Extracurricular Activities Ch. 04byArthurianMorgaine©
Monday morning came and classes went by fast. It wasn't long until he was in Ms. Callahan's class where she was going over composition ideas with each student individually, giving the class a free period. As the bell rang, she told Chris to stay behind.
"I didn't forget about our appointment," he said, showing his palm with the words 'Ms. C @ 3' scrawled across it in black ink.
"Thank you Mr. Gaiten, I was just confirming," she said, smiling sweetly. "Do you know what your topic is going to be?" she queried.
"Internet censorship. It has been a passion of mine for a while."Ms. Callahan nodded and dismissed her student, both heading their separate ways to eat lunch.
Chris went to the cafeteria, raring to see Leslie. She sat at their usual seat with their usual friends. He got giddy with excitement and jogged over to sit by her side. She expressed her pleasure at seeing him again, resting her hand on his thigh, her head on his shoulder. He never even got anything to eat but he didn't feel hungry. She fulfilled him in a different way. The bell came too soon. Chris didn't have any classes with her this year so lunch was their only time together, but deep down he was grateful. Having to concentrate on school work and this siren would have been impossible. Chris walked Leslie to her next class, hand-in-hand.
"Wanna hang out after school today?" she asked him nervously.
"I'd love to but I have tutoring for English Comp.," he explained.
She nodded and gave his hand a squeeze. They parted ways and Chris rushed to P.E. making it to the locker room right before the bell. He changed into his gym clothes, school colors of black and gold, and awaited instructions. His teacher, an over-weight and balding man told them that they could split into groups; one for weight training, one for soccer and one for walking around the track. Chris wasn't into lifting weights and didn't have the hand-eye coordination for soccer so he decided to enjoy the fresh air on the track. Besides, most of the girls in his class would be walking and chatting and he'd get to admire them.
They walked from the main building and one of the other P.E. teachers, Mrs. Whitaker, was out there, a butch-looking woman in a gold-colored t-shirt and black shorts with a whistle around her neck. She blew it and encouraged the class to 'get moving!' Chris started at a decent pace, jogging around the quarter-mile track in only a few minutes. Running gave him a chance to clear his head. A chance to think things out. He was distracted by lovely Leslie running through his head.
"Good job Chris," Mrs. Whitaker said as he passed her for the fourth time in around ten minutes. He didn't notice, he just thought about the past week, how things had changed so much, got so much more exciting. He jogged past the other girls on the track and looked them over. Most of the guys in his class would have given their right nut for a chance with them, but they weren't exciting enough for him. Each girl seemed to have the same clothes, same hair, same plain beauty. What he wanted was a tattooed, pierced wild woman. A woman who knew what she wanted. A woman who knew she was sexy and needed no man to confirm it.
The whistle was blown three times in quick succession, breaking Chris from his reverie. "Let's head in!" Mrs. Whitaker shouted. He was already on the other side of the track and instead of jogging through the football field like everyone else he finished his lap strong, running to the end. "Good form, Gaiten!" his teacher complimented. "You ever thought about trying out for track? We could use someone with long legs for Cross-Country."
If Chris hadn't known better he would have guessed she was flirting with him but he had met the other Mrs. Whitaker, a sexy blonde bombshell, the two happily married for years now. He headed inside and changed out of his sweaty clothes. Grabbing some deodorant from his locker he slathered it on his underarms, banishing the smell of body odor. P.E. was his last class for the day and since he had gotten dressed early, he was able to leave early. He walked briskly down the hall to Leslie's art class and waited for her to emerge when the bell rang.
"Hi Chris!" she said, clutching her portfolio, slinging her backpack over her shoulder. He took both for her and walked her to her locker. They chatted for a few more minutes and he walked her to her bus. She gave him a peck on the cheek and they parted ways. When Chris got to his Toyota he pulled out his phone and started his navigation app. He imported Ms. Callahan's information from his contacts into the program and it sprang into action, pulling up turn-by-turn directions to her house. He jumped into his car, eager to get this tutoring session done so that he might be able to see Leslie again tonight.
As he turned the key in the ignition, the car sputtered and refused to start. "Come on Terly," he said, using the nickname he had given his Tercel. Seemingly responding to his pleas the car roared to life and he pulled out of the lot. Following the directions he drove uptown. The further he drove, the bigger the houses got.
"You have reached your destination," the feminine voice on his GPS told him. Before him was a brick wall punctuate by a wrought iron double gate with an ornate 'C' scrolled on it. He noticed an intercom and rolled down his windows, pressing the button tentatively. "Yes?" a voice came from the machine.
"Hi, it's me, Chris," he said nervously.
"Oh hey, let me open the gate for you!" came a voice now recognizable as Ms. Callahan's. The intercom buzzed and the gates rolled open smoothly. Chris put his car in drive and wound his way up her driveway. Her house came into view and it was very impressive. The driveway led right up to the front porch and then continued on, circling back on itself. The wrap-around porch was painted bright white, contrasting with the brick facade. The building wasn't very tall, maybe two stories with an attic space up top but it claimed a large footprint, covering a good chunk of the wooded property. As he parked his car, Ms. Callahan came out, glass of lemonade in hand. The cable installer's van was already there, "Waltham Cable and Security" it read in blue lettering on white paint.
"Hey Chris! Welcome to Callahan Manor," she smiled, gesturing to the palatial house behind her. "Come on in, make yourself comfortable!" Chris was dumbstruck as she led him into her house. "Here's the sitting room," she said, gesturing to a room stuffed with old books and over-upholstered furniture. "And here's the kitchen. Can I get you anything to eat?" Gleaming stainless steel and polished marble greeted him, high-quality appliances lining the walls. He shook his head and she continued the tour. "Here's my study," she explained, opening a door to another room with more old books and soft furnishings. "If you need to use the bathroom at any point it's the second door on the left."
Chris was flabbergasted. 'How could a woman on a teacher's salary afford this place?' he asked himself.
As if reading his mind, "My family is 'old money'" she said. "When my father passed, he left this place to me. I grew up here but moved out to California for school. I only came back to the East Coast to take care of this place."
He nodded and relaxed slightly, finally taking notice of his teacher. She was out of her work clothes, wearing something much more casual, a floral-print sun dress that hugged her every soft curve like it was painted on. Her hair was down, red locks resting on her shoulders. Her breasts were constraining against the dress, spilling out of it slightly. His cock hardened a bit in his pants. Her green eyes met his and he blushed.
"So let's get started here," she said cheerfully. The next few hours were filled with work on Chris' paper on internet censorship. While he worked she would pop out to check on the cable guy and usually come back with snacks or more lemonade. The cable guy came into her office and said that he was all done and wanted to give her a run-down of the new system. She excused herself for a couple minutes and afterwards she saw the white van pull away. They wrapped up the tutoring session for the day and Chris packed up his belongings, stowing them in his backpack.
"Excuse me, Ms. Callahan, I need to used the restroom," he said, his bladder full of sweet lemonade. She nodded and waved him off, grading his peers' work. Chris walked down the hall and counted the doors... 'One, two, on the right." Turning the knob he was greeted by a dark room. He fumbled for the light switch and flicked it upward, bathing the room in bright fluorescent light. He looked around in shock. A St. Andrew's Cross, an 'X' made of wood with restraints built in leaned against the far left side of the wall followed by a cage on the floor for a dog. Chains and ropes suspended from the ceiling. Implements of devious punishment secured to the walls with pegs and hooks. A metal spanking bench, barely padded with manacles built in. In the center was a red velvet-upholstered throne with gold detailing. Chris was floored. He had seen some of the same equipment on the website he frequented. His mind flashed with an image of him being tied up and 'taken advantage' of by his sexy teacher.
"You don't know your rights and lefts do you?" a sinister voice came from behind him, startling him.
"I...I just had...had to pee," he stammered. He turned and saw Ms. Callahan standing behind him, blocking his path of egress from this dungeon.
"Well, now you know my secret."
"I'm sorry, Ms. Callahan, I won't tell anyone I swear!" he said, pleading with her.
"I know you won't, but let me just show you something here," she said, stepping closer to him. He backed away. The door closed behind her and she grabbed him roughly by the arm, leading him to the 'X' on the wall.
"'X' marks the spot" she said, a cruel smile on her face. She guided his hand to the first restraint. He was too stunned to fight back, to try to get away. His mind was screaming but his body betrayed him, giving in to this woman, unsure the outcome. She fastened the leather around his left wrist, then his right. Kicking his legs apart, she attached them to the base of the cross. Chris struggled to free himself from the leather holding him to the cross to no avail. He was her captive. "I saw the way you looked at me. You've been a bad boy!" she said, crossing the floor quickly, grabbing a few pieces from the wall of torture devices. As she came back he noticed the riding crop in one hand and a leather flogger in the other. He groaned audibly. "You've gotten yourself into a bit of trouble here," she said, warming up, swishing the flogger through the air in a figure-eight. "I want to make sure you are not going to go tell all your friends at school how kinky Ms. Callahan is."
As she finished her sentence, the riding crop came whizzing through the air and landed sharply on his back. He arched to avoid the blow. It stung but would have hurt more had he not been fully clothed. She lashed him continuously with the leather flogger, causing his back to heat up. She wielded both tools simultaneously, the flogger in her left hand, the crop in her right hand, her dominant hand. Without missing a beat she would strike him with the riding crop, criss-crossing his back. He whimpered and groaned as feelings of pain and pleasure coalesced in his mind. With one last hard crack, the crop connected to his sensitized flesh.
She came up to his face, using the tip of the crop to guide his eyes to meet hers. Her normally leaf-green eyes sparkled with energy. His back was stinging and sore, his mind trying to find some semblance of order among the chaos before him, his libido in control of his lower half. "Now, do you understand?" He nodded. "Are you going to keep quiet or do I need to continue?" Ms. Callahan asked. Chris lowered his eyes and shook his head 'no.' "Good, now let's get you down from there," she said as she pulled the quick-release levers from the restraints. As he was freed, he rubbed his wrists reflexively. Ms. Callahan looked down at the bulge in his pants and smiled. "You liked that, slut!" she mocked. He blushed crimson. "Get out of my house!" she commanded with a sadistic laugh. He jogged down the hall and grabbed his backpack and left. Key in the ignition, his car came to life on the first try and he sped out of the driveway.
Chris sped off, his mind racing, his pulse rushing, his cock throbbing. His teacher had just dominated him, punished him. Chris came to a gas station and pulled in. He needed a minute to process what had just happened. Putting the car in park. he turned the key towards him and silenced the rumbling engine. The stillness helped him think. He had enjoyed her beating, penance for his wrong-doing, not the pain but the lack of control he had over his own self. To relinquish control was the ultimate form of freedom. He craved more. He wanted to go back and get her to teach and guide him, help him to become a better lover.
Groaning he felt his cock straining against his pants, the zipper's cool metal teeth causing some intense sensations on his delicate parts. He turned his car back on and sped home. Shifting into park, he grabbed his backpack and used it to hide his erection as he made his way up to his room without being spotted. He locked the door behind him and ripped his jeans off. His hands trembled as he wrapped them around his stiff cock and he began stroking his full nine inches. He moaned loudly and picked up the pace. Still standing in the middle of his bedroom floor, he turned and sat on his bed, leaning back to relax. As he did, he felt the warm sting from his punishment. Thoughts flooded back in; his hot teacher, her dungeon, her strict control over him, her deft skills with the flogger and riding crop.
As he masturbated, he had imagined what it would have been like if Ms. Callahan was the one controlling it. In his mind's eye, his rough hands were replaced by her soft ones, the voice in his head was sweet and feminine, telling him to cum for her. Chris exploded in his own hand, his whole body shaking with his release. His orgasm was exquisite and he could only lay their panting, his hand full of his own spunk. He took his shirt off and wiped his hand and stomach on it, tossing the soiled article into the hamper. He dozed for the rest of the evening, getting up for only an hour or so to make himself a sandwich.
Tuesday morning arrived, dark and drizzly. Chris got dressed, pulling a hoodie over his head to fight off the spring chill. He drove to school, parked and then went to Leslie's locker to wait for her to arrive. He saw her pink hair before he saw any more of her and his heart fluttered. Her eyes met his and she trotted over to him, giving him a hug.
"I forgot to tell you yesterday, but I had a great time this weekend," she whispered in his ear, her sultry voice causing him to shudder.
"Yeah, me too," he replied, blushing. Leslie turned the dial on her locker, entering the combination and pulling the lever to open it. She grabbed several books and put them into her bag. Chris took it from her and offered to walk her to class. She smiled and took him up on it. They headed down the halls together and chatted about nothing in particular. Arriving at her algebra class, she stood on tip-toes, pecked him on the cheek and went inside with her bag. Chris watched her take a seat and then darted down the hall to the complete opposite wing for his history class.
His teacher started the class by discussing the Middle Ages; sword fights, chivalry, pagans dancing under a full moon. It was a theme which would normally have him enthralled but his mind wandered. Next period was with Ms, Callahan. He wondered what she would be wearing, unable to get the picture of that flirty sun dress out of his head. He began recalling her harsh treatment of him and it turned him on. Fidgeting in his seat he attempted to get comfortable as his penis tented his pants. Raising his hand he asked to be excused and walked down the hall to the restroom.
Entering the stall he latched it behind himself and worked at the button on his jeans. He took his half-hard cock in his hands and tucked it into his waistband. Years of coping with a giant erection taught him some tricks, albeit uncomfortable ones. He zipped his pants back up and took off his hoodie, tying it around his waist. As he stepped out of the stall he checked out his package in the mirror. Satisfied, he made the trek back to class. When he came back in he saw that his history teacher had the PowerPoint going with paintings of the ravages of bubonic plague; that helped his erection subside.
When the bell rang he packed up his things and walked towards his English Composition class. He took his seat and looked around for Ms. Callahan, she wasn't in yet. He pulled out his copy of The Jungle and the rough draft of his paper they had worked on together. As she entered, her eyes immediately met Chris' and his heart pounded at his rib cage. She was dressed in a navy blue skirt-suit combination, her legs clad in tan stockings, simple blue pumps on her feet. Her hair was down for a change but still pulled away from her face with a headband. Chris couldn't stop staring at her; her round butt, her white blouse peeking out from under the feminine-cut blazer, her green eyes rimmed by tortoise shell glasses.
Ms. Callahan couldn't help but notice the student she had flogged the previous day gazing at her and it distracted her. She stood at the front of the class and the other students looked at her, but most would look away, taking notes or reading passages in the novel. Not Chris. The bell couldn't come fast enough for either of them. Chris took his time packing his things while Ms. Callahan tried to leave before the bell had even rang.
"Hey, Ms. C., can we talk?" Chris asked.
"Chris, I know what you are going to say. You are not the first person to have an infatuation with me. What happened the other night never should have and I apologize." Ms. Callahan sounded differently that she had yesterday; before she was harsh and domineering, now she seemed modest and contrite.
Chris stared at his feet, ashamed. "I want to learn more," he said to his teacher.
"Chris, you are too young for me," she said, fishing for excuses.
"I'm eighteen, perfectly legal!" he responded with indignation.
His head hung low as he left class.
Lunch with Leslie was a good respite from his emotional turmoil. She was busy telling a joke to her friends and all he caught was the punchline: "See you next month!" and the whole table burst out laughing.
"What'd I miss?" he asked as he sat next to Leslie, slice of pizza in hand.
"Just lesbian vampire jokes," she responded. Chris thought about the punchline again and made a face of revulsion, causing all the girls at the table to laugh. "What, can't handle a little joke?" she jested.
"Not gross ones!" He finished his pizza and wrapped an arms around Leslie's waist, holding her close. Her friends were already planning out their weekend together; clubbing, getting their hair done, etcetera. The bell rang and everyone cleared their trays and headed off to class. Chris grabbed Leslie's arms gently as she turned to head to class, Ms. Callahan's rejection of him still fresh in his mind, "Leslie can I give you a ride home today?" he asked, his afternoon free.
"Sure! Meet me by my locker?" she suggested.
"I'll be there before you will," he said, cheesy grin on his face.
The rest of the day went by quickly and soon he was at Leslie's locker, waiting for her to get out of class. She emerged from the throngs of people and smiled when her eyes met his. She hugged him and gave him a peck on the cheek. She pulled off her hoodie and stashed it in her locker. She stood there in a simple green spaghetti-strap top that showed off her breasts and tattoos well. He noticed she had no bra straps showing and he grinned.