Sofia's Story

[Mr_Rochester]

Here's part one of my first story on this site. I hope you enjoy!
-------------------

Sofia sat at the back of the classroom, waiting for her History teacher to finish his summing up. She loved listening to him speak, his knowledge and his confidence immediately engaging, but today she was anxious to leave and join the girls for lunch. They had their leavers prom to plan for, timings to decide on, transport to book and dresses to finalise.

"So," Mr. Francis said, "that will do for now. Leave your books on my desk as you leave please. I'll try and get your homework back to you by next time." He smiled his warm smile. "Have a good weekend all."

"Damn," thought Sofia to herself. She had already packed her book away, and would now waste precious seconds digging it back out again. She grabbed at it quickly, and with a glancing smile at Mr. Francis, put it on the pile of books on his desk.

"Thanks sir," she said as she caught his eye for a moment. "See you on Monday."

* * * *
It wasn't until later, after the excited prom discussions and fevered plans for the summer, that Sofia realised her mistake. In the quiet of her bedroom, she had gone for her notepad with a flutter of nervous energy, ready to write the next part of her story, her 'naughty' story as she had labelled it. She had started it a few weeks ago, something to release the tension of her exam revision and give her something else to focus on. When she first put pen to paper, she had had no idea where it would go. She hadn't written a story since her GCSE English exam, and she had been not much more than a child then. In truth, she had surprised herself with the direction the story had gone. Fuelled perhaps by her musings through the world of fan-fiction, her story had become quickly dark, exploring her hidden desires and dreams, of fleeting sexual encounters and of intoxicating power exchange.

And as she searched for the notepad, eager to write the next section, it was then she realised. She had given it to him. Mr. Francis. Her History book was still in her bag, complete with her homework, and the notepad was gone. She could see herself doing it now, concentrating more on getting out quickly, reaching for the book, catching his eye rather than looking at the book. How could she have been so stupid?

She knew she had a whole weekend of torture now, of wondering whether he would read it, if he would look at it when he realised it was the wrong book, what he would do if he did read it, if he read the story. "Damn it," she said again and again. "The damn story".

She had always liked Mr. Francis. He was a good teacher, and although he was a good deal older than her, in his mid 30s she estimated, he was good looking and good to listen to. He had appeared in her fantasies sometimes over the last two years, authoritative and alluring, and she was glad she had chosen his class. But now, this. How could she ever look him in the eye again? How could she even walk into his room on Monday morning? As she drifted fitfully to sleep, she asked herself the same question again, how could she have been so stupid?

[Slenderman - Doctor]

Firstly, welcome to getDare! Great first post. Absolutely loved this opening. I'm excited to read more

[Mr_Rochester]

Many thanks for the kind comment. All comments very welcome! Here's the next part:

***************

She had been right. The weekend had been torture, her mind circling around the idea of Mr. Francis reading her book, the story. But all too quickly Monday morning rolled around, and as Sofia wearily ate her breakfast, the reality of seeing him seemed almost too much to bear.

She entered his room for the Monday morning history lesson with her head down, trying hard to look unconcerned, relaxed, preoccupied with her phone. And as the lesson progressed, she did genuinely start to relax. Mr. Francis seemed fine. He was his normal self: breezy, passionate about his subject and interested in what the class had to say about the wisdom of nineteenth century foreign policy. He had asked one of the other students in the class - a boy called Paul, who Sofia knew only in passing - to hand out the books. Sofia's stomach had turned as Paul had put her book in front of her, but had relaxed as she saw that Mr. Francis had written nothing in it. He must have realised it was the wrong book, and passed on quickly. She had tucked it quickly into her back, the relief of getting it back in her grasp tangible.

As the lesson finished, Sofia made sure she was ready to leave. With her history book in one hand, she went past Mr. Francis's desk, put her book down and walked for the door. As she looked up though, she realised he was watching her. "Oh..erm... sorry Sir. I gave you the wrong book on Friday. I thought I'd leave my homework on your desk."

She smiled at him, waiting for his usual polite and warm thanks. But it didn't come.

"Yes. I did notice, " he replied, a wry smile on his lips. "Could you hang on for a moment please."

"Damn," she whispered under her breath again as Mr. Francis looked up to see the last of the class out of his room. She could feel a blush rising on her cheeks, a blush that quickly intensified as he turned to face her. Sofia tried to attempt a normal tone.

"Sorry about that," she said, steeling herself to look him in the eye. "I left in too much of a rush on Friday."

He nodded, and looked down at his feet for a second, as if caught in a moment of hesitation. When his gaze lifted the wry smile traced across his lips again. "In too much of a rush to get your story finished perhaps?"

He knew. He'd read it. Sofia's mind raced for a reasonable excuse, a sensible reply, but she couldn't find one. She was aware she was stuttering, trying to get a word out, any word, but it just wouldn't come. What would he do now? Report her?

It was he who spoke next. "Some story you've got there Sofia," he said, gently. And then, with the same wry smile, "some imagination".

What could she say? "Thank you," would sound ridiculous. Instead, she stayed quiet, looking down at her feet now. She couldn't work out where he was going with this. She wasn't expecting praise.

"I have an offer for you," he said, speaking quietly now, drawing imperceptibly closer. His words caught her by surprise and she looked up quickly to find herself staring into his eyes. "Your story was passionate, and very... arousing... but it was inaccurate, and clumsy at times." He paused before he continued. "I think you're writing about things you only half understand, and I could help you understand them better. If you say no, then that's an end to it. Don't worry, no one else will find out about the story. It's just an offer, for... well, call it research for your next story."

He smiled, his warm, inviting smile this time.

[Mr_Rochester]

Ok. Here's part 3. Any suggestions or comments welcome!

*******
Sofia had no idea how to reply, because she had no idea what he was suggesting. His words swam around, refusing to form themselves into any sort of logical order or pattern. Research. Inaccurate. Arousing. He had found it arousing.

As the silence between them gathered, she knew she had to say something. Even in this oddest of social moments, she understood it was her turn to speak.

"I... erm... I'm not sure... I mean.... What do you mean Sir? I don't get it." The words tumbled out, finishing with a sense of bewilderment at the last statement. I don't get it.

He looked at her carefully, then smiled again and spoke quietly, sincerely. "I'm offering to be your teacher Sofia," he said slowly. Sofia thought she detected an edge of excitement in his voice. "I've read your story. I sense that there are some things you long to know, long to discover. But you need to be careful Sofia. The things you have written about are dangerous, dark, and need to be treated carefully. It's something I have some experience of Sofia." As he spoke his eyes intensified, and she found herself looking away from him, in embarrassment, to the floor. "So I am giving you an offer, to let me teach you. I shouldn't of course. You're my student. But you are eighteen, and you're an adult. And I want to teach you."

As he spoke her eyes lifted again, but finding his eyes still fixed on her, she once more looked down. She listened again to his cultured voice, her mind playing and replaying the words he had spoken. This was so unexpected, so confusing. But as her mind began slowly to clarify, the swirling ideas settling into place, there was something she knew. It frightened her and she knew it was beyond dangerous, but she wanted to say yes to him, this clever, passionate man. She had no idea what he meant really, but she knew what he had read, her hidden, secret, desperate desire, and she wanted him.

She looked up, and this time she held his stare. "Yes," she mouthed. "Yes please."

He smiled, and he seemed both relieved and excited. "Good," he said, nodding his head slowly. "I have your email address from your records. I will email this evening. "

As Sofia left the room, carefully shutting the door behind her, she felt lightheaded. "What the hell just happened?" she whispered under her breath. "What the hell did I just say?"

[Silvercola]

This is getting good.

[Slenderman - Doctor]

This is so well written, well paced and just amazing.

[inflamio]

Wow, this is really good

[Mr_Rochester]

Many thanks for the kind and encouraging comments. Much appreciated! Here's the next part.

*************

Sofia found it almost impossible to think about anything else that afternoon. She walked around with her phone in her hand,waiting for the promised email. She didn't know what she felt, fear, excitement, and intense curiosity mixed in seeming equal measure. Every time she felt the familiar vibration of the phone, she looked anxiously at the lock screen to see the notification. Her friends texted four times between them, firming up details for the prom next week and exchanging idle gossip. And then it came. An email, the notification said, from Sir. It wasn't an email she recognised, a series of seemingly random letters and numbers making up the gmail account. The sender, it said, was simply Sir.

She was in her room, with her parents downstairs, and in a deft movement she unlocked the phone and opened the email.

Dear Sofia,

I am glad you said Yes this morning. I had hoped you would. Please read this email very carefully. It's important you understand it all.

I am proposing that we enter into a consensual dominant/submissive relationship. It's purpose is to be of mutual benefit to us both. I will teach you and help you to explore your submission, and I will enjoy it. You must enjoy serving me, although you won't enjoy everything you do.

I already have a good idea of your likes and desires from your story. However, we need to set firm limits. I want you to go through the attached list and tick each item as a yes, maybe or no. I haven't put anything in I would not be prepared to do. You will find nothing involving lasting damage, significant public embarrassment or toilet games.

It is very important that this is consensual. If at any time, you wish to leave or end the relationship, you are completely free to do so, as will I be. However, I would expect us both to respect the other, and be honest about the reasons.

I know this sounds formal, but it's important. As I said earlier, the ideas in your story are dark and can be dangerous.

Please return the list to me. I will take its return as an acceptance of this offer. Please ask me any questions you want, but only via this email address.

I look forward to your reply.
Sir x

"Wow," thought Sofia. He really does know what he's doing. With more than a little nervous anticipation, she opened the attachment. It was, as he'd promised, a list of activities centred around bdsm and power exchange. She skimmed through the list, embarrassed at how many of them she had already thought or written about in her story, and how many she recognised from her own reading. And then she thought about doing these things with him, with Mr. Francis. She had fantasised about him before, but this, this was something else. She could feel the nervous knot in her stomach clenching, and she could feel herself getting damp as she read.

There was still a part of Sofia, a significant part, that knew this was crazy. He was her history teacher. But her imagination had already begun to fire, and she knew she was in. She filled in the list, embarrassed by what she said yes and maybe to. "He'll read it," she thought, "and he'll know. But then, he does already. He's read the story." She pressed 'Send'.

[OliMor]

Wow! Loving it! Such good story, please keep going.

[molten man]

Great story.. Keep it going..

[Mr_Rochester]

Many thanks again for your very kind comments. Here's the next part:

************

As Sofia approached the hotel foyer she wondered, again, if this was wise. It was a week since she had retuned Mr. Francis's email and the plans had been made. Friday night, the Marriott Hotel, 6pm. She didn't know quite what to feel. She knew that the fact that he was her teacher was dangerous, but that was not what was at the heart of her doubt. She worried, more than anything, that she would embarrass herself, that he would be disappointed in her.

Her sexual experiences so far had been fumbling at best, and although her trawl through various fan-fiction sites had allowed her to vicariously experience much more, this was the real thing, and that scared her. She had lost her virginity last year to her then boyfriend, who had shown his true colours just days after luring her to his bed one drunken Saturday evening, and had dumped her for her then best friend.

She stopped as she approached the automatic doors, and glanced at her phone. It was five minutes to six, and right on cue her phone vibrated to alert her to the incoming email.

Room 29
x

"This is it," she breathed, as she stepped forwards close enough to trigger the automatic doors. She stepped into the dry air of the air conditioned foyer, and looked for the directions to the rooms. She saw the sign pointing to rooms 1-30, followed it through a heavy double door and down a long corridor, leading her past door after door, until, finally, 27, 28, 29.

She glanced at her phone, double checking the room number one more time. It was exactly 6pm. Her heart beat quickly in her chest, and she found it suddenly difficult to order her thoughts. They swam backwards and forwards, leaving her dizzy. She should turn and go, she was sure, but he was there, just the other side of that door, and then what? Then what would happen? It was crazy, the whole thing. She should go.

Sofia took one deep breath, closed her eyes, and knocked on the door, three quick knocks.

The door opened, and there he was. Mr. Francis. He wore a white shirt and dark trousers, and he smelt masculine, a subtle fragrance she half recognised. He looked at her and smiled.

"Come in, Sofia," he said softly. "You're on time. I like that."

Sofia followed him into the room. It was large and dimly lit with wall lights. She wondered what would happen now. Small talk perhaps? A drink together? She cringed slightly at the idea, at the inevitable awkwardness, given the intimate details they had shared in the emails.

She was wrong, it turned out. There would be no small talk, no drinks. "So Sofia," he said, maintaining eye contact with her. "As we agreed. You remember the safe word?" Sofia nodded slightly. She remembered.

"Then give me your hands please," he said, calmly authoritative. Sofia could feel her heart pounding, a nervous ball of energy sitting in the very pit of her stomach. This really was it. She held out her hands as he instructed.

"In a minute Sofia," he continued, keeping his eyes fixed on her, and holding her hands lightly in his, "I am going to handcuff your hands together, and tie them to the hook on the ceiling above you." Involuntarily, Sofia looked up, to see a large hook secured into the ceiling above her. How the hell had he done that? In a hotel room? She stored up the question for later.

"But first," Mr. Francis went on, "I want you to remove your very pretty dress".

Sofia gasped before she could stop herself. Remove her dress, here, with him just watching? She had dreamt of passionate embraces, of clothes being discarded in the heat of desire. She tried hard to concentrate on her breathing, and forced herself to look up into his eyes again. He simply nodded. "Now please Sofia. Don't keep me waiting."

With shaking hands, Sofia slipped first one, then two shoulder straps down. She loved this black dress, the way it clung to her, but she felt suddenly foolish in it. With one hand she undid the zip at the back, and them let it slip down, over her breasts, past her waist, and to the floor. She still had her high shoes on, and so carefully stepped out of it, keeping her eyes lowered. She felt so vulnerable, so exposed, standing before him in just her bra and panties. Slowly, she raised her eyes to look at him. He was looking back, a smile tracing his lips.

"Good," he said quietly. "You are a very beautiful young woman Sofia." She could feel herself blushing at his complement.

"Now then, take off your bra please."

Again, she felt herself gasp before she could catch it, but this time, she did find the words.

"But... But Sir. I'll be almost naked, and you... well you..."

What she meant was, and you'll be fully clothed, but somehow the words wouldn't form. Mr. Francis simply nodded. "Quickly please Sofia," was his curt reply.

"Oh my God," she thought, as she reached behind with one hand to undo the catch. "Oh my God."

She undid the catch quickly and slid the straps down her arms, holding her right arms across her breasts, keeping the bra still in place. Could she really do this, really expose herself to him like this? She was trembling uncontrollably, partly through nervousness and partly through utter anticipation. Once again, she made herself look up, meet his gaze, and then removed the bra completely, throwing it gently to the side of her. She let her arms fall to her sides. The cold breeze of the air conditioned room played across her nipples, and made her shiver, forcing her to look away.

He moved a step closer to her. "Very well done Sofia," he said, keeping his eyes fixed on hers. "I know that was difficult, but it will be worth it. Trust me. It brings me great pleasure to see you like this, and I think it brings you pleasure too, to be seen like this. Feel what you do to me Sofia," he said, taking her right hand. He led it down to his groin, and pushed her hand against him. She could feel his cock, hard and pressing against the material of his trousers, and she gasped again. He was right. This was difficult. But it was hot, and Sofia felt that knot in her stomach clench again, and not just from nerves. She began to rub her hand against his trousers, but he pulled it away quickly.

"Oh no you don't," he said, with a playful smile. He moved from her, and reached inside a black bag sitting on the end of the bed. From out of it he pulled a pair of silver handcuffs, and in a deft movement, attached them first to one of her wrists, and then the other, securing them tightly into place. The metal felt cold on her warming skin.

"Now then," he whispered, leaning close. "Let the fun begin."

[jklivin]

This is really a great beginning to a very erotic situation.

[iceman713]

Wow, that is all I can say. This story is very well written. It has me sitting on the edge of my seat as I read it. Very good job sir please keep up the good work

[dickface]

Damn I want more, this story is HOT

[Anhian]

I love this! Please keep up the good work