Teaching Her a Lesson Pt. 22

I didn't. I don't think.

"All right, Mr. Canon, I think that about wraps it up - unless there's anything else you think we ought to know about...?" the detective said. I glanced at the clock on the wall. It had barely taken half an hour.

There was a part of me that thought back to two years - eight seemingly interminable academic quarters - of Taylor Stern. The snickers, the smirks, the lies, the interruptions, all the time and effort not merely wasted, but actually counterproductive, her attitude worsening with every attempt to bring her to heel. This was my chance. I had a heap of stories as deep and juicy as her silken cunt about the bullshit that girl had put me through. If I wanted to paint her as the evil bitch who'd made it her mission to drive me out of teaching once and for all, here was the chance. Isa had even suggested it might be worth saying something, since Horen would likely not be using the Sterns' disciplinary file to do me any favors. I ought to plant the seed, at least. Abbie I barely knew, at least for purposes of our narrative, but Taylor...

But part of me was the taste of cold spring rain washing over crimson lips.

"I don't think so. I'm not sure I fully understand what all happened in those girls' heads, but for my part, I think I've shared everything I know."

"Good. You think of something, you let me know."

He rose, which I took as a dismissal. Capaldi and I followed suit, but as I shook his hand again, I paused to ask, "What happens now? We're close to the end of the school year. Any chance this might be resolved before finals?"

Shipman nodded. "I hear you. I can't comment on the process, but I can share that we're fast-tracking this thing. I promise, you'll hear from me before long, one way or the other."

Ominous, but there was probably no other way for him to say it. Either he thought I was full of shit and he'd have charges to press, or he was ready to write it off as bratty Gen Z shenanigans. Either felt possible. "Right. Thanks, detective."

Having carpooled on the way over, Capaldi and I spoke some on our drive back to his office. He assured me I'd acquitted myself well, and reminded me not to try to contact any of the alleged victims or their families. Really, he said, just go home and stay there. Order in, he suggested. And let him know if I heard anything. I told him I would, and that was the end of it. He moved on to his next case, and I got back in my car.

I started the engine, as anxious as I'd ever been. It was impossible not to notice that the vehicle's clock read 2:55. Not ten blocks from here, school was letting out. Normally I'd be waiting for Taylor to swagger in for her daily makeup session. She'd try to distract me by crossing her legs a certain way or flashing her panties under her skirt, and I'd try to not rip them off her and fuck her on my desk. It was the best, most excruciating game I'd ever played.

Back home, it was a hell of a long evening. Megan was at work. My only interaction was with Isa, whom I called with Megan's burner phone. There wasn't much to it; she said she didn't know Shipman personally, but figured she'd at least try to put in a good word, see if she could learn anything or give it a nudge. Beyond that, yet another reminder to keep my hands to myself and get used to solitude. The worst thing for my situation would be for some nosy neighbor to see a schoolgirl sneaking in my back door, then read the next week in the paper about charges.

To my credit, I made it until almost ten o'clock. For a guy with a contact list full of nubile sex slaves, that was one hell of an achievement as far as I was concerned.

You up? I sent.

I didn't have to wait long.Is that you???

Smart girl. Saw an unknown number, but clever enough to use pronouns.Who else.

Are you OK? I've been freaking out!

I'm sorry about that. I'm fine. Can you get out?

omw.

The door to the garage swung quietly open a short while later. Entering my house was a figure who could have been nearly anyone. It was disguised in a bulky hoodie and leggings, both black. The hood was up, shrouding its face. Even the shoes were black.

"Tabitha, Jesus, you look like an urban ninja or something." I rose to greet her, but she was already starting to strip even as she closed the door with a foot. Not the worst hug rejection I'd ever gotten, I supposed.

"Sorry. I didn't see any police cars, but I didn't want to take chances. I parked two blocks down in the lot by the Walgreens and hiked over - down the alley, just to be sure. Nobody saw me."

She was already naked by the time the brief explanation was done. Lack of socks, bra and panties probably helped, but still, impressive stripping speed. "I appreciate the caution, but they don't have a SWAT team on standby. I'm an English teacher, not Jason Bourne."

"Did you crib that line from Officer Barbour, or did she steal it from you?" A little shiver ran through her body as she took stock of me taking stock of her. Still conquering that shyness, though you'd hardly know it with how quickly she'd tossed off those clothes. Had it really only been a few days since I'd first seen her naked? The smattering of tits and ass sort of blurred together after a while. Still, the sight of her was something else. She might not share the Sterns' porn star builds, but Tabitha's petite body was mesmerizing in its own right.

"Surprised your mother let you out," I deflected.

Tabitha shrugged, apple breasts bouncing once, twice, then still. The physics were so different on those cute little things. "I'm grounded, officially, but she's three sheets to the wind as usual."

"Grounded? First time for that, I'll bet."

Her lips pursed. "Just because I get good grades doesn't mean I'm some simpering do-gooder, you know. That's one of those shitty positive but negative stereotypes. Like Asians being good at math or Jews having a lot of money."

"OK, OK. I'm sure a bad-ass rebel like you gets grounded all the time."

Her face softened. A bit. "It's thesecondtime," she conceded in a scarcely audible mumble. "First time was in fifth grade when Mrs. Melendez gave me a B+ in social studies."

"You mean when you earned a B+ in social studies," I corrected. Students, always blaming their teachers for grades like we invented the points on the fly. "And if your mom hated that, you better start boosting your grade in sex ed double time. A couple rocky assignments - but still plenty of points left to be earned."

I'd meant it as a joke, but Tabitha nodded austerely. "I mean to. That is, at least as long as you're out of jail and all. Do you really think that'll happen? Because I'm going to have to make more corrections to my five-year plan if that's the direction this all goes."

Touching. "I don't know. My lawyer didn't laugh in my face and tell me I'm fucked, at least, but I suppose we'll see how our little fiction plays out. How were things in school today? Are we trending?"

"Nah, I haven't heard anybody talking yet. Can't believe the principal could walk in on me showing you my bare butt and not even get in trouble for it. I guess Mrs. Horen kept her mouth shut about it though, because I wasn't even getting weird looks. So far, so good, I guess."

I got to work on my own clothes. "That's a relief. If we can actually somehow keep this under wraps, coming back will be a lot easier."

"Yeah, it'd be nice not to graduate with an asterisk. 'Most likely to whore her way through college' doesn't feel like a cool superlative. I wonder if Mrs. Horen is going to investigate along those lines, now that we're taking the fall for you. Ugh, just the idea thatI would be bullied intothat by a total loser like Taylor Stern..." She grimaced, evidently not appreciating the irony of her words.

Myself, I was grimacing for a different reason. "I am sorry for that, you know. That you're in this position. It wasn't my intention to... well, none of this was my intention, least of all inserting my best student into all this chaos and drama."

"And if sorry's and please's were infectious diseases, we'd all be dead by winter." She reacted to my expression with a dismissive eye roll. "Something my grandfather says."

"Colorful. Still, I want you to know-"

But Tabitha held up a hand. "You really don't have to apologize. We're here. It's happening. Let's not waste our breath on accusations and apologies, OK? Taylor sucks, her sister sucks, and what's happening sucks. Now you invited me over. I hope that wasn't why."

Somehow, in that moment I was reminded of my second year teaching when Chris... crap, I'd already forgotten his last name. Anyway, Chris Somebody wasn't happy with his semester grade, and he had the temerity to swing by after school and pull the old "my parents' taxes pay your salary" routine. It hadn't done much for Chris. Tabitha probably hadn't meant it like that, but something in her tone, the entitlement...

"Have you ever been spanked?"

It just rubbed me the wrong way, here at the end of a hard day.

The sudden flush to her skin, the way her whole body went rigid, was already satisfying enough that I barely felt the compulsion to do it any more. Barely. "N-no..." she stammered.

"Well lucky you, Tabitha. You're about to have a new experience to put on your transcript."

"You can't... I didn't..."

"I can't what? Speak up, sweetie. Are you here for my approval, or do you want another F?"

"No!" she shook her head fervently. "No, you can... you can spank me. That's fine. So I, um... what do I do?"

I ventured a thin smile. "Assume the position."

"Yeah, but... what position? If you want me on your lap you'll have to sit down. Or do I just grab my ankles, or...? You have to throw me a bone, here, Mr. Canon."

I let my displeasure show, and the effect was visibly chastening. "First things first, spanking is about punishment, and contrition. If I wanted sass, I'd have brought Taylor over. You have to want my approval more than her, don't you?"

"Yes!" she squeaked, then cleared her throat. "I mean, yes... sir? Please punish me, sir." She arched an eyebrow. "Is that better?"

"It's progress. Now... assume the position."

Quick learner that she was, Tabitha didn't balk or stall this time. Instead, she shuffled across the room, eyes on her toes, until coming to a stop next to the coffee table. There she bent down and placed her palms on the surface. Half the girl's height was in her legs, and with her ass flying high in the air like that, she was suddenly nothing but. The honor roll student looked back over her shoulder, big blue eyes meek and plaintive. "Like this, sir?"

"That's my girl." I took my time admiring her. I'd always fancied myself more of a tit man, but there really was a lot to be said for a pair of smooth lean thighs. Two cute little bubbles of an ass, between them a smooth pink slit just begging to be fucked. Tabitha Hutchings, academic all star and teacher's pet extraordinaire, presenting herself for anything I might want to do to her. If I came around and shoved my dick in her mouth, she would suck it, and do her best. If I surprised her with a thrust into her pussy, she'd thank me for helping show her how to ride a cock.

When my palm came down with a sharpcrack against her naked bottom, she... moaned.

She moaned.

"Thank you, sir."

After giving myself a moment to relish in that post-spank moment, when the aftershock reverberated throughout her rounded bottom, I wound up and gave her another one, harder. A grunt, this time, but not entirely of pain. "I'm sorry, sir."

I took a moment to fondle her ass, squeezing each plump cheek in turn. Damn, she kept this thing in perfect shape. The sudden shift to another smack caught her off-guard, only her grip on the tabletop keeping her from teetering over. "Again please, sir?"

I gave her what she asked for. "Thank you for teaching me, sir."

Another. "Please punish me, sir."

Another. "I'm so sorry, sir."

Another. "Spank my naughty ass, sir."

Another. "Please don't stop, sir."

Another. "Harder, sir."

Another, one on each cheek in rapid succession. "Fuck... I'm getting s-so horny, sir."

I probed, and fucking hell, you could cook a roast in the heat emanating from between those thighs. Wet as hell, too. Had she really never done this before? We'd only just begun and she was ready to be fucked. "You sure you don't have a thing for being spanked, Tabitha? Damn."

"I will if you want me to, sir."

Hot damn. She earned another swat for that one. "C-closer, sir. Please don't stop."

"Arch your back more. You have a great ass. Show it off."

In a flash, she complied. The hunch became a deep valley, and I swear it was like her ass was suddenly... smiling at me. The red blooming in her cheeks shone in the lamplight; the cleft advertised her pussy even more tantalizingly. "Like this, sir?"

I fondled that thing lovingly, a kid with a new puppy. Except my puppy was wet and ready to be fucked.What? Jesus, Canon. She seemed to be waiting for it, so I gave her another smack. "I'm so sorry, sir. Would you like to pull my hair while you spank me?"

Until she offered, I hadn't realized I wanted to. She gasped - in fright? in discomfort? in delight? - as my fingers snaked into her thick mane and seized a handful. Somehow the girl even managed to keep her back arched as I pulled her face sideways to where my cock now waited. She was already braced to accept my shaft in her throat, though I didn't leave her time to make another slutty plea before I skewered her perfect face.

I used my new handle to fuck her at my leisure. With my other hand, I kept on spanking at intervals. If she hadn't been moaning into my shaft like that, I might have been more gentle, but as it was, she only spurred me on to new heights of savagery. A short time later - I think; I was beyond time in this slut's mouth - I inadvertently set off a chain reaction.

A smack.

A shudder.

Weak knees thudding onto the tabletop.

A muffled squeal.

Fade to groan.

Rise to squeal again.

A shockwave.

A pussy thrumming in climax.

A cock spurting into a girl's mouth.

Desperately eager swallows.

Dizzy stumbles toward my chair.

A girl crawling after me.

Eyes locked on eyes.

Matched breathlessness.

"Thank you for teaching me, sir."

________________

"If I spank you any more, it's going to bruise. It may have already," I told her some hours later.

She looked back at me, sulking. "So? So when I sit down tomorrow, I'll remember how much Mr. Canon approves of my ass. It'll feel good. Go on. Bruise me."

I patted the bed. "Come on, give it a rest for a bit. I can only take so much."

Tabitha stood, frowning, and gestured to my admittedly fully erect shaft upthrust from my prone position. "Really? Because it looks like you could take more."

"I meant my hand, actually. But if you're so intent on brushing up, climb aboard. You're almost as bad as Taylor about getting me off-topic from my lesson plan." Not that I'd had a plan. And no one was as bad as Taylor.

It was a little strange, in a way. If I had told Taylor to mount my cock, she'd have grinned that self-satisfied smirk of hers. Abbie, too. Cassie would have practically leapt on it. No, not practically, definitely. Isa would pout, Candy too, but they'd have that angrily horny face on to mitigate it as they complied. Megan would flash her cockeyed grin and say something funny.

Tabitha merely nodded and obeyed.

"Cowgirl, or reverse?"

There was something to be said for her dutiful approach. Her unquestioning compliance quickly banished my reservations about taking advantage of her. With Taylor I'd push her buttons just to bother her. Tabitha, however, somehow didn't have any buttons. Her dignity, sometimes, but once she'd committed, there was no more hesitation.

If I wanted to fuck her face, she relaxed her throat and let me. Her first spanking had transitioned in mere seconds from grudging acceptance to what looked to be a full-blown fetish. If my cock was anywhere beyond completely flaccid, she was analyzing how best to make use of it, and her analysis plainly ran something like this:what will bring Mr. Canon the most satisfaction?

All so she could get another A in my make-believe class, Sex Slavery 101.

"Reverse. Let me admire my handywork."

The budding young slut was selfishly selfless, perversely perverted. Everything about it was backwards. Brainwashed by another to belong to me, to spite her with pleasure, so she would better herself as she uplifted herself through submission to degradation. I could barely wrap my mind around how utterly fucked up things were with this girl. Yet as I watched her pretty pink snatch get split wide by my shaft, I couldn't help but wonder if there was any higher pleasure in life than this. To have a woman wholly and unquestioningly committed to my carnal satisfaction.

Egotistical? Sure. But that it stoked the fires of my ego was part of what made it so good. For her, too, because the more I liked it, the better she got to feel about herself. Slapping her ass and telling her to go faster wasn't greedy; I was doing her a favor, helping her learn how to improve her ability to get me off. The better I helped her do, the more she got to bask in new heights of my approval. There was no greater generosity I could show her than raw, unapologetic self-centeredness.

"Twist yourself, if you can. I want to see those little tits of yours bounce while you work."

And she was learning. This was Tabitha Hutchings, after all. She watched and listened andfelt for my reactions, seizing on anything I seemed to like, avoiding anything that hadn't produced results. Sometimes her discoveries came from pointed questions, but she was also learning how to learn independently. Interrogating me about my preferences wasn't sexy. No, better to experiment and learn from the response. She was taking mental notes:side to side with hips good;hamming up orgasm meh;playing with her clit unnecessary when I can't see it but hot when I can;vocalizations super hot.

Her teeth clenched in an effort to keep from wailing in pleasure, she still managed,"Oh god, I must be the luckiest fucking slut fuck toy at GHS, I swear to fuck, Mr. Canon! My tight little fucking pussy can barely fit your huge fat fucking dick, but, ungh, I can't help myself! Justplease promise me,please, that you won't make me stop!"

For instance. Theater, to be sure, but she was good at it, and frankly, her tight little fucking pussy really was damn snug around my presently huge-as-it-was-gonna-get dick. The girl was feather-light, so with a firm grasp of her slender waist I could ram her up and down until she was a wet, warm jackhammer of sex. She reacted perfectly, head thrown back in wild ecstasy, her on-going presentation on the merits of being my teen pleasure slave cut short by what may or may not have been another orgasm. I didn't care either way, because she didn't care. The only pleasure either of us cared about was happening betweenmy legs, where I was soon flooding her tight pink cunt. Because I fucking felt like it, and because she wanted to learn how to get comed in like the little slut I was turning her into.

Tabitha pivoted to collapse on top of me, her mop of brown hair sticking to the sweat on my shoulder. I caught her eyes glancing up to mine, monitoring to make sure that cuddling was the right answer, that her living essay on the theme of being too delighted with my boundless masculinity was following the assigned font and formatting.

I patted her butt reassuringly. "Another A+, sweetie."

Her body trembled, and I just caught a shallow gasp over the sound of my own heavy breathing. "Really? I thought I'd lose some credit for whipping you with my hair there at the end."