My name is Katarina, but my friends call me Kat. I'm a senior in high school and I've been struggling with my classes all year. My father is disappointed in me and every day seems stressful. I have handle on most of my classes, but my Trigonometry class still has me confused.
My math teacher is Mr. Blake. He's in his mid-thirties and the hottest teacher I've ever seen. All of us girls flirt mercilessly with him when no one is watching. It embarrasses me that I'm not better at math when he looks at me.
I'm 5' 6" and in excellent shape from cheerleading. I like to show off my legs with skirts and my DD breasts look fabulous in v-neck T-shirts. I'm promiscuous with the football players, and I'm popular because of it.
Usually when I get to class, I sit in the front row and try to cross my legs seductively for Mr. Blake. I am convinced that he will find a soft spot in his heart for me and give me a break on my grade. So far, no luck.
Today when I arrive to class, I'm wearing a knee-length flowing skirt and a tight v-neck long-sleeved shirt that hugs my breasts and peeks at my cleavage. I sit in the front row and cross my legs, letting my thigh expose itself. I watch Mr. Blake glance under my desk and clear his throat, beginning class.
I understand nothing that he says. Trig is a mystery to me. Mr. Blake gives us a pop quiz and collects them before the bell rings. As everyone is leaving class, Mr. Blake calls my name, "Kat, please stay behind."
I stay seated at my desk as the classroom empties. His next period is free, no other students enter for the next class. He grades my quiz and slowly gets up to shut the classroom door.
"You failed another quiz, Kat."
"I know, Mr. Blake. It's just not making any sense to me. My father is looking into a tutor for me."
"I think that's wise." He leans against his desk and crosses his arms.
Putting on my most seductive pouty face, I muster up the courage and approach him slowly, "Maybe there's something we can work out after school? There must be some way I can bring my grade up." I am inches from his face and he glances down at my cleavage. I slide my hand up his thigh and rub slightly against his cock through his khakis.
"Kat, this is highly inappropriate, I could report you to the Principal." But he doesn't move.
"Will you?" I smile and move my face closer to his so that he can feel my breath.
"See me during my free morning period tomorrow. Failing quizzes has consequences, Kat."
I move away, feeling humiliated. "Yes, Mr. Blake." I gather my books and leave.
The next morning, I make my way to Mr. Blake's classroom before 2nd period to find out what my consequences are. I'm terrified that he's going to call my parents and tell them I came onto him yesterday. My heart is pounding as he closes the door and lowers the blind over the door's window. I notice he's also drawn the curtains over the outdoor windows.
"Good morning, Kat." He reaches into his desk drawer and pulls something out, holding it up for me. It's a ball.
"A sphere, right?"
"Yes, it's a sphere." The ball is the size of a ping-pong ball but when he puts it in my hand, I feel that it's solid rubber. "Lift your skirt, Kat."
My heart races, "Mr. Blake?" He must be joking.
"After yesterday, I assume this isn't going to be a problem? Or I could draft a letter of shock and embarrassment to your parents over yesterday's events."
"No, please. I'll . . .I'll do it." I stand up and lift my skirt and expose my tiny thong panties. Mr. Blake pulls them down and inserts the ball into the pocket of fabric in the crotch, stretching it obscenely until it fits snug. Then he pulls them back up, pulling my pussy lips over the ball so that it rests on my clit. I feel like I'll faint.
"Now..." He reaches down my skirt and grabs the waist bands of my thong and pulls them up hard, so that the ball is painfully pressing on my delicate parts and tucks them around my skirt waist to keep them in place. When he pulls my shirt down, it covers the bands. "I expect this to be in place all day, Kat. See you during 5th period Trig, now be on your way, I don't want you to be late to Literature."
"Mr. Blake . . ."
"I told you that there would be punishment. Now go."
There's no point in arguing with him. I grab my books and leave for my next class. As I walk, the ball rolls back and forth over my clit, teasing me. It's actually quite enjoyable until I sit down in my Lit class and it presses into me hard. As class goes on, the throbbing pain in my clit distracts me more and more. I try shifting in my seat, but when the ball rolls over my clit, it feels so good. I feel like everyone is watching me.
My next two classes are torture. Lunch wasn't much fun either. Walking around with my friends brought my clit to life and I nearly ducked into the locker room with one of the football players just to have some release. But how would it seem if he put his hands up skirt and found a ball in my panties? Too embarrassing.
Mr. Blake smiled slyly as I sat down in class. I could tell he knew I was uncomfortable. He liked it. All through class, he kept calling on me. I was mortified. When I spoke, I sounded like I was in pain. And I got all of the answers wrong.
After class, he held me back from the others again. My friends threw me questioning glances, but they just assumed I was being talked to about my failure to understand Trig. When the door was closed, Mr. Blake had me stand up. He reached under my skirt, into my panties and removed his ball.