There were 10 of us. Female teachers standing along the walls of the gym in our bras and panties.

When I had reached my assigned spot, I was told to put my legs together. One of the guys took off his belt, coiled it around my ankles and buckled it, so that I could not move my feet.

There we were. Ball-gagged, handcuffed and unable to move. Ready for inspection.

And inspected we were! The students strolled back and forth giving us the elevator look. It was immensely embarrassing. But it was also a bit … I don’t know!

The young and attractive teachers were somewhat over-represented, as should be expected. But I would say that close to half of those present would qualify as milfs. Mature, but attractive in a different way.

Allison was there, as she had more or less predicted. She taught the graduation class and she was good looking, so that was small wonder, if the selection process contained any democratic element.

Standing to my right was Susan, the science teacher. She might be seen as a transitional figure. Though in her early 30’es, she was an old-fashioned type. Her blonde hair set up in a bun, conservative clothing, glasses. Most of her clothing was gone of course, and her conservative tastes did not seem to extend to her lingerie. But they had let her keep the glasses and left her hair-bun undisturbed. Even half-naked she looked almost too prim and proper to be part of this set-up. But of course, she was not here by her own choice.

After a while they closed in. Scissors appeared. They cut the straps of my bra and unhooked it behind my back, and there I was with my naked breasts on display. During the operation, I had let out a number of protests that the ball in my mouth transformed into entertaining background sounds. The other teachers who knew the drill had said nothing, when their bras were removed. In a strange way I was annoyed with myself for having behaved like a newbie.

And then they started to touch. Now, you can’t force a woman to get horny. But you might … well, maybe ‘entice’ is the proper word after all? Anyway, if you’re not made of stone, thirty pairs of hands feeling your tits are bound to exert some sort of influence.

At a certain point a tall guy came over. He wasn’t in my class, but I knew him by name. He was Allan, the head prefect.

• So, you are the new one! How are you doing, bitch? Oops, did I say bitch? That’s not allowed! We are required to address the teachers in a respectful manner, even under circumstances such as these. But life becomes boring if you don’t challenge the rules from time to time, don’t you think?

  For some odd reason I gave him a nod.

  He put his hands under my breasts and weighed them.

• I like your tits! Shapely! Firm! Something for a man to hold on to! Does it make you horny to have to put them on display like this?

  I nodded once more. What was the point of pretending?

• Good for you that you admit it! Not like Susan there!

  He lowered his voice, so that she wouldn’t hear.

• She would rather die than admit to such a thing. But that’s exactly what makes her so popular and ensures her being selected year after year. Rumor has it that she will break during the evening, and when that happens, you want to be there!

• I made my contribution to warming her up, he continued. I called her a stupid cow and told her that I had only endured her lectures, because I knew that I would finally get my hands on her tits. It’s not true, of course. She’s a very intelligent woman and a good teacher! But what man would miss the chance of a punchline like that? I could literally feel her electrify, when I said it.