My Teacher Milady Novels & Stories

"She is a St. Tatiana slut. Been there, fucked that." I giggled as the DJ then said, "Up next, we have the naughty teacher who makes all the boys in the class stay after. It's... Ms. July!" As Sweet Sally departed, a blonde and busty woman with glasses on strutted out in a short pencil skirt that showed off the thigh-high nylons on her legs. She wore heels and a low-cut, lilac blouse that was sluttier than any teacher would wear. She was... "Fuck, that's Ms. August," groaned Carter, his finger diddling harder at my clit. "My social studies teacher. I didn't know she was a fucking stripper."

I mumble under my breath, making the lady smirk. "Yes, special. So, Milady,this way please." She ushers me with a bow. I find myself smiling at her cute actions. " What's your name?" I suddenly ask. " Tessa, Milady." She replies, drill bowing. " You are one interesting soul. I like you." I confess with a smile. Tessa's eyes widen with surprise as she stares at me. Her eyes glisten with tears, making me confused.

She might be a new one. “She must be disappointed with my humble offer,” I mumbled. “Pardon Milady, is there something-” “Yes there is. Shall I ask you another question?” she slowly nodded her head and stared at me. She looks like a commoner, since nobles usually have eyes with bright colors. They really were looking down on me and sent a commoner staff to serve me, so they would use the racist card if I complained. “Supposed you are an excellent student. The teacher has announced that she would choose a student to wear a crown on a festival, and you really wanted that crown. Would you bother threatening the nerd beside you when she’s just a nobody?”

I say regally, to no one in particular One of the maids goes to the door while I take care to arrange myself on a single armchair, schooling my expression into a small smile. “Lady Sigmond,” The instructor is a stocky woman dressed in grey attire, hair pulled back in a tight bun. When she straightens from her bow, I take in a bespectacled, weathered face with pale brown eyes. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Ileana Milford, an etiquette instructor for many young ladies in High society. For this day forward, I shall serve as your teacher. You may call me Ms. Milford.” “I appreciate your coming here on such short notice, Ms. Milford.” I say over the beat of my heart in my ears

With determination in my voice, I announced, "Milady, it is time to begin your combat training." She turned towards me, a mixture of surprise and curiosity dancing in her eyes. Her slender frame was adorned in a flowing gown of silk, reflecting her grace even in the simplest of movements. Despite her delicate appearance, she possessed a strength and resilience that often caught others off guard. Her lips curved into a gentle smile, tinged with a hint of mischief. "Very well," she replied, her voice as enchanting as a lullaby. "Lead the way." I gestured towards the open door, offering her my arm. As she took it, I felt a sense of honor and responsibility course through me. Together, we walked

“I was listening, I just…” “Just what? Daydreaming? Wool-gathering?” Lady Maelis’s thin lips pressed into a disapproving line. She was an older woman, rail-thin with severe features and gray hair pulled back so tightly it looked painful. “A proper lady does not let her mind wander during instruction.” I bit back the retort that wanted to escape. It had been three hours already. Three hours of posture corrections, tea-pouring techniques, and the proper way to address seventeen different ranks of nobility.

“What are you talking about, Aunt Camille?” Maxwell asked, still trying to process his aunt’s cryptic words. “That would be impossible, Milady,” said one of the servants, a broad-shouldered man with a scar across his jaw. “This little girl can’t possibly wield such destructive magic.” “Don’t judge a book by its cover,” Marchioness Camille replied calmly, her lips curling into a knowing smile.

Only at the level of writing practice at most. When Nina and Hazel were occupied in the anteroom, Anni used the opportunity to speak to Lady Katherine. She knew that it was out of her jurisdiction, but like every romantic woman, she was curious how things with the earl progressed after their last date. From what she'd heard so far, she could deduce that there might have been more trouble than predicted, and she was a bit concerned about the girl. Maybe she could help her some more. The girl didn't seem to have any experience in romantic matters. "Milady", she asked carefully, and showed her a nightgown. She first had to strike a conversation, then talking about other things would come more n

“That narcissistic asshole deserves whatever’s coming to him.” The next morning, I’m sitting in Delilah ’s kitchen wearing her clothes and trying to pretend my life hasn’t completely imploded, when she mentions school. “Oh, by the way, we’re getting a new French teacher today,” she says, sliding coffee across the counter. “Apparently his wife already works there—you know Mrs. Montelli ? She teaches English lit.” I nod vaguely. Mrs. Montelli is young, probably early thirties, with this effortless sophistication that makes all the students slightly intimidated and weirdly drawn to her.

Tammy: My reflection stared back at me from the mirror. Dressed in the off the shoulder white wedding dress with a lacy bodice and a tulle skirt that started from my mid-region, I was looking angelic. My hair was done up and a white veil was pinned to it. My make up was minimal and done with soft colors as I'd requested. Involuntarily, my hand shot up to the little freckles that dotted underneath my eye. Something so small that it wasn't noticeable by people.