Teaching Her a Lesson Pt. 03

Author's note: All characters present for or witnessing any sexual encounters are 18+.

Teaching Her A Lesson

Part Three: Homeschooling

Deep breaths. Deeeeep breaths.

So that wasn't working. The garage door creaked shut behind me. And behind that...

The night was almost perfect aside from that. Mid-sixties, a gentle breeze to keep the mosquitoes at bay, crickets chirping, stars shining. It was the sort of night that made me miss my childhood, camping out in the woods by my parents' house, my friends and I pretending to be trailblazers braving the wilderness, yet conveniently in range to restock our supplies of junk food and flashlight batteries. Then, the worst thing I'd ever done had been hiding around the corner on the stairs and scaring my sister so badly she'd peed her pants; the hardest decision that had lain before me was whether or not to join band once we started middle school.

Oh, what a difference a couple of decades and a canister of black market neuroinhibitor made.

With a sigh, I made for the garage. My car was in the driveway now, the Stern girls' in the garage. I prayed nobody had seen her in the short window before I'd been able to hide her away. My house was on a four-lane street, plenty of traffic; anybody who knew either of us and simply saw the two of us standing together on the front lawn would likely have real questions. Not that those questions would scratch the surface of what they ought to be asking about this whole nightmare. In one week, I'd gone from breaking my bank to try to help a wayward student, to somehow making a teenage girl kidnap her own sister. It was so ludicrous, it was almost funny.

Heh, better get in there before Abbie took it to the next level and started waterboarding her in my kiddie pool.

Oh god. I quickened my pace.

There in the garage sat Abbie on the trunk of her car. Here indoors, Taylor's struggles from inside were much more audible, or perhaps she'd simply decided to kick and scream more now that she'd seen my face. That was a strange little knife in the gut, the idea that one of my students could be that frightened of me. Then again, I wasn't the one who had trussed her up like a Thanksgiving turkey and shoved her in my trunk.

Only now, she was in my garage.

"You cool now? Got the little bitch out of your system?" asked the unrestrained Stern sister.

"Abbie, we ought to have a talk, I think. No, make thatneed to have a talk. But right now, there's a young woman tied up in the trunk of your car that we need to get out of there."

The young woman did not, however, get out of the way. "Respectfully, Mr. C? That's fucking retarded. I guaran-fucking-tee you that the second that trunk opens, she's going to start screaming. That gag isn't exactly Abu Ghraib grade restraint."

"How in the hell do you know about Abu Ghraib?"

"Our uncle was stationed there when all the shit went down. Whole big thing." How did that not surprise me? "Anyway, your neighbors' houses are like five feet away. Y'all got fucking tiny-ass yards in this neighborhood."

Rudely stated or no, she was right. We'd already been lucky that nobody had overheard Taylor's brief outburst when Abbie first showed me what she'd stashed in there. On a night like this, too, there were decent odds that the Lawrences or the Maravans had their windows open, making it all the more possible they'd hear something.

There was, of course, the obvious way to make sure Taylor didn't scream. From the way Abbie was eyeing my mini gardening chainsaw, I supposed there were technically two ways. Jesus. No time to waste. In my paranoia that Taylor might disregard both brainwashing and blackmail, I'd opted not to leave the Serenex in my briefcase. Instead, I'd hidden it in the crawlspace under the house, nestled atop some of the exposed plumbing. Time to get crawling, I supposed. I secured a promise from Abbie that she wouldn't do anything crazy for a few minutes and got hustling.

When I returned via the door between the garage and the laundry room a few minutes later, marginally cobwebbier and no less horrified by what I'd unleashed, Abbie was bent over the hood. "... if you don't shut up, I'ma spray that shit right in your fucking eyeball, understand? God, you suck sometimes." She perked up at the sight of me. "Finally. You ready to do this? She's gonna kick out the tail lights pretty soon if we don't dose her."

I nodded. Envisioning the possibility that she could get a good scream out before the Serenex seeped into her bloodstream, I instead crawled into the backseat. The floor was littered with old fast food containers and other miscellaneous garbage, including, behind the center console, what looked to be a discarded condom.Classy as ever, I thought, before considering that maybe I ought to be a hair less judgmental as I prepared to gas my hostage. With a little rehearsal, I got the actions down. Lift the toggle, pull down the back seat, spray into the trunk, slam it closed. The effects hadn't taken long the last few times. After Abbie directed an exasperated stare at me through the window, I pounced.

Taylor did try to issue what would have been a truly bloodcurdling scream had it not been muffled by the sock taped in her mouth. I sealed her in, climbed back out of the car, and counted to ten. Fifteen, for good measure. At my signal, Abbie popped the trunk.

Taylor was still glaring, still trying to say something. Her struggling and screaming, however, was done. There had been no way to aim very precisely in my method, but I could see a yellowed spot on the shoulder of her white t-shirt from where most of it had hit. I'd used more than enough to soak through, though, and from the visibility of the dark tint of her bra, I was sure she wasn't wearing a second layer underneath. It was quite a transition, from mild-mannered workaday educator to someone who had to analyze the girl tied up in his garage to make sure he'd drugged her thoroughly enough.

"Gonna shut your gaping cunt of a mouth now, Tay?" Abbie thundered immediately, but I shooed her back.

"Taylor, I want to take the gag off and untie you. You promise you won't scream, won't try to run away?"

She mumbled something, but quickly conceded the necessity of answering with a nod. That would have to do. After all, the original manufacturer-stated purpose of this stuff was riot suppression. So far, this was as close as I'd come to use as intended. Great. Always reassuring when one finds oneself drifting into the lane traditionally reserved for authoritarian dictators and villains on cop procedurals.

As if I needed more reassurance that it was working, she didn't so much as flinch as I retrieved my boxcutter and moved it toward her. I cut off the duct-tape from her wrists and mouth, helping her out of the trunk as she worked her sore jaw around. "Thanks," she muttered as she struggled upright.

"Very welcome."

"I was being sarcastic."

"Me too. Are you OK? I mean, circumstance aside, but physically. Are you hurt, injured?"

"My shoulder hurts like hell, and I banged my head, but I probably won't die from it."

Abbie rolled her eyes. "If you didn't try to dive out like a re-re while I was closing the trunk, you'd be fine."

"If my own fucking sister didn't go psycho on me-"

"Ifmy own fucking sister didn't make plans to go telling everybody-"

"He drugged us! He molested me!"

"He'd never do anything inappropriate!"

"That's just the drugs talking!"

"That's just the you're a dumb bitch talking!"

"GIRLS!"

They both turned to me, their glares for one another lingering. "How about we go inside and talk about this, calmly, in civil tones, and maybe figure out what we do from here?" Nobody had a better plan, so in we went.

One afternoon last summer, one of my students, Miguel, had stopped by my house randomly to say hello. His family lived in the neighborhood and he'd been walking by, he said. Miguel had always been a nice kid, nobody I'd ever had any trouble with, but from the moment he showed up on my doorstep, there was this nervous tingle in the back of my mind about that tiny remote possibility of someday sitting in a courtroom trying to reassure a jury about a no-witness encounter with a student in my home. Miguel hadn't made it past the front steps, and that was a student who had never given me any trouble a day in his life before or since.

Now I was walking into my living room with the Stern sisters, one fresh from being kidnapped in a trunk and the other obviously compromised by my indoctrination attempt. In fact, as we walked into the living room, I saw I'd even left Taylor's video playing muted on the screen. God, I was stupid. If that knock on the doorhad been the police, I'd already be boarding my one-way train to the penitentiary.

"Ew, gross! Were you just sitting here watching that? Oh my god, Mr. Canon was beating off to my video, nasty! God, I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit."

I turned it off immediately, as if it made any difference now. "Taylor, maybe you should start thinking about where you are and what's going on, and if outbursts like that are going to help any of us out of this predicament."

Abbie was just looking at her sister like the girl had lost her mind, but I wasn't about to let them start up with each other again. The Serenex might have made Taylor biddable, but it hadn't made her any less of a bitch. "And then there's you. Abbie, what in the name of all that's holy do you think you're doing?"

She arched an eyebrow. "I told you, she was... Oh! That. Sorry, duh." Before I could wonder what she was duh-ing about, her shirt was off, dropped on the floor like it was her living room and we weren't in it with her.

"Abbie!"

"I know, I know," she grumbled, two mammoth mammaries thrust forward as she arched her back to get at her bra clasp. The bra fell, and so did they. She even brushed her long hair back over her shoulders to make sure my view was unobstructed. God, I'd been a fool to think she and Taylor could be close to the same size. Those mostly-nude pics on her phone had not done these babies justice. It took everything in my conscious mind to abstain from throwing myself on the girl out of pure instinct.

"You are such a fucking skank! God, what is wrong with you?" snapped Taylor.

"What?" Abbie put her hands on her hips. Christ almighty, those things shook around just from herbreathing. It might honestly be too much - except I couldn't stop staring, my mouth flooding with saliva.

"You took your top off in Mr. Canon's house! Am I, like, losing my mind here or something?"

"Apparently. I mean, why haven't you?"

"Because he's a dirty old creep!"

"When has he ever done anything creepy to us?"

The gaslighting almost made Taylor's eyes pop out of her head. As the two went back and forth about why it was strange to be half-naked in my house, or why it was strange not to, I was at a loss. There was a zero percent chance that Abbie was merely a casual exhibitionist, idly strutting her stuff. No, whatever prompted this obviously had something to do with the Serenex. Trying to stop Taylor from ratting me out? That I understood, inasmuch as I understood anything about all this.

The hundred repetitions must have seared the message into her brain, and it looked like when Taylor tried to cross that line, Abbie had lost it. The programming must somehow have sunk in so deep as to be inviolate. If, prior to this afternoon, Taylor had announced her intention to go murder a bunch of schoolchildren, would Abbie have gone to these lengths to stop her?I will not let anyone find out what happened in Mr. Canon's room must have been shoved as far down as her most basic notions of right and wrong. If not deeper.

As for why she was acting like Taylor was insane not to be happily flashing me her boobs... I was at a loss. Yes, I'd made Taylor take her clothes off, make that video, but I hadn't done anything improper with Abbie. Aside from looking at her semi-nude selfies. And drugging her. And brainwashing her.But you didn't turn her into an exhibitionist, I feebly consoled myself. But as she doubled down again and again against Taylor's exasperated accusations, even her repetition of phrasing made it clear something had sunk in there.

I hadn't done - couldn't have done - anything inappropriate to them. Their tits, their asses, were mine to ogle. That she wanted to be my fantasy slut - words she used over and over. Even called herself a sex object, insisted she felt lucky to be with me.

That whole afternoon had been such a wild ride that I couldn't recall any of where those exact things had come from, but something obviously had come up. Taylor had said something, hadn't she, some sarcastic comment about how I thought of my female students as sex objects? I wasn't sure. Yet tons of other things that had been said obviously hadn't sunk in, so why had those?

It would seem shoving untested mind-altering chemicals into people's mouths wasn't the most exact science.

"All right, all right, that's enough," I said at last, beginning to feel like they'd go back and forth at one another all night if I didn't intervene. "Both of you have a seat, and let's start looking forward instead of backward. Whatever happened, happened, and we can't undo it, so... we... uh..."

Abbie looked perplexed at why I'd stopped talking. "What?"

"Abbie, you're sitting on my lap."

"Yeah...? Oh. Gotcha. Sorry, new to this." She hopped up.

"New to...?" But then her shorts were off. I hadn't even had time to savor that broad, gorgeous booty, clad only in black cotton trimmed with white lace, bent over within easy grasping distance and offering an unspoken offer to do precisely that, before it was back on my lap, squirming into position. Or maybe just giving me a subtle lap dance.

Ishould make her get up. Get dressed. Sit by Taylor on the love seat. But if I did, then she... then, she, um...

I gave up trying to rationalize her away, and accepted that I was going to let this happen. It was too incredible not to. But I wasn't going to touch her. That, ah, wouldn't be right. (Would it...?)

Time to return to the real problem here.

"Ahem. So yes. Taylor, I recognize you're upset, that you're much more upset than the Serenex is letting you be right this moment. I understand. But we have to accept the world as it is, not as we would like it to be, and right here, right now, in the real world, this is where we are."Somehow.

"In your living room with my mind-fucked sister curled up naked on your lap, you fucking pig," Taylor said casually, crossing her legs and studying her nails. It remained just a little off-putting how the feelings were still there, but even her body language wouldn't put all those feelings into practice beyond a feisty tone and a snotty expression.

"She's not going to let it go. We should kill her," murmured Abbie into my ear. Taylor stiffened, but only a little.

"That's not a funny joke, Abbie. Drugged or no, we're not going to terrify her any more than we already have." Damn, I hoped she'd been joking. She had to be.

"And yes," I continued, redirecting my attention to Taylor. "But I didn't mean for this to happen. I didn't mean forany of this to happen. But it did."

"It sure the fuck did. And how did it, exactly?"

"Excuse me?"

Taylor drummed her fingers on my end table, fingernailscl-cl-cl-clicking rhythmically. "You had that shit already, right? And you obviously used it on me before today somehow, right? Looking back, no way I would have gone along with that stupid writing on the board bullshit, ignoring you creeping on me, if you hadn't."

For the third time, I forced Abbie's fingers away from playing at my chest and back into her lap. "I did. I put it on that chapstick of yours, the one you pelted Jesse with, that you threw that fit over. You were going to be expelled, Taylor. I thought that maybe I could use that stuff to get you out of your own way and behave well enough to graduate. I did all this tohelp you!"

She directed her eyes pointedly to the young woman squirming in my lap. "Wow. You're a real hero, Mr. Canon. Shoe-in for teacher of the goddamn year. What a fucking guy."

"I don't know why you sound sarcastic about that," purred Abbie as she rested her head on my shoulder, nuzzling her nose against my neck. I considered that allowing her to remain on my lap might not actually be worth the disruption to any effort to figure a way out of this, but then she started placing these little kisses, and my will to deny her washed away.

"So what do you propose we do then, Taylor?"

"Oh, I get a say in this now? I thought I was just playing the part of Drugged Out Kidnapping Victim Number Two in this scene of your little porno." I didn't take her bait and issue a retort, waiting until she answered my question. Or maybe I was only distracted by the way Abbie was fondling her breasts. "Well here's a scenario. You let me go, and when this shit wears off, I'll go to the hospital and tell them how you drugged me and how I need my blood tested. Then I'll take that to the cops as proof so you can shove your little bullshit blackmail video up your soon-to-be-gang-raped-by-the-rest-of-the-D-block-boys ass. How's that? Sound like a plan? Because it's what's going to happen."

"See? Let me kill her," whispered Abbie in my ear, pacifying the panic instinct her words invoked with a hand thrust between her thighs to stroke my cock through my slacks.

"I don't think that's a very productive suggestion," I said. The words were meant for both of them separately. "Now Taylor, you have every right to be upset, but you have to believe that this was all an accident. I really did feel awful for what I did to you on Monday, and I was going to throw the canister away. That's what I was doing when you walked back in and saw me with it. Then I panicked, sprayed you, and... here we are. But I promise, I will find a way to make this right."

"You will? Because the naked girl in your lap trying to jack you off right in front of me makes me doubt your commitment to justice."

Abbie licked, with delicious, agonizing slowness, up the length of my neck. The faintest of whimpers escaped her mouth, right into my ear, then somehow rushing right to my cock, skipping everything in between. It said that I could fuck her, right now, any way I wanted, right in front of her sister, that I could make another video of it, that she'd cooperate in any and every way I might dream of and that she would experience the most intense pleasure of her young life for the opportunity. My fantasy slut. Her pussy was already soaking through her panties, through my pants and underwear, and right into where she so clearly wanted it all to go. All I had to do was grant her permission.

I wouldn't have to stop there, either. There was an obvious fix to this - figure out how I'd broken Abbie's mind, then do the same to Taylor. I'd have both sisters on their knees, pleading for the privilege of sucking me off. They'd make out with each other for my viewing pleasure as they smashed their collective fifty pounds of tits together around my cock. Taylor would confess and apologize for every bitch thing she'd ever done to me as I exacted retribution on her pert young ass. And when she ran out of sins, Abbie would supply more from her sister's lifetime of being a bully and a tease.

Cl-cl-cl-click.

I sighed, looking over to where Taylor sat, regarding her newly ensluttified sister wriggling around on my cock. No. As painful as it was to squelch that fantasy, Taylor was right. I'd already done some terrible things, but there was no uncrossing that line if I took this one step further. If I ever wanted to convince her I was capable of remorse, that I sincerely regretted what I'd let come to pass, I had to put a stop to this, right now.