Academy Pt. 05

"Alright then. I dare you to let me kiss you."

"Is that different? How is that different?"

Mrs. Nixon only looked back at Abbi, open and expectant.

"Would I be in trouble if I didn't take this dare? I guess I don't know this game that well."

Still no answer. Abbi felt herself on the edge of babbling herself into more trouble.

"I guess it would be ok. Ok, it's ok for you to kiss me."

Mrs. Nixon took Abbi's hands, which had been twisting and fretting in her lap and kissed the back of each of them.

"Oh, that's it?"

"Oh, no, that was just me thanking you."

Mrs. Nixon leaned in, closer and closer.

"Wait," Abbi stalled, "should I close my eyes?"

"You can if you want, sweetie."

Abbi agreed and closed them. Every sense was already heightened; her heart was fluttering, and she felt herself trembling.

I love how new this is, every time it happens, Abbi thought.

Mrs. Nixon took her sweet time getting to Abbi's lips. Once there, it was the most wonderful sensation Abbi had felt in a long time. After weeks of intense feelings and experiences, degrading exposure, hard bondage, and pounding, relentless, exhausting sex, the sweetness of Mrs. Nixon's lips and the warmth of her breath was like heaven.

They lingered there like that smooching for a while, could have been seconds or days, but when they parted, Abbi opened her eyes to see desire made manifest in Mrs. Nixon's face. It was too brilliant to behold, like the setting sun before it had gone far enough past the horizon to be safe to look at.

Abbi looked down and noticed that while she had taken hold of Mrs. Nixon's shoulders during the kiss, her tutor had rested one her hands on Abbi's knee and had managed to sneak her other up her thigh close enough to touch the fabric of her panties.

"You're a good kisser, Miss Abbi."

"Thanks," Abbi said, a strong tremor shaking her voice. "Your hand, it's touching my...I don't think you should be touching me there."

"Sorry!" Mrs. Nixon withdrew her hands, the sheepish look returning. "I'm sorry, I guess I got carried away again."

"Sure, Mrs. Nixon."

"Let's get back to the homework, shall we?"

-

The algebra wasn't as hard as Abbi had been pretending it was. This was good because gave her some mental room while Mrs. Nixon gave her some physical space to reflect on the moment while it was still happening.

One of the weirdest things about getting invited by a secret BDSM society to an Academy devoted to spanking and kinky sex is just how much preparation there was in the leadup to the beginning of the semester. So many interviews, questionnaires, therapy sessions with her sponsoring counsellor, and research.

Research! Abbi had never done so much homework in her life. To be fair, though, the subject matter was way more interesting than anything she had to tackle in 'normal' school. By the end of the admittance phase Abbi felt like the research had turned her into a proper sex nerd.

The one thing that kept coming up during the qualification process was this idea of 'consensual non-consent' scenes and interactions. Abbi's counsellor had explained it several times, but it never really sunk in what that contradiction might mean in practice.

The one thing she did gather from the kinky prep education was that if 'NO' or 'DON'T' or 'STOP' came out of her mouth during one of these scenes the action wouldn't necessarily halt. She toyed with the thought of saying 'NO' to Mrs. Nixon just to see what would happen.

"Almost done," she said.

"Good! I'll look it over when you are, help you out with any challenges I see."

While Abbi turned her attention to the last problem, Mrs. Nixon checked her watch.

"Still more than an hour of study time left," she announced, hopefully.

"Yep."

"We should decide what to do with the time."

"Uh-huh."

It gave Abbi tingles to be rude, however mildly. Both her own sensibilities and the Academy's strict rules for respectful communication made her efforts to keep up the role difficult.

"Done, yay."

"Can I see it?"

Abbi handed the single sheet of problems to her teacher. Mrs. Nixon took a couple of quiet minutes to look it over before declaring:

"Not a single problem incorrect! Hmm, you've been holding out on me."

"No, you're just that good a tutor,' Abbi rebutted, hoping to keep any trace of sarcasm from her voice.

"You are just the sweetest little girl, and so beautiful too."

"What do we do now, Mrs. Nix?"

"Would you join me on the bed?" the woman's voice cracked on the word 'join'.

"No more Truth or Dare, though."

"No more, I promise."

Mrs. Nixon stood first, kicked off her pumps, hiked up her skirt, and crawled on all fours to the far side of Abbi's ridiculous unicorns-farting-rainbows bed. Abbi noted her tutor's awkward attempt at a butt wiggle with amusement.

"Are you trying to be, um, sexy?"

"It was just a joke," Mrs. Nixon giggled, coming to rest on her side.

"You look like you need a nap."

"And you look like you could use some cuddles."

"You were trying to be sexy," Abbi accused. "For me!"

"Nuh-huh," Mrs. Nixon denied. "Come on, sweetie, lets cuddle and get some rest."

"Just rest, right?"

"I won't bite, I promise."

Abbi stood and stretched. She had long discarded her Academy loafers, pulled her shirt all the way out of her skirt, and unbuttoned the top two in a flagrant disregard for the dress code.

"I do have to check something, though."

"What's that?"

"Your panties, of course."

"What, really? I'm way out of uniform already. You could've punished me any time so far."

"Sorry, Miss Abbi, but I must. As an Academy teacher and your tutor, it is my duty to look at your panties." Her attempt at seriousness was far from convincing. How Mrs. Nixon kept the laughter in her eyes from reaching her lips, Abbi would never know.

Abbi shook her head with a snort but lifted her skirt anyway.

"Mmm, something about clean white undies on a pretty girl, they just, hmmm...now the back."

"Mr. Cleveland did this too," Abbi recalled. "How could the back of my panties be in violation if the front is not."

Abbi turned and lifted her skirt again. She was blushing, but not from embarrassment.

"It can't be," Mrs. Nixon admitted. "I just wanted to see your bottom."

"Um, eww," Abbi complained. For her part though, she felt the game slipping. She looked over her shoulder, long past the point where she should have let her skirt fall. "Let me guess, just joking again?"

"Nope. Your booty is just the best in those undies."

Here it is, Abbi thought, the exit. You can take it and just have sex now.

"Thanks," Abbi giggled.

"Ok, inspection's over. Cuddle time." Mrs. Nixon patted the bed, inviting.

Abbi bounced over and, feeling light as air, flung herself face first onto the bed.

"It's so refreshing to be spending time with a girl so young and full of energy."

"You are with students every weekend, right?" Abbi turned her head toward her tutor. The woman had lifted herself up on one arm and was taking in the sights.

"Yeah, but that's not what I mean."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, being close. Getting close and being intimate." Mrs. Nixon's voice had become husky, something Abbi barely noticed when the kissing dare happened. She lay her tiny hand on the middle of Abbi's back.

"Isn't this kinda wrong, though?"

"You're a big girl, Miss Abbi. You could leave any time now that your homework is done."

"True."

"But here you are, in bed with me."

"You're just so nice, and pretty, and smart. I don't want to, um..."

"Disappoint me?"

"I guess so."

"There you go again," Mrs. Nixon said, misting up. "Thank you."

They fell into silence again. Mrs. Nixon used that opportunity to rub Abbi up and down her back.

"Do you like backrubs?"

"Yes," Abbi breathed.

Mrs. Nixon's hand slipped under Abbi's shirt. Moist before, it was bone dry and hot now. It didn't take long to find and undo the hook of her bra.

"I hope you don't mind."

"You did that with just one hand?"

It was Mrs. Nixon's turn to giggle.

"I've had a lot of practice."

The backrub went on. Abbi got impatient.

"Mrs. Nixon, my tummy feels weird."

"Oh? Like upset-tummy-weird, or rollercoaster weird?"

"You know about the rollercoaster tummy feelings?"

"Oh yes, I'm feeling it now too."

"Really? I didn't know adults felt that way. Why are you feeling them?"

"It's you, silly. You make me feel so happy and proud and excited."

Abbi let the mélange of warm thoughts and sexy feelings slosh around inside while she looked over at what the closet door mirrors had to reveal. They showed something even more glorious than Abbi had imagined: a fetching young woman in a red plaid skirt, white thigh-high stockings, and white blouse, innocently laying on her stomach, not a care in the world.

Her once formidable looking tutor hovering over Abbi, looking at her ward with far less innocence and entirely too much desire. With her hair down, shirt loosened, and shoes cast aside, she seemed more human and relatable and anxious.

Looking in the mirror felt like watching at the contrived moments before a sex scene in a porno that was trying too hard to be arty. It was the wonder of wonders that when Abbi turned to look at her tutor, the woman was still very much real and totally wanted to fuck her brains out.

"You feel funny because of me? What should I do, Mrs. Nixon?"

"Come here."

Abbi scooted closer and turned on her side. Mrs. Nixon enveloped her in a firm hug, punctuating that wholesome affection with a light kiss on her forehead. One of Abbi's arms was pressed between them. She encircled her tutor's waist with the free one. It felt awkward and wonderful.

It didn't take long for that hot little hand to make its way down Abbi's side to her hips and beyond. It lingered a while on her bare thigh before venturing back up her skirt. It was on Abbi's shapely butt cheek before she'd decided how to handle it.

"Mmm, Mrs. Nixon?"

"Yes, dear?" she smiled.

"You're touching my butt."

"I know. Isn't it nice?"

"It makes me feel weird."

"Do you want me to stop?"

"Um," Abbi hesitated.

Mrs. Nixon slipped her hand under the waistband to the promised land.

"I will stop," Mrs. Nixon kissed Abbi's forehead again, "if you tell me to stop."

"Uhhh," was all Abbi could say while the hand eagerly explored unfamiliar territory.

"Your bottom feels as good as it looks."

Mrs. Nixon's lips found her student's blushing cheek. Abbi moaned.

"Do you want me to kiss you again? Can I kiss your lips?"

"No. Stop."

"Oh, ok, sorry." Mrs. Nixon sounded genuine in her remorse. "Oh, no."

They disengaged, Abbi rolling on her back while Mrs. Nixon sat up, flustered.

"Just for a minute. I'm just...it's just hot. I'll be ok, I just need a second."

"I'm sorry," Mrs. Nixon cried.

"I'm ok, Mrs. Nixon. It's ok. I just got too hot."

"I crossed the line again, didn't I?"

"Kinda," Abbi agreed. "But, but, but, I don't know, maybe I should say this."

"But?"

"I wanted it. I wanted you to touch me."

"You did?"

"Is that wrong?"

"Not to me sweetheart."

"If I let you, would you take my, um..."

"Take your?"

"Take my virginity. Would you take it?"

"You would let me be your first?" Mrs. Nixon's surprise was real; a shudder coursed through her body.

"I don't know," Abbi claimed, then recanted, "yes. I don't want to be a virgin anymore."

Mrs. Nixon smiled big as she lay back down and put her busy hand on Abbi's stomach.

"Are the rollercoaster butterflies still there?"

"Yeah, like, really bad."

"Do you trust me?"

"I do, Mrs. Nixon, I really do."

"I know how to make the butterflies go away."

The hand slipped back under Abbi's shirt, up her soft stomach, under the loose bra to cup her breast.

"You do?" Abbi asked, content to let the hand stay and do whatever it wanted from now on.

"Yes, and we've already started chasing them off."

Mrs. Nixon punctuated her claim by rolling her thumb around Abbi's painfully erect nipple.

"They're still there," Abbi moaned. "What else can you do?"

"Kiss you, for real this time. Will you let me kiss you again?"

Abbi nodded and closed her eyes again, lips slightly parted, heart pounding in anticipation of the magic to come.

-

Dear Diary,

What a weird fucking day so far...

I'm writing this before we head to the Long Beach Aquarium for a private, late-night tour.

I can still taste Mrs. Nixon on my lips, smell her on my clothes, feel her on my skin.

So, I'm bisexual then. I knew that already, known it forever actually, but it's like real, I mean, really, really real.

I haven't thought it through, though. Not really. Talking with Blair and Daniel and the few friends courageous enough to come out during their high school years in Florida, I thought I knew what it meant.

Blair is like: "ew, BOYS, gag me with a spoon." (we watched Valley Girl Friday in the common room last night before bed. Young Nic Cage was so fuckable!). She sees boys, men, like people but is blind to and even revolted sometimes by their maleness. Man-ness? Masculinity? IDFK.

Like, men are just people and she doesn't even see them sexually at all, but then, just seeing a cock would make her wretch a little.

Daniel is the same with girls. He said he'd dated girls before, tried some stuff but it never felt right. He has plenty of girlfriends, but friends is all they are. He thinks of himself like a scientist now, like observing and fact-gathering whenever one of us Sophomore girls has to take off our shirt or drop our panties.

But I'm like, Benedict Cumbybart can bend be over and fuck me while I eat Rhianna out and it's total bliss. Dance and mack on girls at the club? Cool. Give my BF a road-handy? Awesome.

But, here's the thing, and then I promise I'll do some kiss-and-tell stuff here. I can see myself falling in love with Mrs. Nixon, or Nikki or whatever her real name is, and share a life with her AND I have such a frustrating crush on Mr. Cleveland. I would do ANYTHING, I mean anything, to date that guy.

I find myself attracted to all kinds (especially the mature kinds rawr) and find myself fantasizing equally about romance and fucking boys and girls.

There's no trans men or women here (at least none of the Sophomores anyway), and I haven't really watched that kind of porn at all. I wonder what my sex-crazed brain would think of that now.

Maybe it's just lust, and that's it, but that's me being bisexual and it's weird and cool and hard and weird. WERID.

-

So yeah. I barely remember how bad Mr. Harding punished us, like it passed for me like a long airplane ride, tough in the moment, quickly forgotten once over. Kamilla got the worst of it and left pretty quickly after getting released from the pillory. I promised myself to give her as much of my attention as she might need on our fieldtrip tonight (or none at all?). I've never seen anyone get tormented like that before and idk what she's into for aftercare.

It's the sexy-time with Mrs. Nixon, though, or Nikki or whatever, that's going to be with me forever, I think. She rocked my fucking world.

Her lips and tongue were so soft, I couldn't get enough of them. I sucked on her tongue like a dick and when she did the same back to me, I almost fainted because of how hot it made me. It literally took my breath away.

After that whole thing of me being a virgin and her being, IDK an aggressive weirdo or something, I thought we would just do it, but I've never really done it with a girl before, so other than the porn I've watched, it was sort of like a mystery to me. Like, I've done a little bit of each of the main steps in the process, like making out and fingering and going down but at like, different times for each experience. Mrs. Nikki was the first woman I've fucked made love with. Yeah, that seems more right, we made love.

And Mrs. Nixon was like a love-making tour guide. Her version of dirty talk was telling me what to do, and what she was going to do. And then it would happen.

"Do you like my titties? Squeeze and kiss them. See how hard my nippies are? Tickle them with your tongue, suckle them, pinch them between your fingers, nibble on them between your teeth. Careful, carefully, Miss Abbi."

Her boobies were so sweet and soft and I'm getting excited just thinking about them now.

"What do you call this?" She asked tickling my pussy through the damp fabric of my panties.

"My flower. My special flower."

"How about this?" She asked as a finger traveled the short distance to press lightly into my butthole.

"My bottom. Bottom hole."

"I'm going to touch your special flower. If it's ok with you, I'm going to explore inside of your flower with my fingers."

"Will it hurt?"

I love saying stuff like this. It gives me the biggest lady boner. I can't even describe the look on Mrs. Nixon's face when I asked that.

"No, sweetheart. It should feel really good. You are so wet down here; it should feel like the most special magic ever."

It was. She's an expert with those fingers.

"Suck on my nippies while I make your flower feel special. Use your tongue too, like when we were kissing."

We shed our clothes one article at a time as the need to access more of each other to love arose.

Except for my stockings. Those stayed on. She insisted.

Every time her fingers found my pussy it came to life, the mouth of a ravenous beast, eager to consume, my hips moving on their own to take more of her inside.

She had other plans though.

"Roll on your tummy. I want to spank your bottom."

"Oh, no! What did I do wrong?"

"Nothing, dear. I just want to is all. Is that ok?"

"If I say no, will I be in trouble?"

"Yes, and I will have to spank you anyway, so either way you're going to have to roll on your tummy and take your spanking."

Her giggle is infectious. I giggled too, and bit my lip like her.

"Ooooh-kaaay...you can spank me."

The way she spanked my ass was playful and fun. It wasn't painful really, just startlingly noisy and tingly. In between spanks, she would rub my cheeks and thighs and tease my pussy.

I started to squirm, not away from the pain but towards the pleasure. She wrapped her legs and free arm around me, held me tight while she spanked me harder and faster. I struggled and cried and moaned. She cooed and reassured and told me over and over:

"I'm so proud of you, little girl. You are taking your spanking like the best little girl ever."

The more I struggled, the harder she hit my ass. It never hurt; my ass just buzzed like one of those foot massagers at the county fair the whole spanking. I knew I wasn't going to cum this way, so I fought to free myself so that I could sit on her face and get it done properly.

But that's not what she wanted so that's not what we did.

Instead, she released me but gave me one hard slap across both cheeks when I wasn't expecting it, causing me to yelp like a scared puppy.

"Baby girl, it drives me crazy when you fight and cry like that."

I didn't answer but clung to her like the only buoy in a thousand miles of stormy seas.

"I want you to kiss my special flower. Ok, Miss Abbi? You did so good loving my boobies. I would love it If you did the same to my special flower."

"Are you going to spank me like that again, Mrs. Nikki?"

"Do you want me to?"

"Yes. I felt like something was happening in my flower, magical like you said."

"Oh?"

"Yes, like squishy and tight and wild inside there."

"You were about to orgasm, Miss Abbi. You were going to cum, but I stopped that."

"Ore-gazzum? Mr. Cleveland helped me do that, a couple of times. This feels different."

"Mr. Cleveland made you orgasm?"

"Oh, no, I didn't get him into trouble again, did I?"

"No, little girl, you didn't. He's a sweet man, and I'm glad he made you orgasm. But I don't want you to cum yet. You haven't earned it yet."