The Wrong Treatment Pt. 04

My respect for Mrs. Armstrong had risen considerably. I ran back to my car to get my notes.

Misty and I spent an hour in the cafeteria. The first 45 minutes were a slog, not only was I a shit tutor, but Misty was practically drooling over her fries. But then, somewhere as we turned to math, she became a little less punch drunk, and I was begrudgingly able to get her to fill out half a worksheet.

"Why are you doing this?" she pouted. "My brother didn't even like you. You weren't friends."

"Well, I don't see you two as the same person," I replied. I wanted to add. "I mean, for one thing, you're way prettier than he is." Instead, I said, "So... Same time tomorrow?"

"Fine." She sighed, picking up my phone unprompted and adding her contact info. "I'll text you, my address."

"Sorry?"

"I'm not studying in a cafeteria every day, and my house is way closer to school."

And so it was that I was able to shoehorn myself into Misty Armstrong's life.

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Not so long ago, I would have given my left thumb to be rid of Brent Young. Throw in some one-on-one time with Misty Armstrong every day, and I would have been over the moon. But watching the possessed girl struggle to bounce back from Richie's "accident" felt more like a curse than a reward. I knew I wasn't going to be happy till she was back to her old self. Thankfully, I didn't have to wait long for a lead.

After a few study sessions at The Armstrong's house, which was only two blocks from school, I picked up on a change in Misty's behavior. Her mood, demeanor, and brainpower varied day-to-day and were directly tied to when she visited the hospital. On the days she had seen her brother, It was pointless trying to teach her anything but the most basic principles from the lectures. She would stare at the worksheets like they were written in Latin, sticking out her bottom lip and easily losing her concentration whenever her phone buzzed, which it did constantly. If she wasn't so hot, I probably would have lost patience, but as it was my first experience interacting with a girl of her status, I had no problem hanging about in her room and waiting for her to come up with the wrong answer.

When she hadn't seen Richie however, I noticed she was sharper, less anxious, and more aware of her surroundings, even crossing her arms if she saw my eyes lingering on her chest. Proximity mattered, and the longer she stayed away from her sibling the clearer her mind became.

Spinning slowly in her swivel chair, I was relieved that her room still exhibited a good bit of the original Misty. I guess part of me expected that she would have overhauled the casual, chill vibe with some perky, valley girl stuff. Sure, there were a pile of bags with new clothes and makeup, but her desk was still rife with retro accessories too, along with a small stack of skate magazines and a hand-drawn poster of a giant cannabis leaf plastered to the back of her door.

"This is boring," she pouted while tossing her head from side to side.

"You were getting it yesterday. Remember, they're not asking you to solve it, they just want you to identify the right formula," I said, looking over her shoulder. She had spent so much time at the hospital today, even her penmanship looked extra bubbly.

"How much is my mom paying you? I'll double it if you tell her I'm good."

I had to laugh. "The only way your mom is going to buy that is if you say you're ready to go back to school." Saundra Armstrong was as anxious as I was to get Misty back in class and away from her brother. She associated her daughter's odd behavior as a phase brought on by grief.

"I don't wanna go back to that hellhole," Misty scoffed.

"Hellhole? Everyone loves you."

Misty ignored me, preoccupying herself by doodling a sunflower in for one of the answers.

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A concerned furrow creased Mrs. Watson's brow. She held her hand to her mouth and focused her attention on the paper in front of her. She had started the period with a routine pop quiz and managed to finish grading half of the students in the class before coming upon Andre's test. The boy was fucking with her. He hadn't bothered to fill in any of the multiple choices, and as for the essay section...

Her throat went dry as she scanned the response, which read like a list of instructions:

"Remove your panties," "Drop them in the trash," "Take one of the markers from the whiteboard" "Masturbate with it under your desk without anyone noticing." "Announce you're giving everyone an A on the quiz," "Dismiss class early so we can be alone."

Her skin started to prickle. She read over the demands three times, squeezing her things together as her body flushed and her pussy began to salivate. The stern teacher was in the midst of a life-altering month, and though she still had the wherewithal to show up and teach, she had lost the ability to resist the teen's orders. She couldn't trust herself to not get distracted by his presence when doling out a lecture. Her teaching had become pitifully short, and she had begun to supplement her lessons with long documentaries. Today was a film on WWI.

Her eyes drifted up to Andre's face in time to see him arch his eyebrows suggestively. Mrs. Watson clenched her jaw and glared. Her pulse quickened. It was strange knowing this child felt no sense of fear and dared to push her limits whenever he got the opportunity. Part of her wondered why she felt so eager to indulge him. Her finger hovered over the mouse where the online gradebook had all her students lined up in a spreadsheet. She cleared out all the input letters for the quiz she had just spent 20 minutes meticulously grading and replaced everyone's letter score with an A.

She then squirmed in her seat, wriggling out of her turquoise panties, and hastily retrieved them from around her ankles. Melissa, a nosey teacher's pet, looked over to Mrs. Watson just as the teacher dropped something into the waste bin. Carefully, while the class remained engrossed with the film, the mother of two slid her chair to the whiteboard and retrieved the red dry-erase marker. Mrs. Watson bent forward. Slowly and discreetly, she inserted the thin object beneath her skirt and rubbed the tip along her slit. Her pussy twitched with anticipation. It was so small compared to Andre's perfect-sized cock, she mused, slipping the writing utensil into her snatch with no resistance.

The narration of the documentary was drowned out under the symphony of her heart pounding in her ears. Gently sliding the marker between the folds of her labia, she used her other hand to rub circles around her sensitive, hard nubbin. 10 seconds, 30 seconds, 45 seconds. Little puffs of air began escaping her lips as a trickle of hot pleasure poured over her knuckles. Her teeth bared in anticipation as the wetness gushed forth, sliming her inner thighs. She stared into space as a sense of orgasmic bliss surged through her veins. She tried not to gasp out loud as her fingers chaotically rubbed and flicked directly against her sensitive clit. She imagined all the student's heads in class swiveling toward the front to stare at the teacher sitting over her desk with a pen in cunt, silently writhing.

"Mrs. Watson, Mrs. Watson, the movie froze," piped Melissa from the first row of the classroom.

Mrs. Watson snapped back to reality, twisting her head toward the screen to see the link buffering. There were still five minutes left in class and she needed to cum.

She tried to address the classroom, but her throat was so dry she had to swallow.

"Okay everybody, you can hand in the worksheet tomorrow. I have, I have decided that everyone did so well on the pop quiz, I'm giving everyone 100%, and a few minutes off. Class Dismissed."

She furtively glanced around the classroom and then turned to her computer and pretended to preoccupy herself.

Slowly, after a few whispers and shrugs, the kids began collecting their belongings and shuffling out of class. Mrs. Watson had enough of a hard-ass reputation that no one wanted to be the one to second guess her odd exhibition of kindness.

"Andre... Please wait a minute." she choked, seeing the handsome boy walking out with Niki and feeling a sudden gush of jealousy.

The tall athlete held back. As soon as all the other students had left the room, he flicked the door lock. A minute later the young teacher had her arms wrapped around his neck in a heated kiss. When she came up for air, she looked at Andre crossly.

"You shouldn't kiss someone when they're mad at you!" The horny teacher protested.

"Mad? At me? Did I do bad on your quiz?" Andre asked between pecks to her neck.

"Yeah," she couldn't stop herself from grinning as his fingers dug into her rump. Andre followed up with another request.

"I wanna see you outside of school."

"That's a bad idea."

"Come on, Eva." He was treating her as an equal and not an authority while slipping his fingers into her pussy. The confidence paid off.

"My husband is going golfing Saturday. He'll be gone till the evening. I can drop my kids off at my mother's."

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Without the camera behind the history teacher's desk, I wouldn't have been able to piece together most of what happened. Unlike Brent, I had no plan to blackmail Andre or the poor teacher. In fact, seeing Mrs. Watson cutting more slack and Andre attending classes more often was probably as much of a win-win situation as I could ask for.

I went back to the notes before me. I spent hours mapping out the possibilities and there was only one way I could see Misty returning to school and distancing herself from Richie. I was going to have to tell her the truth.