The teacher (M/F story)

 Jacob once again found himself in detention, the sixth time in three weeks. If he'd been the worst behaved in his class, he wouldn't have minded, but he was by no means the noisiest kid in the room. Well, "kid" wasn't really the right word; he was in upper sixth form, and legally an adult, but as long as he was in school, he was under their authority. Which he wouldn't have minded, if that authority acted fairly.

 

He looked up at his teacher, sitting at her desk in the front of the classroom. He didn't know why Sarah Collier, the tall woman with the blonde hair, had decided she hated him, but it was becoming increasingly clear to him that she did. He'd only been in her class for a month, but there was no doubt at all what she thought of him.

 

To be fair, there were a lot of teachers that were annoyed with Jacob. He was that kind of charismatic kid that never seemed to pay attention, yet still got decent grades, Some teachers said he wasted his potential, others that he was a bad example to the other students. But none of them hated him like miss Collier did.

 

He hadn't really thought about WHY before, but he found himself with a bit of time on his hands, and decided to tackle the problem. Was it something he'd did, or said, during his first week or so? He thought back. Nothing came to mind.

 

Could it be something about his parents, did they pick on her at school or something, which she saw fit to take out on him? No. He remembered that Collier had only been in town a few years, and as far as he knew, she'd never met his parents. He couldn't think of anything to explain her hatred of him. Well, there was one easy way to find out.

 

“Miss Collier?” She looked up from her paperwork to look at him. “Why do you hate me?”

 She looked down at her paperwork again as she gathered her thoughts, flustered at the directness of his question. “Now, Jacob, 'hate' is a very strong word...”

 

“Of course it is. Perfectly appropriate for the situation, thought,” he said calmly. She wasn't defining her way out of this. He wanted to know. “Six detentions in three weeks, miss Collier. Yet Brian and David are almost getting into fistfights in the classroom, and you leave them alone. I could write a book about Melissa's various misdeeds, yet I'm the only one in detention.” He shrugged. “The evidence is clear, it's the motive I'm concerned about.”

 

She tapped her pencil against her desk, shaking her head. “A bright mind, wasted on idle pursuits.” She glared at him. “Back to work, Jacob.”

 

A thought struck him. “It's not me you hate, is it? It's something I represent. Who is it that you actually hate? Who am I reminding you of?”

 

A sharp intake of breath revealed to him that he'd hit the jackpot. He'd found something she'd never admit to him, something she might be hiding even to herself. “You remind me of the boys at my school,” she answered as she stared off into space, seemingly unaware that she was talking out loud. “A bunch of lazy good-for-nothings, cruising through school while the rest of us had to work for our grades. Flirting with all the girls, then leaving them crushed when they moved on.”

 

He sat there for a few seconds, processing this new information. Well, he'd found out everything he needed. “So that's why you hate me and punish me? Because I remind you of the boys that wouldn't go out with you at school?” He was shocked. “That's the most childish thing I've ever heard. Now that you're in a position of power, you take out your frustrations on others? You're acting like a brat.”

 

“I think you've said quite enough,” miss Collier said, trying to regain the authority she'd suddenly lost.

 

“A spoiled little brat,” he continued, ignoring her completely. “In need of a good spanking to straighten her out.”

 

A small squeal escaped her lips, and she looked away, blushing. He raised an eyebrow. He was just pushing her buttons, trying to humiliate her as payback for her actions, but he hadn't expected her to react like that. The word 'spanking' had turned her into a squealing schoolgirl.

 

He decided to gamble high, to take the chance. Everyone had left the school, the two of them were the only ones left – the janitor left early on Fridays. Right now, he wanted payback for the weeks of needling.

 

He rose to his feet, walking to the front of the classroom. For every step he took, he could see miss Collier blush redder and redder as she felt her authority weakening. He was standing over her, glaring down at the squirming woman – no, 'girl' was more appropriate.

 

He reached down and grabbed her wrist. “We both know you deserve this.” He pulled her to her feet, taking her chair before pulling her over his knee.

 

“You can't do this,” she yelled, but she didn't actually try to get off his lap. “I'm a grown woman.”

 

“Start acting like it,” he said, giving the tight skirt in front of him a few good slaps. She cried out, but more from shock than from pain.

 

He kept smacking her bottom, every smack harder and faster than the last. “You've acted like a little brat, taking your griefs out on others,” he told her. “I hope you're learning from this.”

 

“Ow! Let me up, you can't do this,” she said, still not struggling.

 

“I can and I will,” he said. He reached down, grabbing the hem of her skirt. “I think it's time I raised this,” he said.

 

She whimpered. “Please, leave it down, I've learned my lesson.”

 

“I don't think you have,” he answered, raising her skirt to reveal a pair of black panties. Her bottom had already started to turn pink under his hand.

 

As he continued the spanking, she cried out, shocked at how much more it hurt without the protection of her skirt. She had started to kick her legs every time his hard hand landed on her already smarting cheeks.

 

She squealed as he grabbed her panties, pulling them down to her knees, but again, she made no effort to stop him. Her bottom was burning, but the humiliation was worse.

 

Her cheeks were bright red by the time he let her off her lap.

 

“Have you learned your lesson, Sarah?” He found her first name more appropriate, given the circumstances.

 

“I have, sir, I have,” she said, rubbing her bottom while the tears rolled down her cheeks.

 

“Well, if you're a good girl...” he said, cupping her cheeks. “....We can do this again, next week.”

 

She gasped. After a few seconds, she responded, "I think I'd like that."