This story contains coarse language of an adult nature
and scenarios of sexual and erotic situations.
Reader discretion is advised.
The strap was black, made out of woven leather, about a quarter inch thick, a throwback to the forties. It had belonged to her grandmother and was one of the teaching aids of that era. Her grandmother was a high school teacher back then and a strict disciplinarian, just as she was now. Although she had been teaching for about seven years she had never had the occasion to use it, it was certainly against all the rules now, but for some reason she kept it in her desk drawer for sentimental reasons. It was just over an inch wide and fifteen inches long and back then was used on the open hand of the miscreants. Two or three strokes on each hand would bring tears to the eyes of the toughest of the toughs.
Miss (Kim) Fox taught English (as did her grandmother) and discipline in her class was always strict. Classes that got out of control were quickly brought into line as were any uncontrollable students. A couple of detentions or a visit to the guidance department were quickly deployed. Miss Fox’s biggest problem was that she was still young, not much older than some of the seniors and drop dead gorgeous! She was five-seven, a hundred and twenty pounds and a svelte thirty-four, twenty-four, thirty-four. A parade of schoolboys would follow when she walked down the halls and they all feigned close familiarity. She had heard all their idle remarks at least a dozen times: “Did you see Mz. Fox’s skirt? Slit right up to here---!” “Oh yeah, but what about those legs man, they go right up to there then make an ass out of themselves!” “Foxy’s got the top three buttons of her blouse undone and I couldn’t see a bra!” “Kim’s wearing the tightest pants today! Ohhh that ass!” “I heard that one of the girls saw her in the shower and says she’s got a pair of lips tattooed on her left butt!”
For all her advantages she lived a fairly modest life, a small apartment, a compact car, a fitness membership, and a large clothing allowance. There was no ‘main man’ at the moment, she was keeping that option open. Her work was all consuming till such time as she was well established.
Jason was in her grade nine class, at sixteen he was already a year behind. Not because he was dumb, he seemed to be able to pull off an A whenever it was needed, but his interest was in sports, not academia. He was big for his age, pushing six feet and a hundred and eighty pounds. But it was all muscle, hardly an ounce of fat. Not what you would call handsome, more rugged looking. But he had turned the heads of a couple of the senior girls already not to mention all the grade niners.
Miss Fox couldn’t understand why he was content to loaf along, on the field he had more drive than anyone, but in the class----. She also found him very disconcerting and disruptive. The comments he made on authors and their writings were usually right on the mark and sometimes he even gave her a new slant on some of the novels up for study. His attitude towards authors though was that they were all perverted, homosexual, or lesbians and it really irked her sometimes especially when he had the facts to back up his statements.
He glared at her till he got her attention. “Can I ask you something?”
“Yes Jason.”
“How come you always go to the defense of these authors.”
“I don’t believe that their sexual preferences have anything to do with the story.”
“I don’t agree. I think their sexual preferences are the story. Can I ask you another question?”
“Yes. Go ahead.”
“Are you perverted?”
Stunned! Shocked! Gasps and a commotion from the other students.
“Jason. Into my office. Right now! I’ll talk to you after class.”
She slammed the door to her office behind her and she went straight to the drawer and withdrew the strap. Her anger clouding her judgment.
“Put your hand out Jason.”
He did as instructed and she delivered four strokes, each one harder as she got the feel for the instrument. He stood there quietly, not even flinching, infuriating her even more.
“The other one.”
Again, as instructed, he held out his open hand. Four strokes on this hand, harder still, but he still didn’t flinch or react. She pitched the strap into the drawer and shoved it closed.
“No more disruptions in my class. Understood? You’re dismissed!”
She stopped at the gym on the way home, she needed to sooth the days stress. Her nerves were just jumping, what if he reported her, that would end that career, and probably several others. Anyways, was she a pervert? Did using the strap make her a pervert? Or was it because of the warm feeling she was getting just thinking about it? And damn him anyway---he didn’t even balk! She worked out three times a week and knew she had above average arm strength and he didn’t even balk!
He didn’t report her and the next couple of weeks passed uneventfully. The study of a couple of poems by Emily Dickinson seemed to calm things. As usual Jason had an astute comment that she couldn’t answer.
“Why was she so concerned with immortality when she spent all her life hiding in her room. Seems contradictory to me.”
She let that one go and announced:
“Class, the next book we’ll be studying is The Happy Prince by Oscar Wilde.
She was about to give Jason a stern look to quell any comments, but she was too late.
“Ha ha” He blurted “A fairy tale by a fairy.”
He thought this was hilarious and so did several others in the class, causing a real commotion that took her several minutes to get under control.
“Jason! Into my office! Right this second.”
Being an entry-level teacher her office was windowless and Spartan. A desk, a filing cabinet, and two chairs, so of course it wasn’t a neat as it should be. A second door opened into the hall and on checking he found that it was locked.
She raged in, slamming the door behind her, and went directly to the drawer.
“Drop your pants Jason.”
He hesitated for a second.
“We had a discussion two weeks ago about being disruptive. I guess you weren’t listening. I said drop your pants.”
He unbuckled his belt and let his jeans drop to the floor. The bulge she had noticed on several occasions was really him!
“The Jockeys too.”
He pushed them down and wasn’t at all modest about the fact that his member was sanding proud. She just about gasped out loud. What a beauty!
“Over to the desk and bend over.”
He slipped out of his shoes and left the jeans and shorts laying on the floor right where they had dropped and approached the desk. As he passed her though, he reached up with one hand and grabbed her behind the neck. His grip was strong and he was hurting her neck and he pushed her till her hips were against the edge of the desk then pushed head down, bending her over the edge. She struggled against him and tried to push up and he countered by draping one leg over her back, trapping her securely. His free hand was hiking her shirt up to waist level exposing her undies. Nice, tight, with a lacy trim, just the way he liked them. He gathered the fabric at one hip and with a twist of the wrist tore it in half. Then ditto the other side. She gasped in ecstasy as the fabric was pulled taut against her vulva then pulled slowly away. Sure enough, the tattoo was there, exactly as described. Cute. He maintained his grip on the scruff of her neck and in spite of all her working out she was unable to budge him. His leg across her back was unmovable. She thought about crying out for help but she would have as much explaining to do as him, and maybe more. The strap came down, first on her right cheek then a second later on her left, stinging like hell! She steeled herself to the pain, she didn’t want to show him any more emotion than he had shown her. The strap came down again, right then left, almost on the same spots. Oh god that stings! She tried struggling again but he simple tightened his grip on the back of her neck and she stopped. Then again, right, left. The crack of the strap seemed to reach her before the sting heightening the anticipation. She whimpered. She couldn’t help it. Then again, right, left. She was sure he had struck her harder and she yelped.
She saw him put the strap aside, not a minute too soon, he had made her cry, the tears running off the end of her nose. Still holding her face down by the back of the neck he moved behind her and placed his feet inside hers and forced her feet apart. He caressed her burning ass gently and she lurched when he ran his hand between her legs. He found her G-spot almost immediately and within minutes she was close to orgasm. She was surprised at her flood of sexual tension. He pressed closer and took her by the hips and pulled her towards him entering her all the way. Her fight gone now she just held tightly onto the edge of the desk while he did his thing. He was very gentle really and after two or three strokes she was reeling in orgasm. He held on till she quieted then two or thee strokes more and she could feel the pulsing of his cock and the knee-jerk reaction as he spasmed inside her.
Through all this there was not one word spoken. Jason turned his back to her while he got back into his clothes allowing her to adjust her skirt and blouse and dry her eyes. She felt naked without her briefs but her ass was stinging so badly she probably wouldn’t be able to keep them on regardless.
An hour later she wandered out to the track. Even walking was difficult, the fabric of her skirt rubbed like sandpaper. They made eye contact and as he wandered towards her she lit a cigarette. They faced each other but neither knew what to say so in an arrogant gesture she took a drag and blew the smoke directly into his face. He smiled, but just with his mouth. He took the cigarette from her, took a drag and returned the favor. Then he dropped it onto the ground and crushed it with his foot.
“No smoking. Don’t you know it’s bad for your health.”
They stood glaring at each other in a little war of wills. As a woman who was easily intimidated she had learned the technique of visualizing, and as a competitive athlete he had done the same. Right now they were both putting the system to the test.
She was visualizing him on his knees kissing the width of her ass.
He was visualizing her on her knees kissing the length of his cock.
Now dear reader it’s your turn to visualize.