Discipline in the Classroom By Montrose Teacher Miss De Lange takes matters in hand Mr. Harris was late for our appointment. I should have expected as much, given his son's punctuality record. Disrespectful is what it was, and I would not let it pass. He came scuttling into my classroom, flushed, ten minutes after our conference was to begin, spouting some excuse I didn't bother listening to. While it was still leaving his lips I spoke. "Sit down Mr. Harris. We have much to cover and little time." He glanced at the small desks for the students. "If you don't mind, I would rather..." "SIT!" A bit stunned by my anger, and quite likely intimidated by my feminine authority, he squeezed his six foot tall frame into one of the half sized desks in front of my teacher's desk. I allowed myself a smirk when he banged his knee. Once he was folded away - effectively stuck in the little desk - I strolled around to the front of my desk. I'm six feet tall myself, and with my four inch heels I towered over this sitting simpleton. He looked up at me with puppy dog eyes, which had no effect on my heart. It was my impression that both this man and his son required a firm hand. I would begin tonight with the man. I burned him to silence with my eyes, looking down my nose at him. He was actually quite attractive in his dress slacks and pressed white shirt. The tie was a tad garish, but it was silk and well knotted. His dark wavy hair held just a touch of grey at the temples. I suppose he was thirty-eight to forty. I prefer older men, but that was beside the point. Furthermore, despite his having ten years on me, I was not going to let him feel as if he had any sort of advantage. A firm hand was definitely the answer. And I am nothing if not firm - some have said merciless. Once I saw doubt flicker in his eyes, I spoke. "Little Mark, your son, has been late most every day this semester." Mr. Harris began to babble. "Yeah, he's pretty slow in the morning. It's a miracle he gets out the door at all, what with how slow he eats and losing his socks or talking to the cat. I just don't..." "Silence!" I hissed the one warning he would receive. His eyes grew wide and he froze. I bent down and locked my eyes onto his. "In my classroom, you will speak only when I tell you to and how I tell you to. Is that understood?" My voice was steady and quiet. He didn't breathe for a moment, but eventually he gathered a touch of courage. "What is this?" I could see that stronger measures were required, so I gave him a violent slap with the back of my hand. He tipped over, stuck in his desk and hit the floor. Before he could move, I placed my left foot on his neck, my hands on my hips. I knew he could see up my skirt from there, but that was just part of the intimidation I required. Let him take in the musculature of my legs and Gluteus Maximus and consider if he stands a chance. I pressed down until his breathing stopped. He thrashed uselessly, attempting to extricate himself from the desk and remove my foot. Failing in both things, he began to turn red, then purple and settle down. "Am I understood?" I repeated as if speaking to an imbecile, which I believe I was. To his credit, he nodded. Defeated already. How very easy that was. I lifted my foot. "Get up." Righteous contempt was clear in my voice. I watched, keeping myself from laughing or even smiling as he struggled for two full minutes to extricate himself from the small desk and set it up right. Finally, he stood disheveled before me trying to catch his breath. "Straighten yourself, Mr. Harris. You look a fright." He blushed as he tucked his shirt back in, fixed his tie and fingered his hair back into place. The poor man looked lost and frightened - a mere boy. I delight in having that effect on grown men. "Sit." Reluctantly, we pushed himself back into the desk. I sat on my own desk, providing Mr. Harris with an excellent view of my long legs and the hope of seeing up my skirt once more. I crossed my legs the other way just to watch him search for a glimpse of my silky panties. Pathetic. Easily controlled. This would be enjoyable. I tapped him on his forehead with a sharp fingernail. He looked up at my face. "As I was saying, Mr. Harris, little Mark has been late most every day this semester." I waited, but he appeared to have learned his first lesson. He sat silently, waiting for me to continue. "I can see how it might be the boy's fault if it happened once or twice. But habits are the fault of the parent." His eyes grew large at that, but he held his tongue. As a reward for his silence, I re-crossed my legs again. "That would be you, Sir." (Tap tap on his forehead. He looked up again.) "Do you agree that you, Mr. Harris, are the problem? That you are a disappointment as a father, and most likely as a man? You may respond yes or no." He struggled for a moment before speaking, unable to contain his emotions any longer. "I'm a single parent Miss De Lange. It's hard to grrreeegtchhh..." His speech stopped as I tightened my long fingers around his throat. "You are as full of excuses as is your progeny," I told him while I pulled him up out of the desk. He grasped my hand, prying at my fingers, trying to breathe as I marched him backwards into a cinderblock wall. His head emitted a hollow melon sound on contact and his eyes crossed. I squeezed tighter and his tongue stuck out. I could crush his wind pipe if I had a mind to. "You also have similar troubles with following directions." Anger added a slight snarl to my voice. "Perhaps if I straighten you out on these matters, your son will follow your improved example." As I spoke, I lifted him to his tip toes with my one hand around his throat. This raised him to eye level. I guessed that he weighed 180 pounds, about ten more than me. A fair fight on paper. But that didn't account for my daily work outs and multiple black belts. I amused myself by watching him turn purple again, as he struggled feebly with my hand, until his arms went limp. Then I let up a little and he dropped back to his heels. I felt his quick heart beat in the pulse on his neck. This, as it always does, thrilled me. I wanted badly to force a deep kiss upon him, to suck that throbbing vein in his neck, but we had serious work to do. I slapped him back to consciousness. "I am going to give you a series of commands, Mr. Harris. Follow them precisely and without question, and eventually you may be rewarded. Disobey me in any way, and there will be swift retribution. Do you understand? Once again, you may answer yes or no." "Yes," he gasped in a small voice. I could feel him trembling with fear under my hand. I nodded once. "Good. This is progress." I let go of his neck and he fell to his knees. How weak and frail he was. "You may begin by kissing the toe of my left shoe." He looked up at me. I picked up the three foot long pointing stick from the blackboard tray, tapped it on my palm, and raised one eyebrow. It was enough of a threat. Mr. Harris bent low and kissed the toe of my left shoe. He looked up at me. When I did not respond, he bent low and did it once more. He kept it up until I spoke again. "Enough, Mr. Harris. I think we begin to understand each other." I walked back to my desk and sat on it. "Crawl to me." He began to move toward me on his hands and knees. "On... your... belly." I stared down my nose at him with displeasure. He looked around as if expecting to have an audience - worried about being seen - humiliated. As if someone were taping this for youtube (an amusing idea). Nobody else was in the building. He dropped to his belly and slithered to me. As he did this I couldn't help but notice that he had nice shoulders and a cute bottom. He was weak, of course, compared to me, but cute. I decided to up the stakes, as they say. There is no reason I shouldn't have fun. It was him being disciplined, not me, after all. I spread my legs and pointed to the inside of my right knee. "Kiss me gently right there, Mr. Harris." A lecherous grin split his face and he jumped to my knee, licking it like a Labrador. His tongue quickly moved up my inner thigh sending shivers up my spine. Soon, he was nuzzling my groin - his hot breath blasting through my panties and pulsing on my clit. I took his hair in my hand and smacked his face against the surface of my desk between my legs. The top of his skull rubbed my quim. It felt yummy. I moved closer and lifted his head, rubbing it on my quim again and thrust it back down. I did so twice more, banging his forehead hard onto the unforgiving oak, and providing a most satisfying friction to my groin. I couldn't help but tremble and sigh given the sensations running up my sides. "Oops," I whispered, letting go of his hair. How had I managed to let my lust get away from me like that? When I let go of his hair, he fell back onto his charming rump, dazed. He probably hadn't noticed my moment of weakness, thank goodness. "Was that your idea of gently, Mr. Harris?" I admit to being a bit distracted by the passion stirring in my loins. His aggression had a warming effect on me. I had to act quickly to keep things going in the right direction. "I uh... was... uh... I thought..." He looked scrambled. I drove my right heel into his chin, kicking him onto his back. As he lie there, I got up and stood over him looking down. "Speaking without permission again, Mr. Harris? I thought we had that one worked out." I stomped on his belly for good measure. He curled up and gasped for air between my feet. I admired my work. Things were back on track. "You may apologize." "I'm s-sorry," he whispered as he rolled up to his hands and knees. How I wanted to sink down and ride him like a pony, but this was not the time. I turned my back on him and lifted my skirt. "To prove your regret, you will kiss my left cheek. Gently this time, Mr. Harris. Do you understand? You may answer yes or no." "YES!" I smiled at the glee in his voice, but so that he could see. Instead, I pulled aside my silky panties to give him an open spot on the preferred cheek. I'll admit I shivered when his warm lips touched my bottom. He was indeed gentle. The kiss lasted longer than I was expecting, but then again, I hadn't specified duration, had I? No harm then. I let his lips softly caress my hindmost region for quite some time. He kissed my butt with passion and conviction, occasionally wandering somewhat center of left to my sphincter, but that is left enough in my book. His tongue expertly circled my anus. Eventually, I turned to face him, breathing hard. I could feel the fire rising in my face. "Have you learned your lesson, Mr. Harris?" I panted (working to maintain my composure). He looked up at me with longing. Damn those puppy eyes! "You did not speak! Well done. Here, for you, is a reward." As I said this, I unbuttoned my white cotton blouse. My bosoms were thrust upward in my tight brassier. I managed to free them, crushing my nipples as I did. "Stand and lick these, Mr. Harris. NOW!" They were begging to be tasted. He did as told, quite eagerly, pressing me up against the blackboard as he did so (he pushed into me and I let him). I had said nothing about being gentle, and he took full advantage, biting my flesh and circling my hard nipples over and over with his strong tongue. It was like being suckled by a hungry wolf. I lifted one foot and rubbed his bum with it. What a shame that he began moaning my name. "Oh, Miss De Lange! You are MAGNIFICENT Miss De Lange!" and so on. True, I was moaning too (and fondling his erect penis), but I was allowed. I am The Teacher, after all. I had no recourse but to punish him for speaking. Reluctantly, I twisted his right arm up behind his back and slammed him face down over my desk. I pulled back my leg and shot my knee hard into his scrotum from the back mashing it into the side of my desk. He cried out and begged for mercy. "Speaking again? Tut tut." I delivered another blow. That silenced him. For good measure I gave him one more. "What did you do wrong, Mr. Harris? You may tell me." His lips moved, but I heard nothing. "I asked you a question!" SMACK! My hand came down hard on his - yes I'll say it - ASS. I rather enjoy Spanking Ass, so I continued until my palms flashed red. After that I gave him a caning with the pointer stick. Mr. Harris gasped in pain with each loud spank on his bottom, driving me to hit harder. "Again, please. What did you do wrong?" "S-s-s..." SWACK! "Speak up! I didn't catch that." SWACK-CRACK! The pointer snapped. "AH! S-s-sp..." "LOUDER!" I placed the bent stick to the side and pulled back on his hair, lifting his head, arching his back. "S-s-s-spo... spoke." His voice was little more than wind in leaves. When I let go of his hair his head bounced on my desk. I stood behind him as if ready to mount him, panting with excursion, flushed but energized by the discipline. "Correct, Mr. Harris." My tingling hands ran up and down his shivering buttocks. "Are you beginning to understand how seriously I take discipline in my classroom? Yes or no will do." He nodded. "Good boy." I patted his bum and he spasmed in pain. "I suppose that's a bit tender," I purred happily. Poor thing, I thought but did not say out loud. And, if his bum was in pain, imagine his poor testicles after being juiced by my knee? Curious to see, I gripped and ripped open the back of his pants and boxers, and felt down between his legs. When my fingers made contact with his bare scrotum, he trembled like a new-born faun. "Steady now," I purred. "Steady on." They were swollen, but then, so was his penis. "What have we here..." I patted him until he understood to straightened and spread his legs, giving me better access to his groin. "Up you go." My fingers ran up his hot shaft. "Oh my oh my oh my," I murmured, stroking that stiff rod a few times, losing my arm up through the hole in his pants over and over. It felt so right in my hand. The size of it was arousing - thick and hard and heavy and long. I teased the little hole at the pulsating tip with my thumb and he absolutely vibrated with pleasure. A slippery dribble escaped onto my fingertips. How cute! And how frightened he was - almost crying. As if I might take offense that he shot a yummy little dab of goop into my hand. In fact I had made a study of the composition of sperm in college, learning to determine a subject's diet by the taste. I was not offended in the least. To be honest, I crave man-seed. I pulled my hand out and sucked my fingers clean. He was delicious - a non-smoker, coffee addict with a taste for dark chocolate. I might instruct him to increase his red meat intake to give his sperm even more body. Mr. Harris bit his lip until he drew blood. But he did not speak. His new discipline was almost enough to make me consider masturbating him to completion - make him explode a massive, yummy load - enough to satisfy my hunger. I salivated at the thought. My tummy gurgled. I pictured sucking it all down, mouthful after creamy mouthful. Then it occurred to me that perhaps I was being too kind to this man - too permissive. I am tender- hearted - that is my one fault. I didn't want to spoil all our hard work by being too lenient. That would be a shame. As I thought all this, I lowered my wet panties to the floor. Already I was dripping down my legs to the knees. Spankings make my libido uncontrollable. How I wished I had a strap on in my classroom - he was in position after all. But alas. Some other time. I knew I was straying from the course of true discipline, but I have needs. Urgent needs. Who can judge me? Not you, I imagine. I stepped out of my panties and walked around to my chair. "Come to me, Mr. Harris, on your hands and knees, if you would." He slid off the desk and did as told, slowly, in obvious pain. I spread my legs and guided his face up my skirt. "Lick me, you simple little man." My voice was husky with passion. After all my work I deserved a little... let's call it satisfaction. Oh god, did he ever do as told! For an hour he drove me to climax after climax after climax with his face. I helped with my fingers, diddling my clit or sinking them deep as he bit my bum, my legs waving in the air. I screamed and creamed. Mr. Harris remained silent and kept to his task. Once I was satisfied, I pushed him away with one foot. "We will continue our discussion at another time," I said in panting gasps. Wisps of hair stuck to my damp neck, falling free from my once-tight bun. My heart pounded savagely. His face glistened with my juice. His puppy eyes begged for his turn. But we mustn't give in to those who need to learn. Mustn't be too permissive, no matter how badly I craved it. "Will little Mark be here on time tomorrow?" I asked as I wiped my groin and posterior on his necktie. Mr. Harris knelt at attention between my legs, his eyes riveted to my exposed, dripping pie like a well- trained pointer. I let myself smile - and I let him keep looking. "You may say yes or no." "Yes," he replied with the discipline of a marine. "Well done, Mr. Harris. Of course, if I am disappointed in this matter, there will be punishment beyond our little discussion today." The fear in his eyes told me he understood. I pushed my bosoms back into my brassier as he watched (he shivered at the sight). My, that was a gigantic lump in his slacks. "On the other hand, if I see improvement, there may very well be a... reward. Hand me my panties, if you would, Sir. Thank you. A reward that would be quite satisfying to both of us." I stood (slipping for a second in my cum puddle on the tile floor) and slid my panties up over my hips. He may have cum in his pants from watching me rock my hips and pull up my panties by the look on his face. His mouth gaped open and his eyes bugged as he shuddered. Veins stood out on his neck and forehead. I fantasized about sucking it off of his boxers and licking the dribbles from his cock and balls. I snapped my fingers in his face to get his attention. "Do you understand, Mr. Harris? You may answer yes or no." "YES!" I pointed to the cum on the floor. "Clean that up." He dropped his face down and sucked the floor clean. I lifted my feet so that he could suck the cum from the bottom of my shoes as well. It was a thorough job. "Good boy." I lifted him to his feet by his dark wavy hair. I tipped his head back and I kissed him, tasting my cum on his face (almost as good as his, but I have a preference for man-goo). I let his hands roam my body, feeling his penis throbbing against my thigh. I lowered his face to my sweat- and spit-slickened cleavage and then whispered, "You are dismissed, Mr. Harris." The torment he endured in struggling to remove his hands from my derriere and his face from my bosom was, to say the least, exquisite. He displayed an iron will to get the job done. His fear of me was, of course, key to his success. I smiled gently, watching him fight the urge to beg, or to dare to take more. I had not given him permission to beg or continue, and bless him, he knew better. There was always the pointer stick, after all. I wondered how far up his rump I could cram the broken pieces if pressed to do so. Limping and frustrated, his penis throbbing, his testicles blue with desire, he backed away clutching the back of his ripped slacks. When he reached the door I called out, "Mr. Harris?" Passion burned in my breast. He looked up at me with fear and hope in his eyes. I wanted to tell him to come back to me. To come home with me and be my pet. To climb onto me and ravage me. I breathed deep, steadied my pulse and said, "Do not... disappoint me." He bowed and left. I stood like a queen, back straight, head held high, until I heard the outside door close. Once he was gone, I hurriedly pulled the secret bottle of dry sherry from my bottom desk drawer and poured myself a tall glass. I swirled it, and tipped it back. "Holy Goddamn fuck," I gasped as the warmth spread in my chest. My knees trembled with the aftershock from the last orgasm. "I have GOT to get laid before I kill somebody." I filled my glass again and drank that down as well. I shivered and replaced the bottle. Thus fortified, I buttoned my blouse and fixed my hair. Prim and perfect once more, I turned off the lights, and went home - my quiet empty home - for a long hot bath and a prolonged session with my Hitachi vibrating wand. * * * The next morning, I walked into class 20 minutes before school starts, as is my custom. I was surprised to see both Mr. Harris and little Mark, standing at attention by Mark's desk. Mark, who normally looks unwashed and disheveled, was dramatically improved. His hair, black and wavy like his father's, was clean and combed. His cheeks shined from scrubbing. His shirt was tucked in and his shoes polished. He was miserable, the poor dear. "You look quite presentable this morning, Mark," I said. Mark blushed and looked at the floor. "Thank you Miss De Lange." He was one of many in the class with a crush on Teacher, I could tell. I looked at his father. "As do you, Mr. Harris." Mr. Harris wore fresh business attire and looked well rested and handsome, despite the swelling to his face where I had slapped and kicked him, and the blue/green shading around his eyes from my banging his face on my desk. There were a few bruises on his neck from my fingers as well. "My Dad got robbed last night," Little Mark exclaimed. "Oh, really?" I said. "Yeah. That's how he got beat up. There were three of 'em. With GUNS!" I smiled. "Is that true, Mr. Harris?" He blushed deeply, but held his tongue. "You poor dear. You're lucky to be alive, I suppose." I couldn't help but joke as his expense, and admire his continued discipline - I had not given him permission to speak and he had not. I also admired his physique. His slacks fit particularly well. "Mark, you may go outside and play until the bell rings." The child ran from the room as if to escape a fire. I produced my personal card and stepped closer to Mr. Harris - toe to toe - my bosom rubbing his collar bones. "Open." He opened his mouth. I slipped my card between his teeth. "Close." He obeyed, biting down on the card. I allowed myself the pleasure of feeling his pectoral muscles through his shirt - twisting his nipples until he winced - pinching them between my long nails. His hands roamed up my thighs. "Mustn't touch," I whispered. He dropped his hands to his sides with a whimper. I pressed my thigh into his member and rolled it against my muscle. My heart quickened as he grew hard. "My studly little pet," I moaned dreaming of the moment when I would have that massive thing inside of me. "You will call me tonight precisely at eight, Mr. Harris. Arrange for a sitter - someone dependable who can stay late. Do you understand? You may say yes. No is not an option." His face glowed with delight even as I pinched his nipples harder, possibly drawing blood. "Yeff!" (Having a card in his teeth impacted his enunciation so I let that go.) I released his nipples and moved my leg away from his groin. "You are dismissed, Mr. Harris." Mr. Harris looked as if he would explode with happiness as he left, though he did appear to be limping a bit. Left over damage from the spanking? I would have to examine that tonight. As I prepared for my lesson plan I couldn't help but wonder where I had left that strap-on the last time I used it? Did the package delivery man still have it up his bum? He certainly was walking funny when he left last month. I had best pick up a new one on the way home. After all, I can't let Mr. Harris get away with ravaging me without returning the favor. My groin tingled with anticipation.