Kiyone Girls Academy nestled deep in the mountains, far from the world. One guarded road led to the campus. Students lived in dorms, leaving only for summer, winter, or spring breaks. Smartphones worked, but filters allowed calls only to family. Shared computers faced the same limits. Wealthy daughters attended, raised in this pure, sheltered place, away from outside noise.
Outsiders needed approval to enter, even parents. Some saw the school as a prison, its rules strict. Yet, no student tried to escape. Raised in this serene world, they viewed their life as normal and shunned the outside. Others might find it extreme, but it shaped these innocent, elite girls.
"Another calm day," Ben said, sipping coffee by the social studies prep room window.
Ben taught world history at Kiyone. The prep room, on the first floor, overlooked the courtyard. Girls who finished class passed by, wearing navy blazers and green plaid miniskirts, carrying school bags. They turned toward the dorms, not the gate, following a tree-lined path. Their days moved between classrooms and dorms.
The girls spoke softly, never loud or rude. Ben recalled his noisy, mixed-gender high school, wilder than a zoo. Kiyone felt unreal, too perfect. Three years after college, Ben taught here, hired through his grandfather, a board member. It was his only way in; Kiyone rarely hired men, cautious with its elite students. Ben was the first male teacher in twenty years.
He lived in staff dorms, seldom leaving. Online shopping met most needs, and outings felt bothersome, so he stayed. Young and single, he found the quiet life dull but fitting. He never chased fun, even as a student. * This suits me, * he thought. As the only young male teacher, he stood out. To the girls, he seemed alien, almost a beast.
"Hm?" Ben noticed girls spot him at the window. They bowed slightly, then hurried to the dorms, steps quick. For three years, students dodged him. To these pure girls, a young male teacher felt strange, maybe scary. At first, it hurt. * Am I so frightening? * he thought. His serious, stiff manner did not help. No wonder they avoided him.
Three years at Kiyone brought his fourth spring. Cherry blossoms bloomed in the courtyard, pink petals drifting. Girls walked through the dreamy scene, smiling gently. Beside them, Ben felt like a monster. * They are pure, and I am what? * he thought. Fear was not the only issue; something deeper stirred.
"Oh no!" A wind gust flipped the girls' skirts, showing white, pink, and blue panties. They squealed, blushing, pressing their skirts down. One girl's skirt lifted high, revealing her pale stomach and tucked-in blouse hem.
"Bad move," Ben muttered, staring.
Her white lace panties caught his eye, and she saw him looking. "Teacher, did you see?" Hannah demanded, rushing to the window, face red with shame and anger.
"No, you are mistaken. I saw nothing, Hannah," Ben said, voice unsteady.
"I felt your eyes!" Hannah stood firm, glaring.
Hannah Grace, a second-year, came from a powerful family. Her grandfather founded a famous company, now led by her father. Among Kiyone's elite, she ranked highest. Her grades topped her year, unmatched. Her beauty and curves outshone others, even in a school of pretty girls. As her teacher for two years, Ben knew her well but struggled with her boldness.
"So improper! You saw not just mine, but everyone's underthings!" Hannah leaned on the windowsill, her face close, her chest nearly brushing him through her blazer.
Her nearness quickened Ben's pulse. Her stunning face and full breasts, tight against her blazer, overwhelmed him. Unlike others, Hannah faced him boldly. Her confrontational style was hard to manage.
Ben tried closing the window, but Hannah stopped him. "Why close it? I am not done!" she said.
"It is nothing. What did you mean by saw?" Ben asked, evading.
Hannah paused, nervous. * She cannot say panties, * Ben thought. Despite her fire, she was a Kiyone girl, too proper for crude words before a man. It was his only shield, a weak one.
"Forget what you saw! If you cannot, remember only mine!" Hannah said loudly.
"Quite a sacrifice," Ben said. Her white lace panties stood out, impossible to erase.
"The girls here are delicate. I can handle your crude stare!" Hannah said, glaring.
"Crude? I am a teacher. It was an accident. Shouting like that is rude," Ben said.
"You are right. I was rude. Sorry, Ben," Hannah said, softening. Her strong will bent to fairness. Ben admired her honesty, though she was tough.
"You still saw everyone's underthings! Think about that!" Hannah said, then stormed off, skirt swaying, flashing her panties again. * She does not notice, * Ben thought, sipping coffee.
Three years in a girls' school made panty glimpses common. Kiyone girls wore only panties under skirts, no tights or shorts, deemed unrefined by the school. A man's dream, but isolation kept it from others. Ben sat, mind racing. A young, healthy man, he felt desire. The girls' curves, legs, and colorful panties stirred him, though he hid it. * I pretend I see nothing, but it is in my head, * he thought.
Three years among beautiful girls, their sweet scents in classrooms, pushed his limits. * I am at my end, * he admitted. He had jerked off countless times to their flashes, especially Hannah's panties today. * Perfect for tonight, * he thought, ashamed but unstoppable. To protect himself and the girls, he considered resigning.
At the old staff dorm, a wooden two-story building, Ben lived alone. Other teachers used a newer dorm. His 1LDK apartment, with a shared bathhouse, suited a single man, though lonely. He checked mail, mostly junk, then found an unsigned letter, neatly written, asking to meet at 8 p.m. in the courtyard.
* A student needs me? * Ben thought, hopeful. * Maybe I will not resign. * A night meeting felt serious, but he could not ignore a student. He donned his discarded suit and left, unaware this would change everything.