Chapter 7
He waited a long time, and then, when he spoke, it was in a voice fraught with tension.
"You're a rather precocious little girl, aren't you?"
"I'm ... not sure ... what you mean."
"I mean, you're leaving a good time making me uncomfortable, aren't you?"
"No. But I have a feeling that you really want to do all those things to me. Why be such a hypocrite about it? You ll never get a chance like this again. You'd never be able to get another student even this far, before she'd be screaming all over school about how 'Mr. Swanson raped me, Mr. Swanson raped me' and that'd be the end of your career."
His lower lip started to twitch. So did his left eyebrow.
"But I'll never say a word. Look outside. There's no one left in the parking lot, all the janitors have gone home ... there's no one. Just you and me. That's all. I'm yours."
She knew that she was down to her last cards. If these didn't do the trick, she was doomed. Of course, he'd locked the door, which in a way had committed him to the situation. But he could still back out. And there wouldn't be a single thing she could do, once he made the choice not to be sucked up. But she'd been so certain, and he HAD been beating off when she came in. She looked around. Where was the book he'd been reading ... ah ha! There was something on the floor under his desk.
"What's this, I see?"
She jumped off the desk and picked the magazine up off the floor.
PUNISHED KITTENS read the title. Johnny had been right. This was serious stuff he was looking at. They had to be real pictures. They just had to be! She couldn't imagine them not being real.
She looked up at Mr. Swanson. He was embarrassed, horribly so, and her next words would determine whether or not she got what she wanted.
"Mr. Swanson ... you and I could make these pictures look tame."
She closed the magazine and tossed it onto his desk. Then, she slowly eased around to the front and faced him again. She started to massage her breasts, and saw that he was staring hard at her ... very hard.
She felt that she was winning.
Then, he began to smile, and she saw him relax. Could it be ... could it be?
He walked around to his desk, opened a drawer and took out a heavy wooden paddle.
"My dear," he said, "you drive a hard bargain. I find you impossible to resist."
She said nothing, but continued to massage her breasts, pushing against the round globes of flesh, harder and harder, then running her fingers down her naked flesh, letting them drift through her crotch, pulling hard on the soft, loose fleshy membranes, and then, rubbing harder and harder over all of her body.
She continued to stare him down, and he for once did not break her gaze. She knew that she had him, but, that meant that he had her, and she didn't know for sure that she'd be able to withstand everything he'd want to do to her.
"Do I get the test questions?" she asked, quickly, lightly, almost as if it was in incidental.
A grin flickered at his mouth.
He rummaged through his drawers until he found a folder. He handed it to her.
"I'll expect them back tomorrow at noon. You can do whatever you want with them."
She took them from him.
"And you can do whatever you want to me."
That's when she realized that he was simply scared. What do you do when your lifelong dream comes true, and you weren't expecting it? That's the situation he found himself in now, but he certain seemed to have some ideas about how to deal with the problem.
"Come here, Ms. Devlin," said the history teacher.
She walked slowly around the edge of his desk, accenting every movement of her body, making certain that her breasts jutted out to maximum effect, and that her thighs were conspicuous in the way that they pressed together and massaged each other with every step that she took.
He was overwhelmed.
He couldn't keep his eyes off her.
She stepped closer, closer ... what would he do? Would he suddenly fall on her, rip her to shreds, beat her senseless?
No. He simply reached his hand out to her face and stroked her cheeks lightly. "You're very beautiful, very beautiful indeed."
She wanted to laugh. He was trying to sound cool and urbane and sophisticated, but it was somewhat muted by the thick Southern accent that made him sound mildly retarded.
But she was determined to play this to the hilt, and go absolutely as far as the situation called for.
As she felt his lingers gracing her cheek, she leaned into them, pressing his hand to her face at last with her own.
She began to breath more heavily.
She moved his hand down to her breasts. At first he felt them lightly, almost seeming afraid to touch them, Then, his grip tightened, and he started to rub over them, pushing them flat against her body, pulling on her nipples, pushing them again, rolling them around beneath the flat of his palm.
"Do you like my breasts," she asked. "Do you like my body?"
"It's wonderful. It's splendid. I want to touch you ... all over."
She surmised that meant he wanted to feel her crotch, and so she gently guided his fingers between her legs.
"Feel me? Feel how my body splits open, how wet I am inside?"
He pressed against her slit, seeming to be a little stunned at the moistness of it. He pressed the material of her panties up inside her, pressed it further and further until the entire band of material covering her crotch had vanished up inside her.
"You're stuffing my crotch. You're stuffing my panties up in my cunt. I have an idea ... would you like to make my panties really wet? Then, when I wear them, and you paddle me, it'll sting. It'll make my bottom sing with pain. Wouldn't you like that? Hmmmm ... wouldn't you like that?"
"What do you have in mind?" he asked, his voice growing hoarse.
She jumped back up onto his desk and leaned back, arching her hips high in the air.
She spread her legs to give him a clear view of her pussy as she pulled her panties down. She took her time, and let them dangle off of one toe when she'd pulled them all the way down.
She spread her legs wide, and stuck the foot with her panties dangling from it right under his nose.
"Can you smell them? Don't they smell good? Do like the way they smell?"
He nodded. Great, thought Patsy. Just like his son.
"Take them."
He reached up and clasped her panties in his hands. He ran his fingers through the material, brought them up to his nose and took a deep whiff, and then continued to play with them, running his fingers through every fold and crease.
She placed her fingers on either side of her pussy lips. "Watch me, Mr. Swanson, watch what I do."
He turned his attention back to her pussy, and as his eyes became riveted to the pink wet slit, she started to pull at each side, spreading the lips further and further apart until she knew that all he could see was a blaze of flaming pink flesh, wet and glistening, and a dark hole at the center of her lips, directly below the pointed flaps of flesh that covered her clitoris.
"Now, I want you to stuff me. Fill me up. Stuff them inside me, Mr. Swanson. Stuff my panties inside my pussy."
She held her lips apart, pulling them as far as they would go. As if in a daze, he reached out and began to insert one corner of material inside her hole. She felt the shiny slick texture of the silky material as he forced it inch by inch past the rim of her pussy hole.
"Mmmmmmmmm ... " she murmured, and it was not wholly an act. She was actually getting off, not on the fact that she was with him. but simply on the fact that her body was being played with, and her words, her lilting voice, erotic and sensual.
It couldn't help but have an effect on her.
She felt the inner chamber of her pussy getting more and more filled. It felt good, solid, complete.
"Are they in?" she asked him at last.
He nodded.
"Good. You see, my pussy drips with juice. When I get aroused, it drips even more. And if I have an orgasm, it's like an artesian well. Cunt juice flows like water. Do you want to see me aroused? Can you arouse me?"
"I'm tired of you talking."
He suddenly seemed to want to assert himself.
"Are you? Really. Tell me, what do you want me to do. Please. Tell me. Are you going to lick my butt. Or are you going to paddle me?"
He reached down and grasped her by the shoulders.
He pulled her upright, and then he turned her over, so that she was lying face down on his desk. "No more talk," he instructed. "I don't want to hear another sound out of you."
She tensed the muscles in her buttocks. He ran his fingers over each cheek, squeezing first the left one and then the right. She felt a finger sliding up her crack, and then he was probing at her ass-hole. She wasn't sure how she felt about that ... ass-holes were one area that she'd never been too interested in exploring. But she felt him shoving his finger up hers, and had to admit that it felt nice. Kind of comforting, in a child-like sort of way.
Then, he pulled it out. This was it, she was sure of it.
She was right.
The first stroke, while relatively mild, hit with a force that was for her, unexpected. She let out a loud scream, short, but loud.
"I said, not a single sound."
His voice was stern, and he sounded like he meant business.
He brought the paddle down on her again, and then again.
The fourth stroke was the hardest yet, and it seemed to signal an increase in his intensity. She tried to keep the moans inside her, but she couldn't.
When she screamed yet another time, he stopped.
"You're going to get us both in trouble. We can't have that."
"But the windows are closed," she said between gasps.
"I know. But I'd rather not take any chances."
He picked up her blouse.
"This should do fine."
He began to stuff it in her mouth. She offered no resistance, but couldn't help wondering if he would tie her hands together also. It would make things a lot kinkier if he did. But on the other hand, it would be interesting to see how much she could withstand without being restrained.
He began again, this time really laying into her.
She was stunned by the fierce force of his blows. One after another they fell, covering the entire area of one buttock, and then, when she could feel the surface of her skin starting to grow numb, he would switch to the other buttock, following the same proceedure, spanking her until the pain was too much for her nerves to even register, and they would simply grow numb ... and then moving back to the other cheek.
She could imagine the color of her bottom turning a bright flaming red. It was rapidly becoming much more than she could stand. Her groans and moans and cries, even though muffled by the material in her mouth, were still intense, and growing louder each second.
He was getting carried away by the force of his own momemtum, it felt like.
Harder and harder.
Faster and faster.
He struck her again and again and again, until she felt herself on the verge of passing out.
But even though she was not restrained, she didn't try to move out of the way, or to avoid the blows. Some part of her wanted to see just how much she could tolerate. She wanted to be pushed to the edge. She wanted to feel sensations that she'd never felt before. She wanted to be pushed all the way to her limits, and then she wanted to be kept there, more as a test of her own ability to tolerate the pain than anything else. She wanted to feel. She wanted to hurt. She wanted to have every nerve ending aflame.
And deep within the folds of her swollen cunt, she felt her clitoris growing more and more aroused, felt it tingling with sensation. She focused on that tiny bud of flame now, with every stroke of his insane paddle, she tried to translate it into sensations that could flood her clit.
She knew that it wasn't enough.
What she wanted, what she needed was to feel the same thing on her clitoris. She wanted to be violated more and more, wanted to feel her body savaged in ways that had never been done to her before.
She wanted to be torn apart!
Ravaged!
Raped!
Plundered!
Fucked within an inch of her life!