Teaching Her a Lesson Pt. 02

"Your sister is fine. And so are you. Understand? Nothing bad happened in here today. Say it, Taylor."

After a moment, she shrugged. Fucking hell, that jiggle. "Nothing bad happened in here today. Apparently."

Did that statement mean anything? Her present apathy made it so difficult to predict long-term animosity. There was no telling whether getting away with Monday had been a fluke or a part of Serenex's intended effect. Their product advertised its ability to suppress an unruly mob, but not to make them permanently well-behaved citizens. Would Taylor keep playing mum?

There was no certainty, and standing around wondering wasn't going to help. Either I was fucked, or I wasn't. Either the Serenex would render them susceptible to my tactic, or it wouldn't. Either my life ended today, or it started anew. There was nothing to do but wait and see.

"She should come around in an hour or two," I said at last. I gestured toward the door. Taylor didn't need to be invited twice to get out of here, on her feet in an instant and pulling Abbie to hers. "You can keep an eye on her until then, right?"

"I thought keeping an eye on teenage girls was your department," Taylor quipped. "But sure, I can--"

"Answer me something Taylor." That goddamn smirk of hers! The sudden fire in my voice stopped her dead in her tracks, right in the middle of the room. Abbie remained facing the door, oblivious to the world. "What possessed you to eschew a bra today?"

"To chew on a bra? What does that even--"

"Don't play stupid, Taylor. Why, when you changed, didn't you leave your bra on."

The snicker that followed confirmed she'd understood me fine the first time. "Are you complaining? For an old-ass perv ball like you, must be like your birthday come early."

"OK, for one, I'm hardly 'old.' I'm twenty-six. Now answer the question. Why do you try so hard to flaunt that body of yours in my classroom?"

The sneer that crept onto her pretty face just then was truly one for the ages. Derisive. Contemptuous. Haughty. And above all, implacably arrogant. "Why? Because I feel like it. Because I'm hot. Because I can pull this shit off. Because it's what the people want. Because... for a few more weeks, you're my teacher and I'm your student and you can make me write essays and copy sentences and what the fuck ever, but the day I graduate, I have all the currency, and you can't do fuck to me.

She took a step closer, looming despite our height difference. "Because when I walked in here and yourold-ass eyes locked onto these puppies, it reminded me that I got what you want, and you ain't got shit for me. I dress like this to make losers you my bitch." She took one breasts in each hand and hefted them up, flesh bubbling up above her neckline, then on release, bouncing up and down half a dozen times before settling. In spite of it all, I couldn't look away. "How's that."

I didn't answer. In fact, I was fuming -- mostly because, on some level, she was right. I did want her, and she had less than no use for me. Whether or not either of us were right or wrong to want what we wanted was immaterial. However, Taylor was never one to quit while she was winning. No, she was the sort who spiked the ball even when she was winning by fifty points.

She addressed her sister. "See what I mean about this guy? See how he looks at us? Creeping on your phone and everything." Abbie didn't seem to register she was being spoken to, so Taylor elbowed her. "Abbie. You got nudes on your phone I bet, right?"

Abbie nodded. "Yeah. Lots. Alex loves 'em."

"Oh he's not the only one." The sneer returned full force. "'Cause that's what girls like me and Abbie are to you, right, Mr. Canon? Tits and ass. Sex objects. We're supposed to let you ogle our bodies, be your little fantasy sluts, right? How often do you beat off thinking about me, Mr. Canon? I'm betting... twice a week. Am I close?"

I said nothing. "Ooooh, more than that? Four? Hmm? What,every day? Jesus, Mr. Canon, you got a complex or something?" She snickered. "You see what I mean, Abbie? Old perv can't get enough of us. But we're not supposed to notice, we're supposed to just let him look, let him push us around and feel powerful. And now apparently we're supposed to let him spray us with drugs and make us swear not to tell anybody, too. I wonder what he'll come up with Monday. Maybe he'll--"

"Take off your shirt, Taylor."

Her head cocked back. In an instant, the sneer vanished. "What? No. No way I'm--"

"Take. Off. Your. Shirt. Now." I kept my voice low not because I worried it would spill out into the hall, but because I'd learned early on in teaching that shouting bred arguments. Soft voices commanded silence.

Taylor fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. "You... you shouldn't..." She looked up, scanning my face for traces of mercy. I gave her none. "I was only kidding, you know."

"The 'only kidding' excuse didn't work when I caught you bullying Kirsten on the first day I had you in class junior year. Rest assured, it hasn't aged into potency."

"But... I don't want to. You'll... you'll see me."

"That's right. I will. Now take it off."

Taylor Stern might be the queen bitch of the senior class, young and desirable and cocky well past the point of fault. But as long as my Serenex was in her system, I could knock her over with a feather. I may or may not be able to control what she did tomorrow, but right here, right now, for once in her miserable life, the little bitch was going to do as I said.

"Do you need me to help?" I pressed as she kept hesitating.

"No," she said quickly. "No, I got it."

Last semester, I'd realized she was copying vocab quiz answers off of the boy next to her. She'd denied it, of course. While most students would acquiesce to a deserved rebuke at having been caught cheating red-handed, this was Taylor Stern. She'd never admitted guilt, even after being assigned two nights' detention for her persistence in lying about it. Even tried to suggest the honor roll student might have been copying off of her. So I'd whipped up a second version of the quiz, one just for her, visually similar enough to the original, but that was the only similarity. Oh, she'd sworn that her grade was the result of a sleepless night and failure to study, insisted until she was blue in the face that I was a monster to accuse a poor innocent student of cheating. Threatened to have her parents call the principal and fire me. So I directed her to an item:If one fills in the blank in this sentence with the name of a feline animal whose common name is spelled C-A-T, one would write __________with the word "chicanery." (A solid number of her peers caught the joke. Vocab lesson learned, for them.)

Taylor's glare in that moment -- that sulky, indignant, malevolent, entirely impotent glare -- it had warmed my heart for days.

It was that same glare she directed at me as, with fretful hands, she began to lift the bottom of her shirt. She dragged it out as long as she could, except she was doing so not to tease me, not this time, but because it was the only resistance she could muster to the inevitability of her submission. I knew I would never forget this moment. Her flat, toned stomach slowly exposed itself until the shirt was pulled up as high as it could go without revealing anything salacious.

I licked my lips. Here it came. Taylor Stern's fat, round, succulent--

Knock, knock.

For just a moment, I froze. Someone was here. Oh god. I was caught. The underside of Taylor's breasts were visible now. If the door had swung open, that would be it. "Uh... we're testing!" I yelled, only then remembering I'd locked it. Thank god.

"Sure, I just wanted to get your garbage," answered Randi from the far side.

I glared at the girls. "Not a word. Either of you."

Taylor's eyes narrowed resentfully. Abbie was merely studying a spot on the carpet. I hustled over to the trash can, seized the bag and hustled to the door. I opened it exactly long enough to open it, thrust the bag into Randi's surprised hands, and mumble an excuse for my haste. "Sorry, it's timed, and we're right near the deadline. Have a good weekend!"

"Yeah, you too, Mr. C!" came the voice from the far side of the door.

I locked it immediately, my head thudding against it as my anxiety flooded out of me in a lengthy sigh. Crisis averted. Thank goodness. I turned back to the girls--

And there was Taylor Stern, naked from the waist up in the middle of my classroom.

Her shirt was clenched in one fist. Taylor's arms were folded in front of her breasts, and her long hair was draped over them beneath that. That wouldn't do. I crossed the room, hoping the smirk on my face was half as infuriating as hers. It was nowhere to be seen now, of course. Only that glare. That helpless, livid glare.

I took a wrist in each hand and lowered her arms to the side. I would have met with more resistance from a Barbie doll. Not that Barbie could have covered her chest in the first place. Taylor and Barbie. Tall, long-legged, big-breasted and beautiful. Cheap, posable, biddable, and physically incapable of covering themselves. They had a lot in common.

I brushed her hair back over her shoulders. She shivered as her breasts came fully into view. They were... they were great. Amazing. Not perfect. No. They had been perfect in my dreams. This was better than perfect. They werereal. Big and perky, that held up from my fantasies. But unlike her sister, Taylor's tits had tan lines, pale triangles that I was surprised her wardrobe fully concealed. There was a small black mole on the right underside of her left breast; the right was entirely unblemished. Her nipples were bright pink and brought her breasts to points at the front, which now that I saw them, I reflected probably added to my impression of their perkiness. They were smaller than I had expected, too, almost out of place on the whoppers they capped off, a pair of pale pink buds with hardly any areola surrounding them. They were hardening in the cool air of my classroom even as I stared. Pointing right at me.

Her arms twitched at the elbow, but she couldn't seem to make herself defy my preference that they remain at her sides. "There, now you've seen my tits. Congratulations. Satisfied? Can we go now?"

"Now the shorts."

"Seriously?" Taylor whined. "This is getting super rapey, Mr. Canon. Just... come on. Please?"

"Oh? I thought you were the one who had all the currency, Taylor. Isn't that what you said? Yet suddenly you want something from me?"

"Don't be a prick, Mr. Canon. Come on, you've seen my boobs. Don't make me show you my pussy." I said nothing, gave her nothing. "It's not fair! I don't want to be your little pocket stripper. Let me go!" Still nothing. Her hands slowly moved to the waistline of her shorts, thumbs slowly sneaking down out of sight.

"Seriously,please!" The way she whined that final word was easily the hottest sound I'd ever heard in my life. "You can't make me do that. I promise, I won't tell anyone about any of this, OK? I promise!"

"You're a liar, Taylor. Why would I believe you?"

She eased the shorts down an inch. Two inches. I could see the separation between her mons pubis and the tops of the thighs surrounding it. "I mean it! Really, I do. Please, Mr. Canon! Don't make me take my shorts off. Please! I'll never tell a soul!"

And like that, I was having an idea.

Mr. Canon? I know you like my big tits. Come on, let me fuck you with them. Does that sound good? Yeah, just wrap these titties around your huge fat cock, just rub and squeeze you until you come all over my fucking face. Please? Mr. Canon, I'm begging you, please, just let me titty fuck you. Give me an A, and you can have these double D's. Please? God, I'm so horny, I just want my titties fucked so baaaad!

The video ended, immediately looping around to the beginning. There she was, on her knees in the girls' restroom, recording herself begging me to fuck her tits in exchange for a grade. Abbie, I knew, had been in the next stall, waiting to be herded out to their car like a wayward lamb. She ought to be fine by now, according to what I'd read. Serenex's effects only lasted a couple hours, give or take. She'd been dosed right around four, and now it was after dark.

Wow, dark already? I realized I'd been watching Taylor's video for close to two hours. Damn. The thing was only a few minutes long. At some point after dinner I'd remembered I could display it on my TV. The resolution wasn't great, and it magnified the tinny, echoing sound quality, but that the video had poor production qualities, seemed to display a lack of effort on its creators part, only made it more Taylor. I had her rambling, semicoherent pleading memorized by now, and likewise the tits she was so eagerly offering.

My anxiety hadn't faded completely, but the bottle of wine I'd downed since coming home from work was helping. A tiny part of me kept expecting a SWAT team to kick in my door any second, to drag me away in front of the whole neighborhood. Really, though, I felt like I was pretty damn safe.

I'd explained it to Taylor thusly:

The fact of the matter was, she was a liar. I hadn't believed her promise. Nobody who knew her would. This was someone who could look you in the eye and even get righteously angry at being called out even when she knew full well she was completely full of crap. There wasn't an honest bone in her body.

And I could use that.

If Taylor broke character and actually told someone the truth about what had happened, it was going to be one hell of a tale. That I, a teacher without a spot on his professional record nor so much as a parking ticket attached to his name, had used black market chemical weapons to drug a student widely disliked by the faculty into re-writing her essay... well, it was a hell of a thing to believe. On top of that, this was Taylor Stern, and I knew at least one police officer who had a file as thick as my hand full of incidents she'd been involved in, and any teacher at Grant High could attest that she was as dishonest and vindictive as they came.

That her story was true would help, sure, but she'd have to make them believe that. The character debate, however, was already over and won by me. But I needed one more piece, a little something to validate for any credulous audience she might find why she'd invent such a tale, go to such lengths to try to hurt me.

The video was it. It hadn't taken much. Already topless and desperate, Taylor had latched on quickly to my promise to leave her dignity in no more tattered condition than I'd already rendered it. I'd promised I wouldn't show the video to anyone, of course. After all, I'd told her, why would I? It would only raise questions I didn't want raised. So I loaned the girl her shirt back (and quickly proved I could have her strip back out of it any time I chose), then followed her down to the girls' room. Randi was upstairs in the math hall by then, so by that hour, we had the whole area to ourselves. Then I waited outside the stall while she recorded it, then emailed a copy of it to myself. The body of the email read simply,xtra credit? ;) xoxo, Taylor Stern Period 6.

(The "Period 6" inclusion in the signature was a last minute bit of added genius, I thought. Only a halfwit, like most people assumed Taylor was, would think the recipient might need some direction for what class the naked begging teen in the video belonged to.)

With this in my possession, she became a desperate girl who'd tried to prostitute herself for grades. If anyone asked why I didn't come forward, it would be entirely plausible that I'd been too uncomfortable about these accusations to tell anyone. A speech was ready and rehearsed for Principal Horen about how I didn't want to cost Taylor her shot at graduation for a weak moment, not so close to the end. Officer Barbour could corroborate it, as could Taylor's other teachers who'd given me work for her to complete in our time together. As to the possibility that Louisa might be suspicious that Taylor accused me of using the same obscure substance she'd joked about using, I'd simply say I had left the ad out on my desk and that Taylor had seized it.

Oh, the Serenex, or however you say it? Yeah, that ad was sitting on my desk with some other stuff from my mailbox. Taylor saw it... gee, that must have been Tuesday? Wednesday? Anyway, she made a fuss like it was something real, but she enjoys being dramatic. Why, what did she tell you happened, officer?

With the video completed, I had her strip out of her shorts anyway. I still had her panties clenched in my fist. To my surprise, they'd been surprisingly damp when she handed them over.

I had her. From total catastrophe to a stronger position than I'd been in before it started -- not bad for a simple English teacher with no plan. There had been half a dozen moments today where I'd felt like the world was dropping out from under me, but I'd come through. Every time I started to feel guilty for what I'd done to Taylor, all I had to do was remember her tirade; then I could go right back to enjoying the video again.

It once more hit the end, and once more began anew. Weirdly, I think I liked the beginning more than the end. Seeing her with her shirt on, wiggling and jiggling until she gave her final advertisement for her wares... Damn. The nudity was good, but the reveal was everything.

Knock, knock.

For the second time that day, an unexpected presence at my door nearly gave me a heart attack. She'd done it.Oh shit oh shit oh shit shit shit shit shit!!!In spite of my threats, my blackmail, my pitiful attempt at brainwashing, Taylor had gone ahead with it anyway! As I tried to summon enough strength in my knees to stand up, I assured myself it would be fine. I'd tell my lies, try not to let my voice break, try not to break down crying. It felt hollow, though, barely comforting enough to keep me from falling to my knees and begging the police who were surely waiting on the other side of that door to--

Knock knock knock knock knock!

Shit!

I cleared my throat and opened the door as casually as I could.Look surprised, Canon.

It turned out not to be as difficult as I'd thought. "Abbie...?"

The girl nodded. "Come with me. I have to show you something."

"Uh... what? What are you doing at my--"

"Comeon, Mr. Canon." She pulled me by the wrist with both of her hands, tugging me out the front steps. I could have resisted her, I supposed, but I was too startled by her presence, and too relieved by the absence of police, to put up a fight. There in my driveway was that same crummy old car I'd seen them getting into the other day in the lot, apple red and thoroughly rusted along the bottom. A bumper sticker readingMy kid could kick your honor student's ass was stuck to the rear windshield. I looked around, nervous someone might pop out and jump me, that I'd been foolish to assume they'd go to the police instead of convincing some guys to just beat the shit out of me.

But we didn't go farther than the driveway. "What's going on here? You shouldn't come to my house like this. It's... not appropriate." The reprimand felt rather hypocritical even to me, though, considering what I'd done to the lines of propriety so far today.

"I didn't have a choice, Mr. Canon."

"I don't understand. A choice about what?" But Abbie didn't answer. Instead, she inserted her key into the hole in the rear end of the car and popped the trunk.

There, inside, with her wrists duct taped behind her, screaming incomprehensible yet unmistakable obscenities into a gag in her mouth, was Taylor.

"She was gonnatell. But I stopped her." She grinned at me, then glared down at her big sister's antics. Abbie smacked her in the cheek, and not gently. "Shut up, Tay, you dumb cunt!"