Teacher Training Ch. 03

He'd called her Miss hunt. Not cunt or bitch or whore or slut.

Next the schoolboy took a video from the rack. It was marked 'CCTV home footage'. Tearing the band of black plastic out of the middle, it stretched then snapped. "That's all the incriminating evidence destroyed. You're free to go now Chloe," he said simply. "The game's over."

"You don't...you don't want to...to fuck me once more?" she said, almost disappointedly.

"No, I don't."

"But Kevin..."

"You really should go, miss."

Chloe pouted and turned over, going back to sleep. She'd get him later. He was a horny teenager after all. Kevin's words were fuzzy as sleep encapsulated the tired schoolteacher. "Miss, you really should go...miss..."

* * *

"What the hell is going on here?"

Chloe awoke startled, confronted by Kevin's father, Frank Manning. Kevin looked up too. Immediately Chloe realised she should have gone home when Kevin told her. "Mr Manning I can explain..."

The angry father shook his head. "No missy, don't waste your breath. You are in SO much trouble when the school hears about this. I leave you in charge of my boy and you seduce him like some cheap whore."

As Kevin sloped away like a polecat, his face betraying the merest hint of smug self-satisfaction, Chloe was left alone with the raging Frank Manning. "Mr Manning, please..."

The enraged man held aloft a huge palm, informing her to shut it. Already it had dawned upon Chloe just how much trouble she was in, cowering and covering her breasts from his stare. A teacher-pupil relationship didn't mean just getting fired, but jail. She'd read about similar things in the papers. Frank Manning knew it too. And there wasn't even the evidence on the laptop or the CCTV reel to implicate Kevin and at least spread the blame. To the whole world it would appear as if Chloe had instigated the sordid affair. "Mr Manning please, can we work something out?" she pleaded.

She should have gone when Kevin said. She should have gone. Why oh why had she been so stupid?

"Work something out?" he thundered.

"Please," she said, fluttering her eyelashes and using her femininity to try to get out of this hole.

Frank Manning surely wasn't immune to her girlish charms, confirmed when he said more softly: "Work something out, huh."

"I'll do anything."

Manning suppressed a grin. "Well I've a few pals coming round to play poker tonight..."

Chloe gulped and choked back the tears.

"We could always use a pretty little hostess."

Chloe knew she was in deeper than ever. For this was no longer a boy she was playing with. Just what did he have in store?

* * *

An anxious Sunday elapsed before Chloe discovered just how truly bad it was. Glancing from the Manning's top window in the French Maid's outfit that had been provided, the teacher watched each guest arrive, becoming ever more agitated. Only now was it apparent why the outfit came with a little black eye mask.

First to arrive was milkman Charlie, swaggering in beneath her gaze. Chloe recalled the brutal dream in which he'd tried to drown her. Then to Chloe's horror came Jack Willis, her recently departed boyfriend. His forcefulness on their final night together had left her shattered. The next to grace the poker evening with his presence was a huge and powerful-looking black guy Chloe didn't recognise but who scared the living daylights out of her. The final indignity arrived in the shape of Mr Mason and Mr Andrews, the headmaster and games teacher at her school. They too had unfinished business with the pretty teacher.

The line-up made Chloe quake and she buried her head woefully in her hands. The mask was a godsend but surely they'd know it was her. Oh God, what had she gotten herself into?