Chapter Five: A Tittering Sycophant
Irene
Turnarounds can be a bitch.
I'd been a late bloomer, in more ways than one. It had taken all my strength and determination to not let the bullying break me. I lost weight, cured my acne, hit the gym. In the space of a couple of years, I'd gone from the class loser, to a bombshell with her own posse in tow.
But that wasn't enough for me, not yet. Something was missing. I was proud of my grit, to be sure, but I wanted to truly see my will triumph.
I wanted the impossible. Beyond that, I wanted it on my terms.
I wanted to be a fucking queen.
I nearly felt like one, regally perched upon my own teacher's desk. Class was yet to begin, and we knew Cathy was up, so it was a bit of a free-for-all. My classmates stood by the window, mingled with one another, chatted animatedly about nerdy topics, and generally minded their own business.
There were but three exceptions.
Nick Foster stood with his back straight, his fingers drumming impatiently on the desk. He couldn't wait for Cathy to come, and I could definitely sympathize. We both got a kick out of putting the bitch in her place.
We had different reasons, of course. Nick wasn't exactly the sharpest tool in the shed. I suspected he was proving a point to himself as much as Cathy.
But me?
After being in the shadows of more popular people for so long, I wanted to see someone fucking grovel before me. The queen bees like Cathy had made my life a living hell before I became one of the winners myself. Now, there would be hell to pay.
And so I awaited for Cathy by resting my butt on her desk, crossing my legs seductively -- I'd chosen dark, form-fitting jeans that emphasized the curve of my calves and thighs, and flat-bottomed equestrian boots that made me look like a dictatress in waiting.
Oh, then there was the third exception, of course.
Cindy Cooper was staring daggers at me.
No wonder. The bitch was a bully, through and through, and I'd been on the butt end of her abuse for most of my time here at Crawford High. But no longer. Now she would get a nice, fat helping of the same medicine.
I bobbed my booted feet up and down, smirking at her. I loved challenging her so openly. She knew I was winning our little tug of war. It had all started with me stripping her of the right to vote... which, to be honest, I was surprised to find incredibly hot. Weird, of course, but hot.
The tide was against her now. The rest of class saw her star as on the wane since that day, with mine very much on the rise.
With her sister being so slavish, I knew it was only a matter of time before I got leverage that would allow me to show both sisters who was boss. And then, we'd really have some fun.
The door opened, snapping me out of my reverie, and in stepped Cathy. I openly laughed in her face -- surely I wasn't the only one who'd noticed her skirt grow progressively shorter, week after week, to the point that occasionally, the top of her black stockings would show. Today's skirt was blue, and her blouse was white and tight.
She was clearly braless, her nipples poking through the thin fabric.
Hard nipples, I didn't fail to notice.
I didn't know what the hell was going on in this school, exactly. But so long as I got a windfall out of it, why should I complain?
"Good morning, class," Cathy said sheepishly, in a voice so low you'd think she didn't want to be heard. Maybe that was exactly her objective, considering that our attention could only be bad for her at this point. I saw her turn towards Nick first, which made me raise an eyebrow.
"Good morning, sir," she said, bowing her head.
Not mister Foster, but sir. Huh, interesting. Had Nick found a way to strengthen his authority over Cathy? I'd have to watch them closely.
Then, Cathy spotted me, sitting on her desk like it was my turf. She opened her mouth, closed it, eyed her sister -- so pathetic, did she expect her own little sister to help out? Eventually she realized she was powerless to defy me, and simply bowed her head.
God, I'd never get tired of this thrill.
"Good morning, Miss Cain," Cathy told me.
"Ma'am," I said, sharply. "You called Nick sir. The least you could do is pay me the same courtesy."
That left Cathy speechless, with her eyes wide in terror. Interesting! So Nick did have a special hold over her. I wondered what he'd found. But regardless, once openly called out, Cathy had no choice but to fall in line.
"Of course, ma'am. My apologies."
"Say, teach, you want a good grade?" I said, bobbing my right foot in the air. "I think my bootstraps are loose. Get down there and fix that."
Promptly, Cathy knelt down before me.
God, I felt like such a queen. Here I was, using her desk as her throne, while she knelt on the floor to literally lace up my boots.
"Stop it, you fucking bitch!" Cindy roared in defiance, balling her hands into fists. "Cathy, get up! Stop obeying this upstart!"
I noted with interest how Cathy reacted to her sister like she'd been issued an order, but before she could rise. I lifted my other foot into the air, placed it atop her head, and pushed down. Cathy fell back to her knees, whimpering in pain as the hard sole of my boot pressed down upon her head.
"If I hear another word from you, Cindy," I said as the whole class watched, my words laced with venom, "I'll give your bitch of a sister a grade so terrible she will be fired on the spot. Do we understand each other?"
To my amazement, Cindy sat down. She glowered and muttered under her breath, but sat down, while I was literally rubbing my dirty sole into her sister's hair. That made me press my thighs together.
"That's it, peasant," I said. "You have no right to vote, remember."
And that's when laughter resounded from everyone else in class, and I saw the defiance and self-confidence drain away from Cindy's face.
I let Cathy lace up my other boot, hovering it inches from her face all the time, and then I was magnanimous enough to let her up. She tried to recompose herself, to some degree, but looked flustered as Nick approached her.
"See you at appointment hours, teach," he said in a whisper.
I had to stifle a gasp -- I stayed quiet, not wanting Nick to know I'd heard them. Appointment hours, of course! One on one facetime, no other students looking on, no danger of being caught... you could exert so much more control over Cathy if she were alone!
I was actually a little embarrassed that Nick had had this idea before me. I would have to figure out what he was doing exactly.
I smiled to myself. I knew what I had to do if I wanted to find out.
By the time class ended, I would be well on the way towards achieving my goal.
***
Cathy
"No, wait! Please sir, wait!" I begged and pleaded, bent over the desk, with Nick's strong hand possessively placed on my rear.
Such was the mockery of "appointment hours" that was enforced on me as part of the review system.
I knew my pleading would fall on deaf ears, and this was confirmed a second later, when Nick simply pressed the tip of his cock into me, without making any compliments.
I slumped down on the desk, defeated. It wasn't like I was trying to deny them -- I'd lost that kind of autonomy by now. But he could at least have the decency to put me in the mood, first.
That wasn't his way. Nick fit the stereotype of the self-centered, obnoxious jock to a T. He probably fancied himself a ladies' man, but his technique -- such as it was -- was incredibly clumsy. And I couldn't so much as raise the point, even in a pleading, servile, sniveling voice.
As he began working his way deeper and deeper into me, I was reminded of the horrible truth of my situation. Nick didn't need to worry about my pleasure. It was subordinated to his. My job hung in the balance of whether my pussy could satisfy his cock.
Embarrassingly, that thought lubricated me. It pushed me to alter my behavior for his pleasure. I rolled my hips, responded with eager gasps when he spanked me, kept my arms firmly limp by my side as he stamped his masculine authority into me like I was little more than a bitch for him to dominate.
"That's it, teach," Nick said, not even sounding remotely off-balance. He did have the stamina to go with the jock body, after all. "It's what you were made for. Give it to me. Give it up."
He lacked the verbal command of my humiliation that Burns showed every time he staked his claim on me -- something which made me appreciate his methodical deconstruction of my womanly pretensions even more. Next to him, Nick really was just a boy.
And yet, my future was in his hands, and my body was free for him to use. So if he really was inexperienced and clueless, what did it say about me that I was so firmly under his thumb?
With a gasp I realized I was supplying the very verbal humiliation that Burns would normally heap on me, and my pussy was responding, convulsing around Nicks' cock, gripping it, making him groan with pleasure.
A small, distant, horrified part of me knew I was beginning to associate my dependency on dominant male figures with sexual arousal. This would convince Nick even further that there was nothing wrong with the way he had sex.
My actions weren't just damaging me. They were damaging the wider feminist cause, and all women everywhere.
As Nick's fist clenched around my hair, pulling my head backwards, impaling me further with his cock, I realized that I was a gender traitor.
And the thought alone made my body quake with pleasure.
"Looks like I'm the one doin' the teachin' here," he said, and this time his voice was showing signs of his physical activity. As was I. Nick was pistoning inside me with more and more energy, ragdolling me over the desk like I was just an object, rather than a person.
And I was. Twisted, bent, pliable, most of all available. In the span of a few weeks I'd let this student -- this person I was supposed to be an authority figure towards -- entirely domesticate me, like a little sexpet.
