Through the days: Miss cox
By atfirstdawn

*Mature content warning
(C) Keira Morrison/ atfirstdawn 2014-2015


It can be difficult to move through life with a fetish for bondage, particularly if you develop or realise the passion for it at a young age.
The opinions of others can often be unnecessarily negative towards the notion of such a personal and unique lifestyle and these prejudices can often make for a lonely and conflicted existence if, like me, you eventually find yourself on the wrong side of them.

Throughout my childhood I was suffocated with the intense desire to divulge my secret cravings to my friends and family in the hope that they would understand and accept it as an important part of my personality. But then again, another side of me; the wary and self-preserving side, was adamant that I should keep such unchecked, unguided and unsatisfied notions to myself for fear that I'd be shunned and or ridiculed.

In the end I decided to keep my insatiable fetish for bondage to myself; though this wasn't easy, and as I moved through the days, one by one, every now and again there'd be a trigger, something to incite and refuel the war within me...

***

My years at sixth form were really just an extension of my time at high school, the only difference being that I didn't have as many classes and didn't need to wear a uniform. While it was exciting to be able to pick my own lessons before the first year started, the choice in the end wasn't all too great and I ended up taking English language, English literature and psychology (boring, I know, especially since my psychology class was taught by my old geography teacher).  

Naturally I wasn't too excited about extending my years at high school (even if they said it was college) with two of the same lessons I'd done for the last five years (these being English literature and language). I knew that the next two years would see me reading more war poetry, more Shakespeare and noting the differences between metaphors, similes and the other ones... I also figured I'd be getting the same teacher I'd had for the last five years too, but I was pleasantly surprised when I entered the class room to be greeted by a rather young, rather slim and rather pretty looking raven haired lady in a tight and fluffy red sweater named Miss Cox.
 
Being the first class of the first term we spent the lesson previewing the year ahead, unsurprisingly both war poetry and Shakespeare were in there along with a fair few period dramas such as 'A Room With a View' and 'Pride and Prejudice' (mainstream, I know). There was one sci-fi book though, Margaret Atwood's 'A Handmaid's Tale', which I really didn't end up liking. In the end the whole lesson kind of passed me by, I wasn't too invested in knowing what lay ahead of me, instead I was more intrigued by what stood in front of me; namely, Miss Cox. I'd spent most of the lesson watching her read to us and pacing back and forth at the front of the room. She was a rather animated woman, she smiled a lot, her body language was always open and inviting, she spoke with her hands in a way that was endearing rather than distracting or irritating and she seemed genuinely interested in telling us what lay ahead.

Eventually we entered the last ten minutes of the lesson and this is where Miss Cox made things a little more interesting. Being an English literature and language teacher meant that she obviously loved to read, and she wanted to hear about the books that we were personally reading. Of course a classroom full of seventeen and eighteen year olds aren't going to reply with anything fascinating or really anything at all, (me being of the half that had nothing at all to offer). Not surprised by her students' aversion to reading in their spare time, Miss Cox shared with us a novel which she was currently reading. Now, I don't remember the title of the novel and I never asked her in future lessons to clarify it, but I'll never forget what it was about. I hung on her every word as she gave a detailed overview; the novel was about a Queen in a fictional kingdom who lived in a glass castle filled with hundreds of servants, these servants had to keep the glass castle clean at all costs and so spent every hour of every day ensuring that the castle walls kept their transparent sheen. Further more, the servants were forced to be naked and to always crawl on their hands and knees. Miss Cox finished her rather elated and excitedly delivered description of this novel by ending with the phrase; 'Doesn't that sound wonderful?'

I so wished that she hadn't said that. 'Wonderful' seemed like the wrong word to use, surely 'interesting', 'intriguing', 'striking' or 'arresting' would have sufficed, but no, she said 'wonderful' and to me, using the word 'wonderful' to describe a scene such as the one she had divulged to us sounded as if she liked it on a more personal and intimate level. Naturally my fetish driven mind began to wonder about what she thought was so wonderful about the scenario, was it that she was submissive and enjoyed the idea of being forced to crawl around naked for all to see, or was it that she was more-so the dominant type that loved the idea of exposing and humiliating others? I couldn't be sure but I wanted to find out.

Sadly though, I never worked up the courage to talk to her in detail about the novel, mostly because I knew I'd lead the conversation into a more personal realm, one not suited to be discussed between teachers and students. Instead I spent the next school year studying Miss Cox, trying to work out for myself whether she was submissive, dominant or both. Of course in the end I admitted to myself, as odd as it may have sounded for her to have used the word 'wonderful' to describe such a scene, that perhaps she just chose the wrong word, perhaps she meant wonderful in a more abstract term than I had originally realised. Still, it didn't stop me from being nervous around her, it didn't stop me wondering about it, and it surely didn't stop me from picturing all sorts of 'wonderful' scenes of my own with her...