Eros Academy

She sat at her desk, legs thrown up on its surface, her hands cupping the back of her head. She surveyed the incoming students with bright, glimmering green eyes, and the slight smile that played on her lips was enough to make every man in the room forsake all that was good and holy in the world.

But as Brock promised, I found my eyes drawn irresistibly to her chest. The weather didn't allow for anything revealing, and I cursed God for that, but she had chosen a tight gray sweater, and it accentuated her curves. With her hands behind her head, her breasts were thrust out, and it didn't take much imagination to guess at their size. I found a vacant chair and prayed that she would get up and stand in profile at some point.

No such luck. When the ball rang, the only way Miss Sharp recognized the start of class was to cough lightly. There were tombs that were louder than that classroom. When she spoke, her voice was deep and husky, like a 1940's movie starlet going toe-to-toe with Humphrey Bogart.

"OK, if everyone's here we can get started," she said. "It's going to be light today, so if you screw this up it won't speak well of your ability. On your desktop there's an icon that says 'Eros Typing Test.' You can probably guess what that measures."

"Our welding ability," I helpfully added.

Miss Sharp ignored me.

"Just click that icon and take the tests," she continued. "These are going to tell me where you are all at with your abilities. They should take you most of the class. When you're done, there'll be a button so you can electronically submit your results. If you get done early, try to find something productive to do on the internet."

I had to admit, Eros went all-out with the computers. They had invested in some top-of-the-line models, real slick, fast-running machines. Their typing tests were similarly sophisticated; not a single "see Dick run" type of sentence.

In fact, they were impressive enough to help me stay focused on the task at hand. I managed to keep my surreptitious peeks at Miss Sharp down to about a dozen or so during the class, though during one of those glances I just about fell in love with her hair, which was an almost illegally vibrant shade of crimson.

My last keystroke fell with about 15 minutes left in the class; 65 words-per-minute wasn't my best, but considering the distractions, I was satisfied. I submitted the test and spent the rest of class tooling around on the 'net.

The bell rang precisely at 2:30; there was another class period left, but I was done for the day. Miss Sharp was studying her computer screen, making mental notes of the students as they left class. She frowned and tapped her finger on the desk.

"Mr. Roe, hold on a second," she said.

I said my farewells to Brock's friend. The door closed behind him on the way out; I hadn't noticed, but we were the last two students in the room. I was alone with Miss Sharp. I smiled sweetly.

"Yes ma'am, how can I help you," I asked. "Am I getting a certificate for my outstanding typing?"

She smiled, and I just about melted into the carpet. To my credit, I kept my eyes fixed firmly on her face.

"Not quite," she said. "It looks like there was a problem with your test."

"Was the score too high? Did I tilt the system?"

"Again, no. For some reason the test didn't go through; I've got a zero in your column. Sorry."

She said all of this without moving an inch from her seat. I noticed then how fantastic her legs were, even when she was wearing pants.

"Oh. That really kind of sucks."

"Yep. If you want, you can re-take the test right now. Get it over with."

I sighed and looked at my watch. I wasn't in the mood to spend another hour and a half in school.

"Oh, like you have anything better to do," she added. "I know you don't have another class today, and we both know you don't have an after-school paper route. We've got a shorter test; should take you about half an hour."

I shrugged and took a seat at one of the empty computers.

"OK, same icon," she said. "You'll find the shorter version under the file menu."

I found the program and started the test. It was easier than the first, the sentences simpler, easier to type. As I worked, I could hear Miss Sharp shuffling papers at her desk.

"Hey, you're actually moving," I said. "I didn't know you could."

"Focus, Mr. Roe," she responded. "Just type your words."

I turned to say something, but the words caught in my mouth. She had taken her sweater off and was wearing a small white t-shirt that showed her navel. I thought I was going to poke a hole through the table when I saw the cotton cling to her chest. What little that had been left to the imagination earlier was all revealed now; her breasts were larger than Tricia's, and they didn't have the operated-on look.

She was leaning on the desk, her legs crossed at the ankles. She smiled slightly and pointed at the computer.

"You don't seem very focused, Mr. Roe," she said. "You wouldn't want to give a bad first impression."

I swallowed hard and turned back to the monitor. Out of the corner of my eye I could see her push off the desk and stride slowly toward me, her hips swinging seductively.

I felt her behind me, and she ran a finger across the base of my neck. I shuddered and spelled "daisy" with two g's and an x.

"Oh, I don't think that's right, Mr. Roe," she cooed. "Would you like to start over? Maybe take a different test?"

She was leaning over my shoulder, her breasts resting heavily on the back of my neck. I could feel the sweat trickling down my forehead.

"Back off, would you," I said. "I'm trying to work here."

I'm not sure why I said that.

"Oh, do I distract you, Mr. Roe," she whispered into my ear. "Can't you focus? Can't you type? Do I...excite you?"

I practically hissed at her.

"No, you silly little witch," I said. "Silicone-filled hags who dress like that in a school aren't my type. They disgust me. You disgust me."

I'm not sure why I said that either. I knew any man my age would kill to be in this situation. But "hostile" was the only reaction I could muster.

She laughed. I felt her reach around and grab my dick; I nearly jumped out of the chair.

"Oh, yes," she said. "I can feel your...disgust for me growing. Your disgust is clearly rock hard."

She squeezed me gently. The pressure was exquisite. I lost all sense of what was in front of me; I felt her breasts on my neck, smelled her perfume and could almost taste her. A light groan escaped my lips.

"Yes, so disgusted," she whispered.

She released me and backed off my shoulder. I finished the test, and she made a clucking noise with her tongue.

"Wow, seven words a minute," she said. "That's impressive. I thought you might dip into negative numbers. Way to go."

I was breathing heavily. I looked over my shoulder at Miss Sharp; her eyes and lips shimmered. They also mocked me.

"What do you want?"

She reached into her pocket, pulled out a card and handed it to me. An address was scrawled on it.

"I trust you can find that," she said. "9:00 tonight. And don't ask me why, because you're not quite that stupid."

I took the card.

"I'm not coming," I said. "I told you, I-"

"Stop right there. Don't finish that sentence; you believe it less than I do. Be there at 9:00. Oh, do me a favor and don't wear those jeans; they smell like you haven't washed them in years. Now get going. I have work to do."

I opened my mouth to say something, but thought better of it. Without a word I stood up and walked out, pausing only to look over my shoulder. She shooed me out the door and closed it behind me.

I leaned against a wall and collected my thoughts. I was still rock hard.

"You're not going," I said to myself. "You're not going. Get yourself together. Don't let your dick do your thinking. Go home, do your homework, go to bed. That slut is bad news. This can only end badly."

I had convinced myself; I was very persuasive. I wasn't going to end up being grilled by Nancy Grace. There was no way I going to Miss Sharp's home that evening.

***

At 8:59 I knocked on the front door of the address she had given me. It seemed only proper that if I was going to reject her advances, I should do it in person. I didn't bother changing out of my jeans; that should show the woman that I was serious.

Miss Sharp opened the door in a white plush robe. She had it cinched tightly, but I could see enough to know she wasn't wearing anything underneath. I had to shake my head to clear the dust out.

"Ah, yes, hi Miss Sharp," I stammered. "Look, I just wanted to come by, you know, not for what you-"

She interrupted me with uproarious laughter. Doubled over and convulsing like she was racked with pain, she waived me into the house. I waited a few seconds for Miss Sharp to stop laughing, but she didn't show any signs of letting up.

"OK, look, I don't want to interrupt your merriment, but-"

She held up her hand tried to rein in the laughter. She looked me in the eye and fell into another giggling fit, but after a few seconds she pulled it together.

"The jeans," she said between chuckles. "The jeans. I knew you'd wear the jeans. God, but you're so damn predictable. All of you."

"I'm sorry, but I'm confused," I said. "I thought you hated these jeans. You told me not to wear them."

"And yet, here they are," she said. Her eyes suddenly lost their mirth. "And so are you. I couldn't care less about your damn jeans."

She motioned me to follow her into the kitchen, and I did, trying to decipher what she had just said.

"Did you want something to drink?"

I shook my head.

"Ah, Jeff, you're everything I thought you'd be. You know, life has a habit of making all of us feel pretty foolish. That makes these moments, these moments when we're proven completely, undeniably correct, all the more sublime. I love guys like you."

I didn't know what she was talking about, but I knew I was offended.

"You don't know any-"

"Yes, Jeff, I know plenty of guys like you. Dozens of guys like you. Hundreds of guys like you. Guys who are convinced there aren't any guys like them. Yeah Jeff, I know you pretty well."

"Well, congratulations. If you're done patting yourself on the back, I just came here to say-"

"We both know why you came here, so you can cut it out right now."

"Listen, that was the second straight time you interrupted me, and-"

"This makes three," she said. Her voice was stone. "And I won't hesitate to make it four if you try and talk again. Now, listen to me. Without even knowing you I know you.

"You try desperately to be the deadpan snarker. You try desperately to make everyone around you know that you're the smartest kid in the classroom. You fool most of them. You don't fool me, and you don't fool anyone else with an ounce of insight. You are not that smart, you are not that clever, and you're certainly not that cute. You are not better than your surroundings or the people surrounding you. You are not destined for greatness. When you die, the historians will not write books."

She looked at me coldly. I stood there, frozen.

"Do you have anything to say?"

"I'm a little cute," I offered.

She rolled her eyes and walked into the living room. This time I followed more confidently, my anger fueling my steps.

"Are you out of bile? Because if there's more, I don't want to interrupt, really. You've got a whole head of steam worked up, and there's nothing cuter than a bimbo with illusions of intellect."

She said nothing. I pushed on.

"You can spare me the speech, because I know you don't believe it, and I know you don't because I'm here. And I'm here because you asked me here. So if that little blow-up is just guilt boiling up and escaping, fine, but don't think for one second that it fools me.

"So that's it, I'm done. I came over here to tell you that I wasn't going to be your kept boy for the semester. I'll see you at school on Wednesday."

Sharp was silent. I turned to leave.

"Bullshit," she spat. "You came here for one thing, and you're not going to leave until you get it. Now turn around."

I did. With her green eyes and flaming red hair she looked like a Celtic war goddess.

"And as for why you're here...don't pretend to care. You're not led by your brain, any more than any other man is. You know what I'm offering, and you know you're begging for it. I'm going back to the bedroom for a minute. Either give in to yourself or slink away while I'm gone. It's on you."

Without another word she turned on her heel and walked away. I had my choice. There was no question of leaving. Sharp was right; at heart, I was simply a horny teenager, and I had a woman offering herself to me who I didn't have the temerity to summon in my dreams. I could hate myself in the morning. This night, I'd satisfy myself.

She made me wait. Not long, and I'm not sure if it was anything other than my own anxiousness. But she gave me just enough time to grow hard with anticipation.

My imagination had failed me. Spectacularly.

The robe was gone, and she strode into the living room naked, with the grace and confidence of a ballet dancer. Everything about her seemed to glow; her hair fell lightly on her bare shoulders, and her eyes shone fiercely.

And oh, if Brock could have seen her chest. Greek goddesses did not have breasts so perfect. They were magnificent orbs; massive, with perfect nipples set amidst large areolas. But they hung high on her chest. They did not sag. And when she moved, they swayed like the real things; so far as I could tell, my teacher was all-natural.

Her legs were long and slender; her thighs seemed to glisten with pure sex.

I was awestruck, my mind locked with possibilities. There were perfect lips to kiss, perfect nipples to suck, perfect legs to caress. Everything I saw was flawless.

Except for the black rubber penis she had strapped around her waist. And the handcuffs she held in her left hand.

I saw them, and when she saw me see them, a smile crept across her face that was lust and evil in their purest forms. She jingled the cuffs at me.

"A little clichéd, yes, but I do enjoy the old-fashioned things in life," she said. "And as for my strap-on friend...well, we all have our little sicknesses. I like to stand behind a man and thrust into him, to grab his shoulders and make him feel me."

I gulped and said nothing. She laughed at my discomfort.

"Oh, don't worry Jeff, tonight's all about you," she cooed. "What I'm talking about takes some preparation, and we have an entire semester for it. No, you'll be able to walk away from this evening a very pleased man."

I still couldn't find any words. It was a discomfiting sensation. Sharp nodded at the cuffs.

"And as for these...well, they're usually helpful for keeping young men in line," she said. She took a few steps and laid a silky hand on my cheek. "But you, Mr. Roe, you have no fight left. You won't struggle. You've already given in."

She laid the handcuffs on an end table. I looked at them, then allowed my gaze to wander back to her body. I was about to burst. She sensed it.

"I'm yours Jeff. You can have the greatest semester a student has ever had. I just require one, little piece of symbolism."

She pointed at the carpet, and I understood. Pride and ego told me to run; everything else told me to fall on my knees. I had lost self-control; all I could see were those perfect breasts, those shimmering eyes. And I wanted everything I saw so much that I didn't even think about the choice.

I got on my knees. Sharp was close now, close enough for me to smell her jasmine perfume and the rubber of her strap-on. Her pussy was shaved clean; I was inches from the treasure. Inches, and one brief, humiliating act.

"You know what you want," she said softly. "Don't be afraid of it. One moment for five months."

Then she laid her hand in my hair and ruffled it condescendingly. She grabbed it and tugged gently.

"You really should get this cut, you know," she said.

I'm not sure why that affected me the way it did. I'm not sure what inspired me, with this gorgeous woman's pussy at eye level, to choose that moment to stand up for myself.

But I grabbed her by the wrist, and before she could say a word, pulled her down to the floor. Moving with a speed I didn't know I had, I ripped off the strap-on and threw it across the room.

I grabbed hold of my teacher's left ankle and reached for the end table with the handcuffs. She began to struggle; she kept kicking me in the side. I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder; she was biting me.

I had never won a fight in my life, but then, all my other fights had been with men. The end table was knocked over, but I was able to grab the handcuffs and roll on top of Miss Sharp.

I felt those perfect breasts rub against my shirt, and despite the moment, I got a chill down my spine. She slapped me hard on the face and tried to knee me in the groin. Her face was flushed and her eyes flashed with fury.

"You fucking bastard," she screamed. "Get off-"

It took a tremendous exertion of strength, but somehow I was able to flip her on her stomach. She writhed and flopped like a fish, but I sat on her legs and brought her arms behind her. Before she could react, I had her handcuffed.

There wasn't time to admire my work; I didn't want to find out what she could do with those feet. I tore my shirt off and used it to bind her legs together at the ankles. It was only then that I stood over her.

Oh, what a sight she was. Hands and feet bound, she writhed like a banshee on the carpet. Her hair flew in her face, and those green eyes raged at me with an unquenchable fire. She was breathing hard, and her breasts rose and fell violently. She was even sexier than when I saw her naked a few minutes before.

"You cock sucking piece of shit, I am going-"

I lost her screams when I left for the bedroom. There were a few details left, and I guessed she had other tools that could help me.

I didn't have time to contemplate the four-poster bed. Sharp had helpfully left her bag of toys on the bed, and it had exactly what I needed. I took a ballgag and a couple of leather straps. There was something else I found as well, a vibrator with two large, leather straps in the shape of an "o."

I found her in much the same place I had left her, struggling futilely on the ground. The hatred in her eyes was, I'm ashamed to say, strangely arousing.

When I knelt at her feet to replace my shirt with one of the straps, she kicked me straight in the stomach with both feet. After catching my breath, I was able to bind her ankles with the strap. A few moments later, I had a hogtied computer teacher lying on the floor.

"One act for five months," I said. "I think you made a mistake in judgment, Miss Sharp."

"It's your mistake you fu-"

She was cut off when I tried to work the gag into her mouth. She bit one of my fingers, and the blood flowed down her chin, but again, I was able to get it strapped in successfully.

She screamed into the gag, but it was well-made, and her sounds were muffled. I knelt at her side and ran a finger between her breasts.

"God, but you are magnificent. I mean just fucking magnificent. You were right Miss Sharp; the next five months are going to be a hell of a lot of fun."

Sighing, I pulled her on to the couch.

"But that'll wait. It's late, I'm tired, and it's a school night. I'll spend the evening thinking about you, I can promise that. And you, I think, will spend it thinking of me."

Her eyes screamed at me. I waved and found a light switch. In the darkness, I could hear her muffled screams. They followed me into her bedroom.

***

I woke up a few minutes early the next morning, though I hadn't been able to get much sleep during the night. Far too many distracting mental images. On the floor I found the vibrator I had picked out last night.