MadameDahlia
Posts: 2021
Joined: 8/11/2004
From: SoCal aka Hell
Status: offline
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* Note - This is a sexual fantasy that features "naughty words", BDSM themes, initial reluctance, mind f*cks and all sorts of other fun things. The dynamic is F/m.
It also features an interaction between a hypothetical teacher and a hypothetical *eighteen* year old student. These are characters. Any resemblance to nonfictional events is purely coincidental.
If you think you'd find any aspect of this offensive, don't read it.
* Another Note - This is what some people feel that detention should be like... -winks- Enjoy.
I wore those glasses... white collared, button down shirt... tucked into a skirt... short skirt... stockings... sexy shoes... And my hair… it was in a pinned, high bun. I was in a classroom… with a large old-fashioned blackboard at the front of the room... a whiteboard at the back... clutter and maps on the two side walls... one door... one small window. It was a room devoid of anyone else.
You walk in with a bookbag over your shoulder... sullen, listening to loud music through headphones. Typical angsty, fuck authority teenager... with a chip on his shoulder the size of the U.S. After you plop into a chair, you slouch and pull out a magazine - it's just an ordinary day in detention after all. You don't bother looking up for the teacher. Old man Wintel is an eye sore and the board of education should have retired his saggy ass ages ago... And apparently they decided that you were right. You look up when you hear an unfamiliar clicking of heels against the tile floor as one song begins to slide into the next.
You sit up a bit straighter and draw the magazine in closer as you watch nimble fingers slide a deadbolt into place. I move to the front of the room, pick up a piece of chalk and scrawl, "Miss Andrews" across the board. Picking up a new piece of chalk in a different color I begin to write out rules:
"1. No headphones." Shit. There went half of your entertainment.
"2. No magazines." Aw hell...
"3. No cell phones."
Suddenly Wintel didn't look so awful. You glanced down at your magazine quickly and pretended as though you hadn't caught her writing on the board. After writing down a few more rules involving gum, paper airplanes and spitwads I set the chalk down and dusted off my hands. Turning I spotted you, still listening to music... still reading a magazine.
Approaching slowly, you listened as the strike of each heel cut through your music. You slid your finger up along the volume control and listened as it poured from the headphones, getting louder. With a bit of a growl, I removed the magazine from your possession.
You looked up - pretending to be startled. Pulling an earphone out of your ear you muttered, "What the fuck? I was reading that." I had begun to roll the newspaper up as you spoke. Turning to the side slightly, I pointed toward the board with the rolled up magazine and then extended my other hand for your CD player and earphones. “I get them after this is over, right?" I did not reply verbally. Instead I merely wiggled my fingertips slightly. Your lips twisted into a slight scowl.
So you hand over the CD player... looking terribly peeved. Wintel was so lenient. But that would not be the case today. Poor you. You mutter something under your breath and I murmur, "Do not speak while in detention. You may do your homework. Or you may read a pre-approved novel." Homework? Pft. Who did homework?
You rolled your eyes and began to dig through your bag to find something else to do. Taking out a spiral bound notebook you set it on your desk and then pulled out a pencil. Leaning over to zip the bag back up you didn't notice the pencil making it's way across your desk - rolling onto the floor.
You sat up and looked around, muttering "Shit" under your breath. You tried to nudge the pencil with your foot but after two or three swipes simply stood up and picked up your pencil. "Sit down," I growled. "And I told you not to speak. Do not do it again." You asked in your head, "Or you'll what?" - only to realize you'd said it out loud.
Your eyes widened a bit but you quickly composed yourself, doing your best to look unaffected by slipping up. I turned toward you slowly and narrowed my eyes slowly. "Get to the back of the room. Now. You're going to be writing down a few rules on the board so that you're clear about them." Oh great, standards for all of detention. You didn't even get to sit down. The next several hours were going to suck.
You moved to the back of the room and uncapped a pen. I approached slowly - heels clicking evenly against the tile. Pausing beside you I glanced toward the board. "Now then - write as I dictate." You turned slowly and lifted your arm, poised and waiting to write.
"I will not speak while in detention. I will not stand up without permission. I will raise my hand and wait patiently until I am addressed." I paused and watched as you began to write. With a slight smirk I murmured, "You'll be filling this board and the chalkboard in the front. If you still have time left over for your detention I'll have you clean them off and begin again."
Your jaw dropped for a moment before you snapped your mouth shut, teeth clicking together as an audible sign of your ire. You began to write a bit bigger - spacing your words out. Sure it was a small sign of pissy defiance, but it felt good.
I took the pen from you and growled, "Don't be a smart ass. Write properly." Setting the pen down, I took a seat on the desk behind you and crossed one leg over the other. Leaning back, I placed my hands on the desk and watched.
You looked back briefly and caught a glimpse of leg before you whipped back around. You picked up the eraser and then snuck a glance over your shoulder quickly. You explored a bit more, gradually lifting your gaze. I shifted as your gaze slid higher and you witnessed a brief flash of reflective, silky black before my legs came together again.
Your mouth dropped and for a moment you simply stared. Noticing the look, I shifted just a bit... feeling my skirt hike up a bit higher. You turned around quickly, taking a step closer toward the whiteboard. Guys your age could look at a pile of rocks and become aroused. But having something of flesh and blood and curves in front of you was a sure fire way of getting your friend in high spirits.
You shifted a bit and lifted the eraser, slowly erasing the board. You started to contemplate old women - better yet old men. You thought of the prior detention teacher and focused as hard as you could. You tried to remember the way the skin around his neck looked like the skin on a chicken your mom cooked the other night. But you started to think about the dessert you'd had after the meal. You thought of the heavenly scent of strawberries... vanilla... sort of the way your current detention teacher smelled like.
It was okay - it would be just fine. You had a big board to fill. You'd be here for a while - by which time you would have calmed down sufficiently - and no one would be the wiser. You threw yourself into writing each line - trying to fill your mind with the mundane. But you could hear the soft sound of the fabric of my skirt sliding over my stockings as I moved. Periodically you'd hear my nails drum against the table - constantly reminding you that I was there... watching... right behind you.
You wrote until your fingers began to cramp up - and you were still unfinished. I took pity on you because of how well you were doing (perhaps) and slid off the desk. You heard heels click simultaneously behind you. Jumping slightly, you glanced back. I stood not more than a few inches behind you - my eyes glued to the board.
"Hmm," I purred softly, "I suppose you've learned your lesson. You may be seated. And next time you wish to speak do so by raising your hand first. This isn't study hall."
You shifted slightly. Go back to your seat? That would mean you'd have to turn around and walk back down the aisle between the desks. That meant your ahem... problem... would be put on display.
Why hadn't you gone with the pants that were three sizes too large today? Why had you picked up the frog in the lab and danced him around the table, thus terrifying your lab partner so much that she screamed? That's what had landed you here in the first place...
"Well? Aren't you going to sit?" What had taken such a short time in your mind had actually been several minutes of deliberation.
"D - don't you think I should at least finish this board?" Had you actually said that? I shook my head slowly. "No. I can tell your hand is tired. And you've been so well behaved. Go ahead and sit."
You shifted slightly and tried to squeeze by me in order to turn around quickly. However the tight space only forced you to bump against me. You bit your lip to stifle a groan and quickly twisted your hips toward the front of the class to hide your arousal.
You were feeling so sensitive - all you wanted to do was get off and go home. You'd never dance another frog around any other science lab as long as you lived if you could just be sent home early.
I'd felt your erection as you'd moved by me. And I knew then that you were affected. That you were in need of some additional stimulation. I walked closely behind you - in order to get to my desk at the front of the class.
As you sank thankfully into your chair, gingerly adjusting the situation under your pants I leaned over the side of the desk and picked up my purse from the chair behind the desk. You glanced up and jerked slightly, banging a knee against the underside of the desk,
I pulled out a compact mirror and began to check hair and makeup - though in reality I was using it to look over my shoulder and watch you. Your eyes remained riveted to my backside. With a slight smirk I turned around quickly and looked at you. "What exactly are you staring at?"
You squirmed faintly and looked away. "Nothin' - I wasn't looking at anything." Chewing on your lower lip slightly, you kept your eyes on the floor. That is until you saw a white blouse land precisely where you were staring. Your head jerked up and you realized what a mistake that was. You thought that your eyes must have leaped out of your head in a classically cartoonish way.
"Well," I ask again. "What were you staring at?" You stammered, "N - n - nothing Ma'am." But you surely were now... you couldn't have pried your eyes away with a crowbar.
"Sure. I'm going to believe that. Stand up." You hesitated and I growled, "Now!" Immediately you were on your feet. You wanted to look away. You really did. But you simply couldn't. I urged you closer with a fingertip and you felt your legs moving of their own accord. You stopped short in front of me and realized you'd be falling into the stereotypical 'talking to the twins' at this rate. You forced your eyes upward but found that once there you did not wish to meet my gaze. Finally you settled on the floor. That was safe. Neutral.
I stepped out from in front of you and moved behind you. "Remove your shoes," I murmured softly. You hesitated - but only briefly. Soon you'd slipped out of them, pushing them aside with a foot. You felt strangely vulnerable the moment you'd slid out of them though. "Get rid of your socks as well." You peeled them away and tossed them aside with your shoes. The cool tile chilled your bare feet until the tile beneath them began to warm gradually.
"Now your shirt," I said quietly. You bit your lower lip firmly. This was just getting weird. Maybe you should just grab your shoes and socks and run. But another part of you demanded to know - run from what? From those? From her? The darker urges fired of signals and soon your arms were endeavoring to part with you from your shirt.
You tossed your shirt aside and wondered when she'd start taking things off as well. "Hands up... link your fingers behind your head." You smirked slightly. So the lady liked it kinky? Fine. You'd done a fair amount of reading about that. You gradually lifted your arms and then linked your fingers. But before you could even secure them behind your head you felt a constricting but gentle pressure around your wrists. You tried pulling your hands apart to bring them to your sides but realized that they were bound in cuffs of some sort. You tried to bring your hands down, but felt a tautness above you. Looking up, you noticed a system of chains and bars that hadn't been there before. Then again you rarely looked up to stare at the ceiling.
"What the fuck?" you whispered softly. You then felt hands at your waist. One hand slid down gently over the front of your pants - caressing you through your clothing softly. You brought your thighs together and tried to hunch over slightly, but found that with your arms bound above you it was impossible. "Hey! What do you think you're doing?" You wiggled slightly and tried to struggle out of my grasp but when you felt firm breasts pressed against your back you paused. I unbuttoned your pants and slid the zipper down while you were trapped in your momentary flicker of paralyzing lust.
"Aww... C'mon. I'll play nice. Just let me out of these things," you grumbled. You jerked your hands down slightly - testing the seriousness of the bondage you were in. Gritting your teeth slightly, you pulled again. You were no pansy. These things were menacing and unyielding. "Hey - I'm much better with use of my hands. Lemme show you what I mean, babe."
With your pants down around your ankles you surely felt the stinging slap across your nearly bare behind. Yelping, you danced forward a step or two. "What the hell, you loon?" I gently dug my nails into the soft flesh of your behind - roughly massaging away the sting. "That's either Miss Loon to you or Mistress," I gently drew a nail down your spine. "It will please me if you make the right choice regarding those terms. Babe need not apply." You nodded once. "Alright, alright. No babe. I get it. How about doll?" you tried sarcastically. Another crack rang out as the opposite side of your behind lit up with stinging pain.
"Aaarg!! Okay... okay... Mistress. Happy now?" I chuckled softly and replied, "Very." I slid the last remaining garment down to your ankles and then stood up. "Step out of those." You immediately murmured, "But I'd hate for my feet to get cold." You knew the moment the words had escaped you that you were in for a world of regret. A soft whooshing sound cut through the air and I watched you jump forward as the crop struck your behind firmly. You screamed as the pain shot through your left side and wiggled slightly - wanting very much to rub away the stinging sense of pain. However your wiggling was very much like a red flag before a bull. Several more swats landed - alternating from side to side. You screamed like a banshee until you realized it was doing you no good.
You eventually tapered off to soft yelps as each blow landed. Between them you bit your lower lip until it was painful so that you'd refrain from sniffling with pain. Finally the crop sailed over your head and landed on the desk in front of you. "Lean down and bite the center with your teeth."
You shuffled forward just a bit but paused. I moved closer and dug the nails of both hands into your behind. You strangled a cry that rose to your lips but bent over quickly to try to evade my punishing hands.
You only served in wedging yourself tightly against the desk - leaving yourself with nowhere to go. I began to massage your pained flesh and you sighed faintly as more endorphins were released - trying to neutralize the pain. You shifted your hips, spreading your legs a bit to ease some of the tension in your knees. However this offered a prime opportunity to take you deeper down the rabbit's hole.
I slid a hand down from one side of your behind and curled my fingers upward, touching the small bit of flesh between your bottom and your dangling family jewels. You tensed and began to shift in order to shut your legs. I leaned closer and placed my feet against yours - keeping your legs braced. "W - what are you doing?" you questioned as I began to gently rub that tender spot. You felt a soft groan rise to your lips and did not manage to muffle it in time.
You arched your hips out a bit to allow for better access - even though your mind whirled in protest. What was that spot? How did she know it existed? Why did it feel so good... good enough to make you forget your flaming backside.
I ignored your question - knowing that you should only feel for a while. I slid my fingers forward and caressed your intimate regions gently before pulling back and focusing on that spot again. After a bit more teasing, I leaned over you so that you would stay where you were. Pulling open a drawer, I picked up a few things and set them beside you. I pushed lightly on your back so that you lay across the desk a bit more.
Attaching two clamps to weights, I set them in front of you and then clipped them to your nipples. Your first instinct was to rear back but I kept a firm pressure on your back so that you'd stay in place. Leaning near your ear I murmured, "The weight I've attached to your nipples is heavy enough to rip them off if you move back. I would suggest you stay right where you are.” Of course that was a fib. It would hurt enormously when they came flying off - but it would not rip your flesh. However how were you to know that?
You whimpered softly and hunched lower - doing your best to stay close to the weights. I stepped out from behind you and pulled open another drawer. Returning with cuffs, I shackled your ankles to the sides of the desk so that you would not be able to close your legs. Then I released your nipples from the clamps. Rubbing them lightly, I made sure your circulation was okay. You tried your best but failed to stifle the moan that rose to your lips.
"U… uh... please... " You whispered as your fingers curled inward into tight fists. You slowly stood up straight and lifted your chest out a bit, pressing into my hands firmly. "Please what," I inquired. You felt red-hot heat creep across your face. "I - I want you to touch me some more," you uttered, barely above a whisper. I smiled slightly but asked, "What was that? I didn't quite hear you."
You felt tears beginning to slide down your cheeks as both your embarrassment and frustration grew. "Please touch me more," you whispered a bit louder. I twisted one of your nipples slowly. "I'm afraid I still didn't hear that." You moaned as pleasure radiated from you nipple and gasped, "Please touch me more!" I smirked and released your nipple. "And who are you talking to?"
"You - I'm talking to you, please..." you panted. I ran my fingers down your back as my hand slid across to your other nipple, teasingly pulling at the flesh. "And just who am I?" I inquired. Your mind fumbled, seeking an answer. It dawned on you then. "Please Mistress... please touch me more."
I swatted your ass firmly and murmured, "And don't you forget that, boy." Leaning closer I began to tease and please various parts of your body. Within a short amount of time you'd been reduced to a quivering, moaning, pleading mass of flesh, blood and bone. Looking up at the clock, I stepped away from you for a moment. I watched you sag slightly, leaning against the desk for support. Watching as your back rose and fell, I sighed softly with a faint smile.
Stepping closer, I removed the various means of bondage and helped support your weight until you felt ready to stand on your own. "Get dressed," I murmured. "Detention is over in five minutes." You slowly pulled your clothing to you, trying to find everything.
I brushed by you, gripped your cock and slid my hand up and down quickly. You bent over with a strangled gasp, clawing at the desk to keep from falling over as the shockwaves of pleasure sang through your body. Your hips moved without any more necessary thinking on your part and soon you were crying out as a superb release crashed over you - causing your entire body to twitch as your muscles danced. When your hips had finished twitching I released you from my grasp, wiped off with a tissue and then set the box in front of you.
"Don't forget to clean up before you go." You nodded - not exactly sure if you'd even heard me correctly. But it didn't much matter. You dressed gradually and somehow managed to remember to clean up. After you tossed the last tissue into the trashcan, you sank into your seat and curled your arms up on the desk in front of you, resting your head in your arms.
I picked up a piece of paper and wrote out a few things. I slipped it under your hand and you curled your fingers around the slip of paper slowly. Forcing your head up, you began to read: "Detention for one week for failing to comply with the rules of the detention room." You looked up quickly and I sat behind the desk looking back at you. You noticed a new rule on the board. "No sleeping in detention." I smirked faintly and you felt the slow blossoming of a smile spread across your face.
_____________________________
Insanity -- a perfectly rational adjustment to an insane world.
--R. D. Laing
"Oh, but if I went 'round sayin' I was Emperor, just because some moistened bint lobbed a scimitar at me, they'd put me away."
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Detention! - 
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