Here is a second installment in my Mick and Missy's story. I wrote this as a gift for a special person. All characters in this story are fictional.
I have had fun writing this story about a student that deliberately mocks and humiliates his teacher using her own language to subjugate and dominate her. This is a very special education.
Enjoy,
xantu
<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3
Miss Smith sat at her desk, the cap of her red pen trapped between her lips. She looked down at the letter in her hands. She frowned when she noticed that she had crumpled it a little, and it was damp from the sweat of her hand. The red A+ marked on the top was probably a little more than this letter deserved. The spelling and sentence structure was excellent. It ought to be, she had written it. But the continuity of thought, the subtle use of language and innuendo, that had been all Mick. She wondered how he had managed to hide this eloquence, this maturity of thought from her and the rest of his teachers.
Mick Britton had depths that surprised her. Surprised and completely captivated her. Mature beyond his nineteen years, he had taken control of her in ways she had not thought possible. Her whole body still resonated with the emotions and sensations of the "lesson" he had given her yesterday. In his letter he said he would be back tonight to teach her again. He had said he knew she would be here waiting. While a small voice was screaming in the back of her head that this was crazy and dangerous, there had been no question. He was right.
Miss Smith looked at the clock. It was almost time for him to arrive. She looked down at the coat dress she had worn to work that day. A tiny embarrassed smile flickered across her lips. She had taught English Composition to high school seniors all day with this dowdy, neck to almost ankles, dress on and under it was a naughty school girl costume she had spent half the night putting together. Leaning down she took the white knee socks and saddle shoes out of her desk and pulled them on. When she sat back up, he was standing in the doorway. He had not knocked. She knew he would never knock on her door again. After all, he was the teacher now.
Instinctively she stood, knowing she should not sit when he was standing there in the door way.
Mick's eyes were disapproving. "I instructed you to wear a more appropriate uniform."
Her voice was breathless, "Yes Mick Sir." Her fingers found the belt of her dress and pulled it loose, and then one by one she unbuttoned the buttons running down the length of the long concealing dress. She let the heavy cotton dress fall to the floor and stood before him. She wore a tight white cotton blouse with a little tie that hung down over her breasts as they strained against the tight fabric.
Mick nodded and curled a finger at her, beckoning for her to come out from behind her desk. "Come out from behind there missy. Let me see you."
Miss Smith could feel her face heating and knew she must be bright red. She stepped out from behind her desk revealing the plaid skirt. She had spent almost two hours hemming the endless pleats so that it barely came down over the curve of her butt. Her white ruffled panties would show if she bent over at all.
Casually dropping a duffle bag he had hanging over his shoulder; Mick gestured for her to turn around. "I should have guessed you would take my instructions of wearing a uniform literally Miss Smith. The knee socks and saddle shoes give the whole thing an amusing twist of authenticity."
Mick stepped close, his chest almost touching hers. She could feel the heat emanating from his skin. He reached up and pulled a pin from her hair, and then another. "Next time missy, have your hair down as you wait for me." A long shudder of excitement shook her, and she nodded feeling her heavy hair slip down her neck and fall down her back. The words 'next time' echoed around inside her head.
He ran his hand through her thick wavy hair. "Missy, turn around and lean over. Put your face down on your desk."
A tiny whimper leaked from her as she complied. Long nervous shivers of anticipation began to make her legs quiver. Mick lifted her skirt and made an approving sound. The ruffled white panties were high cut, almost a thong. The cheeks of her ass were almost completely bare, separated by the smallest triangle of lacy white ruffles. "I like your choice in underwear missy. They go perfectly with the uniform. I am looking forward to seeing your bra." He began to slowly gently stroke her exposed bottom. "I can see the reminders of yesterday's lesson. I am sure we can add to them today. I am sure you will excel in your studies."
Miss Smith quivered and shivered under his hand. His voice seemed deeper and more compelling. "Missy it is important that you always answer my questions and that you tell me the truth. Do you understand?"
Miss Smith nodded, "Yes Mick Sir."
"When is the last time you got fucked."
She hunched her shoulders up around her ears at his coarse words. She mumbled, "Um... um... ten years? No, twelve years ago." That fact shocked her. It couldn't have been that long. He had been the love of her life. They were going to get married. Then he was gone. He had been a police officer. A sad little crazy man had shot him to death. She had never let herself fall in love again.
"Are you on birth control?"
"No."
"You will start. I refuse to put a brat in your belly."
Again she cringed at the anger and crudity. It seemed like there were two people inside this boy, Micky, the angry inarticulate crude teenager and Mick, the man in control. It was Mick that exuded authority and confidence. Either way she knew she agreed completely. She did not want to even contemplate the chance of conceiving a child with this boy or anyone else for that matter. "Yes Mick Sir."