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By Alana Church
Artwork by Moira Nelligar
Copyright 2018 Alana Church
~~ All characters in this book are over 18. ~~
“Miss Cane.” Sitting in his chair, her teacher leaned over his desk, his hands folded in front of him. “Caught passing notes in class. Again.”
“Yes, sir.” She clasped her hands in front of her stomach, hoping to hide how they trembled.
God, Mr. Peverly was such a hunk! Even though he was her teacher, and nearly twice her age, he made her feel all hot and squirmy inside. Made her want to do things that no good girl should ever do…
Mr. Peverly opened a manila folder, pulling out a sheet of paper. “Miss Cane, you’re a bright young girl. But for some reason you can’t seem to show up to class on time. Or finish your homework. Or turn off your damned phone. And, when you can be bothered to come to class,” anger threaded his deep, sexy voice, “half the time you’re texting people or goofing off.”
He pulled out a pair of wire-rimmed eyeglasses, setting them on his nose, and peered over the tops at her, completely unaware of how much his academic look turned her on. “It’s disrespectful and rude. You’re wasting my time. And you’re wasting your classmates’ time. Some of them actually want to do something with their lives. Some of them want to learn. But instead of teaching them, I’m forced to baby-sit a high-school senior who doesn’t have the basic decency to treat other people with common courtesy.
“Worst of all, you’re wasting your time. What are you going to do with the rest of your life if you can’t even pass a history class?”
She stared down at her shoes. What did this man know about her life? “I’m sorry,” she said sullenly.
He shook his head. “No. Sorry doesn’t cut it. Not anymore.”
“So what are you going to do?” she gibed. “Give me a detention?” She shrugged. “Fine. Bring it on.”
He repeated the head-shake. “No. It’d be wasted on you anyway, Candi. I’ve talked to the other teachers. It’s obvious you don’t give a crap about detentions, either. Or suspensions.
“I think we’re going to try something a little more…direct.
“Come here.” He pointed to a spot only a few feet in front of him.
“Come. Here,” he said flatly. “Corporal punishment may be a little out of favor these days, but when everything else has failed…” He trailed off menacingly, pushing his chair back from his desk. “I’m sure you’ve been paddled by your parents, Candi. Now you’re going to get one from me. Maybe this time you’ll learn your lesson.”
“What?” she repeated numbly. A paddling? From her teacher? “You can’t do this!”
“This is a private school, Miss Cane. We can do whatever we want. If your parents don’t like it, they can pull you out and send you to a public high school. Until then, you abide by our rules. And our rules include corporal punishment as an acceptable disciplinary method.” His blue eyes hardened, and he gestured at his lap. “Now.”
Legs shaking, she walked towards him, her face burning with shame and humiliation. Awkwardly, she draped herself across his lap, her toes barely touching the floor on one side, her head hanging off the other.
“Ten swats,” came Mr. Peverly’s voice from above. “I think that will serve as a first lesson. Next time it will be twenty. Then thirty.” His voice grew grim. “You will respect the rules of my classroom, Miss Cane.”
Without any warning, he pulled up the hem of her skirt, exposing her buttocks. She flushed, knowing that he was seeing the skimpy pair of lace panties she had worn to school today. They did a fantastic job when she was showing off her body in the locker room before gym class, and for teasing the boys who were always panting after her.
But for Mr. Peverly to see them…
Her drifting thoughts were cut off as the palm of his hand came down hard on her right cheek. She stifled a squeak of pain.
A red glow seemed to expand outward from where he had struck her, bathing her rear in warmth. But before she could fully explore it, Mr. Peverly had spanked her again, this time his hand hitting her left buttock. This time she was able to keep her voice muffled, but her body still jerked in pain.
She breathed in hard. Really, the spanks didn’t hurt too badly. But the embarrassment! Getting paddled like she was some little kid who got caught stealing cookies!
Another smack. Another red glow of pain.
Candi sucked in her breath. It was insulting. Infuriating. When she got home, she was going to have a word with her parents. They didn’t pay much attention to her most of the time. But if oh-so-hot Mr. Peverly thought he could get away with spanking her, he was in for a nasty surprise! Unemployment was going to be the least of his worries. After her mother sued him for every penny he had, he’d be lucky to afford a pack of gum!
Oh, but his thighs were nice and firm under her belly. Even draped across them like a rug, she could feel the solid muscles. She bit her lip, imagining what his body looked like naked. He had been an athlete when he was younger, she had heard, and he was still trim, without the beer-gut most of her male teachers sported. More than one girl in her class had sighed at the impressive breadth of his shoulders as well, and the force of his swats told her that his arms were still strong.
Would he just hurry up and finish? Being so close to his body was driving her crazy! She breathed in the scent of him, of his aftershave and cologne, and fought the urge to spread her legs wide. When she escaped, a trip to the ladies’ room was definitely going to be in order. A quick fingering would ease some of her pent-up sexual tension.
She whimpered, hoping the sound would not reach his ears. She was so horny! And was his hand lingering on her rear after every hard stroke, easing her pain mere moments after creating it?
She couldn’t stand it! The dam burst, and in a haze, she ground her groin down on her teacher’s thighs, hoping a quick climax would dull the edge of her desire. She pushed, believing that her movements would be disguised by her teacher’s paddling and by her own uncertain balance.
But no orgasm was immediately forthcoming, and she discovered, after a moment or two, that the metronomic swings of Mr. Peverly’s arm had stopped.
“Candi.” The deep voice was deeply disapproving. “What are you doing?”
She looked up at him, her blond hair blurring her vision. “What?”
“Get up,” he said, his voice impatient.
She scrambled off his lap, unsure of what had drawn his ire. He was looking at his slacks, his lips pinched. Her eyes widened as she saw faint damp patches on the fabric. He raised his head, an unfathomable look in his blue eyes.
“Pull up your skirt, Candi.”
“It shouldn’t be that hard to understand. Even for a girl who is failing World History for the second year in a row.” His face grew hard. “Pull up your skirt. Now.”
She shook with fear. No one had ever talked to her like this before. Ever. Not her parents. Not her boyfriends. None of her teachers had ever taken that hard, uncompromising tone with her. Slowly, she gathered the hem of her skirt in her fingers and raised it. When his eyes widened, she knew what Mr. Peverly was seeing. The damp material of her panties, soaked through with her own arousal, framing the plump, swollen lips of her pussy.
“I thought so.” His voice sounded faintly triumphant, as if a suspicion, long-held, had been finally confirmed. “You’re a horny little slut, aren’t you, Candi? You want to get fucked. By me.”
“No! I’m…I’m…” she groped for the right words, even as Mr. Peverly’s fingers reached out, lightly tracing the swell of her breast. The sensation was lovely, and she bit her lip, fighting back a moan. “I’m a good girl!”
“No. You’re not.” He stood, looming over her. “But it’s all right, Candi. No one will know.
“Take off your panties. I’ll give you what you want.”
For a moment she gaped at him in disbelief. Take off her panties? What?
“We’re going to fuck now, Candi,” he said cheerfully. He moved closer, crowding her towards the edge of the desk. She bumped into the wooden side, and suddenly she was trapped. With a quick motion, he grasped her legs, lifting her up until she was sitting on the edge. “I have what you want. And you have what I need.” Delicately he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties, drawing them down. She opened her mouth to say…something? But no words emerged.
“You can stop this any time you want. But you don’t want to, do you?”
She looked at him, a strong man. Mature. Virile. Swallowing, she glanced at his crotch, and shivered at the bulge she saw there.
“No,” she said, her voice hoarse and thick with want in her own ears. “I won’t stop you.”
She lay back on the hard wooden desk, spreading her legs in welcome. “I want you.
“Fuck me, Mr. Peverly. Fuck me now. Fuck me hard. Make me come all over your dick.”
For a long moment, there was no response. She closed her eyes, wondering if her lewd response had driven him away.
Then there was a faint sound, the whisper of a zipper being lowered. A soft, fleshy heat nudged against her burning lips. She gasped, her breath quickening. But before she could draw a full breath, her teacher had shoved the full length of his mighty prick into her, almost splitting her with the force of his thrust.
“God!” She tried to hold back her shriek of pleasure, but it was impossible. She spread her legs wide, trying to take in the whole of him, her pussy on fire with arousal. His hands were at the buttons of her sweater, working them loose, and then ripping her white shirt wide open, exposing her wantonly, his mouth dipping to suckle the pebble-hard nipples atop her breasts.
“Hard. God, make it hard. Please.” She writhed on the desk, heedless of the wooden surface, or the way her lover’s hips slammed down on hers in a way certain to leave her tailbone sore and bruised in the morning. She grabbed his hair, pulled his head up, and kissed him, her tongue exploring the sweet expanse of his mouth.
It was coming. So quickly, and yet not quickly enough. His cock was like a burning spike, pinning her to the desk. He was coming. Oh, Christ, she was coming, and she felt her pussy flood with a scalding-hot tide of wetness, her body shaking with the force of her orgasm, and she muffled her screams of pleasure with her lover’s mouth, even as she felt his cock throb and release inside her, his cum mingling with her own.
Ronnie collapsed on her chest, a welcome weight, and nuzzled her shoulder. “Polly. Damn. That was...incredible.”
Polly Peverly shook her mind free of her alter ego, Candy Cane, and smiled at her brother. “It was, wasn’t it? And you’re getting better as an actor. When you pulled out those eyeglasses, I couldn’t believe it.”
He smiled up at her muzzily. “I remembered our dinner with Mom and Edgar and Melissa last weekend, and how you said you thought glasses were sexy, if the right guy wore them. I got a pair of fake cheaters at the store a few days ago.”
She kissed him again. “I love you.” She sighed, luxuriating in the feel of his body, a warm, comforting weight on top of hers.
Four months ago, she would have been horrified at the thought of having sex with her younger brother. Now, with his departure for spring training in Arizona only a few hours away, she couldn’t bear the thought of him leaving.
“Hey,” he said softly, somehow reading her thoughts. “You going to be okay?”