THE LAST LESSON by Andy M. The last few days of high school were hot and dry. Officially, school was still in session, but the diplomas were already printed and nobody much cared about classes. Most of the time we boys just hung around because that's where the girls were. The one real subject of interest was Miss Garcia, the new teacher who had joined the faculty only a few weeks before. A strange one she was, maybe even a bit exotic. Tall and slender, with dark complexion long jet-black hair, she appeared to be of Spanish descent, and possibly Indian as well. Her blouse was always open enough that you could see her bra, stark white against the tanned skin of her chest. She wore short skirts, very short skirts, never longer than mid-thigh, with panty hose, sometimes in black and sometimes tan. Altogether, she looked good, very good. She was a real tease She knew that boys were getting erections from looking at her, and she seemed to delight in it. However, her beauty wasn't what fascinated me most. It was her shoes, usually pumps, sometimes of snakeskin, sometimes in dark crimson - and always with sharp, very high heels. At night, I dreamed of being close to this Miss Garcia and her beautiful shoes. I never suspected how close I soon would come to them. It can't be easy for a young teacher to take over a class at final-exam time, especially when it's a class of undisciplined boys not much younger than she was. But there was something different about her. Even the first day, the clicks of her high heels in the aisle were enough to quiet the classroom. She liked to sit on the edge of her desk with her legs crossed, then turn to look at a book. She pretended not to notice that her skirt inched yet a little higher. She dangled her shoes provocatively. There could not have been one boy in the class who didn't instantly get aroused. That was her trick, an easy but effective trick to keep us calm and grab our fully attention. The girls giggled. They learned in these final school days through this junior teacher just how easily a woman can achieve total power over a young man. After class, many of us ran to the restroom to relieve the sexual tension. But our masturbating was not confined to the restroom, I confess. Sitting in the first row, I always slumped in my chair to get a better look at her legs and shoes. I peered under her skirt and stroked myself through my trousers with one hand. I'm sure she sometimes noticed it, but she never said anything. On the next-to-last day of school, I headed home around two o'clock in the afternoon. As I passed the gym, the cheerleaders were practicing for graduation. I stopped and watched through the windows. The girls flung their legs high in the air. I enjoyed the sight. And there was Miss Garcia, yes, the young teacher who impressed me so much. She caught sight of me watching the girls. She must have seen the look of lust in my eyes, because she smiled and made a masturbation gesture in my direction. I blushed. The practice session was almost over, and some of the girls had already gone to the locker room. Miss Garcia left the gym, too, and I feared she would come around the building and find me. As I ducked around the corner to avoid the embarrassment, I noticed that the door of the storeroom beside the gym stood open, and it seemed like a good idea to hide there for a moment. That proved to be a mistake. It was dark in the room, and it smelled musty. It was almost empty, except for some broken gym equipment. I could see light coming from one corner of the room, and as I approached it, I found a hole drilled in wall about two feet above the ground. There were voices on the other side of the hole, female voices. Yes, the hole opened directly into the girls' shower room! Perhaps once the janitor had drilled it to alleviate boredom. I had to get down on my hands and knees to see through it. The view was breathtaking. Directly in front of my eyes were the wet feet the cheerleaders. A bit farther away a girl stood under the shower. I got an erection watching as she turned slowly in the hot steam of water, revealing her large, tight breasts. I saw the high arched feet of another girl plod through the water, another tiptoeing in the opposite direction. I couldn't help myself. I unzipped my pants and enjoyed the show while slowly masturbating. It must have been a pathetic sight: me on my knees, peeping though a small hole in the wall, my trousers hanging around my ankles, my penis in my hand and my testicles dangling. Suddenly there was a noise behind me, a clicking, the sound of a woman's sharp high heels walking through the nearly dark room. I never saw it coming. I got an unimaginably violent kick to my testicles from behind. I felled over, twisting in pain, my face mashed against the wall. The light came on and I was blinded for a moment. The cheerleading squad was entering the storeroom, giggling at me. Two girls jerked me up by my arms to my feet. Miss Garcia stood before me, as ever dressed in a half-open black blouse and a high-riding miniskirt. I glanced down at source of the unbelievable pain between my legs: She wore blood-red pumps with metal-capped toes. Surely, the open door of the storeroom was a trap. "It seems school hasn't taught you any self-control," she said with feigned anger in her voice, actually trying hard to suppress her laughter, "but I will teach you now." I couldn't speak. "Lie down!" she ordered. The girls released their grip, but I was too dumbfounded to obey. I just stood there in disbelief. "Need an invitation?" she asked and with that her right leg flew up. The metal cap of her scarlet pump bashed again into my testicles. I collapsed to the ground instantly, doubled over. "Stretch him out," she ordered. Four girls pulled on my legs and arms, pulling my pants the rest of the way off and bringing me into a spread-eagle position, then two kneeled on my arms and two on my legs, making it impossible for me to move. She sat down next to me on a storage bin. "If you can keep your male urges under control for just two minutes, you can to go home. If not, the less your self-control, the bigger your punishment. It all depends on you." With that, she slowly slipped her shoes off and put her nylon- wrapped feet on my genitals. I jerked, expecting another kick, but this time she gently massaged my testicles, and in spite of my pain, my penis became erect again. "There is a simple but effective test for young studs," she explained to the girls. "You might want to put every boy to this test before you go to bed with him. If he passes, he might be able to satisfy you, but it's also fun if he fails. And most will, I promise to you that. Especially horny guys like this one." She stepped lightly on my testicles. "Nothing is more embarrassing and humiliating for a guy than to lose his load before he even gets into his partner. Make him lose it this way and his whole masculine ego falls like a house of cards. That's fun to watch, believe me. Want a demonstration?" The girls nodded. She bent over and looked steadily into my eyes, while her feet worked further on my genitals. "Show me how much self-control you have, sweetie," she whispered, with honey dripping from her voice. Then she opened another button of her blouse and, with mock lasciviousness, moistened her lips, breathing, "Are you ready, sweetie?" She trapped my penis between the soles of her feet. I swallowed nervously. She grinned at the girls. "Countdown," she said. "It's T minus 120 seconds and counting." Then her feet began to glide up and down on my penis with torturing slowness. "120, 119, ...," the girls counted in chorus. I sweated. Her feet pulled my foreskin back. Her nylon stockings scraped over my "acorn." "99, 98, ...." I bit my lip. "Temperance, sweetie, temperance," she giggled. "The male organ is a real joy-stick," she said to the girls, "giving a woman the joy of complete control over its owner." Drops of clear, viscous fluid leaked from the end of my penis. She shifted her feet a bit. Now the downward motion her right foot pushed gently into my scrotum. "80, 79, ...." "By the way, did I tell you how you can really shorten up this procedure?" she said to the girls. With that she took her feet from my genitals and placed them firmly in my face instead. "Give him a good sniff of your female odor," she explained, rubbing her feed across my nose and mouth. "This little intriguing perfume goes directly to his brain, burns the fuses of his sanity, breaks his will, turns him into a slobbering numb-scull." After ensuring that I had inhaled an intoxicating dose, she put her feet back between my thighs. My muscles cramped as she increased the speed. "Look at him!" she laughed, "I bet he can't stand it 15 seconds longer." I squirmed. "60, 59, ...." She leaned back and swept her rich black hair out of her face. That did it! One first small squirt shot into the air. "55, 54, ...." Then came a fountain of white semen. Two, then three, then four wide arcs squirted across the room, wetting her stockings above her knees. I heard it hit the ground. She did not stop pumping until I was completely milked dry. "Incapable little toy-boy," she hissed, setting one of her heels upon each of my testicles and pushing down hard. I screamed in pain. She smiled with satisfaction. "Help him up!" she ordered the girls. "It seems he didn't pass this little test." Two girls pulled me up by my arms and pushed me towards the wall. Her legs spread my knees apart, keeping my testicles dangling vulnerably. "Fifty-four is the number! Who wants first turn?" she asked, pointing at my testicles. A buxom brunette came forward. "This is how I teach my brother," she mumbled with a chewing gum in her mouth. Then, without warning, her left knee smacked into my left testicle, a second later her right knee hit my right testicle and then she jumped up with both feet and drove both of her knees into my groin. "One for the left, one for the right and one for the road, after which my brother afterwards usually falls," she explained, completely unimpressed by my shout of pain. "Very nice," the teacher said. "That was three. Fifty-one more to come. Who's next?" A small black-haired girl stepped forward, still wearing her cheerleader's uniform. "I prefer an athletic approach," she explained. Then she started a reverse somersault, throwing her legs. Both of her gym shoes hit my testicles within a tenth of a second, forcefully. I shouted in pain. She looked with pleasure at the result of her work. "Nobody knows, but this is how I stopped the Rams' quarterback in the last game last year in a little private show I gave him at halftime", she said. "Want to see how I finished him off?" Without waiting for an answer, she started a forward somersault. This time her shoes hit the root of my penis in my scrotum and jerked my testicles down. It felt as if she were ripping my testicles right out of my body. I cried in agony. The crowd applauded. Miss Garcia only smiled. She slowly pulled off her pantyhose. Then she tied the feet together and stuffed the knot into my mouth. "Nobody wants to hear your clamor," she said to me after she had gagged me this way. "Okay, that was four. Forty-seven to come," she called. A slender, very tall blonde stepped forward. She studied my testicles from about ten feet away. Her hair was wet and I could see little wet spots on her T-shirt where her nipples were. I realized that she was the girl under the shower who had given me an erection a few minutes before. Now she had come to get even. In her eyes scintillated with sheer sadism. She took one step forward, then paused. "Wait a minute. I want to get him with my bare feet," she said, stripping off her sneakers and socks. She studied me again, then took a two-step start, did a karate jump and flew with stretched left leg directly toward me. She had aimed perfectly. The sole her left foot smashed into my dangling testicles, pushing them backwards and, with the unbelievable entire force of her jump, crushing them completely flat against the wall. The pain shot like lightning through my body, and, to the applause of the crowd, I fell into the mercy of unconsciousness. THE END Copyright (c) 1999, Andy M., e-mail pain_and_pleasure@hotmail.com. All rights reserved. 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