tagNonConsent/ReluctanceTeachers Demand Respect

Teachers Demand Respect

bylily_ann©

I didn't even hear Mr. Casey the first time he called my name. Well, in all fairness, it wasn't the first time he called my name. He had yelled at me three different times that class alone, once for having my cell phone out and twice for leaning across the aisle to whisper to my friend. He finally told me to sit in the corner at the back of the room. I was amusing myself by staring out the window and humming softly, absentmindedly flipping my phone open and shut with a loud snap.

I heard him call my name the second time, but continued to stare out the window until I heard some people start to giggle. I finally turned my head, looking up at Mr. Casey. He was standing at the front of the room, arms crossed as he glared at me.

"Could you please repeat what I just said?" he asked.

"'Jenna,'" I replied, repeating my name back to him.

I heard my friends giggle as Mr. Casey flushed slightly. "Have you paid any attention during this class?" he said. I shrugged. "Stay after class, Miss Williams," he continued, frowning at me.

I rolled my eyes. Mr. Casey told me to stay after class at least once a week. Once a week, I stood in front of his desk as he told me I needed to give him some respect and pay attention because it was important to pay attention in class.

I'm sure Mr. Casey was a decent guy. If I gave him the chance, he'd probably be a good teacher, too. But the fact remained that he was cocky, overpaid, and no where near enough of a teacher to keep me in my place. He was young -- probably had a few years teaching experience under his belt but was in his early thirties at most. Good-looking, that much was certain. But he walked around like he had a stick up his ass, with his nose up in the air and taking everything in the world way too seriously. I mean, most of our teachers just wore jeans and a nice a shirt, but Mr. Casey always wore dress pants and a dress shirt, with a tie. Like I said, stick up his ass.

I wasn't a bad student, really. My grades weren't great but they were enough to get me graduated and into college. I knew that I didn't need Mr. Casey's class, and that I just needed to barely pass in order to graduate. I liked to take things easy, and I decided my senior year would be spent having fun rather than worrying about classes I didn't need.

I'll be honest with you - I was a bitch. I wasn't type to start rumours or something, but I had a sharp tongue and was incredibly stubborn. I had a lot of friends, don't get me wrong, but the ones who couldn't put up with my mouth really hated me. Unfortunately for them, I really didn't care enough to change. Unfortunately for me, a lot of those people were also teachers.

I didn't really care about getting great grades. Just about getting enough to pass and graduate, maybe get into a crappy college. I knew what I wanted to do with my life and my plans didn't include studying all hours of the day. Life was too short to be studying all the time.

Mr. Casey, unfortunately, didn't share my point of view. Most of my other teachers didn't care enough anymore to make a huge deal about it, unless I did something to disrupt the class. This happened once in awhile, but seemed to happen all the time in Mr. Casey's class. He thought I was rude and disrespectful, and for some reason seemed to have made it his personal mission to make me into a better student.

Which is why, when the three o'clock bell rang, I slowly packed my books up and waited for everyone to leave before making my way to the front of the room.

He pissed me off immediately, taking his time to collect his papers before going to the door and shutting it. He sauntered back to his desk (as well as a person can saunter with a giant stick up their ass) and sat down. I tapped my foot impatiently.

"Places to go, Miss Williams?" he asked, almost pleasantly, as if he wanted to make sure I would miss whatever event I was supposed to be going to.

"Nope," I replied. "Just wondering what kind of bullshit you're going to bring up this time."

He flushed slightly when I swore. "I will remind you that you can get suspended for that kind of language."

"And I will remind you that there's no one here to witness that I said anything wrong, so trying to get me suspended won't go very far," I shot back. "Now seriously, Casey, we've done this a thousand times. Can you just say whatever shit you're going to say and let me leave?"

The look on his face was almost priceless. He pursed his lips, like a little old lady would, and took a deep breath, as if to calm down. "First, you will refer to me as Mr. Casey, or as 'sir.' Learn some respect. Second, you're not leaving," he said. I rolled my eyes. "I mean it, Jenna."

He stood up from behind the desk and opened a drawer on the filing cabinet, pulling out a file. "These are all the assignments you've failed to hand in," he said, opening the file. There were a pile of sheets, some of which I knew were littering the floor of my locker, others which were obviously handed out during classes I'd skipped. "Now, I know what you're trying to pull. Just a good enough grade to pass, right? Only handing in what you need to?"

I shrugged. "Most teachers figure that out a lot faster, but yes."

He smiled at me, and I was confused for a moment. "Unfortunately for you, Jenna, a major part of this class is your participation mark. You would know that, if you had been here on the first day and gotten your course outline. I completely control that part of the mark, and at the rate you're going -- " He pushed a print-out of my grades towards me " -- I still have the power to fail you."

I'll admit, I wasn't expecting that. I didn't know about the participation mark. Usually it's only worth about ten per cent of the final grade, but when I looked at the print-out, I saw that it was a full twenty-five percent.

Mr. Casey had it marked as zero, and the mark that I actually had was nothing like what I thought it was. My mouth dropped open a bit as I realised I would need almost the full twenty-five percent to pass.

I looked up at him from the print out. "I show up to class," I said, my voice stony. "You can't give me a zero if I've shown up to class."

The sadistic fucker was actually grinning at me. "Actually, I can," he said. He pulled the sheet from my hand and put it back in the file. "But I'm willing to make a deal with you."

"A deal," I scoffed. "Do I have a choice in the matter?"

"You do have a choice," he said. "Either you stay after school under my supervision and complete all these assignments that you've missed --" he pushed the file towards me, the stack of assignment sheets at least an inch high, " -- or you fail."

I couldn't actually believe it for a moment. Mr. Casey wasn't only asking me to do the entire semester's worth of work, he was making me stay at the school to do it! I laughed a bit before I accepted he was completely serious.

"You're a fucker," I spat at him.

Mr. Casey's strong point isn't his tolerance, not matter how much he tries to be patient. And he absolutely can't handle curse words, especially when directed at him. I could see his jaw clench as I swore at him. "I wouldn't speak like that, Jenna," he said. I could tell he was getting angry with me, and I don't know why I did it, but I decided to keep infuriating him. My thoughts were that maybe if he got angry enough, he wouldn't want me to stay after school and would just give up.

"Oh, come on," I said, leaning forwards a bit. "How old are you, Mr. Casey?" He didn't answer. "Really, I'm asking."

"I'm thirty-two."

"Well, then you've got thirty damn years before you start talking like a fuckin' old person! 'I wouldn't speak like that, Jenna,'" I said, mocking him.

"How old are you, Jenna?" he asked, red-faced.

"Eighteen," I said proudly.

"Almost nineteen, if your file is correct." He looked down at his books. "Almost a year older than everyone in your class. Why is that, Miss Williams, I wonder."

It was my turn to flush. I had been held back in grade school, though I never imagined a teacher would use that against me. My cheeks were bright red and I was glaring hard at him. "That was mature," I said, my voice shaking with offence. "So acting like you're twelve, and then acting like you're sixty. Do you ever act your age?"

"You need to work on your insults, Miss Williams. That was, as you might say, completely lame." His voice was pleasant again, knowing that he had gotten to me. "Now, what is your choice? Are you going to stay after school and do your work, or are you going to fail my class and consequently not graduate?"

I could feel myself shaking, I was so angry. Graduating was the only thing important to me, the only reason I was in his stupid class, and he knew it.

"Fuck you," I said, slowly and deliberately.

"Keep talking like that and the offer is going to expire," he warned.

"You're an ass!" I cried. "I'll have to stay every day for the rest of the semester to finish all this!"

"Should have done it when it was assigned," he said matter-of-factly. He sat down and pulled some papers out of a drawer, beginning to mark. "You can work in here, if you'd like."

I think he was expecting me to pick up the file and go sit down, like he'd won. But there was no way I was doing all those assignments, and his comments had really gotten to me. I needed to graduate -- it was the only thing that mattered, and he was going to take it away from me. I was literally shaking with anger, and without even thinking I picked up the file and threw it across his desk. The papers inside fell out and knocked the papers he was marking off the desk. He looked up at me incredulously.

"I'm not doing your fucking assignments," I said. I don't know why I had thrown it, but he was frustrating me. "If you were a half decent teacher, I wouldn't be failing."

"Don't blame that on me," he said. His face was red and a muscle in his jaw had begun to twitch. "You're failing because you put no effort into my class."

"I'm failing because you're an awful teacher, and you know it!" I yelled. "I'm not failing my other classes," I pointed out. "Maybe because the teachers I have in my other classes aren't self-absorbed jerks."

"Self-absorbed?" he said, almost taunting me. "I'm doing this so you pass, Miss Williams. There is nothing in this about me."

"You're doing this so you don't get fired for doing a crappy job," I shot back. He shook his head and moved the papers I had thrown at him, picking up his marking and continuing. Something about the fact that he wasn't paying attention to me infuriated me, and I slammed my purse on his desk and walked around so I was standing next to him. "If I fail this class, they'll know how shitty a teacher you are. They'll fire you."

"I'm not going to be fired because one student failed," he said, his voice still calm.

"No, you're going to be fired because you're an ass," I said, desperately trying to think of something. "You're a cocky little shit and you don't give a shit about any of us. I swear, Mr. Casey, if you fail me I'll make sure you're fired. I'll tell them you failed me because you came onto me but I wouldn't suck your cock."

He finally looked up at me, and opened his mouth to respond. I could hardly believe I said it but it was too late to take it back, so I cut him off. "I haven't learned a single thing in this joke of a class, and I swear to God I'll get you fired. I will ruin your career."

"Be quiet," he interrupted. "There is no way anyone would believe..."

"Don't fucking talk," I said sharply, my anger fuelling my words.

"Do you honestly think anyone would believe that, Jenna? You are overreacting to this," he said. "To threaten me and make up such a lie because of this..."

I knew he was right, but I was stubborn -- probably my biggest fault, now that I think of it. "You're a failure as a teacher. Do you fail at everything else, Mr. Casey? Thirty-two, you said, right? I heard from Mrs. Daly that you're divorced. You fail at that?"

His eyes were wide and his jaw was clenched. "That is personal."

I laughed at him, bitterly. "So it's true. What was it, is it because she couldn't stand it? I bet it was sex," I mused. "I bet she left because you couldn't satisfy her."

I knew Mr. Casey wanted to help me and he had good intentions. But I just wanted to pass his class and graduate, and he was ruining my plans. When I graduated, I could leave home, and if he failed me I'd be stuck with my parents for another semester while I made up the class. If I did agree to his stupid assignments, I wouldn't have a social life for the rest of the semester.

"I bet it's because you were a bad fuck," I continued, still laughing at him. "What was it, Mr. Casey? Why did Mrs. Casey leave? Couldn't keep it up?" I giggled. "Not much to keep up in the first place, I bet."

"Shut up," he said.

"No," I laughed. "You want to try and fuck with me? Try and stop me from graduating? At least take it like a man, Casey. I bet your wife -- ex-wife -- used to tell you the same thing, didn't she. Used to tell you to shut up and be a fucking man, instead of the little pussy you are."

I should have noticed that he was breathing hard and that his eyes looked dangerous. I should have probably stopped, long before I did. I didn't even know why I was being so terrible to him -- I just started talking and got angrier and angrier until I couldn't stop. I was overreacting and about something stupid. I was acting like an immature child, basically throwing a tantrum in front of him. And yet, I couldn't stop. I knew Mr. Casey got angry when I mouthed off at him, and I should have known that what I was saying was pissing him off to the point that he would have had to do something drastic. But I just didn't think of it at the time.

"Why did she leave, Mr. Casey?" I asked. "Come on, there had to be a reason. Was it because you have a small cock? Maybe it doesn't work right?" I laughed at him. He was sitting still, just staring at me as I yelled at him. "Come on, nothing to say to that, 'sir?'" I mocked. "I bet she left because you're a whiny bastard."

His jaw was twitching dangerously but I hardly noticed. My heart was racing and my face felt hot from the adrenaline pounding through me. I should have noticed he was close to his breaking point, but I ignored everything but my own anger.

"In fact," I continued, leaning towards him as he still sat in the chair. "I bet she left because she found someone better to fuck, and she didn't need to put up with your little cock and pussy attitude anymore."

I paused after that, my words hanging in the air. It took longer than it should have, but something in me finally clicked and I knew immediately I had gone too far as Mr. Casey stared up at me. I was still angry, certain my skin was still red, and my mouth was still half-open to continue, but I couldn't bring myself to say anything else. I slowly realised what I was saying to him, slowly realised that he had every right and reason to expel me, and I didn't know what to say next.

We stayed in that position for a moment, just letting what I had said hang in the air like an awful stench. Mr. Casey hadn't moved, but something in his face had changed and I was terrified.

Slowly, I started to stand up, wanting to back away from him. The second I moved, though, Mr. Casey stood up and grabbed me hard, his fingers digging into my shoulders.

I tried to scream, but he shoved me back against the wall hard enough to knock the breath out of me. His hands were clutching my shoulders tightly as he held me against the wall.

"You fucking bitch," he hissed. I slammed my eyes shut, trying to suck in a breath and expecting him to slap me, punch me, shake me - something. When he roughly pressed his mouth against mine, my eyes flew open in shock.

He only kissed me for a moment before pulling back and looking at me. I could hardly breathe, though I refuse to believe it was because of anything but him shoving me against the wall. I tried to gulp mouthfuls of air in as I glared at him, desperate to ask him what he was doing, but he pressed his body against mine and kissed me roughly again.

I reached up and tried to push him off me, but he wrapped a large hand around each wrist and held me against the wall. I thought I was going to suffocate but when he pulled back a second time, I managed to suck in a large amount of air.

"What are you going to do?" I gasped, my voice hoarse and quiet. I couldn't gather enough breath to scream as I sucked in shallow breaths, staring at the enraged man in front of me. I don't know if I was scared, but I hadn't expected what he had done and I still wasn't sure how I would react. Did I want to scream? My gut was telling me to, but the sudden wetness in my panties told me to stay, that if he could make me so hot with just a heated kiss, imagine what else he could do to me. At the same time that I was scared, something twisted in me was whispering that I deserved whatever he was going to do, and that I was going to like it.

He released one of my wrists and finally delivered the slap I had been expecting. Though I knew it was coming at some point, my cheek still stung and the force of it jarred me to the side. I pressed my lips together for a moment, refusing to make a sound to let him know how much it hurt, though my heart was pounding fiercely and my knees felt wobbly. Mr. Casey pressed against me harder and I could feel a hard bulge pressing into my stomach as he pushed his mouth on mine, biting down on my bottom lip until I cried out softly. I used my free hand to push against him but he was pressing against me hard and I don't know if he even noticed.

He released my other wrist, but his hands immediately cupped my breasts. He squeezed hard and I couldn't help but sigh, enjoying it. I hated that he was touching me but at the same time I wanted more. I had insulted him and it was only right that he punish me for it. My heart pounded as I thought these things, not knowing why I didn't move.

"You fucking whore," he spat at me. He moved his lips to my neck and bit, his hands cupping my breasts. He thrust his hips against me and I could feel his hard cock grinding against me, and my pussy throbbed knowing that I was at his total mercy. His hands moved roughly down my body, onto my hips, and then around to my ass. He pulled me forward, holding me tight against him as he sucked and bit my neck. I reached up, my hands on his shoulders, though I didn't push him nearly as hard.

He was grabbing my ass, hard, and continued to grind against me. I gasped as his hands left my ass, reaching up to yank my button-up shirt open. Most of the buttons came undone but I heard a few pop off and fall to the floor. My shirt soon followed them, and I watched as he threw it down with a strange contempt in a crumpled heap. He pulled my bra off quickly and his hands were all over me in an instant.

"Fuck," he said, rubbing my breasts hard.

"You're sick," I gasped, though I couldn't help but punctuate my sentence with a soft moan. I couldn't admit to him, nor to myself, that standing half-naked in front of my teacher was making me wetter than I'd ever been. I knew it was wrong -- I knew if I screamed, someone would have to hear. But somehow things had gotten this far and that scream hadn't come yet. I had never realised how attractive Mr. Casey was, always just thinking about what an ass he was, but once he started touching me I couldn't help but notice that he was fit, that he had gorgeous eyes and large, manly hands.

"You have little tits," he shot back at me, his hands covering them easily. I blushed a bit. My tits weren't large, by any means. But I thought that at a 32B, they were rather proportionate, considering my slim stature. Just the way he said it, however, seemed so degrading. He pinched my nipple hard and I cried out, louder this time.

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