She wakes and looks at the clock. It is 8:35 a.m. It is Friday, her free day. She rolls over to find a note on the pillow next to her. She reads the note:
Dear Student,
You have an assignment to complete today. You will find it on the entry table. Be at your desk promptly at 6 p.m. Remember that dress codes are strictly enforced in my class. Be dressed in your proper school attire and have your assignment completed. There will be an inspection of both you and your homework.
Firmly,
Head Master
Reading the note both thrills her and fills her with angst. She knows that his assignments can be trying at times. He knows all of her fears and insecurities and sometimes uses them to her disadvantage. Perhaps the fear is part of the thrill.
She goes downstairs to find the workbook and her pencil box resting on top of her book bag.
Picking up the workbook,
"Great! Math," she says, thinking he knows how much she hate it.
Opening the workbook, she sees a note inserted between the pages:
Student,
Complete pages 35-45.
Head Master
She turns to the assigned pages, "Fractions!"
She hears her cell phone ringing upstairs and races to answer it. However, it goes to voice mail before she can get to it. She picks up the phone and sees that it is from him.
She retrieves the message: "Don't try getting out of the assignment. I expect it to be done when I see you at 6."
She set the alarm on the phone for 1 and 4:30 p.m., and then continues with her day.
When the first alarm goes off, she heads to the bedroom with her workbook in hand and climbs onto the bed. She turns on her computer, reads her e-mail, looks at her Facebook page, checks IM, re-checks her e-mail and surfs a couple of web sites, and before she knows it, 40 minutes have passed.
Pulling her hair into a ponytail, she opens the workbook. Turning to her assignment, she gets a pencil from the pencil box and begins. The first set of problems goes fairly well, then they gets more difficult. She turns to the back of the workbook to see if there are answers to the problems. There are! She searches the pages only to find that he has removed the ones with the answers she needs.
"Grrr."
Again, she checks her e-mail, hoping that he will send mail telling her of alternative plans for this evening. Nothing!
Sighing, she turns her attention back to the problems in the book. As she struggles with the problems, the frustration begins to build. She grinds her eraser down to a nub, eliminating what she believes are mistakes and then she tries again. Between problems, she checks her e-mail. Maybe this time, he will have e-mailed her. Again nothing.
The second alarm goes off. It is 4:30 p.m., and she has a little more then half the assignment completed. However, she knows it is more important to be at her desk at 6, ready for class than to have the assignment completed. Moreover, if she hurries she can work on it after she is showered and dressed.
Putting the workbook aside, she lays out her outfit for this evening: Tartan pleated skirt, primarily dark green; white blouse with the school crest, white knee socks, brown-and-white saddle shoes, white cotton boy shorts, a simple white bra and a dark green cardigan sweater.
The outfit had been purchased at a uniform store in authentic school colors of a local Catholic school. He had sent her to the uniform store with a list of items to buy. He had instructed her to ask for assistance from the sales staff, and she had been required to explain that the outfit was for her. She remembers her embarrassment and arousal as she asked for assistance and his smile, later that evening, when she told him of the experience. He had praised her and called her "good girl." The thought of his praise for following his instructions puts a smile on her face and warmth between her legs.
Removing her clothes, she climbs into the shower. She washes her hair and body and then begins to shave her pussy. She generally shaves every other day as he enjoys a smooth pussy and therefore there isn't much to shave. She applies a generous amount of shaving cream to her pussy between her legs. Taking the razor in hand, she strokes it against the hair growth. In a few strokes, she has removed the shaving cream. Applying more shaving cream, she makes a second pass with the razor; she wants to be very smooth for him. Perhaps it will make up for the incomplete assignment.
She shuts off the water and grabs a towel. She dries her body and gently pats her pussy dry. Exiting the shower, she gets a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She loves having a smooth pussy. Taking a bottle of baby oil from the counter, she applies some oil to her pussy lips to soothe them. As she applies it, she feels herself become wet and her clit swells. She aches to come. However, she knows she should wait for this evening. She dries her hair and pulls it into a ponytail.
Pulling on the boy shorts, she feels the soft cloth against her smooth skin. In the mirror, she can see the faint outline of her pussy under the cloth. Next, she puts on the bra and the blouse and then the skirt. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she puts on her socks and shoes.
She looks at the clock; it is only 5:10. She has 50 minutes to do the rest of the assignment.
She lays across the bed on her belly, propped up on her elbows with her work spread out in front of her. This is also her favorite position for getting fucked by him. The power of his presence hovers over her with his hands in her hair or around her throat, each of his thrusts forcing himself into her deep and hard.
She catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror and she is reminded how young she can look and of the time at the Folsom Street Fair when several people had asked if she was interested in age play. The attention she garnered from others reinforced his desire for her. When they'd returned home that afternoon, he had simply taken her as they entered the loft. No words. He had just fucked her. That was the first of many times that he would fuck her in a plaid skirt.
Lying there on the bed kicking her feet, she thinks that perhaps she should disobey him and let him catch her here in the bedroom. Perhaps he would find her so cute and scholastic that he would just take her there. Fuck her, use her and release her from the assignment.
She hears the front door open and someone enters. He is home. It is 5:55 p.m., and she waits for him to come upstairs. A few minutes pass and he has yet to come upstairs. She realizes that he is not going to. She throws her sweater on, picks up her workbook and pencil case and places them in her book bag and races downstairs to beat the bell.
As she flies down the stairs, the bell begins to ring. She enters the classroom, and sees him seated at his desk. The bell goes silent just before she slides her butt into her desk. She quickly places her book-bag under her seat and comes to attention.
"Tardy. Not a very good way to start class." he scolds, as he pulls out his roll book.
"I was trying to finish up."
"No excuses. What time are you supposed to be at your desk?" he asks as he writes something in the roll book.
"6 p.m. Sir." she replies.
"Yes. 6 p.m. Not 6:01. Not 6:00:01. 6 p.m. sharp. I expect better from you. This has been noted in your permanent record. Do not let it happen again."
"It will not happen again, Sir," she replies.
She adjusts herself in her seat, taking care to sit up straight.
Their desks face each other, separated by about 6 feet. He is seated at a large wooden desk and she at an old wooden school desk.
He clears his voice.
"Please bring up your assignment," he says.
Retrieving the workbook from her book bag, she walks over to his desk and hands it to him. Taking off her sweater, she returns to her desk, placing her sweater over the chair back before taking her seat.
He pulls the answer sheets from his briefcase and begins checking her work. With a red pen, he marks up her assignment.
"Seems you have issues with some of the problems," he says.
She pulls a tube of lip-gloss out of her book bag. As she applies the gloss, he looks up from her workbook, and she parts her legs as she squirms in her seat. It's not much of a peek, but she knows this has caught his attention.
He stands, with the workbook in hand and walks to the back of the room. She tracks him with her eyes as he walks, craning her neck in order to keep him in view.
As he turns, he snaps, "Eyes forward."
She quickly straightens up and looks straight ahead.
She hears him walking towards her. Nervous, she fidgets with her hair, and with the faint scent of his clean skin, she feels his presence.
She is startled by the sound of the workbook slapping onto the desk. He places one hand on the back of her chair and the other on the desk and leans down, placing his face a few inches away from hers. As she turns toward him, she must lean back to avoid brushing against him.
"I am very disappointed in you. You had all day to complete 10 pages. What is that, 20 problems? Yet you completed only just over half, and a third of those are wrong!"
She looks down at the desk as he admonishes her. She knows that she has failed. However, she is forced to reposition herself as she feels the warmth of arousal begin between her legs. If she had completed the assignment, he would have praised her. His praise would have made her happy and would have also resulted in her arousal.
"I just ran out of time. I spent over 3 hours," she replies.
"Perhaps you should have spent 6 hours on your assignment instead of wasting time surfing the Internet and checking your e-mail every 10 minutes," he scolds her.
He stands. Turning his back on her, he walks back to his desk. He turns towards her and leans back as he sits on the edge of his desk.
His voice has softened and taken on a tone of concern.
"I know you don't lack the intelligence to solve these problems. You just need the confidence and discipline to solve them. I have nothing planned for this evening. We can just stay here until you finish the assignment."
She huffs.
Returning to his seat, he retrieves a newspaper from his briefcase. She looks at him, puzzled.
"Finish your assignment." He buries his face in the paper.
She opens the workbook and takes out a pencil. She did have trouble with the assignment. She opens the workbook and begins to work on the problems. As she struggles, she huffs and puffs, attempting to gain his attention. However, he ignores her.
This frustrates her even more. She wants his attention. Good or bad, that is what she craves. His attention. A hug, a kiss, a slap, his cock. It doesn't matter. His lack of attention is the greatest punishment she can imagine.
She clears her throat in an attempt to gain his attention. Nothing. Again, she clears it.
He looks over his newspaper, "Yes."
"I am having trouble with one of the word problems."
"Come up here. Let's have a look."
Rising, she makes sure to flash him some white from between her legs.
As she walks over to him, he folds up his paper and places it on the desk. She places her workbook on the desk and opens it to the problem she is working on. Leaning over, her hair falls forward. Her fidgeting has left her ponytail loose. Removing the scrunchy from her hair, she straightens her posture and tips her head back to gather her hair into a ponytail.
As she finishes, she sees him looking up at her. She smiles, and there is a strangely awkward moment between them. Is this just a game?
She leans down, positioning herself on her elbows. This causes her back to arch and forces her ass out, hiking up her skirt in back.
"Which problem is giving you trouble?"
"This one," she points to the problem in the workbook. "It is the word problems I hate."
"Read it aloud to me."
"Do I have to?"
"Yes."
She is nervous but she begins to read.
"Kathy is riding her bicycle on the bike trail around the lake. She rides 25 minutes and travels 8 1/3 miles."
As she reads, he places his hand on the inside of her thigh. She stammers with his touch and then regains her composure.
"She takes a 10-minute rest and then rides another 50 minutes and covers 14 1/2 miles."
Glancing down, she sees his eyes. Those eyes. The ones that show compassion and concern when needed and flash "you will be sucking my cock later" when they are out for the evening. This evening, his eyes are the strict and stern. With his glance, she feels her pussy become wet.
"Continue," he says.
She clears her voice. "What was her average speed for..."
A lack of attention can be detected in her voice.
"Is there a problem?" he asks as he slides his hand up her thigh.
"No. Sir," she continues with the reading.
"What was her average speed for the entire trip in miles per hour? Include the time she rested"
She feels his hands just barely touching the cotton covering her pussy. She responds by slightly rolling her hips, pressing his hand into her, and she can feel her arousal increase and she begins to throb.
Her thoughts flow from reading the problem to wanting him to fuck her and release her from the task at hand, wanting him to push her belly flat to the desk and take her from behind.
He slowly pushes her shorts aside, and she feels the rush of cool air and the warm probing of his finger.
"I want you read it again. Slower this time. Stop at each number and circle it."
Her face has become flushed but, obediently, she starts to read the problem again.
