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Extra-Curricular
Waking up and not wanting to
get out of bed. That was the first sign; when you know that if you crawl out of
bed and into the hellish college surroundings then you won’t be able to escape
the fact that you are unlovable. I felt like that for a long time. If you get
told it enough it is easy to start to believe it. Every relationship I had was
mad, exaggerated. I became infatuated with anyone who spent five minutes
getting to know me. Then they would grow bored and leave me and I was once more
unloved, lonely and ugly. So instead of making friends I worked and worked.
The bell sounded the end of
the lesson. I looked up from my essay that I had been writing quietly and
watched as my classmates filed out of the room. I slowly packed away my things
till at last I was alone in the classroom with my teacher. Mr Harding was
not well-liked. At first many of the
girls had been taken in by his deep brown eyes and black hair and his broad
shoulders. But a twisted sense of humour and a way of teasing students who got
questions wrong had made him suddenly undesirable. “Congratulations Sarah, you
have correctly identified that Blake’s the Lamb is on one level about a lamb.”
In a strange way I have
always liked scary teachers, always felt drawn to them, and I rose to the
challenge. Our arguments about novels often became shouting matches, and I
found myself trying to find controversial things to say about literature just
to have him yell at me. “Lily, come here and show me what you have written.” I
picked my essay off the table and walked over to his desk, everyone else had
filed out of the room already and I was alone in the classroom, I found myself
smiling to myself. He read through the sheet quickly then he put it to one
side. “This essay is good, but not good enough,” He began to go through the
mistakes and explain what was wrong with my interpretations. As he went on I
began to blush a brighter and brighter pink. He got to the last line then
smiled. A wolfish smile, like he was about to eat me up. “Now,” He sighed
wistfully. “How do you suggest we resolve these problems?” I tried to stutter a
response but for some reason it wouldn’t come, a strange excited feeling had
come over me. Somehow I knew he didn’t have extra classes in mind. He took me
by the wrist and led me to the board, he placed my palms flat against the
board, above my head and pressed my body against the board. He took my chin
gently in his hands and twisted it to face him. Looked harshly into my eyes,
deeply, as though evaluating my personality. “Do you think you deserve to be
punished?” He was actually asking for my consent. I thought for a moment;
should I give myself up to this man, who is almost 10 years older than myself?
A realisation hit me; I was drawn to his strength and he knew it. No one else
had ever noticed me in this way, I had never been found sexy, I was just Lily;
the English nerd.
I smiled at him in a dreamy
way, completely intoxicated. “Yes Sir, it’s the punishment I deserve.” The
Wolfish grin returned, I was his lamb. “Ten spanks should do the trick.”
The first spank struck hard,
harder than I was expecting, but it didn’t hurt, I didn’t squeal or cry like I
had expected, it was simply pure excitement. My face flushed pink. His face
came to my ear. “Count them.”
“One”
I wonder if I could have
started on two. I didn’t dare find out.
“Two”
I was moaning.
“Three”
Becoming excited.
“Four..
Five..
Six ..”
(In quick succession)
“Seven”
Growing wet.
“Eight”
Feeling hot.
“Nine”
Gasping with excitement.
His voice was in my ear
again. “You are enjoying this far too much,” Mr Harding informed me with much
amusement. “An extra hard one to finish you off. My kinky student.”
A short scream escaped my
lips before I counted, triumphant. “Ten.”
I collapsed on the floor,
never had I been so excited. He moved away, I suddenly noticed a bulge in his
trousers, his face was also flushed. He smiled at me for a third time. “I think
Miss Cassidy, that the only way we will be able to properly develop your
talents will be in after school sessions.”
I had been wrong,
extra-curricular activities had been exactly what he had in mind.
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Over the next few days I was
even more unsociable than usual. I wondered from lesson to lesson in a daze.
How had he known? How did he realise that I was a submissive before I knew
myself? I felt a mixture of being touched and at the same time violated, as
though he read my very soul like a novel.
Then at Registration on
Friday I got a note from my form teacher. “Extra-Curricular English Classes,
3pm, Tuesdays.”
Normal English lessons were a
thing of the past, I sat in Mr Harding’s lessons in a state of fear and sexual
arousal. He would direct a question to me and I would blush furiously and
mumble something. He on the other hand found it extremely amusing and with no
subtlety continued to send a barrage of questions in my direction. He only
stopped when other members of the class started to pick up on it. For a while,
I was left to wallow in my gentle humiliation. But at the end of the lesson he
decided that a little more was on the cards. “Lily, work to the front please” I
breathed in deeply and marched to the front of the class. He glanced through
it, and a little something caught his eye and made him smile. “Lily, please
copy this doodle onto the board and enlarge it for the class.” Horrified, I
suddenly realised that he had stumbled upon a doodle that may have been of him.
I picked up a board-pen and shaking, drew what can only be described as an
extremely poor likeness of my favourite teacher, with little love hearts
surrounding it. The class suddenly became extremely interested in the lesson.
Once again I felt the pinkness rising to my cheeks. “Now, Lily, your attentions
are extremely sweet, but I really don’t think a relationship between a student
and a teacher is entirely appropriate. Do you?” Frozen to the spot I could only
gawp at him and the class in horror. In one quick motion he tore the essay in
two. “ Rewrite it, without the love notes.” Then he handed it back to me and
walked back to my seat, seriously considering suicide while my classmates
roared with laughter. “Lily and Harding sitting a tree…” What are they, eight?
I lay my head down on the desk and stayed like that till the class was gone.
Mr Harding prodded me in the
rib and at last I uncurled. “Come on Lily, I need to the lock the door, and
unless you fancy staying here all night I think you’d better get moving.” I
laughed gently and suddenly found I was able to speak to him again. “You really
are wicked.” His eyes lit up. “If you weren’t so cute then it wouldn’t be so
much fun.”
I was standing now, bag in
hand. I really had no response for him. “If I was you,” he said firmly, “I
would get that essay finished by Tuesday.”
“Yes sir.”
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Cute? I’m not cute. Am I? I’m
unlovable, I’m bitchy, I’m a nerd. I am not cute. But then why do I keep
catching myself in the mirror and thinking, hey, not bad. 5’4” pretty rosebud
mouth, sweet little nose, heart shaped face and auburn waves to frame it. I
little bit too curvy, 10 stone is too much for a 17 year old girl. I like my
breasts though, secretly. 34 C and light pink nipples. But still, I don’t think
he could think I was cute based on those. I don’t exactly flash them. In fact
the word most people would use to describe me is frigid. I’m not frigid.
Tuesday morning arrived and
my I had 4 heart-thumping periods before English. I arrived at the classroom
full of expectation. I thought that once again he would throw a thousand
questions in my direction. But there was nothing. He picked other students
every time. I rose my hand, but still it was ignored. I stared at him, he did
not return my stare. I felt hurt. Was I not cute after all? Somehow his
ambivalence was much worse than his attentions. I couldn’t concentrate and my
achievements at the end of the lesson were limited.
The class all exited. I sat
still in my seat. I didn’t even bother to put my things away, I just sat and
watched as my teacher stood up and wrote on the board.
EXTRA-CURRICULAR ENGLISH
I quivered in my seat. “Lily,
have you brought that essay?” I nodded in affirmation. “Yes sir” How could I
already be wet? “Well bring it to the front.” I walked slowly up to the front.
I handed him the essay. As He read through it he addressed me.
“From now on in these sessions
you will obey my every command. I will try to ensure that it does not go beyond
something you can endure, but it is necessary to have a safe word. Your safe
word is ‘Blackberry.’ If there is something you cannot endure then you will say
that word and I will stop and we will talk through the problem. Understand so
far?”
“Yes Sir”
“Good. You are also currently
addressing me correctly, do it wrong and you will be punished. These sessions
can continue as long as I wish them to. You are in my control and unless you
state the safe word I can and will do whatever I feel like. I will also stress
that you are agreeing to this consensually and can therefore refuse to continue
with these lessons. Got all that?”
“Yes Sir”
“Good, now get undressed.”
I froze, this was the first
test. “Wh..What!?”
I failed.
He stood and grabbed me by
the hair. “This essay is disgusting. I am going to punish you for it.” A slap
to my face. “You will address me as Mr Harding or as Sir.” A second slap to the
face. “You are not allowed to question my authority.” A final slap which sent
me flying to the floor as he simultaneously released my hair. I rushed to
undress. In my bra and knickers, I looked up at him pleading him to let me keep
my underwear on. “Get up.”
He sat me down on the high
backed computer chair at his desk. Then he drew out from his desk draw a pair
of handcuffs, a blindfold and a short wooden ruler.
He handcuffed my hands
tightly behind the chair and then blindfolded me. Then he began to read my
essay aloud, for every spelling mistake, every grammar mistake, every little
thing that he disagreed with he would hit me with the ruler on my inner thighs.
At first I felt pain as the wood burnt against my skin but as I warmed up once
again I was experiencing ecstasy. I was so aroused I began to arch my back in
the hope he would brush my aching clitoris. No such luck I was left thoroughly
excited and with no hope of release. “Please…” I began to moan as the blows
continued to fall. A slap to the face. “Please Sir,” His voice rang in my ears
exciting me all the more.
“Please Sir may I come?” I
felt suddenly ashamed of what I had just said.
“Really enjoying this huh?
This is meant to be a punishment you little slut.” He made me feel disgusting,
but it only heightened my arousal. He laughed at my moans and slid my knickers
around my ankles. Humiliated, I gasped, but was suddenly silenced as his finger
touched my clitoris. I jumped against my bonds. “I don’t want you to come until
you are given permission. Miss Cassidy.”
“Yes Sir.” I yelped at the
realisation that my English teacher was playing with me. But at the same time I
couldn’t wait for his touch.
His tongue hit against my
clitoris in fast strokes. I had never experienced anything like it and I was
immediately sweating and writhing, and feeling close to the edge of an orgasm. “Please,
sir.” I said it over and over, as though I was chanting. He plunged his tongue
into my hole and I rose up onto it. Then he returned to my aching bud. He was
sucking and nibbling it. Swirling his tongue in small circles. The feeling was
overwhelming and despite having no permission, I came.
As the excitement wore off
the blindfold was removed. Mr Harding slapped me so hard I felt sure the chair
would topple. He grabbed my throat and screamed at me. “You little whore! How
dare you.” Then he unclipped the handcuffs. Forced me to my knees and continued
to yell abusively. Then he picked up a board pen and wrote in quick clear
strokes:
ESSAY DUE NEXT TUESDAY: WHY A
GOOD SLAVE DOESN’T COME BEFORE SHE HAS PERMISSION 3000 WORDS.
With that I was grabbed by
the hair and flung from his room still almost naked, and the door slammed shut
behind me. My clothes followed me. I dressed and then ran home.
End of Part One.
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