With a sigh I closed the folder, moved it to the ‘graded’ pile, and opened the next one. I’d stayed late to catch up the grading; despite bringing them home each night I’d gotten little done, and I had several folders of work to grade before the end of the week. I’d gotten through two so far and was starting to feel rumblings of hunger. One more, then I would finish the rest tonight after eating. I was mulling over dinner choices in my head, determining preparation times and balancing my appetite against grading time when a knock disrupted my musings. I turned to the door to see Miss Winslow there.
"I'm sorry to disturb you, Mr. Fletcher."
I looked at her anew and saw the young self-minded girl instead of the willful, disruptive seductress she presented herself as in my class. There had been no further incidents of challenging taunts since her behavior lesson two weeks before. Nor had there been any additional 'attitude adjustment' session to keep her in her place. She had been well behaved and studious in every class, respectful and attentive. The 'session' had not been mentioned by her and, apparently, the rest of the class had been able to keep stories of it between themselves.
The days of unbearable fear of discovery and dismissal and scandal had dwindled to a dull ache in the pit of my stomach. I regretted losing my temper, losing my control. It was unprofessional and a direct violation of school policy, not to mention public standards. I'd taught my classes, prepared my lessons, remained aloof and impersonal, hoping for the best and expecting the worst, learning to live with the knot of fear that dwindled each day. But I’d been distracted from grading and the work had piled up.
Seeing her there, the knot returned to full size, along with my excitement at the memory of her. Panic and thrill charged through me, causing an involuntary shudder.
"Miss Winslow," I managed. "Why, uhm," I stammered, unsuccessfully trying to maintain control, "what are you doing...I mean, uh, what brings you here?"
She slipped into the room and allowed the door to close behind her. I glanced nervously at her and the glass door panel she stood framed in. Anyone could see in if they happened by. It was long after hours and not likely, but still, if someone walked by, saw us…
"I wanted to ask," she said, stepping tentatively forward in baby steps. "That is, I wanted to know something. Ask something," she amended.
I pushed the chair back, inflating myself into full teacher mode, adding proper authority to my voice. In the back of my mind ideas raged in conflict; one, of her complaint against me, the other of her need for more. Cold sweat prickled my skin in places I didn't wear deodorant.
"Yes?" I asked helpfully, prodding. She lowered her head and looked up from under lidded eyes. A look I knew and recognized. The last time I'd seen it she'd been looking up at me, her mouth filled with my cock. Or had it been when she was eating her classmate's pussy?
"I wanted to apologize," she stammered. "I know I've been...uhm...troublesome...you know...in the past..." She trailed off, her words slipping to whispers. I realized then that she was as nervous, maybe more nervous than I was. It fed my ego and I strutted my position of power.
"Yes, that's true," I said, not mentioning her corrective behavior adjustment. She looked me squarely in the eyes and her look told me she was recalling those events just as I was.
"I...I've tried to be better, to be more..." Her expression said she was struggling for the word.
"Appropriate?" I asked, lifting an eyebrow and cocking my head. Inside my pants, my other head cocked with me. Damn him! I thought. But with irrational impulse borne of desire that made me bolder than I felt I turned my chair, pointing my knees in her direction.
"Yes, sir," she squeaked timidly. She shrugged her shoulders and the innocent schoolgirl impression slid off her like a discarded cloak to reveal the sexual dynamo dressed in a school uniform, all sultry desire and lust packaged inside her young, beautiful frame. I began to question her stated reason for coming here after school, hoping and longing battling with my fear of reprisal.
"I've never had a student like you before, you know," I commented, and she graced me with a blushing smile. "Such potential and brilliance in someone so young and beautiful," I continued, emboldened, "but wrapped in defiance and confrontation."
"I know," she whispered, holding her position halfway between my chair and the closed door. "I have a...challenging streak. Sometimes I just...can't control it."
"You've done very well these last few weeks, I have to admit," I observed. "Understand that I believe that questioning authority is a good trait." My heart leapt to my throat as her head lifted and her bright eyes sparkled with excitement. "I don't want to crush it out of you, not at all." I leaned forward in my seat. "It is how you express your defiance that irks me." I pointed a finger at her. "When you become disruptive."
Admonishment crossed her expression but only for a flash. "I don't mean to be disruptive, Mr. Fletcher, really I don't." The momentary shame was replaced with eagerness. "And I've tried, you've seen it, you said so."
"Yes, there has been a marked improvement in your behavior." I paused, considering my next words. "Since your...uhm...behavior adjustment."
Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly. My cock throbbed to full mast, tenting my pants. I opened my legs wider and she didn't balk or run. There had been no threats nor hint of complaint, and my libido raced in front of my sense, firing my imagination. Fuck, I want her!
"Yes, sir, I've tried," she stammered, her eyes glancing at the obvious mound below my belt. "I don't think I can do it alone, though," she finished in a near-whisper. Was she going to ask for further correction? I trembled with excitement. "I need help, Mr. Fletcher." Her eyes lifted to mine, shining brightly, her lips slightly parted in a sensuous pout. "It's so hard..." She trailed off.
I felt a grin creep across my face even as my legs parted. I watched her eyes drop down to the impressive bulge I was sporting.
"Why, yes, Miss Winslow," I sneered, "it's very hard." I heard her breath catch. The little minx! She knew exactly what I meant! "So tell me, Miss Winslow, what can I do for you today?" I eased myself slowly out of the chair and stood, my erect cock obvious and pointing at her as if it were a divining rod.
"I feel," she stammered, her eyes flashing from my crotch to my face. "Powerless. Helpless." Her teeth clenched and she took a deep breath. "Unable to stop myself, Mr. Fletcher."
I took a menacing step towards her. "Miss Winslow," I warned tersely, "if you can't be more specific," I continued, reaching for my zip and pulling it slowly down, "perhaps you need something to improve your focus?" I reached in through the fly in my boxer briefs and worked my cock out, hearing her gasp as it bounced free. I stood there with my erection jutting out at her. A moment of residual panic swept me as I watched her, frozen to the spot, staring at my swollen member. I swallowed the fear and took the initiative, knowing I was right about her.
"Now tell me, Miss Winslow," I growled, "what exactly do you want from me?" Her head lifted and her eyes met mine again, glittering wetly. As I gazed into her seductive countenance the corners of her eyes crinkled and her lips curled at the corners. This , I thought, this is the girl! This is the one who wants what she wants, takes what she is told to take, and loves it. This is the one I wanted, the one I remember from that day....
"I need help behaving," she croaked in a lovely, throaty whisper. "Guidance, like last time."
"More specific," I commanded.
She inhaled shakily. "I need you to fuck me," she cooed.
As though she were in charge! I grabbed my cock and motioned it at her. "Show me, then," I told her. "Show me your cunt." Her lips parted to allow a sharp breath. "Show me how wet you are, you devilish slut!"
Her lids flickered as her eyes rolled partway up into her head and her jaw slackened as she released the breath. Her hands found the bottom edge of her skirt and she lifted it, raising it slowly up her firm, bare thighs. Her head lolled slightly to the side as the fabric cleared the pale juncture of thigh and hip, pausing a second with just the hint of pantiless shaved lips exposed, then continued up showing the rest of her perfect slit and bulging clit hood.
I nearly swooned. Fuck .
I gazed longingly at her pussy, moisture glistening delicately between her lips, her delicious flesh swollen and plump. I shook my head and regained control of the situation.
"Your fingers," I told her, recalling the energizing power of exerting authority over her. "Put your fingers in your cunt."
She released the skirt with one hand, holding it up with the other, and trailed her free fingers lightly across her slit. "Why should I?" she asked coyly, adding a teasing lilt of innocence that belied her display.
"Miss Winslow!" I barked sharply. "You're too smart to act dumb!" I lowered my voice to a growl. "Or perhaps you'd like me to bend you over the desk and fuck you stupid?"
Her eyes closed and she practically collapsed to her knees in euphoria, skirt raised, thighs spread wide and moaning loudly as she shoved three manicured fingers inside herself, stretching her lips around her hand, her wrist flexing as she pushed them in, hard. I stepped closer, grabbed her hair and angled her head back. Her mouth dropped open giving me a brief glimpse of her tongue stud and I eased my cock inside.
"There's a good girl," I moaned, "take my cock while you fuck yourself." I looked up at the door. The glass panel was wide open. It was after hours, but the school wasn't deserted.
