Sweltings Academy

Chapter Six: Detention

It had been a week since I was punished for masturbating and then for having sex with Coach Marshal. It was still another week until my next appointment with Mr. Ash. A week of tortured, agonized fantasies that Aubrey's ministering hands and mouth could never quite assuage.

My mind wasn't exactly on my studies, so it wasn't much of a surprise to me when Coach Marshal asked me to stay after gym. I had run a very half-hearted mile. I came in dead last, mainly because I stopped to walk. We weren't supposed to, and I had a sinking feeling that he had seen me. All of the other girls had left for the afternoon, and I felt Coach Marshal studying me. I was a little uncomfortable. A week ago, he had reamed me with his massive cock, and I had begged him for it, even enjoyed it. But it did make things a little awkward in class.

"Harmony," he began. His voice cracked like a whip across the silence. "It took you twenty minutes to finish your mile. And I've gotta tell you, I was watching you most of the time. Maybe you don't remember, but a week ago, I was fucking you so hard that your tits bounced up and down. I like to watch them do that when you run. So it was really disappointing to see you stop and walk."

I was blushing bright red. When Mr. Ash said things like this to me, I felt so turned on. But with Coach Marshal, it was strange. I felt embarrassed and self-conscious. I felt a little flattered and aroused, but mostly just strange. I mumbled, "I'm sorry, sir."

He was glaring, and I felt his eyes settle on my chest. He licked his lips and squeezed his hands into fists. I shuddered with the strangeness of it. He growled, "Well, that's not good enough. I'm assigning you detention this evening at 6 in Room 318."

He turned and stalked out of the room, looking immensely frustrated. I sighed with relief. I had been sure he was about to force me to have sex with him again, but he had only given me detention. I remembered suddenly that he was not allowed to force me to have sex. Only Mr. Ash could do that. Detention wouldn't be so bad.

***

I arrived at room 318 at 5:55. Coach Marshal opened the door and ushered me inside. He ordered me to sit in a chair on the front row. He seated himself in a large, cushioned chair and propped his feet up on the teacher's desk. Then he ran his eyes up and down my body, mentally undressing me. I squirmed under his gaze, feeling intensely awkward.

"Okay, whore," he said. "We both know that a week ago, I fucked you and you loved it."

I lowered my eyelids and hoped that if I was silent, he would quit talking.

"You aren't going to answer me?"

I continued staring at my desk. I heard him get up and cross to stand behind me. He began stroking my hair as he leaned down to speak in my ear.

"Listen, slut, you are going to fucking cooperate with me. I saw what a good little girl you can be for Mr. Ash, and you are going to do the same for me. Now let's get something straight here. There are no surveillance cameras in the classrooms after hours. They are soundproof. No one knows we are here. And before you leave tonight, I'm probably going to fuck you again. If you're a good little whore, it will be nice. If you're not, you might not like it." He suddenly jerked my hair, pulling my head back so I couldn't avoid his eyes. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," I replied, feeling slightly queasy.

"Good. Now, you ignored two of my questions, so you lose two articles of clothing." He tore my shirt down the middle and then pulled off my bra. "I've been wanting to play with these tits again ever since you walked out the door," he commented. He grabbed one breast in each of his massive hands and squeezed roughly. I gasped in shock and pain, but a familiar tightening sensation began twisting low in my body. He began kneading the flesh of my tits firmly, and then he pinched the nipples between his fingers and began rolling them. I moaned, caught in a strange mixture of emotions--pain, pleasure, fear, disgust, arousal. He purred, "Talk to me, whore."

"Please, sir," I managed to utter, "Please don't do this. You know I'm not supposed to."

He released me. Then he pulled me to my feet and snapped, "That was the wrong answer, whore." He pulled me against him so that my ass was pressed against his straining cock. He encircled my waist with one arm of solid muscle. He jammed his other hand into my panties and cupped my pussy. I felt his fingers resting against the entrance to my cunt, and his palm cradled my clit. I moaned involuntarily, squeezing my thighs together to keep his hand there even though I knew I didn't want him to touch me. He laughed softly, maliciously. He fluttered his fingers and laughed again when I squirmed against him, clearly wanting him to touch me some more. "Harmony, you are wetter than Niagara Falls. Your whole body is begging me to fuck you. Now fucking admit it, or I might stop being so chivalrous."

I shook my head. Then I felt him pull off my skirt and panties. He threw me to the floor and pulled off his own pants. He slapped the right side of my face with his erection, and I moaned softly. What was going on? I actually wanted to suck it. I guess this was fortunate because the next thing I knew, he was pressing it against my lips. He grabbed my head and growled, "Blow me, bitch, or this is going to get ugly." I spread my lips over his rod, hesitantly. He rammed it farther into my mouth, and I heard myself moan as I began sucking and licking hungrily. I took as much of him as I could, although it wasn't everything. Even when I deep throated him the way Mr. Ash taught me, I couldn't take it all. I wrapped my hands around the base of his cock, pumping him firmly while I pulled my mouth along the rest of his shaft.

He pulled out, patted me on the head, and crooned, "That was real nice." I darted forward and took one of his balls in my mouth, licking it teasingly. He grunted, "Shit, girl. You're sure acting like you like this."

I blushed, feeling embarrassed, and lowered my eyes, hoping he would leave it alone, but knowing he wouldn't.

His voice was rough, commanding. "Tell me why you just acted like you like this, and it better be the truth."

I gulped, feeling terrified. He had a tone in his voice I'd never heard before. I felt him tense, but before he could do anything, I burst out, "Sir, I enjoyed sucking your cock. I liked the way it felt when you rammed it down my throat, and it turns me on that I couldn't take it all."

He smiled sinisterly, leering at me. "Yeah, that's right honey. You sucked it real good. You know what I think? I think you are obsessed with sucking dick. What do you think? Look at me and answer my question."

I looked up with my frightened eyes, but I quickly dropped them from his face. Before I managed to find the floor again, I found myself staring at his massive cock, unable to tear my eyes away. I gulped, and I knew my arousal was beginning to show in my eyes. I heard myself murmur huskily, "I think so, too." Then I crawled forward and took as much of him as I could in my mouth again. He was laughing, deep and appreciatively, and his reaction and the feel of him thudding into the back of my throat made me moan.

I was suddenly on fire with animal desire, and even though part of my mind was still screaming in protest, I couldn't seem to control my body. I slid my mouth off his cock and shakily got to my feet. Suddenly I was wrapped around him, pressing my tortured, hungry body against his hardness. Everything about him was big, and I wanted him to pummel me. I was panting and squirming against him, and within seconds, he had me pressed between him and the wall. I couldn't have moved away from him if I had wanted to, and I felt a shiver of pleasure. I wrapped my legs around his waist, completely humiliated but desperate to feel him inside me. My eyes locked on his, and I panted, "Fuck me Coach Marshal, fuck me hard... fuck me NOW!!"

And before he could respond, I impaled myself on his rod, moaning with pleasure. He flexed his hips slow but hard, and then he started talking. "Yeah, whore, I'll fuck your tight little cunt. You're such a bad girl, coming into detention and distracting me by sucking my cock, and then spreading your legs and sliding your wet little snatch onto my cock. Now you're moaning. I should've known you'd like it up against a wall. That's where sluts always to do it." His words made me feel slutty, but somehow the pressure of his cock inside me felt more delicious than anything I had ever experienced. I dug my nails into his back and wrapped my legs tighter around him, trying to take more of him inside me.

"You like it when I talk dirty to you, whore?" he grunted, with a more forceful thrust.

"Yeah," I gasped, and then moaned again. "Yes, God yes, it's so good, you feel so good..."

And then he began fucking me faster, like he was trying to nail me to the wall. I knew I was screaming something, probably his name, but all I could really concentrate on was the friction of him inside me and the pressure of the wall behind me. He lowered his head to capture one of my wildly flopping tits with his teeth, and he bit so hard that I knew there would be a bruise. I didn't care. I grabbed his head with one hand, never wanting him to stop. Then he grabbed my other nipple and twisted it violently, and I lost control. I came again and again, and I knew he was cumming inside me, too.

Our breathing slowed, and I clung to him like a limp rag doll. He stayed inside me, keeping me pinned against the wall. He was anything but relaxed. I knew he was spent sexually, but there was something else coming. Something I probably didn't want to know. The look in his eyes was triumphant.

"That was great, Harmony," he crooned. Then his eyes flicked across my satiated face to my spent body, which he still had complete control over. He absently massaged my tender breasts, and I moaned. He raised an eyebrow. "Obviously it was good for you, too. Although I expected it to be a little more difficult than that."

I blushed and looked away, trying to ignore the pleasure he was triggering by rolling my nipples through his fingers.

He continued. "Now, Harmony, I should tell you something. It's true that there were no surveillance cameras running, but I have one concealed right over there." He pointed to a plant across the room. Shit. "I have our entire discipline session on video. Of course, I could keep the part where you protest and tell me you don't want me to fuck you, but I think the part where you confess that you are addicted to sucking cock and the part where you throw yourself at me until I fuck you against this wall are a little more interesting. Things that could get you in big trouble with your beloved Mr. Ash. So I suggest that from now on, you do exactly what I tell you."

I gulped, choking on my panic. If Mr. Ash found out about this, he would be furious. He would take it personally. How could I have been so stupid as to let Coach Marshal manipulate me this way? Thoughts of things I had done in the past hour rushed over me, and I was so embarrassed at my own behavior I dropped my eyes from Coach Marshal's piercing stare. He was right. I had thrown myself at him, and I only had myself to blame for the video footage he was holding over me. "Yes, sir," I managed.

He pulled out then, and I collapsed in a heap on the floor. "Good girl," he sneered. "Now, tomorrow is Friday. You don't have any classes?"

Still petrified with humiliation, I responded. "No, sir. I don't have any classes tomorrow."

"Good. Then I will expect you to be in this room, under this desk, by 6 AM. That's when they turn on the surveillance cameras. You will need to stay under here and make sure no one sees you." He looked like he was hoping I would object.

I looked at him pleadingly, but all he did was look more excited. Finally, I sighed, and said, "Yes, sir. I will be here." What on earth was he going to do to me next??

***

At 7:30 the next morning, I was curled in a ball under Coach Marshal's desk. He wasn't here yet, and it wasn't the most comfortable place to be. There were handcuffs dangling from one of his desk drawers, and I was terrified that he might use them on me. I was exhausted and nervous and cramped and very sore from the vigorous fucking Coach Marshal administered yesterday. I had dragged myself out of bed at 4:30 this morning to make sure I had plenty of time to get ready. Somehow I figured Coach Marshal would expect me to look my best, even if he was planning to keep me tucked under his desk all day. Aubrey gave me a questioning, bleary-eyed look when I rolled out of bed and stumbled toward the shower, but I told her I was trying to make it to the library. She was already asleep before I finished my fabricated explanation.

The door clicked open, and I knew Coach Marshal had entered. He didn't say a word, but his testosterone washed through the room like a wave. I shivered, and I felt the blood rush to my sore pussy in memory of what he had done to me last night. It throbbed in a pleasurable way. I was horrified to see that my nipples were hardening at the thought of what Coach Marshal might decide to do to me today.

I heard him drop his stuff on the desk, never once glancing under it to see if I was there. Then a piece of paper fluttered to the ground in front of me, and he casually kicked it underneath. It had my name on it. I picked it up wordlessly and read it:

Morning Pussycat.

Just so we're clear, I've got you under this desk to be my sex slave. Whatever I tell you to do, you better do it without arguing and without noise. If you're a good little kitty, I'll reward you. If you're not, you'll be sorry.

Now when you've read this, take off your bra and panties and slide them under my rolling chair. Leave your shirt on if you want, but it better be unbuttoned. Then get on your hands and knees with that juicy cunt of yours facing my chair. You better be in position by the time I get over there.

I gulped, but I quickly followed the instructions, scrambling to remove my blue silk lingerie and then get in the position he required. Seconds later I heard him sit in his chair. He didn't do anything for a solid minute, but I could feel his eyes crawling all over me. Then I felt the pressure of his hands on my ass. He kneaded the flesh, and I bit my lip to stifle the moan I wanted to make. I stared fixedly at the wood grain in front of me, and I knew that to anyone who walked by, it would look like Coach Marshal was sitting at his desk, lost in thought. His hands moved lower, gripping my thighs and pulling. Realizing that he wanted me to spread my legs farther, I complied. My pussy was completely exposed, and I felt another spasm of pleasure and shame ripple through me. He reached his thumbs up and barely stroked my quivering pussy, and I shuddered with sudden desire. I couldn't believe he already had me ready to fuck him again. Thank God he couldn't see my face.

Suddenly he grabbed my hair, pulling my head back until he could easily reach my chin. He released my hair and turned my face so he could see it. He looked disgustingly self-satisfied, drunk on his own power. But somehow it made me want him more, even though I simultaneously hated him for doing this to me. At first I thought he just wanted to see the desire in my eyes, but then I realized with a start that he was holding something in his other hand. I closed my eyes in panic, hoping it would disappear. When I opened them again, he was still smirking and still holding the bottle. The bottle of solution Mr. Ash had used on me before Coach Marshal fucked me the first time. Oh God. This was not going to go well at all.

I watched as Coach Marshal deliberately unscrewed the cap and coated his index finger with the solution. Suddenly he pounded the finger into my aching cunt, and I gasped audibly. The walls of my pussy clenched around his finger, trying to keep him there. He twisted his finger back and forth, distributing the aphrodisiac solution deep inside me. Then he withdrew his finger, and I wanted to whimper with need. I heard the swishing sound of him rubbing his hands together and knew this was about to get worse. A pen hit the floor behind me, and I had a feeling this was going to give him the excuse to get down in the floor with me. Then I felt his hands cup my dangling breasts. He squeezed them roughly, then released them and stood up again. My skin was on fire. He had slathered my breasts with the solution. And finally, he wiped the excess solution across my clit. My entire body was a sheet of desire.

Then I heard his footsteps walking to the door. The door clicked, and Coach Marshal walked out. I gritted my teeth, wanting to howl with sexual need. And there was no way he was going to relieve me. What was he doing??

At 8:00, the bell rang, and Coach Marshal re-entered. He was bantering with his first period Health class. The sleepy voices of my friends and classmates penetrated the wood barrier, and even though it was a thick wood barrier, it didn't feel thick enough. I felt horrifyingly exposed. If any of them happened to walk behind Coach Marshal's desk, they would see me crouching there, exposing my dripping pussy to his lecherous gaze, obviously starving for the rough thrusts that could bring me satisfaction. If Mr. Ash ever found out about this, I was dead.

After about five minutes, Mr. Ash gave the class a reading assignment and went to sit behind his desk. He dropped a piece of paper where I could read it: "Pussycat, you can sit up now. And then you can suck my dick. Or I can show Mr. Ash the video."

It was a sign of my desperation that I felt relief. I wanted to suck Coach Marshal's cock. Desperately.

I silently changed my position so that I was on my knees facing him. As soon as I moved off my hands and knees, he edged his chair closer to the desk so that I could only see him from his hips down. I shivered in anticipation. I was surrounded by his jean-clad legs, and the smell of him was intoxicating. I reached up and silently unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. I tugged on the waistband, and he lifted his hips slightly so that I could pull them down. I couldn't get them off over his shoes, so I left them in a pool around his ankles and I crawled underneath them so that I was incredibly close to his half-erect rod. Suddenly it crossed my mind that he must have done this before with other girls or he would be more than half-erect.

I reached up to stroke him through his boxers. His fabric-covered prick felt amazing in my hand, and I stroked it up and down two or three times. Then I let go and brought my face in close. I pulled my lips into two firm lines and used them to nibble gently through the fabric. He shivered. Wanting to taste his skin, I planted a trail of kisses on the soft fabric until I came to the waistband. I flicked my tongue out between the elastic and his hard, toned waist, tasting the salt of his skin. I sucked gently on the tender skin there. I wanted to dip my tongue into his belly button, but I couldn't reach it without hitting my head. Instead I settled for letting my fingers trail up under his shirt and trail over the skin there, drinking it in. He let me explore him for a moment before gripping my hands in his and forcing them down to the waist of his boxers. Without further coercion, I pulled those down to pool with his jeans.

His delicious cock--now more than half-hard--was standing proudly, tantalizing me. A drop of pre-cum glistened on the head like a pearl. I touched him almost reverently, positioning a thumb on either side of the shaft of his cock and stroking softly. Then I leaned forward slowly and licked the pre-cum off the head of his shaft. I heard him inhale sharply. I wondered if the other girls had aroused him this much. Then I wondered why I cared. I wasn't supposed to be enjoying this.