Teaching Her a Lesson Pt. 16

Part Sixteen: Weekly Planning

One of the most important organizational tools in any teacher's toolbox is that of routine. Yes, it could also be a key ingredient for drudgery and never failed to kill that buzz students carried in from summer break, but you added whole days of instruction to the instruction calendar simply by training yourself and your students in behaviors. When passing up papers, put yours on top so that stacks remain organized for return. In your seat, not in the door, by the bell. Nobody leaves until desks are all in their proper space. Use the proper header so your poor teacher doesn't go prematurely gray trying to enter grades when he inevitably mixes up stacks of homework. Don't throw chapstick. And so on.

I didn't think of myself as a stickler, but I stickled for those behaviors I wanted to stick. Every student in my classes had heard my spiel that they were to guard their "6 Traits of Writing" rubrics with their lives, sparing me having to print off another two hundred copies every time we did peer review. "If - when - I come to you on your deathbed and ask you where it is, you better be able to point to it with accuracy." That line cut down the needed number of extra rubrics in half. Teaching was always an exercise in organized chaos, and the only way to muddle through it all was to minimize time and energy wasted on the things that didn't enrich lives.

I was quickly learning that maintaining a half dozen sexual relationships with students, coworkers and neighbors was far more chaotic, and impossible to organize. Nevertheless, I stickled.

Taylor left before dinner Monday evening, eschewing my invitation to order takeout since her parents expected her for dinner. She half-heartedly promised to convey my revised sentiments to Abbie regarding the incident over the weekend, though I expected to need to explain it myself later anyway. Megan had returned from her mother's with Robby by then. She stopped by to gripe about the mess Cassie had failed to completely conceal from the party Sunday, then mowed my lawn in lieu of a blowjob when I explained I had been well taken care of. Cassie texted me around nine with a pleasantly succinct request to come over and have sex with me, but I was already getting ready for bed. What was the rush? I had the world in my pocket, and now that things were calming down, I meant to take things one day at a time.

It was our last normal Tuesday of instruction for the year, with the following week set for e-learning and the one after as prep for final exams. The home stretch. I was looking forward to the end of the school year more than ever. Graduation made for a nice bookend for the student experience, but as a teacher, it meant vastly more time and freedom for my new hobby. I could have a different woman every day of the week and then recuperate on Sundays. When I felt like it I could mix things up with doubles - the buxom sisters, the mother/daughter neighbors, the lesbian coworkers. Surely we'd find fresh variations as time passed. Coach and athlete. Cop and troublemaker. Cool mom and impressionable friend of her daughter - was that a thing? Damnit, I'd make it one. This promised to be the best summer break of my life.

That Tuesday we started our final book of the year in senior English,The Catcher in the Rye. It was a quick unit, one of the few books where I had more troubles with students reading ahead than keeping up. A short book with fluffy assignments designed in part to shore up weaknesses in the grades of our graduates-to-be,Catcher was a welcome respite from denser material. Not only was it usually a crowd-pleaser, but with students on their way to starting jobs, college, families, the whole rest of their lives, it was a good opportunity to address the theme of growing up, its messiness and confusion and allure and unpleasantness. That I was sleeping with not one, not two, but three girls close to a decade my junior made the opening discussion of that theme feel rather poignant for me this year.

During my prep period, I popped by Isa's office.

She glanced up from her laptop. "I have to be downtown for a staff meeting in twenty minutes Canon, so whatever it is, make it quick."

"Hello to you, too." I closed the door behind me, settling into the oversized bean bag chair she kept in the corner to signal my intent to get comfy and stay as long as I liked. Then I got a whiff of all the dust kicked up by my doing so and regretted it, but I think I hid it well. It would appear this too-casual seating option was seldom exercised. "I wanted to talk about the Serenex."

"I wondered when you would. What all did you overhear Saturday night when you were playing possum?"

"Not enough. Start at the beginning. Tell me what you learned, how you learned it. Everything."

"Look, stop in tomorrow and maybe I'll have time for this, all right? Much as I'd be perfectly happy to fabricate an excuse to get out of sitting in the same room as you, I really do have that staff meeting."

"Tell them something came up. Or don't, I don't care. But you're going to tell me what I want to know. Unless you don't think I can bend you over your own desk as easily as I did mine."

The resource officer glowered, but her chin betrayed a tell-tale tremble as she set her jaw. "God, what did you do to me."

"Same thing I'm going to keep doing to you. Whatever I want. Now talk." I considered. It was taking real effort, overcoming my default fear of cops, to say nothing of affecting such poor social graces. (Girlfriends' parents loved me.) Still, best to establish a baseline level of domineering behavior, see if I could push her to the brink right off or if she had to build to it. "Better yet, lock the door, come sit on my lap, then talk."

It didn't take thirty seconds for her to break, though a tense thirty seconds, to be sure. I really thought she might call me out, get in a good slap, maybe a kick in the nuts before Serenex caught up. Instead, I got a glare that soon reaffixed itself to her desk, to her lap, and then withered into a mere pout as she shuffled to her door, then even more petulantly to me. She landed in my lap a little harder than was comfortable, but there she was nonetheless, eyes dark but downcast.

I got to work on the buttons of her uniform casually, but nevertheless immediately. I'd been interrupted yesterday; today I meant to finish what I started for once. "So, Serenex. Go."

She wriggled into a comfortable position. "Right. So what I told you before about my connection in the analysis lab was true. Her name is Shantel. She's not employed by the department, just an outside contractor, which makes her more reliable."

I untucked her shirt and targeted the previously concealed buttons, revealing the rest of her compression shirt. "Why's that?"

"Because Shantel doesn't answer directly to the department. She has a boss of her own at the lab, a civilian like her, so she's less inclined to sniff out bullshit in my story or try to curry favor with my superiors. No loyalty to the PD. I kept it believable enough that she didn't ask questions, and she can probably be bought if she gets too suspicious. Of course, if she figures out what your stuff does, we'll probably have to dose her to keep her from replicating it for herself. It might not be the worst idea anyway, just to make sure. If, um, you think so, that is. Sir."

She had to help me disconnect the radio from her shirt before I could toss it across the room, but once she did, I did. "Good thinking. I'll consider it. Can't solve all of life problems with mystery spray, after all. We don't want to get too cavalier about it."

"Too..." She grit her teeth at my deliberate hypocrisy, and I swear I felt the heat emanating from her lap ratchet up another dozen degrees. "Yes sir."

"So, what did she tell you, specifically?"

"I'll get you a copy of the full lab analysis, in case it interests you. She had to explain it to me. In summary, what you bought isn't technically Serenex." Her voice was muffled somewhat as I pulled the compression shirt off over her head. "That's the base, but it's only about eighty percent of the actual solution."

I dropped her belt on the floor beside the bean bag. The thing was surprisingly heavy. "Eighty sounds like a lot to me."

"Ok, so think of it like this. If you ordered a steak, and the waiter brought you a plate and told you it was eighty percent steak, would you still eat it?"

"Fair enough. So what's the other twenty?" The implications were only beginning to catch up with me as I got to work on her belt. "Is somebody manufacturing this stuff on purpose?"

She shrugged. "Shantel didn't seem to think so, but that's not really her area of expertise. In the spirit of keeping you safe, sir, I encourage you not to go poking around."

"Well why didn't she think so?" The zipper stuck when I pulled; she had to give me a hand finding the proper angle.

"It's what was in the rest of it. In short, it's a party cocktail. Some of it's just water, standard procedure for that sort of thing, but there was some other junk in there, too. Heroin, something that is a less potent chemical compound born out of PCP and some of the stuff in Serenex - still not great for you though."

"Isn't the point of filler to make it cheaper? That sounds like the opposite."

"You think rare black market chemical weapons come cheaper than street grade heroin?"

"Um... no?"

"No is right. It's probably just in there to make the crap more addictive for people who are using it recreationally, bring them back for more. But you cut me off about what all's in it. Here's the kicker - it's also got LSD, and that stuff had a reaction that mutated the base chemical."

The scent of her arousal was obvious the moment her pants came off, even if I couldn't see the wet spot on her panties. Not keen on having to explain a wet spot on the front of my pants, I went ahead and bumped her off of me for a moment so I could get them off.

"How is that 'the kicker?' Not that I want to be doing acid or anything, but tell me why that's the scary one."

"It's less about the LSD itself, but the chemical in it that, as far as we know, causes acid flashbacks."

I paused my work on her bra. "Wait, are you saying we're going to have Serenex flashbacks or something?"

"No no, not that. But it's that chemical that, for lack of a better word, sticks to the brain. Most of it passes right through the system, but this stuff, it glomps on, sticks to portions of the central nervous system indefinitely. For common street doses of LSD, that'll get you flashes of color, geometric shapes, that kind of thing. And the twist in your canister has alot more of that chemical than regular LSD. While Shantel didn't understand what Serenex does well enough to state it so concretely, this stuff basically never fully goes away. It might -might - get weaker, but there's no guarantee of that."

There they were, those perfect tits I'd been waiting to see in the flesh since Saturday evening. I helped myself to a couple handfuls. And a mouthful. "So you're saying you're going to be my submissive little pet cop for the foreseeable future?"

The woman practically snarled at my characterization, but it faded as quickly. "Yes, master." Her eyes widened. "Fuck,really, subconscious? 'Master?' Fuckingreally?!"

"You don't like it? I think it suits you," I ribbed her, placing a hand between her legs. They spread instantly, and she pressed her pussy against my fingers needily.

"Mm, thank you, master," she moaned.

"So. We don't have to worry about re-applying, at least. Did she say anything to suggest we could counter one round of suggestions with another? I wasn't sure from what you were saying Saturday."

Isa was practically panting as I released her long dark hair from its confinement against her scalp, blonde streaks shimmering throughout. "I couldn't really ask her that without saying more than we wanted her to know. It doesn't seem all that likely - you don't hear about people curing their flashbacks by taking more LSD. Shit that feels good, master. Thank you, master." Her eyes squeezed shut in shame after realizing how easily the words had slipped out. "Anyway, that doesn't mean it's impossible."

She was plenty eager to help me rid her of her panties, and hastily pulled off my underwear at no more firm a directive than a gesture with my finger. Just like I'd commanded, she had shaved. The skin was naturally golden brown, but now smooth as glass. I traced my fingers over it appreciatively. "Anything else I should know?"

Isa remained on her knees before me, shaking her head meekly. "No, master."

"Could she make more, do you think?" Not that I wanted more. I honestly hoped I didn't need it. The past two weeks, however, had demonstrated that it never hurt to be over-prepared.

"She's already busy, master. I could try pressing her a little, see if she could rush some to you..."

"Not for now. We still have a bit, and maybe it's for the best we don't have an ocean of the stuff. Stop that."

Isa guiltily withdrew her hand from between her legs like her pussy had scalded her. "Sorry, master. I'm just so goddamn horny, master."

I nodded. "I can see that. And smell it, frankly. But you know what? I think I like 'sir' better. It's better being my toy cop's commander than some I Dream of Genie fantasy. Though hey, let's go with master when Candy's around, yeah? It's definitely sluttier. Give her a little thrill."

"If that's what you want, sir."

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees as I inspected her. "Anything else I ought to know from your Serenex inquiries?"

She considered. "I don't think so, sir. Her report was clinical, and only focused on chemical analysis, not effects of ingestion."

I was quietly relieved there was nothing more to discuss on the subject. Interesting, perhaps useful, but I had other things on my mind. "Good. Now, what to do with you, Isa. I have to say, you're giving me a lot of ideas. Have you ever sucked a cock before?"

She shook her head. "No, sir."

"And were you bullshitting me about being a virgin, or is that for real?"

She rolled her eyes, but to my surprise, then held out her left hand and slapped it hard with her right, rebuking herself. "I'm not a virgin, obviously. I'm twenty-eight years old. I've been with a number of women. But in the archaic sense that you meant it, sir, yes. I have never let a man have sex with me before."

"Apologies, officer. So... do I fuck you," I pondered, taking a slow tour of her dripping wet pussy. "Or you," I thrust the same finger between her lips. She sucked it automatically. "Or these babies." I gave her tits a soft slap with my spare hand. Isa squeaked in surprise, but didn't stop sucking.

In the end, it was the sucking that decided me. "Oh, hell. What kind of friend would I be if I didn't let your little girlfriend be on hand to watch me deflower you? Now I don't want to be too presumptuous. I'd like a blowjob, but only if you want to give me one. Consent matters and all. I'd hate to be - how did you put it? - archaic."

"I can give you a blowjob if you'd like, sir. I don't really know how, if there's any skill to it. I guess it doesn't seem that hard, though."

As she leaned forward, mouth opening, I stopped her with a restraining finger in the middle of her forehead. She looked up irritably, and with some consternation. "I don't want you to humor me, Isa. I said I want a blowjob, but only if youwant to give it to me."

Comprehension slowly dawned at the distinction. "I... I'm not sure that I..."

"Fair enough. Say no more - I'll leave you be. You have that meeting after all, right?"

I was still trying to haul myself out of that infernal bean bag chair when she threw me back into it. "No! No, I... I want to."

For once, I got to be the one smirking. I waved my dick at her like it was a sausage taunting a fat kid. "Want to what, Isa?"

"Want to give you a blowjob."

"You do? Why? I thought you'd never done it before."

Her words tumbled out in a whisper. "Because I get off on being a submissive little bitch. I can't help myself." I didn't miss their rote quality, however. It had Serenex written all over it.

"What did it feel like to ask someone to wax your pussy?"

She started at the unexpected question, then looked down in embarrassment. "Slutty. Sexy. Pathetic. I could barely stop myself from masturbating until I got back in my car."

"Did you show Candy?"

"No. I worried she'd make fun of me. And I worried that would make me lose control again."

"Show her tonight."

"Yes, sir. Can I blow you now, sir?"

I ran my fingers through her hair. It was like silk. "What do we say, Isa?"

"Please, sir?"

"Please what?" Damnit, I was going to come before she even touched my cock if I kept this up.

"Please may I suck your dick, sir?" There was raw need in her eyes. If there was any defiance left in her, it was buried deep beneath layers of her new kink.

"You may."

Thanks to the bean bag, I was already so low to the ground that she had to bend herself double to get me in her mouth. I'd expected her to hesitate, be nervous, or shy, or unsure how to approach her first ever cock in the mouth. Instead, she opened wide and sucked me all the way down on the first try.

As Cassie might have told her from her fresh studies, it was a rookie mistake. Hashtag amateur.

"I'm sorry, sir!" Isa sputtered once she stopped coughing. Fresh tears ran down her cheeks - a physical reaction, I hoped, not a psychological one. Her second attempt was more successful. This time she merely licked, watching my eyes to study my reaction. I favored her with the slightest of nods as my cock jumped beneath her tongue.

As somewhere across town her staff meeting commenced without her, Isa slowly, dutifully licked up and down my cock. "It's like candy," I joked. She didn't laugh. She simply licked, and licked. At one point I moaned softly, and her entire body shook with vicarious pleasure. She murmured a hasty reminder to keep quiet - "thin walls, sir" - then went right on licking. Still the vigilant protector of our secret. In fact, if I strained my ears, I could just make out the soft drone of the guidance counselor Mr. Minott in the next office. Not clearly enough to make out words, but moans would be another story.

"Turn sideways, like... yeah, like that. I want to play with your tits while you suck me off."

"Of course, sir." She swept her hair to the far side of her face so that my view remained unobstructed. Had she, like Cassie, learned that from watching porn? Or was that simply an instinct to serve me? I didn't have the heart to share aloud my observation that her exquisite tits were merely incredible in profile. Still, I had never in my life passed on an opportunity to fondle a woman's breasts, and that extended to far less perfect specimens than these. I took hold, guiding my hands to the nipple, gave a little pinch and a sigh of contentment.

"For a first-timer, you're not doing half bad at this. We'll make a cock-sucking slut out of you yet." I gave her tit a hard squeeze. "Good girl."

Her entire body suddenly froze, tongue extended, breast quaking in my hand as she locked into her position. Had I pushed her too far?

Then I saw her hips moving. Thrusting. Shuddering. The faintest of whimpers froze in her throat.

Isa was having an orgasm.

When it subsided, she knelt upright, mortified, "Oh my god, I can't believe I just..."

"Made a puddle on your office floor from finding out how much you're loving your first foray into the wild world of blowjobs?" She scowled, but it vanished in the next instant. "So. What do we saynow, Isa?"

"May I please continue, sir?"

"No, not that. What do we say when I let you come?"