, she reluctantly slid off her panties and surrendered them
to Amanda's waiting hand.
Amanda smiled triumphantly as she took away Tracy's last shred of
clothing. "You have enough padding and wire in this bra to build
a mattress," she teased. "The 'wonder' is that you need a bra at
all!" She tossed the garments casually into the box.
Tracy said nothing, but immediately put her left hand in front of
her crotch and her right arm in front of her breasts. She was
furious, of course. But standing there naked and shivering in
the girl's locker room also made her feel helpless and vulnerable.
As soon as she was dressed in her regular clothes again she was
going to give Amanda a piece of her mind!
Amanda dismissively threw Tracy a towel. "You can use that to
cover yourself, if you're terrified someone will take a peak at
your cute little bod!" She was clearly amused by her friend's
predicament.
Amanda picked up the box containing Tracy's clothes and started
to walk away. "Let's hit the showers," she said, briskly. "You
should really wash off your makeup and perfume before you put on
the cute little uniform I've picked out for you, young lady. Come
this way."
Tracy quickly wrapped up in the scanty towel and scurried along
behind Amanda. The taller girl walked quickly, and Tracy had a
hard time holding up the towel and trying to keep pace.
The concrete floor of the locker room was seemed freezing cold, and
she felt uncomfortable trotting across it barefoot. The chill on
her bare feet brought back unhappy memories of gym class, when the
smart, petite Tracy had been the victim of the larger girls....
Without her expensive power suit, she felt like just another
nervous teenager, as she anxiously clutched her towel and
scampered toward the showers. She shuddered as she thought
of all of the other barefoot girls who had walked across this
icy concrete before her.
Stripped of her expensive clothes, she realized to her horror that
she was now indistinguishable from the other students.
Tracy had been modest and underdeveloped, and she had despised
having to shower in front of the taunting bullies in her gym
class. She recalled the words of her own high school principal:
even though Tracy was smarter than everyone else she was still
only a student, and rules were rules....
"Wait a second," she thought. "I'm NOT a student. I don't have
to do this!"
"I don't think I need a SHOWER, Amanda," she protested. "Why can't
I just put on my uniform now?"
"I can't have you getting $500-an-ounce perfume all over your
school uniform, dear," Amanda said, patronizingly. "Everyone
knows perfume and makeup aren't allowed in school. Plus, it
will make it easier for me to fix your hair if you wet it down."
"But I don't want to take a shower in front of you!"
"We've been through this before, young lady. All the new girls are
shy about having the faculty watch them in the showers first, but
we need to keep an eye on you little scamps to make sure you don't
get into any mischief. And you'd better do a thorough job...."
Tracy was preparing to counter Amanda's argument as she rounded
the corner, but, as she entered the large gang shower area, she
realized that she had bigger problems. Standing against the wall
was Tracy's 18-year-old former student, John Harris!
He had been a disciplinary problem for the last four years and had
spent as much time in Tracy's office as he did in the classroom.
She had tried to expel him several times, but his father's wealth
and political connections had saved him. She had been relieved
when he had graduated two weeks ago, even though she knew his
diploma had been bought and not earned.
John was wearing a neatly tailored suit -- but, more importantly,
also the black academic gown that identified him as a master.
Tracy swallowed as she realized that his political connections
had earned her bane a good job at the reformatory.
It was the same reformatory where she now stood, naked except for
a flimsy towel....
"There you are, John," Amanda said warmly. "This is the new
student I was telling you about. Can you keep an eye on her
while I lock up these silly clothes she was wearing and check
on her uniform?"
"For Pete's sake, Amanda!" Tracy squealed. "You can't leave me to
take a shower...in front of him!" Tracy clutched her towel closer.
"I'm BARE NAKED UNDER HERE!"
"Stop making such a fuss, child!" Amanda chided. "Be a good girl
and drop your towel, before John takes you over his knee and
paddles your little buns!"
"I'm a 26-year-old high school principal," Tracy protested. "John
Harris was my STUDENT until two weeks ago!"
"'WAS' is the operative word," Amanda said brusquely. "John is in
charge now!"
Amanda walked over and unceremoniously ripped off Tracy's towel.
She tried to cover herself, but a solid SWAT! On her bare backside
from Amanda sent her scurrying into the shower.
She looked nervously over her shoulder as Amanda took a thick
envelope from John, smiled, and walked out of the room. Tracy
didn't have to be psychic to guess that the envelope was stuffed
with money.
"Nice to see you again, Tracy," he said, brightly. "Of course,
it's even nicer seeing SO MUCH of you!"
"I think you should turn around, John," she replied, desperately
trying to muster a speck of her old authority.
"STUDENTS need ADULT supervision in the showers, Tracy," he
observed, archly. "You ARE a student here now, even if only
for a short while. Also, I think you need to start referring
to me as 'Mr. Harris' -- as in 'Yes, sir, Mr. Harris' or 'Right
away, Mr. Harris.'
"Disrespectful students who use a teacher's first name are
punished, Tracy. Don't you remember the time you suspended
me for calling you ‘Tracy'? Don't test me, young lady. You
really don't want to make me angry."
She knew that was true. He had always been a punk and a bully in
school. And Tracy was stark naked and considerably smaller and
less powerful than the muscular young man who was ogling her.
She knew that she had to play along until the opportunity to escape
presented itself. She carefully kept her back to her grinning
ex-student as she squirted out some sickly green soap from the
institutional dispenser on the wall....
"You really have a nice shape, Tracy," he observed, casually, as
if admiring a flower or a painting. "You're short, but your legs
are nicely proportioned, if a bit scrawny. You have a tight, firm
ass, almost like a teenage boy's. That can be a disadvantage,
though; the old queen teachers are going to enjoy using that firm
little backside of yours!"
He didn't bother trying to hide his enthusism.
"Imagine the look on your face when the old goats bend you over
your school desk and slip their weathered members into your tight
little bottom. I bet you'll wiggle and squirm when they work their
gristly tools around inside you. Of course, that will only make it
better for them...and worse for you."
Despite her efforts to ignore his degrading commentary, she
pictured herself draped helplessly over a school desk as she
nervously watched a smiling old geezer unzip his trousers....
She had never had anal sex, and, as she imagined an elderly
lecher preparing to deflower her, she felt her sphincter pucker
in frightened anticipation.
"If I were you, Tracy, I'd show all of my instructors a really good
time," John counseled. "That muscular bottom of yours doesn't have
much fat on it, and, if they cane you, it'd be sheer agony!
"Your bottom cheeks are flexing, Tracy," he chortled. "Surely
you've experienced the cane before! I remember what an advocate
you were for bringing back corporal punishment in our school.
It's too bad the school board turned you down; I'm sure you would
have enjoyed using the cane on me."
"Isn't that right, Tracy?" he taunted. "Didn't you want to punish
me? Didn't you want to pull down my pants and shorts, and cane my
bare bottom until I sniveled and begged for mercy and promised to
be a good little boy?"
She had desperately wanted to punish John, but school rules had
strictly prohibited it. But now that HE was the teacher, the
concept of corporal punishment had lost its appeal for her, and
the thought of the cane gave her a chill.
"It's time to scrub your front, Tracy," John said, feigning
nonchalance. "I need to make sure you scrub EVERYWHERE, so
you'll need to turn around."
She stiffened. She couldn't. He would see! That spoiled, snotty
brat would see EVERYTHING!
"Don't be bashful, princess," he chided. "If I have to, I'll just
get a brush and scrub you down myself...."
That horrifying idea tipped the scales, and Tracy reluctantly
turned, revealing herself in all her nakedness.
"Not bad, munchkin," John said, appraisingly. "But you're going
to have to put your hands on top of your head, so that your new
teacher can have a GOOD look."
Though she desperately wanted to keep her hands locked in place
over her torso, a glance at his expression told her that that
wasn't an option.
Reluctantly, the blushing principal obeyed her former student's
humiliating command.
He let out a slow and appreciative wolf whistle as she exposed
herself to his searching gaze. "You are a hot little number!"
he chuckled. "A little flat on top, but just my type."
He beamed as he ogled the blushing, squirming principal. "As a
teacher, Tracy, I have carnal rights with all my students, and
I have to say that I'm looking forward to having you as my bed
warmer tonight.
"Do you make a lot of noise, Tracy?" he asked, crudely. "Are you
going to wiggle those cute little buns for me? And remember, young
lady, I'll expect you to swallow every drop!"
"I'm not a student, John," Tracy protested. "I'm just here to try
on a uniform."
"And try on your uniform you shall, young lady, as soon as you're
done with your scrub-down. We'll need to see the nurse first,
though. I have no intention of bedding you until I've watched
the nurse check out that randy little box of yours. I'll probably
ask her to shave you, as well. You'll be getting quite a few
visits from former students, and we don't want a wet, sticky
mess between your legs, now do we?"
He smirked.
"In addition, I've already signed you up for my first period gym
class. Most of the girls are quite a bit bigger and more athletic
than you. The classes are given in the nude, and you'll be petite,
flat-chested, and shaved -- the natural target of the class
bullies, I'm afraid...."
Tracy shuddered. As a gifted student, she had always been the
youngest in the class. She had been small, shy, and bookish,
and the more athletic girls in gym had always tormented her
mercilessly. As she stood naked in the shower, blushing furiously
under John's leering gaze, all of her buried memories and teenage
insecurities returned with a vengeance.
"But I'm not a student, John," she pleaded desperately. "You're
making a mistake."
"No mistake, Tracy," he retorted. I've arranged it so you'll be
spending the next two and a half months of your vacation here at
this school. It's really the best way of preparing you to be
comfortable in your new costume, don't you think?" He cocked an
eyebrow at her. "And you really should read admission forms before
you sign them...."
***********************************
Tracy felt tiny and powerless as John led her down the empty school
corridors. The uniform she was wearing was childish and degrading,
but, after the humiliating nightmare in the showers and the nurse's
office, she was grateful to finally be dressed.
She shuddered as she remembered the evil, grinning nurse watching
her squirm on the exam table as John teasingly rubbed in the
shaving cream....
As she entered the ancient, empty schoolroom, Tracy saw her
reflection in the window for the first time.
She gasped. The successful and self-confident career woman had
been replaced by a gangly and frightened adolescent. Her school
blazer and the ridiculous beanie cap that she was now required to
wear were both emblazoned with the school badge: two crossed canes
with the word "DISCIPLINE" above and "OBEDIENCE" below.
But, worst of all was the absurdly short skirt, which barely
covered her school regulation blue knickers. Bending over was
out of the question; she knew that the slightest mis-step would
display her childish underpants to everybody!
She shuddered as she contemplated the "school outings" in town.
She knew that many merchants would relish seeing the haughty
principal stripped of her power and authority. She winced as
she imagined their amused smiles as she was paraded around in
her school uniform.
A number of her former students, now adult graduates, also worked
downtown. She knew they would be delighted to see her....
"Please remove your cap and blazer, Tracy, and place them neatly
on my desk," John said sternly.
Tracy was confused, but she obeyed.
"Before I take you to the dorms, Tracy, I want to review the
subject of discipline," he said, clearly relishing his new
authority. He tapped a seat in the front row. "The student
kneels on the seat, with her tummy resting on the desk-top and
her hands clutching the front of the desk. The built-in chair
kept her feet from kicking up during her punishment, and the
position kept her bottom nicely arched.
"You'll be pleased to know that all punishments are administered on
the bare bottom, Tracy, which corresponds to your recommendations
to the school board, I believe.
"It's good to see you out of those ridiculous clothes and into a
proper school uniform. But, despite your new station in life, you
have continued to use my first name. That is totally unacceptable.
I am to be addressed as 'Mr. Harris' or 'Sir' from now on. Is that
clear, young lady?"
"Very clear, Mr. Harris," Tracy said, staring at her shoes like the
naughty schoolgirl she now was. "I'm sorry I used your first name,
sir. I forgot...."
She felt her knees weaken as John picked up a long, slender school
cane and a smaller, "warm-up" spanking strap. Her bottom cheeks
flinched in nervous anticipation as the leering delinquent SWISHED!
the wicked cane through the air.
He chuckled. "Perhaps a demonstration of your ideas on corporal
punishment will enhance your memory...."
Edited by C. Lakewood