Artwork

The final bell had just rung and I dismissed the class, letting them join the screaming horde that was rampaging through the halls of the school. I take English and the final class had been my senior group. They'd had essays due today and I collected them as they left, squashing any excuses for non-delivery. I don't exactly fail a student for non-delivery; I just apply a percentage decrease to their mark for every day late.

Looking at the stack of essays I considered the screaming horde and the location of the teacher's lounge. I decided that instead of fighting my way through the halls I'd just sit at a desk and start grading the papers right away. Not wanting to be disturbed I chose a back corner desk. Any casual glance through the doorway would miss me.

I'd worked for about half an hour when there was an intrusion in the room. I was slightly surprised as half an hour after final bell usually meant that the school was totally deserted. By students, anyway. Staff still had things to do, like reading essays.

The unexpected intrusion was a young lady bursting into the room in a great hurry. Trudi was a senior, one of the girls in my last class, and in a panic. She didn't notice me, rushing over to the desk she'd been using earlier and opening it. What a change. From frantic to completely relaxed in the time it took her to pick up her phone. Apparently she'd stashed it there during class and forgotten to get it, probably having hidden it in a hurry when she thought that I was looking.

I didn't say anything, assuming that she would now depart, and for a moment it looked as though she would. Then she stopped, turned, and looked at the white-board and the marker on the ledge of the board. She strolled over to the white-board and I could hear her give a little giggle.

I have to give her full marks for artistry. She drew an excellent picture of an erect phallus. An elephant would be envious of a cock like that. Then she very neatly wrote a rude message, namely, 'Mr Soames fucks goats'. She then added a couple of hearts for adornment and stepped back to admire her handiwork.

I quietly stood and strolled between the desks towards her.

"Nice artwork," I complimented her, "but where did you learn about my sexual proclivities?"

Talk about an immediate cringe. She actually seemed to shrink several inches as she slowly turned around, blushing fiercely.

"I have seen other example of your, ah, artwork," I told her, "although not directed at me prior to this. Maybe I've just missed the ones you dedicated to me."

I looked at her with one eyebrow lifted, waiting to see if she wanted to comment. She just continued to stand there with a stunned mullet expression on her face.

"What with the theme of the art and the pithy little comments we, the teachers, that is, sort of assumed that the culprit was one of the junior boys. It seemed the sort of thing a thirteen year old would do, although some of the teachers maintained that any male under the age of fifty might be responsible.

For some reason it didn't occur to us that a young lady was the culprit. So you're what, seventeen, going on for thirteen?"

"Eighteen," Trudi said looking insulted that I'd mark her age down.

"Uh-huh. Who was your model? It appears that someone you know has pretty impressive equipment."

She was blushing again, biting her lip, apparently not wanting to reveal her model.

"You are so busted," I said. "I wonder what Mrs Rathine will say when she sees this latest effort."

At the mention of the headmistress Trudi went from blushing to pale so fast I thought she might faint.

"You can't tell her," she gasped. "She'll kill me. After that she'll expel my corpse. You just can't tell her."

Oh yes. Memory beckoned. I'd heard of a choice bit of art that had targeted Mrs Rathine. She would be delighted to kill Trudi and then expel her corpse, which might be a bit of over-kill for the situation. After all, her handiwork was always on white-boards and easily removed. From the boards, if not from the memory.

"Well, that's not my problem. I just have to pass you over for judgement. Your parents might want to discuss the matter with you as well."

"Oh my god! You're not telling my father, are you? He'll kill me."

"My, my. It seems a number of people are going to kill you. I wouldn't worry too much. Mrs Rathine will probably only give you detention for the rest of your school life. I don't think she'll exactly blab to your parents but the detention slip will probably make interesting reading."

Poor Trudi had on a hunted look.

"She'll put down detail," she wailed. "She probably has photos that she'll attach to the slip. I am so dead."

"I'm fairly sure that no-one will actually kill you," I said, "although remembering your little poem about Mr Bunton I can't guarantee that. Still, I think your father will probably restrict himself to a severe beating. Now why don't we wander along to the offices and see if Mrs Rathine is still here."

"Wait a bit, will you. Why can't you punish me? You're the one who caught me. Why does it have to go to Mrs Rathine?"

"Two reasons. The first is because she wants your head on a platter, although I'll admit that she has been assuming that the culprit was one of the junior boys. What she'll say when she finds that you're a senior girl I will be most interested to hear. The second reason is that while I can hand out detentions and extra work for minor infractions your artwork is being considered a major nuisance and both the head-master and head-mistress want to get in on the act."

"But can't you just give me some long detentions or something? It's not as though I'm going to do it again."

"And what would you want me to put on the detention slip? If you think you can get away with just a couple of minor detentions you're dreaming. Might I point out that I'm not exactly happy with your latest effort."

Trudi glanced at the 'Mr Soames fucks goats' graffiti and winced.

"As a matter of curiosity, why this sudden spurt of graffiti? You've never done anything like this in the past."

"Mr Bunton gave me a detention for something that wasn't my fault. We explained that he'd made a mistake but he wouldn't cancel it. It was totally unfair and he knew it but didn't care. That's when I did the first one. There were so many people talking about it afterwards that I guess I just kept on doing them."

I could see Bunton giving a detention in error and refusing to cancel it because that would mean admitting he made a mistake. A Grade A jerk, that guy.

"Well you've now done your last one. Let's go."

"Don't be in such a rush," she wailed. "Can't you just hand out some sort of punishment and not tell anyone. I swear I'll never do another one."

"And just what sort of punishment would you suggest?"

"I don't know. Um, my father will beat me if he finds out what I've been doing. Can't you do that?"

"By beating I assume you mean getting your bottom spanked? Somehow or other I can't see your father tying you to the whipping post and bringing out the cat-o'-nine-tails."

"Yes, I guess."

"Might I point out that I'm a male teacher and you're a female student. Schools tend to frown on male teachers spanking the girls."

"I don't care," she told me, looking at me belligerently. "It's better than having to face Mrs Rathine and my father."

"I see. And precisely where would you have this spanking take place? Here in the classroom where someone might come past?"

"Ah, I could go to your place," she suggested.

"Over my dead body. Getting caught with a student at home while physically chastising her? Not in this lifetime."

For a moment Trudi had a defeated look on her face. Then she brightened.

"The store room," she said, pointing to the door in the far corner of the room. "That would be private and teachers have keys to them."

She was right. All the storerooms had the same lock and the teachers had access. I'd actually been in the store room earlier for some supplies. If I remembered correctly there was a broken desk there as well, which would be just the right height for a young lady to bend over.

I strolled over to the storeroom, Trudi following on behind. I was right. There was a desk there, minus the seat.

"Alright," I said, closing the door behind us. "Drop your panties and bend over the desk."

"What?" A certain young lady was now blushing furiously. "You can't seriously expect me to drop my panties."

"For a proper spanking I can," I observed. "Not interested? I didn't really think you would be. Let's go."

"No! It's OK. You just took me by surprise, is all."

Without her blush decreasing at all she dropped her panties and bent over the desk. Well, damn. Now I'd have to go ahead with the spanking. I'd been certain that she'd back out.

As a trained teacher I deliberately did not notice the girls attending the school. They were just a single homogenous group labelled 'student, female' as opposed to the boys who were 'student, male'. Now all of a sudden I had a young lady bent over the desk in front of me, bottom on display, and a very nice bottom it was. Bloody hell. In a different situation I'd hit on her. Now I had to hit her. Life throws you a nasty twist every so often.

I brought my hand around in a stinging swat, hand slight curved to maximise contact and improve the amount of noise generated. There was a very satisfying slapping sound as my hand connected with her bottom. If Trudi had been expecting a token spanking she now knew otherwise.

She gave a gasp of shock, turning to give me a reproachful look. She saw my hand coming down again and hastily looked away. I heard her give a muffled yelp, apparently through a tight closed mouth.

"I think one good spank for each piece of graffiti," I told her as the third spank landed.

"What? But that's. . . Ah, how many spanks will that be?" she asked. "I've, um, I've lost count of how many pictures I drew."

I'll just bet she had. She probably remembered each and every one.

"That's OK," I told her. "I kept count. There were forty eight drawings put up."

"There was not," came the hurried interjection. "Nothing like that many. I only did about fifteen."

"The trouble is, other people have been copying your style and doing additional pictures. How are we to know which ones are yours?"

"But, but, I can't be blamed for someone else's graffiti."

"You can actually," I pointed out. "If you hadn't been doing it no-one would have been copying it."

While we'd been chatting I had continued spanking, careful to only slap her derriere, other attractive offerings being carefully overlooked. Taking her at her word that she'd only scrawled fifteen works of art I limited the spanking to fifteen, giving her one extra at the end, for luck.

With the last spank delivered I left my hand resting on her bottom, a bottom that was now red and smarting, but still very attractive.

"I'll take your word that you only did fifteen," I told her, my hand gently rubbing her bottom. "There had better not be any more displays popping up or I'll have to speak to Mrs Rathine. Just as a warning, we did know that there were multiple people doing the graffiti. There are three styles showing in the art-work. We will catch the others, sooner or later and if you start up again I'll know."

"No more, honest," Trudi assured me. "Can I go now?"

"Not quite yet," I told her, my hand sliding off her bottom and down over her mound. It was hot and flushed and I could feel dampness along the edge of her lips. I'd noticed her labia swelling and parting while I spanked her. She was nicely aroused and I was taking advantage.

"Mr Soames," she gasped in a shocked voice.

"Mmm? Is there a problem?" I asked, massaging her mound, enjoying the feel and heat of her.

"You're . . . you're touching me," she muttered.

"You're right," I agreed, "and you feel very nice. In a few moments I'm going to be doing a lot more than just touching."

"But, you can't do this?"

"The correct English is I shouldn't do this. It should be obvious to you that I can." To emphasise my point I slipped a finger between her lips, dipping into her sweet honey.

"Just what do you intend to do?"

"A reasonable question. In a few moments I'm going to spread your lips and insert my penis into your vagina. I'm curious to see if you can take it all."

"That's rape. You're not really going to rape me, are you?" she said in a very small voice.

"It's only rape if you tell me no and I continue," I pointed out. "If you tell me yes or don't say anything then it's not rape but seduction."

I didn't ask if she was telling me no. If I asked she'd almost have to say no. Not being asked, she didn't have to decide just yet.

My fingers were very busy now, stroking her, rubbing her, building on her arousal. She squirmed about a bit under my touch, breathing hard and keeping silent, excluding the occasional little gasp.

When I unzipped I didn't try to do it quietly and from the way she stiffened slightly she heard and knew what I'd done. After a moment she spoke.

"Ah, you're not really going to try and do it to me, are you?"

For answer I moved closer to her, my rigid member pressing between the cleft in her buttocks, letting her feel my potential.

"But if I say no you will stop, right?"

"Yes," I agreed. At least, I hoped I would. And if she was going to say no she'd better say it pretty damn soon.

I moved slightly away from her, dragging my cock down along her crack, pressing forward so it was moving between her legs, poking lightly against her mound, feeling her inner lips squishing slightly under the gentle pressure I used. Her lips were pouting and wet, ready for me, and I saw no need to disappoint them.

I eased her lips apart, my cock pushing a little more firmly, edging between them, checking to see if it was welcome. Apart from a gasp Trudi was silent, just standing there expectantly. I could see the tension in her. I pressed forward a little more firmly.

Now I got a reaction. My cock was making its way down her passage (a non-virginal passage, I noted) and Trudi was making a long drawn out "Argh," sound. This morphed into speech.

"Oh my god, you're really doing it. I didn't think you would. I can feel you inside me. You're not supposed to do this. Oh my god. How big is that thing? I don't believe this. It's not happening."

A lot of commentary as I plunged deeper, all of it without the words no or stop. Just a running rambling about how I was a teacher and I was taking her and she was sure this wasn't right and isn't it in yet?

She knew it was in when my groin slapped against her pussy. She gave a shuddering little gasp and fell silent, quivering slightly. I could feel her nervous tremors on my cock.

"Now your second spanking starts," I said softly. "I'll try and make this one last longer."

I started moving, nice and slow, giving her a chance to move with me. As soon as she was swaying with me I started moving a little faster, the sound of flesh hitting flesh remarkably similar to the earlier spanking. The difference was the speed. Hand to bottom had been fairly steady. Groin to pussy was starting slow and building up speed, as we became more and more engrossed in what we were doing.

I kept up a nice steady rhythm, Trudi moving with me with no problems. As we moved I told her how wonderful she was, how marvellous she felt. I let little compliments flow, all the time driving firmly into her. She was making happy sounds, not very loudly but you could hear her pleasure in them. I was tempted to make my own happy sounds, the pleasure being generated by flesh rubbing against flesh something wonderful.

I sensed when she started getting over-excited. She was moving her head around, absent-mindedly searching for something, and I knew what that something was. I started moving a little faster, feeling her eager response.

I picked up speed again. We were approaching the end of our little adventure and I was determined that Trudi would finish with a rush. She was gasping, no longer listening to my little words of adoration, her senses turned inwards, wanting what was coming, reaching for it. One last hard push and she toppled over the edge, taking me with her.

She gave a long drawn out sigh as she shivered beneath me, her orgasm wracking her, leaving her done and spent. I felt much the same way. I was history. An older man can stay with a younger woman for a short while but god help me if I tried to make this a regular event.

She pulled up her panties and I pulled on my stern teacher look. I pointed out that if I found any more graffiti with her trademark I'd be very disappointed, and so would she be at the outcome. She nodded and looked serious and assured me that she wouldn't be doing anymore.

She then departed, waltzing out of the room, bottom deliberately swishing back and forth as she went. She turned and flashed me a mischievous grin as she went, looked at the white-board and giggled, before vanishing. I looked at the white-board, shook my head, and wiped the artwork and slogan off and went back to marking essays.