I could hear his footsteps, I was hyper-aware of Mr. Christiansen coming up behind me -- and furthermore, he knew that I knew he was there. Though he didn't touch me, I could feel his hand ghosting around the curve of my ass.
"Good Morning, Mr. Christiansen," I said in a voice so calm I deserved an Oscar, "did you have a good summer?"
Abruptly, I felt his hand come down on my ass, a hard slap that made me jump in surprise. Then I saw, out of the corner of my eye, him drop his brief case next to his desk in preparation.
"How on Earth was I supposed to have a pleasant summer, Miss Gavin? When I knew that what is mine was being paraded around every day in nothing but a sports bra and tiny, slutty shorts?" his voice was as calm as mine, but I could hear the rage simmering underneath.
I was confused by what he meant, and I made the mistake of trying to stand upright. I tried to move, but as soon as I started to turn, his chest was pressed into my back, his iron-hard forearms wrapped around my middle in an unbreakable embrace.
"The classroom in which we had our in-service days gave me a perfect view of the field hockey field. I watched you spend hours running, practically naked, for anyone to see. The way you poured your water bottles on each other was downright pornographic, and now you're trying to move without me telling you to do so. I'm going to teach you a lesson, Miss. Gavin. Can you guess what it is?"
His hot breath on my ear was causing me to shiver, and when I took too long to answer he bit down on my lobe -- hard.
"I'm yours," I gasped at the pain and the arousal it caused. "That's the lesson -- that I'm yours." He quickly sucked on the bite, easing the sting, before he stepped back.
"Very good. Though, I'm afraid, that won't get you out of your punishment. Now lift up that skirt and bend over the desk like a good girl."
Shakily, I pulled my skirt up and resumed my position. I heard him let out a low groan at the sight of me bent over in a g-string and knee highs, before his pale, long-fingered hand snaked into view, picking up the ruler off his desk.
"Moan for me, Miss. Gavin."
The ruler came down across my ass, hard enough that I felt the sting, but pleasurable enough that I felt liquid pooling in my g-string.
He brought it down twice more, and by the third time, I had to bite my lip to muffle my moan. Mr. Christiansen paused, knowing I had held back.
"You're going to defy me, then? If you keep that up, I'll hold off your release until you're begging me on your fucking knees."
The ruler was brought down six more times, and by then I was desperate to rub my legs together -- anything to ease the throbbing between them.
"Are you wet for me, Miss. Gavin?"
"Ye-yes, Mr. Christiansen" That most definitely came out as a moan.
"Hmm. Let's see, shall we?" Then he brought the ruler up between my legs and lightly spanked my clit.
The moan I let out this time was apparently loud enough to satisfy him, because abruptly he was pressed over me, his hard length against my ass.
I could feel his hand running along the inside of my thigh, and then two of his fingers were running up and down my slit through the soaking fabric of my g-string.
"P-please Mr. Christiansen." I begged, even as my hips bucked, trying to get his fingers to do something, anything, more.
"Say it. Say it and I'll give you what your young, tight little cunt has been begging for." He was placing wet kisses against the back of my neck as he spoke, and I could feel him rubbing himself against the curve of my ass.
"I'm yours. Always yours."
The second I let out the declaration, he was spreading me open, though still confined to my g-string. He began rubbing my clit ever so lightly with his finger as he bit down hard on the back of my neck, a perfect mix between pleasure and pain. I moaned so loudly that they could probably hear me throughout the entire building, and began rubbing my hips in time with the strokes of his finger.
His thumb replaced his finger on my clit, and then his finger was pushing my g-string aside and sinking into my wet, aching center. A second finger roughly joined the first, pumping in and out of me while still rubbing my clit with his thumb.
"Mmm, you're so hot and tight, I can't wait to feel you around my cock."
His words, combined with him curling his fingers inside of me, was creating the wonderful building of tension in my stomach, and I knew I was close to climaxing.
Mr. Christiansen leaned in and whispered in my ear, "Good girl. Cum for me. Make this slutty little cunt cum all over my fingers."
Then he pinched my clit, and I was suddenly tightening around his fingers, biting my lip so hard to keep from screaming that I drew blood.
As I came down off my high, I registered that he was still rubbing against me, and I knew the pleasure was far from over. When I heard him fiddling with his belt buckle, my suspicions were confirmed.
"Now, I'm going to fuck you while you're bent over this desk. And it'll be so hard you'll be seeing fucking stars."
"It's 6:30am and another bright and sunny morning here in the greater Hartford area..."
And that's how I woke up almost every morning over the summer.
This particular morning was different, though. Summer was officially over, and it was the first day of school. I would be seeing Mr. Christiansen every day again. One would think I'd be excited, anxious even, to get up and ready for the day. But I hadn't seen him since the night of Cotillion. When he didn't try to contact me right away, I was mildly insulted. After a few weeks, I was disappointed and I questioned myself A LOT. By the time I started field hockey, and began seeing his car among others in the faculty parking lot, I was a little pissed, but decided to move on. I couldn't let my personal feelings get in the way of my senior year, in the way of Yale.
Of course I wasn't so 'over it' that I made sure I looked especially good as I got ready for school. The summer sun had been kind to me, leaving my skin with a tan glow and highlights in my already blonde hair. After I put on my uniform, I slipped on my regulation 2 inch heels and headed out the door to get coffee before my first class.
I was pleased with my schedule, and happy I wouldn't have to see Mr. Christiansen until just before lunch. I'd had most of my teachers before, and listening to them drone on about the syllabus was just too boring when I had other things on my mind.
I double checked my appearance in the bathroom before I hesitantly headed for third block. I focused on keeping my breathing in check as I approached his classroom door. There were a few others in front of me walking toward the same door, so I hoped I would be able to just sneak in quietly, without grabbing his attention.
No such luck.
He was leaning against the edge of his desk, facing all of us when he addressed me.
"Good morning, Miss Gavin. How was your summer?"
It was frustrating, unsatisfying and disappointing, Mr. Christiansen, how was yours?
"It was fine, sir. How was yours?" I responded noncommittally, refusing to look at him.