The New Guidance Counselor

When a new position for Guidance Counselor at Barker High was listed online, Reyna Presley put aside her reservations and applied. Sure, it was not the Ritz of Brensville, Washington, but it promised to pay surprisingly well for a public institution. At 27, just married to a wonderful man, and fresh out of her master's program, the petite brunette was already feeling the full weight of adulthood bearing down. Having settled in a nice little community close to her parent's house, money was tight, and the mortgage was high, but as an investment for their future, it felt like a smart decision. After all, where better to start a new family?

Her first month at Barker High went without a hitch. She gained a solid grasp of the student body and looked forward to helping some very talented young adults get into their schools of choice. Like most teachers, she was private about her personal life, but her cheerful and friendly demeanor still made her popular with both students and staff. If Reyna had one fault it was that she was a perfectionist, and her obsessive attention to details led her to notice a concerning trend.

*****

"Are you drunk, Katie?" Reyna recognized the look. Though maintaining a high GPA, her first few years in college were somewhat of a blur. She had jumped into the deep end of party life. It was a miracle she found time to study. All those late nights getting trashed and going clubbing. That was before she decided on a career path, before she met her husband, and before she grew the fuck up.

Katie rolled her bloodshot eyes while biting down on her bottom lip ring. The snarky goth senior wanted nothing more than an excuse to go home. Her outfit was about as school appropriate as a Hooters uniform. Her tight-fitting, low-cut black top didn't even make it past her bellybutton, and her matching skirt barely covered her thighs. She was also wearing much too much makeup and her hair was a jet-black mussed disaster.

Reyna looked at the innocent, straight A, Ivy League bound, girl with the flowing blonde hair and happy-go-lucky grin on the top left corner of her computer screen. She had rechecked the name twice. Sliding grades and getting distracted were common problems for adolescent students. But as a newly trained professional, Reyna recognized the outliers. Something wasn't right. Katie was the third girl this semester to go from a sweet, promising member of society to failing courses, and overall horrible behavior. The two others were lost causes. One of them was rumored pregnant, the other had been delinquent for weeks.

Reyna suspected drugs. Primarily from a boy that they all seemed to bear connection with based on teacher gossip. After dismissing Katie for the third time that week with another P.E. uniform, she decided it was time to intervene. Reyna paged Derek Lorren to her office on the school intercom, then pulled up his file on her desktop.

"Mr. Lorren," she peered at the smug 18-year-old, "I need to discuss something very important with you."

He shrugged. "If this is about Spanish, Mrs. Gonzalez has it out for me."

"Your grades are not the issue," Reyna interrupted tersely. Though she had never met the boy, it was clear he was a narcissist by the flippancy of his attitude toward her. "Do you know what my job is?"

He shrugged again.

"My job is to make sure students excel to their highest ability so that they may go on and have successful rewarding careers. So, it troubles me when I see cases like Ms. Piper, Ms. Rumenor, and Ms. Allen."

Derek sneered, slouching back in his seat.

"It might not mean much to you now, but when these women grow up and remember who ruined their lives, I don't think you'll feel too good about who they blame."

Reyna knew she was off script and felt uncertain going against her training. Counselors were mediators, not aggressors. But it was not so long ago that she herself was in high school. She knew Derek. She had dealt with a thousand iterations of him. And while he was a student in her school, she was going to make it clear that he was NOT going to-

A loud buzz spliced through the intercom.

"There has been an incident outside campus grounds. There is no cause for concern, but for safety precaution we are instituting a lockdown. No one is to leave their classrooms for any reason. ANY reason. Do not answer the doors or respond to any sounds outside the room. We will let you know when class can resume. Thank you."

*****

Reyna clenched her fists under her desk. Of all the days to get stuck in a room, it would have to be with a prick like Derek Lorren.

"You look sorta young to be a counselor."

The audacity of this... child. To call him a man would be an insult to men. Reyna crossed her legs and looked up at the transcript on her desktop.

"Class of 2024?" Derek read the framed certificate behind her desk. "So, you graduated? You're only like 4 years older-"

"That's not a bachelor's, that's a master's degree," Reyna cut him off.

"Whatever. I bet you still get carded."

"No. I don't drink." She pretended to be absorbed with her screen. It was a tenuous situation. She did not feel comfortable returning to their previous conversation with a lockdown in effect, yet neither could she dismiss the arrogant boy from her office.

"You graduated from a state uni and you don't drink?" Derek scoffed.

"Not anymore," Mrs. Presley responded out of reflex. Though she wasn't technically an addict, she had embraced a teetotaler lifestyle, not indulging in a sip of alcohol since before she met her husband seven years ago.

Derek manspread in his seat and began casually scratching the crotch of his cargo shorts while his ice blue eyes leered at the conservative Anna Kendrick look-a-like. Reyna bit her cheek, knowing his antics were meant to provoke a response. His intense gaze made her uneasy, but she was not stupid. She chalked off the minutes in her mind. The room was silent but for the hands of the wall clock, the whirring of her desk fan, the click of her mouse, and the rustle of the unfazed teens fingers brushing against the shorts fabric.

Reyna stewed. She read through Derek's transcript. A C student with no extracurricular accolades. Why were girls like Katie Piper even wasting their breath around such an average delinquent? She turned toward the boy, her patience exhausted.

"I'll say this once, Mr. Lorren. You knock that off this instant or you'll be spending next week in ISS (In School Suspension)."

Derek smirked, removing his hand from his lap and placing it on the armrest. "You're pretty uptight for a millennial."

"Excuse me?" Reyna knew he was pushing her buttons, but she couldn't stop the blood from rushing to her face.

"I was expecting some free-spirited, liberal chick. Not some straight edge Karen."

Reyna's eyes narrowed. "I warn you Mr. Lorren. You make one more comment like that and I will have you expelled."

The arrogant punk threw up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, Reyna. Sorry to trigger you."

Reyna could feel every muscle in her body pulsing with tension as she remained tight jawed. What a cocky piece of shit. What a giant asshole. He had absolutely no respect for her. She forced a saccharine smile.

"I do think after this lockdown is over, I will be reaching out to your parents. It's clear their son is acting out disruptively in a cry for attention." Her knuckles were pale from clenching her fists under the desk, but she had delivered the line as professionally as any counselor could.

"Are you threatening me, Reyna?" Derek leaned forward over her desk. His tone was unnervingly soft but the expression on his face morphed into something maniacal, nostrils dilating like a bull ready to charge.

Reyna stood up on shaky legs. This was no longer a petty squabble. Derek was dangerous. As she made a move to squeeze past the teen, his arm stretched out across the desk and caught her by the wrist. She let out a yelp as he tightened his grip. He leaned close to her, close enough that she could see a tiny scar underneath his right temple, his arm now blocked her exit and her free arm from pushing off.

"You are nothing," he snarled.

Fear gripped Mrs. Presley. She didn't care that there might be a maniac outside, when there was an even bigger threat next to her. She kicked Derek's shin and lunged at the door, pulling away for the briefest of moments and managing to grip the doorknob before he was on her.

Just as she was about to push the handle down, a strong hand shoved her. She reeled forward, all 115lbs slamming into the door with a thud. Before she could even turn around, she felt the prick of a needle on the side of her neck.

She gasped, rounding around to face Derek.

"What was that!" Her hand shot to her neck but even as the words came out, she could feel the energy and anger in her dissipate as a wave of exhaustion hit her. Wobbly, she stumbled back to her desk and grabbed the corners for balance. She fought valiantly to stay upright, holding on as her knees felt like they were malfunctioning, and her feet were suddenly roller skates. Thoughts became hard to process. She had to leave, she had to leave, she had to escape.

She felt hands slide against her waist, they held her steady. She tried to say something, she tried to think, but it was too late, the opioid cocktail spread through her like venom in a field mouse. She slumped forward, a pleasurable sensation arising from deep within her mind. Her eyes fluttered and she smiled blissfully as the world slowly faded out of existence.

*****

The bell jarred Reyna Presley awake. It took a moment for some of the fog to lift from her mind. Was it morning already? No... It was... It was... Her grey slacks pooled around her feet; white panties looped around her ankles; a puddle of drool had dried part of her cheek to the desk. Somehow her lower half was still upright, like a bike propped up against the desk, her legs splayed wide apart.

Derek! She forced herself up and shook off a dizzy spell. The room was empty, and the door was shut. Hoisting her pants up her legs and over her bare ass cheeks, she tried to unscramble her memory. What time was it? The wonky clock eventually came into focus. 3PM. The lockdown must have ended. School was over, and she had been out for 2 hours.

She needed to call the police. The disheveled brunette staggered to her desktop. There, she found her phone with a sticky note stuck to the screen. "PLAY ME" was scrawled in red Sharpie. Her heart sank, her intuition warning her not to unlock the phone, not to check the video sent from the unknown number, not to play his game.

Reyna shivered as the feeling began to return to her numb limbs. Pins and needles ran up her slender arms. The spinning buffer circle was agonizingly slow. Whatever she was about to witness, she could handle it she swore to herself. She would remain composed. She would be brave. She swallowed.

A blurry thumb clouded the lens before the autofocus kicked in and Derek's piercing blue eyes stared back at her. The tall teen with his black crew cut and dark eyebrows scowled as he adjusted the propped camera on the corner shelf. His broad frame obscured all but the clock, which read 1:07PM. Once satisfied, Derek smirked, regarding himself proudly, itching his chin where a tiny pimple was just starting to break through.

"How you doing, Mrs. Presley?" He backed away, revealing the woman in her grey pantsuit, flopped over her own desk, legs flared but still fully clothed.

Reyna was surprised to see herself move. The drugged counselor was still putting up a fight, even after she blacked out. Tossing her head from side to side, she blubbered in incomprehensible protest to the psychotic teen. Derek strolled over and gently placed his hand on her head, petting her straightened hair back away from her face. To Reyna's horror, this elicited a smile from her former self. Derek's hands went to work sliding down her pants, followed by her panties.

Pressing his weight forward to keep her from moving, the young thug snaked his arm between her thighs and began manually molesting her from behind. After thirty seconds, drugged Reyna began gyrating back against the intruding fingers.

Reyna swallowed back the bile rising in her throat as her grip on the phone shook. She watched Derek pull his dripping hand from her vagina and lick his fingers. The boy winked at the camera. He then pulled his cargo shorts down to reveal a giant chub of his own.

Reyna shivered. Even in the tiny camera, she could tell he was well endowed, surpassing any of her college boyfriends and her husband by several inches.

"Don't," she muttered, shaking her head as if it mattered. She grimaced as the scene played out. Derek leaned over her and asked her quite audibly: "Are you ready Mrs. Presley? Is this what you want?" He stroked her hair and went back to fingering her stimulated clitoris. The drugged counselor could only moan in response.

In his first thrust, the senior's ass tensed as his cockhead was consumed by her slit. Reyna shut her eyes for a few seconds, it was the only way to stay poised. When she looked back Derek's shaft was halfway in. As if manning a French press, he was prodding patiently forward at a snail's pace, pausing for her pussy to conform to his girth as he gradually buried his manhood deep into her canal.

"Oh, wow, you're tight for a millennial," he expressed, shoving the last half inch of his dick into her sensitive pussy. Her mind couldn't stop but try to recall how it felt. How was she even able to take that whole thing?

The cocky youth was not taking it for granted. He sped up his strokes until he was fucking her raw, slamming into the desk as a stack of folders toppled to the floor. The merciless pounding from behind was nothing like the vanilla missionary sex she was used to. She could see her confused pink labia stretching out after each punishing penetration, trying to make sense of the unforgiving teenage steel rod. Derek raised one of her legs and the young counselor began to squeal. Out of pain, pleasure, or both, Reyna could not tell. He grabbed a knot of her chocolate brunette hair and pulled her face back to cover her mouth with his hand. His last violent thrusts were deep. Reyna held her breath. Hoping for the grace of God the boy pulled out. Even a monster wouldn't... With the final plunge, Derek collapsed over Reyna, groaning as he pumped his full load deep inside her.

Reyna felt everything go cold watching Derek kiss the back of her head. Her younger form was no longer moving. He dislodged himself, and in a final act of cruelty, pushed her ass over the desk so that his cum would nest inside her. If Reyna was not on the pill, she would have screamed. The prick left her body standing like a tripod, while he wiped his cock on her jacket. Once he pulled up his pants, he took another look at her diplomas.

"Reyna Marie Presley." He walked behind her desk and stooped down to collect her bulky brown handbag. "Let's see what secrets you're hiding."

Reyna clenched her jaw as Derek shook out the purse's contents in front of him. Lip balm, hand sanitizer, concealer, compact mirror, loose change, pens, etc... spilled out and bounced everywhere. He opened her wallet, took her ID out, and stuck it in his pocket. He then took the cash out of the back fold and stuffed it in his pants. He tossed aside the book she was reading about PTSD breakthrough therapies and then held up her birth control pills. A flash of disappointment crossed his face before he discarded them in the trash. He saved her phone for last.

Unlocking it with her finger, he noticed the wallpaper. "Is this your husband then?" It was. It was her Sam at his 30th birthday a few months back. The photo was goofy since it showed him sporting a dorky party hat as a gag while blowing out a candle on a vegan cupcake. Though they hadn't fully converted to a vegan diet, they were down to one cheat day a week.

"Looks like a chump." Derek chuckles, tapping away at her screen. Though he wasn't a great student, his versatility with the phone worried her. What was he doing? After a couple minutes, he walked over to the shelf and grabbed his phone. She could see up close that his brow was sweaty from violating her. The video was almost over when he came back into focus.

"Oh, if you don't want this to be in the news tomorrow-" he flashed her phone's contact list for the camera, "-then you'll be here before class." His lip curled savagely. "And for fucks sake, wear something sexier."

Reyna's mouth went dry as the recording vanished and the file auto-deleted from the app.

*****

Reyna Presley's legs felt like Jell-O as she toddled down the empty corridors of Barker High. Her lavender-grey eyes darted frantically, anticipating Derek Lorren's shadow to pop up behind her like Ghostface in a Scream movie.

The video of her rape had drawn her to the cusp of vomiting. Thankfully, her stomach was able to retain the salad she had for lunch. Haphazardly gathering her belongings and tossing them back into her handbag, she scrawled an apology note to the janitorial staff for leaving her office in such a mess.

The aftereffects of the drug gave the hall's fluorescent lights a halo. The 5'2" guidance counselor rubbed her arms, a coping method meant to dissipate stress. It wasn't working. Suddenly there were heavy footsteps behind her. She thought about ducking into a classroom, but all the doors would be locked by now. She stopped walking and held her breath, ready to shriek Bloody Mary.

"Are you alright, Mrs. Presley?" A friendly and familiar voice asked over her shoulder. Reyna whipped around. It was Mark Simmons, the High School Principal. She had never been more relieved to see him in her life.

"I-I" she stuttered. Her throat was as dry as the Sahara Desert.

"Hey," he smiled warmly. "This was your first real lockdown, wasn't it? Don't worry, they caught the guy."

For a split-second Reyna, still a bit foggy, thought he was talking about Derek.

"Why would anyone rob a gas station and choose to hide in a school parking lot? I assume you didn't get the staff email. This wasn't anything serious."

Reyna nodded. She was remembering Derek's warning in his video "If you don't want this to be in the news tomorrow..."

How much of the video would he release if she ratted him out? Obviously not the smug incriminating bits. He wasn't that dumb. But even if he just released the sex... She was clearly the victim, and the police would see that... Right? Even if she was smiling, they could test her for drugs. But what would that prove? It would turn into he said she said.

Reyna thanked Mark and wished him a good day. She left her car in the parking lot and used a rideshare to get home. It was the only responsible option in her condition.

*****

When Reyna arrived home, it was quarter past the hour. Her husband Sam would be back from work in 45 minutes. He was never late, one of the qualities she loved and respected about him. Today, however, she wished she could get an extra hour to herself. She had never felt more disgusting in her life. She stripped off her clothes and ran into the shower. Twisting the handle to C, she waited for the water temperature to drop before stepping in. In college, she read a scientific journal with an article outlining the psychological benefits of cold showers. She was so taken with the study that in a matter of weeks had modified her own regiment through sheer resilience. Scrubbing feverishly at her skin with a pumice stone, she imagined how amazing it would be if she could molt like a snake. As the freezing water sprayed her face and shoulders, her mind felt clear for the first time since Derek drugged her.

The deranged pissant had cum in her! The revolting scene replayed in her mind. The notion of Derek's vile gunk stowed deep inside her made the drenched woman seize the showerhead and yank it from its holder. Though her vulva was sore and swollen, Reyna grimaced as she spread her vaginal lips wide and turned the nozzle to jet setting. Her eyes bulged in pain as a high-pressure stream power washed her pussy like she was standing over a geyser. She held the hose for as long as she could stand, ignoring the awkward tickle as some of the surge hit her clit. The eco-timer beeped to let her know that seven minutes were over and to finish up, but looking past her flat tummy, she still felt soiled. Grabbing Sam's shaving cream and a razor from the shelf, she lathered her mound generously and purged herself of her netherhair. Though normally keeping her pubic hair trim, she had reserved her razor for her legs and underarms.