Classwor

The bell announced the completion of my second week as a teacher. It was not my intent to teach high school students, but with the times being what they are, I accepted the only job I could find.

"Miss Parker?"

The voice made me jump. I must have phased out there for a bit. When did the door to my room get closed? Why did the school seem so empty? The voice belonged to Darren Sloop. He sat in the middle desk of the third row. Aside from roll, I don't think I'd ever heard him talk.

"Miss Parker, do you have a moment?"

"Sure Darren, go ahead."

"Do you think we have a true self or do we just meet the expectations of our roles?"

"I'm not sure. What do you mean?" I'm usually not interested in pseudo-intellectual conversations. Being new in town I didn't have any friends. With the bustle of moving and starting a new job, I hadn't had time to make any. This was the closest to an adult conversation I'd had in quite a while, so I thought I'd humor him.

"Well, when you are around your parents you most likely behave differently than around your friends. Their concept of you most likely centers on your behavior from when they met you. Compared to your parents concept; you are still their child no matter the age. If you were teaching elementary school your approach to your class would be different than what it is now. You were more strict with us your first week, just to set the tone, to define our roles. Would you agree with that?"

"Yes, I think that's fair." He was right. I had been more rigid than normal my first few days. I hadn't thought it was that obvious.

"What if I had a role for you? Do you think you would adapt to fulfill it?"

"Yes, I want to be the best possible teacher I can."

"I'm sure you will. You will also be my personal slut."

"That's not funny. Since it's just us, I'll cut you a break this time and not report you. I don't want to hear that word again from you and I think it's time you leave." I stood and moved towards the door.

"Teach my cock."

I spun to face him. Well, so much for having a good first two weeks. "OK, that's it. You've gone too far. We are going to the office right now. I don't want you in my class-" My indignant speech was cut short when I stuffed his cock into my mouth. On my second bob I looked up into his eyes. He smiled and gave me a little wave. I was topless, on my knees, my hands were behind my back, and he hadn't lifted a finger. On my third trip down I took as much of him as I could while making little mewling noises. It didn't take me long to find a rhythm. I'd only pull off completely to leave strings of saliva from his cock to my lips, and to tell him how great his cock was. His hand slid behind my head, pulled me forward, and I could feel him shooting down my throat. He softened and slowly withdrew from my mouth. I'd kept my hands behind my back the whole time. I was trying to regain my breath when he gave me an appraising look.

"Grab your desk."

I stood up, walked to the short side of my desk, unfastened my pants, slid them down over my hips, spread my feet to shoulder width, and bent over my desk. I placed my elbows on the top, pressed my palms down on the surface, looked straight ahead, and arched my back. I could feel him running his hand up the back of my leg. He started at my calf and worked slowly upward.

"Time for some rules. I bet you are feeling a bit overwhelmed, so we'll start slow. From this point on you will call me Mr. Sloop. We really need to improve your underwear selection. To be sexy you need to feel sexy, and I don't see how these help. On Monday I expect to see in you in something pretty, the tinier the better. Your bras and panties should always match. Oh and all your bras should be front hook ones."

He moved my feet together and slid my underwear down my legs. Then he proceeded to step me out of my clothes. I found I couldn't resist him while he manipulated my body. He opened my desk drawer, took out a black Sharpie, and put it in my right hand.

"Sign and date these, I'm going to keep them as a memento."

I frowned as he placed my panties in front of me. They were my favorite pair, and I thought they were cute. When I was done he moved behind me and kicked my legs apart. I gasped as he explored between my legs.

"I don't care how you do it. I want this smooth by Monday."

He pulled me up by my hair, turned me around, and sat me down on the edge of my desk. He took the Sharpie from my hand, spread my legs, squatted down, and wrote "Darren's" on the inside of each thigh.

"I'll see you on Monday," he said as he gathered the trophies of my underwear and his backpack. He was out the door before I could blink. I vaguely remember getting dressed, but my drive home was a complete blank.

I stumbled through my front door, poured myself a glass of wine, drank it in three long gulps, poured myself a second glass, drank it promptly, and poured a third. What the hell had happened? One of my students used my mouth and I didn't try to stop him. Why didn't I try to stop him? I noticed the bottle was empty when my glass didn't refill. I was buzzed. It was rare that I drank this much. My world tilted crazily when I turned my head too quickly. I tried to watch a movie, but my mind wouldn't calm down. I opened another bottle of wine.

I woke up on my couch with the sun streaming through the window. My eyes felt sticky and my mouth felt as if it were stuffed with cotton. After attempting to stand I decided it was the safest course of action to stay off my feet. I crawled to the bathroom and shook two Tylenol from the bottle. Then I crawled to my kitchen to get a bottle of chilled water. I carefully propped myself up and took a mouthful. It felt wonder. After swallowing my medicine I pressed the cold bottle to my forehead and waited for the relief. When I felt remotely human again, I slipped into a hot shower.

While hanging my head and allowing the soothing water to flow over me, I found myself thinking back to the previous day. I was no stranger to oral sex. I was a college graduate after all. I didn't mind doing it, I'd always felt a sense of empowerment while performing the act. Yeah, I was on my knees in front of a guy, but he was ultimately at my mercy. I used to brush an old boyfriend with my teeth at the beginning just to remind him who was in charge. My act on Friday shocked me because I was so wanton. Not concerned about damaging his opinion of me, I'd acted on every idea that popped into my head. My only concern was the quality of my performance. I still couldn't believe I made that much noise! While I was lost in thought my hands had crept below my waist. No! I was not going to do that. I scrubbed at my thighs, but his name would not disappear.

I was able to lose myself in the tasks of the weekend, but the memory of Friday's events tickled at the back of my mind. Pulling into the parking lot on Monday I convinced myself that the whole event was an aberration. I just needed to assert myself and everything would be fine. Every woman has had to deal with an overly aggressive guy. If I put him in his place, cracked his bravado, he would back down. After all he was only eighteen.

My door clicked shut as I was organizing my materials for the day. I knew he was there before my eyes found him.

"It's time to see if you followed my instructions Miss Parker. Grab your desk."

It didn't take me long to find myself bent over my desk with my pants around my ankles.

"This won't do Kirsten." He moved to my desk and picked up a pair of scissors. He pulled the waistband away from my hip, and I felt the coolness of the metal against my skin as the blade slid into place. With a snip he cut through one side, then the other, and removed them from my body. He pulled me up straight, unbuttoned my blouse, and inspected my bra. He looked me in the eyes, raised an eyebrow questioningly, and made some precise snips. Wait, how did he know my first name? I'd never mentioned it to the class.

"I feel I need to emphasize the importance of my instructions," he said as he pushed me back down until my elbows touched my desk. I yelped as his hand connected with my bottom. He gave me eleven more firm swats. Thankfully, the room was solidly built. The closed door kept anyone in the hall from hearing what had transpired. I was working to keep tears back when he stopped. I heard a bottle pop open, and soon afterwards he rubbed something on my sore backside. A pleasant cooling sensation spread as he worked the liquid into my skin. At least he wasn't without mercy.

"You should straighten up. Classes begin soon," he said as he gathered his things and stood by the door. He waited for me to be presentable before opening it and slipping out. Well, so much for getting control of the situation.

While writing on the blackboard during my first class, the cool tingle changed into a gentle, persistent warmth that was both distracting and stimulating. The lunch break couldn't come soon enough. I grabbed mine and ran to the park nearby. To get some distance from my classroom was calming. In my final period lecture I peppered my class with questions. I called on Mr. Sloop whenever I saw his attention wander. After his third incorrect answer I assigned him an essay. Much to my chagrin he didn't get flustered or appear intimidated. After the final bell rang, all but one of my students departed my classroom. Mr. Sloop nudged my door closed and approached me. I was frozen in my chair. I didn't know what to do.

"Teach my cock."

My blouse landed on my desk while I landed on my knees in front of him. Once again I was sloppy, noisy, and eager to do my best for him. When I was done he patted me on the head.

"Good girl. Remember my instructions for tomorrow," he said and he slipped out the door. I redressed, gathered my things, and drove home. Anger was bubbling inside me. I was not going to become some boy's plaything. When I got home I drank two glasses of wine and read until I fell asleep.

The next morning I had been seated at my desk for maybe thirty seconds when I heard my door close. I turned my chair and my eyes locked on Mr. Sloop.

"Grab your desk," he ordered. He sighed once I was in position. "You are a willful little thing." He cut my underwear from my body and spanked me. This time it was twenty strokes. Afterwards, he again rubbed the cooling lotion into my skin. Once he left, I finally calmed down enough to breathe normally. I was in over my head and this needed to stop. I would talk to the principal.

At my lunch break one of the students the office used as a message runner knocked at my door.

"Miss Parker, Dr. Foster would like to talk to you."

Excellent, I would be able to take care of my problem. I followed the young girl down to the office.

"I'm sorry to butt into your lunch time Kirsten, but I wanted to see how you were doing and the remainder of my afternoon is booked."

"It's not a problem Dr. Foster."

"So, how are things going?"

Now was my chance. I wouldn't explain exactly what happened maybe just say Mr. Sloop was out of line. A visit to the office might scare him straight.

"Everything is great. My room is in good shape and the kids have been wonderful. My last period class has been especially respectful." I couldn't believe what was coming out of my mouth. Dr. Foster said a few things, but I wasn't listening. I was trying frantically to figure out what happened. Not only had I failed to report my situation, I had now laid the foundation that would invalidate any future complaints. I was ushered out of the office with a promise to talk again soon, and walked mechanically back to my room.

I sat at my desk with my head in my hands. Sheer willpower kept me from crying. I choked down an apple so I wouldn't be famished the rest of the day. During my final period I continued my assault of questions. He kept his eyes on me the whole time, which only served to exacerbate my unease. Mr. Sloop was the last straggler out of my class. He pushed the door closed, casually leaned up against it, and gave me a tilted smile.

"I understand you had a chat with your boss today."

I swallowed hard and nodded. He moved in front of me and leaned in next to my ear.

"You'll find you can't tell anyone about your situation."

He uttered those three words, and this time he fondled my breasts while I worked as if it were my second job.

"Your homework assignment is to shave. Do you understand?" I nodded and he left the room. At home I had two glasses of wine and found myself sitting on the edge of my bathtub with a razor and a hand mirror.

I was lost in my preparations for the day when I heard his voice. I almost jumped out of my chair.

"Time to grade your homework. Grab your desk."

I found myself bent over my desk while Mr. Sloop lifted my skirt. I heard him sigh, and out of the corner of my eye saw him retrieve the scissors. My underwear was cut from my body. If this kept up my resistance was going to get expensive. His fingers explored between my legs.

"Well, at least you are partially compliant. Nice job, very smooth Kirsten."

"Thank you Mr. Sloop," slipped out of my mouth. I blushed and felt a subtle stirring of heat between my thighs.

"You're welcome," he said as gave two gentle pats on my ass.

He proceeded to spank me twenty times and applied the warming lotion. He pulled me to a standing position by my hair, turned me around, and perched me on the end of my desk. He took the Sharpie, spread my legs, and retraced "Darren's" on the inside of each thigh. My blouse was unbuttoned due to my bra removal. Above my navel he wrote "Darren's" in a broad arc. Below my navel her wrote "cocksucker" in an upwards arc. I came to my senses when my door shut. I knew it was irrational, but every time I faced my class I could feel the writing on my stomach. That combined with the persistent warm feeling on my bottom kept me at a sexual simmer all day long.

While eating lunch at my desk, I felt someone at the door. I looked and there was Mr. Sloop casually leaning against my doorframe. Ours eyes met, he held my gaze for fifteen seconds or so, and entered the hallway. I had to slow down my breathing. My nipples were hard. Damn him.

By now the other students had detected the undercurrent of the class. The few unoccupied desks now surrounded Mr. Sloop. My attention had isolated him from the other students. He never gave an outward sign of annoyance.

My work day concluded with me on my knees with a student's cock in my mouth. A little after I began he put his hand on the back of my head and took control. For the rest of the job he worked himself in and out of my throat, while his other hand mercilessly tweaked my nipples. I felt my eyes widen in shock when he pulled my head back and finished in my mouth. I swallowed everything and didn't give it a second thought. The taste was different, but not unpleasant. He patted me on my head, told me "good girl", and left.

I gathered my things and raced home. I was turned on and desperately wanted to finish myself off in the privacy of my own home. Once I was there, I dropped my skirt, threw myself on my bed, and let my fingers get to work. After an hour and a half without success, I gave up. Every time I approached a climax it slipped away. Frustrated beyond words, I made myself a salad, drank a glass of wine, and settled into my couch to watch my woman doctor show.

"Miss Parker, you seem frustrated," my student teased me as he cut away my underwear. A moan escaped my lips when his fingers found their mark. I kept moaning while his fingers kept working.

"By now you have probably noticed that you are unable to satisfy yourself. This will continue until you declare yourself my slut."

I was then spanked for my clothing violation. He applied the lotion quite liberally and included my inner thighs.

"Are you on birth control?"

"No," I replied.

"Your homework assignment is to get on some as soon as possible."

He gave me a sharp slap on my bottom and departed. Having extra parts of my body tingle with warmth was immensely distracting. During my lecture Mr. Sloop incorrectly answered two of my questions. I expressed disappointment in him, and requested he type out his notes from class and present them to me the next day for review. My day ended in what was quickly becoming my normal fashion. Again he controlled the tempo and finished in my mouth. With another pat on the head and a whispered "good girl" he departed.

The taste of him stayed in my mouth the whole ride home. I completed some chores before taking my nightly glass of wine. My dreams were filled with him.

I lost another set of underwear and paid for it with a warm bottom. He departed my room with a content sigh. At lunch I slipped out to my doctor appointment. Leaving her office I was quite pleased with myself. I'd completed my homework rather quickly.

At the end of the day Mr. Sloop let me set my own pace while he aggressively played with my breasts. I was positively on fire by the time he left. Upon arriving home I promptly took a cold shower. Again my dreams revolved around him. They would start innocently enough, me sitting on his lap giggling at his jokes, and then they would turn more aggressive. Moments before we would consummate our passion, the dream would start over. When my alarm beeped I awoke panting and wet. My weekend started off with cold shower. I started to doubt my resolve to hold out.

While my bottom was cooling Mr. Sloop gently tapped my clitoris with his fingers. A little grunt escaped me on ever other tap.

"I'll give you credit Kirsten, you've lasted longer than I expected."

He pulled out the marker. "Darren's" was written on the inside of the thighs, and "A+ Cocksucker" around my belly button. I felt him write on the back of my thighs. When he was done he informed me I had "Spank" down the back of my left thigh, and "Me" down the back of the right. He also drew a tribal pattern on my upper left arm. My blouse would cover it as long as I didn't reach for anything. To my surprise this turned me on. Maybe it was my lack of control, maybe the thought of knowing these words were hidden from my class only by a thin layer of clothing, or perhaps it was the simple, causal manner Mr. Sloop had while he decorated me as he saw fit.

The rest of the week blurred together in my haze of need. Tuesday followed the routine of me being spanked in the morning and my mouth being used at the end of the day. Wednesday was a normal morning, but Mr. Sloop appeared after my lunch. I was sitting at my desk reading a novel when he entered, and closed my door. In what seemed liked seconds, I found myself without pants and seated on the edge of my desk while Mr. Sloop worked his fingers inside of me. He got better at it each time. He found the places that made my hips jerk of their own accord, and the places that caused me to moan or grunt. I was panting with my eyes squeezed shut when his fingers entered my mouth.

"Clean them up," he told me. I hadn't done anything like this. So, I worked my tongue over every inch of his fingers. When he nodded I stopped. I lectured the rest of the day with my taste clinging to my tongue. During class I asked Mr. Sloop if he had completed the reading assignment from the previous day. He had not, so presenting his notes to me for review became a requirement. Approximately thirty minutes later he assaulted my nipples, while I bobbed my head eagerly. The heat grew between my legs, and I realized I was going to give in. It was only a matter of time.

Thursday morning went normally. Mr. Sloop stopped by at lunch, caused my heart to lurch in my chest, smiled, waved, and left. He was absent from the afternoon class. During the lecture I found myself wondering where he was. After class was over I kept myself busy at my desk for over an hour. I tried to convince myself I wasn't waiting. I was just using my time constructively. The empty feeling I had driving home proved I had been lying to myself.