Previous: Behind the Door, Part 4 – An Erotic Story
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Jenna Kennedy’s stomach dropped when she saw the middle-grade science teacher, Mrs. Natalia Hampton. The hefty, round woman in brown, polyester slacks stood at the exit door to the teachers parking lot.
To Jenna, the teacher obviously intended to impede her from leaving.
Jenna and Rachel, the school’s reading specialist, approached. Rachel smiled.
“Waiting for someone?” she asked in her spritely tone.
“Actually, Rachel, I am.” Natalia’s eyes then centered on Jenna. A wicked sneer smeared over her mouth. “Hello, Miss Kennedy. I hope you’re doing better today. You were not feeling so well yesterday.”
Rachel turned to Jenna. “Not feeling well? I didn’t know you were sick.”
“Yes, Rachel,” Natalia answered, emphasizing her first name, “Miss Kennedy had to have the janitor visit her classroom. I guess there was a mess.” Natalia shrugged.
“You should have told me.” Rachel rubbed Jenna’s arm kindly. “I could have taken over the class so you could have gone home early.”
“I was not sick.” Jenna spoke flatly, while her eyes locked on the weighty science teacher. Realizing her own intense hatred, Jenna eased her tightened jaw.
Leaving school yesterday, Jenna witnessed Natalia transform into a bloodhound when she caught the scent of Jenna’s warmth toward Jermaine as he mopped the hallway. Natalia had caught onto their interest that went beyond a common thank-you for a quick fix in the bathroom in her classroom.
“And,” Jenna added, trying to speak softly, “the janitor didn’t have to clean up a ‘mess.’ A toy was clogging the toilet. Mrs. Hampton misunderstood when I told her. Didn’t you, Mrs. Hampton?”
Jenna almost hissed out the name.
“Oh, you mean that block!” Rachel said in her light, innocent voice.
“Yes.” Jenna unlocked her glare from the teacher who stood at the door.
“I can’t imagine having kids do that—putting things down the toilet.” Rachel shivered. “Well, have a nice evening, Mrs. Hampton.”
Rachel stepped ahead to the door.
Natalia didn’t acknowledge Rachel. Instead, she pressed on the door-wide push-bar, holding it tight. “I have the details of what happened and who you are, Jenna. You brushed me off too fast. Bitch, this is the end for you. Get ready to be fired.”
“What did you call her?” Rachel asked astounded.
“Find something out?” Jenna asked harshly.
“Fired?” Rachel gasped. “What in hell?”
“Jenna, you are a fucking slut.” Natalia pointed at the young teacher. “And we don’t need, or want, sluts around our children.”
Natalia then flung the door open. It banged loudly as it slammed at its widest point.
Neither Jenna nor Rachel moved this time.
The door flung back to Natalia’s hand with a swoosh of air.
Mrs. Hampton gave a hefty grunt of a laugh. “Didn’t know I could find out so much so fast, did you?”
Jenna’s throat suddenly was parched, and her hands barely held onto her folders. She couldn’t speak.
To Jenna’s surprise and fear, Natalia knew more than Jenna ever expected. How much did she know—things she did before becoming a teacher? College angst? What she allowed Jermaine to do to her in her classroom?
Or was Natalia only lying?
“I can’t believe you would say that, Natalia,” Rachel exclaimed. “Calling her names! So unprofessional. Let’s go, Jenna. Fuck this bitch.” Rachel grabbed Jenna’s weakened hand. She yanked her forward, having to uproot the dumbfounded Miss Kennedy.
“You’ll being hearing from Principal Simmon tomorrow,” Natalia hissed through the laugh of a wicked witch. “I’ve turned in the accusations to him. I gave him all your history—every single detail.”
Natalia shoved open the door again and this time, she stormed out. Jenna and Rachel watched the woman stride proudly to her minivan, her slacks stretching across her wide ass with each step.
The van’s engine roared alive and then the van sped out of the parking lot with a quick burn of the tires on the pavement.
Still standing inside the building, Jenna hoped to hear a terrible crash that would destroy the lady’s van—and more. There was nothing to be heard though.
Jenna leaned against the heavily painted concrete wall.
Rachel tsked her tongue.
“I can’t believe she called you that. So totally rude.”
Jenna ran her fingers through her long hair, flinging it off her reddened face.
“I am so fucked,” Jenna uttered. “I have no idea how much she knows. Or what she knows. She could know everything.”
Jenna felt like puking right there. The idea of leaving the school—being fired—was devastating.
She looked at her quivering hands.
“I can’t …” Her voice trailed off.
Rachel took Jenna’s hand. She massaged it.
“Look at me,” she said softly. “There will be no problems tomorrow. None. Jermaine and I will attest to your character and can provide comments on what we know happened.”
Jenna’s eyes ran from the floor, up the wall to the ceiling. The back of her head thudded on the wall.
“The school did a background check on me when I applied for the job,” Jenna said aloud to herself.
Rachel tried to calm Jenna. “Yeah, it’s required. So if they found nothing, then what else can that fat bitch know?”
Still staring at the ceiling, Jenna flapped the folders against her tote bag. “She’s got to know what I did in my class—got to. But,” she took a breath, “if the background check was all good, then there’s nothing else to know. Not that I can think of.”
“And how could she find out anything? She’s lying.”
Jenna moved her stare to Rachel. “When she stopped me yesterday, she told me she was going to talk to Jermaine. I left, so I don’t know if she actually did. I didn’t stick around.” She raised her stare again to the ceiling. “I hope Jermaine was quiet. I hope she didn’t even talk to him. I don’t think she did though.” She shook her head. Then her worried and confused thoughts spilled out of her mouth. “She drove away soon after I did. I waited around to check. Jermaine would not have told her anything that fast. I hope at least. I think he’d keep a tight lip, right?”
Jenna tried to swallow her saliva to wet her rough throat. Her neck stretched. She ran her fingers through her hair again.
Rachel tried to calm the Kindergarten teacher.
“Is there something you did that you didn’t tell the school?”
Jenna placed her hand on her stomach. “I got to go home. My stomach feels really bad.”
Rachel pressed the back of her hand on Jenna’s forehead, like a loving mother.
“Can I buy you a drink— something to calm your stomach? I don’t want you to go home feeling like this.”
“I can’t. Another time. I need to shower and go to bed.”
Rachel conceded.
In the parking lot, Rachel offered one more bit of comfort.
“I know Matthew,” she said. “He’s a good guy.”
Holding onto her car door handle, Jenna stopped.
“Matthew Simmon—you know him by his first name?”
Rachel nodded. The corner of her mouth curled into a concealed smile. “It’ll all be fine. I can, maybe, get Mrs. Hampton in trouble instead. Matthew is one who holds onto his values. He doesn’t want teachers being … like … well, like Mrs. Hampton—petty and catty. Get some rest.” Rachel gave Jenna a soft hug.
Throughout the evening, despite Rachel’s encouragement, Jenna’s worry did not subside. Not even a tonic water or green tea, followed by a hot shower helped.
In her bathroom now, she dried off her long legs. The bowtie tattoos on her upper thighs were stripper quality. The men loved when she would bend over with straight legs.
Drying off her back, she stared at the large mandala tattooed on her upper back.
She remembered getting it when she was a dancer. It fit her narrow back. The center of the design was set between her thin shoulder blades and ran down her spine.
The men loved seeing her on stage uncovering the tattoo as she danced. Her flimsy top would slip off one shoulder to give a peek. She would cover up that shoulder only to let the thin fabric fall off the other shoulder.
She could see the men crowd around the stage. They would go wild. They hollered and hooted as she taunted and teased by slowly unveiling herself.
The men’s excitement was her ecstasy at that time of her life. She fed off it when she danced. As the men went crazy, she would let only her hard nipples keep her top from falling and floating to the stage floor. Her small nipples couldn’t keep the blouse from falling for long. They were too petite to match the size of her breasts.
Jenna came to herself in the steamy bathroom. Did Mrs. Hampton uncover her history of dancing?
Her stomach suddenly churned again.
She laid down in her pajamas and rolled to her side, curling up. Her stomach cramped from the fear of the unknown.
She decided tomorrow would be a day to call in sick. She fell asleep after a pair of drowsy pain pills.
XXXX
Jenna awoke in darkness. No lights but she knew it was a cramped bathroom.
She was confused to find herself there of all places.
Feeling around in the darkness, she quickly realized it was the bathroom in her Kindergarten classroom. It should have been obvious when she inhaled the heavy Clorox scent.
She reached to the light switch by the door. Flicking it up and down, no bulb lit up.
“Damn lightbulbs. Didn’t you get changed a few weeks ago?” she said. Her voice was deadened by the cement block walls. “Public school is terrible.”
Knowing the bathroom so well, she found the door handle. She twisted it. The door didn’t open. She tugged. It wouldn’t budge.
Worry formed deep inside of her and infused with her confusion.
“What is going on?” She leaned her cheek on the cold door. She knocked gently. “Who’s playing games out there? Kids, this isn’t nice. Miss Kennedy doesn’t like these games.”
She paused, listening for a response.
“You’re losing recess time!” She raised her tone to only a Kindergarten teacher’s level of frustration.
She heard nothing. Silence.
A worry and concern compound exploded into fear.
“Hello? Anyone?”
She twisted the door handle.
She tugged hard.
She yanked with both hands.
She banged on the door.
She yelled.
“I’m locked in here. Help me!”
Suddenly, she heard a single, soft click. And the door opened wide. Jenna saw her classroom packed with the school’s other teachers. Closest, of course, was Natalia and beside her—much taller and stronger—was Jermaine.
“You told her!” Jenna screamed immediately.
She was terrified.
Jenna looked at them and then noticed Natalia’s stubby hand. In it was the heavy darkness of Jermaine’s limp dick. It was so much larger than Natalia’s stubby fingers. Her fingers couldn’t wrap around it.
“So you like black cock, do you?” Natalia said. “Gonna fuck him in front of us? Looks like you’re ready to.”
“I didn’t. I don’t know what …”
Jenna realized she was completely nude. Her narrow arms flung around her body, covering what little they could.
“This is all a misunderstanding. Jermaine, tell them. Isn’t it? It’s all a big mix-up! We didn’t.”
Natalia, ever the bloodhound, seemed to know Jenna was lying.
“You’re wet and horny, Miss Kennedy. Your cunt juice is running down your legs, bitch.”
Natalia pointed at her pussy. The whole group of teachers gasped and then broke out into uproarious laughter.
Jenna felt a warmth between her thighs. She had a burning embarrassment as all eyes were on her naked body and dripping pussy. Her body reaction contrasted in weird ways.
Some teachers there turned to astonishment. Others kept on laughing. Oddly, Mrs. Mower, a math teacher, was emotionless as was Jermaine.
She screamed when she saw Principal Simmon. He looked the same way as Mrs. Mower and Jermaine.
Unexpectedly, the mechanical monkey on Miss Kennedy’s desk clapped its cymbals and tottered wildly side to side.
XXXX
Jenna sat upright in bed, gasping for breath. Her alarm had sounded. 5:59 a.m.
She wiped her sweaty forehead and then plopped back onto her pillow to regain some mindfulness.
The dream was awful and disconcerting. The very real images and spoken words lingered in her mind. It left her afraid.
Waiting for the shower water to heat up, she stared into the wide bathroom mirror. Her face was dour with darkness under her eyes. She had to fight to force a smile.
After the shower, she decided to wear relaxed-fit, pleated pants and conservative black Loraine Bit loafers. An asexual outfit. She opted for a loose white blouse and a single gold bracelet. Her intent was to hide her body beneath relaxed clothing. She didn’t want to wear an easy-access dress—or any kind of flirty feminine outfit—like she had worn over the past weeks.
Jenna pulled her Civic into the parking lot far away from the dusty minivan that was already there. She was prepping for the first encounter with the bloodhound.
She strode into the school building confidently, forcing her mouth to smile and eyes to a false shine.
All the while, she mumbled quietly, “Be normal, be casual. Act like nothing happened. What did happen? It was all her assumptions—wrong assumptions. Nothing to fear.”
Walking gracefully and seemingly without worry, she reached her classroom with no encounter.
The room was dead-gray with darkness in the corners. Her rocking chair looked to be made for a wicked witch. Her mind conjured her dream. The reel played again: The locked bathroom, people watching, Natalia holding Jermaine to mock her. Across the room, the monkey with the cymbals struck her as most odd. It was vivid in her dream—so loud and scary.
She flipped on the overhead lights to end the repeat of the dream.
They gave the room some life. There was the soft mum of the long fluorescent bulbs.
She plopped into her desk chair. Her monkey with the cymbals stared at her. She switched off the alarm in the monkey. Yet, simply seeing it was still too uncomfortable. She pulled open a desk drawer and dropped the monkey inside. There was one muted clap of the cymbals. She hoped the dream might not revive in her mind. Maybe the day might go better from there.
Her mind, and even her body, were already worn down before the first kid bounced through the door.
She set an elbow on the desk. The single tennis bracelet dropped down her forearm. She twisted it gently until its few diamonds sparkled in the overhead lights.
She slumped slightly in the chair. She crossed her ankles. Looking across the classroom, the bathroom in the class was disconcerting like the monkey had been.
“Don’t get bothered. It was a damn dream,” she murmured.
She put her cheek on her hand.
The lure of the encounter, the brutal sex, and the thrill of being caught were highs. Yet, the worry was due to Natalia. It had to be. Until there was someone else.
“Miss Kennedy,” came the voice of a man.
Jenna glanced up.
Principal Simmon was in the doorway of her classroom.
“You and I need to have a conversation this afternoon, when classes are done,” he said with a light-hearted demeanor. “I want to clear the air immediately so you don’t feel worried. No teacher should come to work worried. It impacts so many people—”
Unexpectedly Cindy, a short Kindergartener, excused herself, squeezing by the principal to get into the classroom.
The principal smiled at Cindy and then returned his attention to Miss Kennedy. “These students are the ones who are affected the most. We don’t want that to happen.”
“What’s wrong, Miss Kennedy?” Cindy interrupted.
Jenna gently put her hand on the Kindergartener’s shoulder.
Mr. Simmon smiled wider. “Our students are very perceptive about things.”
“Extremely,” Jenna agreed.
“So, this afternoon, we’ll clear up everything. Nothing to worry about. Nothing, okay?”
“Miss Kennedy has been worrying lately. I can see in her eyes,” Cindy said.
“I am not worried, Cindy.” Jenna patted her student’s shoulder. “You are so silly.”
“Cindy, she should have nothing to worry about. You just give her hugs if she doesn’t smile. All right?”
“Sure.” And Cindy hugged Miss Kennedy, pressing her cheek on Jenna’s lean stomach.
“Good girl.”
Principal Simmon then left the doorway.
It was a rough day nevertheless. Jenna struggled to pay attention and keep control of the students. She kept the day quiet with reading and easy craft-making, as she attempted to work at her desk.
At the end of the day, Jenna took a deep breath as she flicked off the florescent overhead lights. Their hum stopped. The room was silent. The gray reappeared. Darkness in the corners.
She then headed to Principal Simmon’s office.
He greeted her calmly and offered her a seat on the couch in front of his desk. He closed the door and covered the narrow window.
He sat behind his desk. Silently, he stared at the ceiling.
Jenna’s heart thudded. Her stomach ached. She twisted the delicate tennis bracelet, as she waited for him to begin.
She expected a tirade.
He finally shifted his gaze to her. He raised his eyebrows.
“I appreciate your enthusiasm for school, for teaching, for your students.” He smiled. Then the smile disappeared. “Nevertheless, I’ve come across startling news of you doing something inappropriate inside our facility.”
Hearing that, Jenna became nauseous. Her cheeks warmed. She thought of Rachel and her confidence in solving this problem. She knew their boss by his first name.
“As you know, whether it is within school hours or on campus anytime, we have acceptable behavior. Our teachers and staff must abide by the highest and strictest of standards.”
His eyebrows narrowed.
“Now, it’s not my business what you do outside of school and off school property, it’s your life, not mine. Here on campus though, it matters to me.”
He pushed his forefinger into the armrest of his chair.
“It’s my job to have a school that functions well and provides a safe and appropriate atmosphere for students and faculty. We have policies to abide by, Miss Kennedy, and, when someone, staff or student, falls short, I have to address the situation immediately.”
Jenna tried to speak but her throat was parched to the point that she could not. Even if she could utter words, her mind was spinning to where she could not conjure comprehensive thoughts.
Principal Simmon opened his mouth to continue the commentary, but it was cut off by a soft rap on the office door.
“Come in,” Principal Simmon called.
The door opened.
Jenna saw Jermaine.
“Glad you could make it,” the principal said. He stood and shook the custodian’s hand heartily.
Jenna saw that these two men knew each other. Jermaine wasn’t a janitor who rarely saw the head of the school.
“You doing good, Matthew?” Jermaine said.
“Doing well. Very well. Have a seat next to our guest. I believe you know Miss Kennedy.”
“I do.” He ran his dark hand across Jenna’s shoulder and then shifted her hair off her shoulder to her back. “Met a few times.”
The principal grinned widely. Jenna could tell they knew a lot. They had secrets, inside jokes, schemes.
“I was telling Miss Kennedy about the demands I have for my teachers on campus.”
Jermaine nodded silently.
Principal Simmon directed his attention to Jenna again.
“Some rumors have come across my desk. They are pretty egregious. Aren’t they?”
The principal turned to Jermaine.
“Yes, sure do.” Jermaine spoke in his casual tone of voice.
Jenna turned to Jermaine, making the couch springs squeak.
“What does he know?” Jenna asked.
Her question came out partly of fear and partly of anger. He had told on her—on them.
“What have you said?” Jenna said more angrily.
“He said,” Principal Simmon interrupted, “it wasn’t true. The accusations are all lies. I assume you agree with him. There has been no—um—sex in your classroom. Unless you say otherwise.”
“No, no—no, there has not been … anything … nothing at all.” She fumbled over the statement, as her mind flashed the instance of getting fucked hard in the ass by Jermaine.
“I have two witnesses contradicting the accusations,” the principal said, rocking gently in his chair.
In keeping her eyes away from both men, she noticed a small white envelope on his desk with the name Mrs. Mower handwritten on it. Miss Kennedy knew she was a math teacher in the middle grades. She was in her dream.
Principal Simmon patted the armrests of his chair. “Well then, I am going to squash the rumors and close the case.”
“Should she hear who her accuser was?” Jermaine asked.
“I know already.” Jenna huffed and rolled her eyes. “Mrs. Hampton, the bitch. She’s threatened me about this for a few days now.”
“Let’s not throw dirt on coworkers, please,” Principal Simmon said. “Anyway, I cannot confirm nor deny the name of the whistleblower. It would ruin the protection of any future whistleblowers. You know, make them fear coming forward. I can’t have that.” The principal raised his eyebrows.
Between the two men, Jenna exhaled. She tucked her hair behind her ears. Her stomach had calmed. Her cheeks weren’t as burning hot.
“But,” Principal Simmon piped up, pulling Jenna from her easing state, “I need to know what happened in order to provide a substantive—a reasonable—response to the whistleblower. Why, in fact, was Jermaine in your classroom?”
“The toilet in my class’s bathroom was clogged. The kids are apt to drop things. Nothing more. Jermaine needed to fix it,” Jenna said. “I told Mrs. Hampton how many times now.”
“I assume Jermaine here ‘unclogged’ the problem?” he said.
“Yes, sir. I did. Miss Kennedy hasn’t said there’s been a problem again.” Jermaine grinned at Jenna, who was inches from his side.
“No problems.” She patted Jermaine’s knee, like she would have patted one of her students’ heads.
“Do you think there will be more problems in your classroom—in the bathroom?” Principal Simmon asked.
She shook her head and giggled. “No, not as long as I keep a better eye on the kids.”
“What if there happens to be a problem—a problem that Jermaine or me, for that matter—need to fix?”
She furrowed her forehead and let her head fall to the side in confusion. “That you need to fix? I don’t understand.”
The clean-shaven principal set his elbows on the armrests of his desk chair and brought his hands together. His fingers entwined like a mad scientist or a domineering despot.
His eyes pierced hers. She saw a vicious animal, a wanton beast. His light-colored eyes were like an angelic being, but his curled lips were utter wickedness.
“I mean, Jenna, the bathroom no doubt will need to be fixed in the future—repaired, worked on, attended to. And soon, I assume. Very soon. Right, Jermaine?”
The principal’s eyes shifted from hers to the man next to her.
“Definitely,” Jermaine said.
She felt Jermaine’s heavy hand begin to massage her shoulder.
She turned to the large man. He seemed to be a hundred feet taller than her. His eyes were as savage eyes as were her boss’s eyes savage.
“So.” Principal Simmon eased to his feet, making the chair eek. “In order to keep the problems at bay and rumors squelched, we need some rules.”
“Rules?” Jenna asked mouse-like.
He walked to a cabinet against the back wall. He held onto the door handle as he spoke.
“We will end this rumor—a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad rumor that is hurting my teachers and, thus, affecting the students of this school. Even more, we will stop any further rumors that may be brought to my attention. We can snuff out gossip before it goes anywhere.”
He opened the cabinet door.
“To do so, we need your support too. You must give to get. Understand? We have given for you, so we must be given something.”
He reached into the darkness of the cabinet and brought out a wooden paddle, pocked with small holes.
He patted it against his palm.
“Please stand, Miss Kennedy,” he ordered in a stately manner.
But Jenna remained seated. “What do you need from me? These were all rumors and lies—only rumors.”
“Ah, Miss Kennedy, Miss Kennedy.” Mr. Simmon shook his head. “Do you know how long I have been a school administrator? How many years I have listened to lies? I myself am a polygraph of a high degree. Now please stand.”
“But …” she began.
“Miss Kennedy,” he said with a rougher tone, “I know what happened in that bathroom—what has been happening in that bathroom for several weeks. Be glad that so few of us have a walkie-talkie.” He huffed in a gentle laugh. “Because, so often, at a few minutes after 11 o’clock, a call goes out about an issue in your classroom.”
Jenna gasped. “You, what?” She covered her mouth with both hands.
He gave her at flat grin as the palm of his hand slid up and down the paddle. He seemed to be admiring it.
“I installed CCTV cameras in classrooms as a means of protection for our school and, you, and your fellow teachers. In today’s world where lawsuits are filed frivolously, aiming to take advantage of us.”
Jenna curled over, her head falling to her knees.
“The cameras catch a lot of odd happenings—particularly on parent-teacher conference nights. I have been somewhat surprised.” He shook his head and closed his eyes lightly.
“Miss Kennedy, please, to your feet.”
“What for?” she asked.
“You must give up a little now.”
Jenna felt several heavy tugs on her right arm. She looked over and saw Jermaine helping her off the couch.
“Wha—” she mumbled.
The men moved Jenna to the side of the principal’s desk.
As she stepped slowly forward, her hand touched the edge that was rubbed round. She glanced down to see the dark varnish that was now only bare wood. She imagined the hundreds of kids who had leaned over this desk for harsh punishment in past eras.
Jermaine’s arms circled around her waist and met at her belt buckle. He undid it and then unbuttoned her slacks.
“Wait, don’t … not …” she urged in a stutter.
But he yanked her slacks to her ankles. She was left in a pair of beige, full-size panties.
Mr. Simmon grabbed her hands tightly. He tugged them toward the center of the desktop. Her right hand knocked over a picture of Mrs. Simmon with a large black dog nuzzled under her chin.
In a moment, Jenna was bent over the desk. Her chest was flat against the wood, and her hips rubbed painfully on the edge.
Jermaine’s strong hands held her steady. She was unable to move or even wiggle.
Mr. Simmon stepped out of Jenna’s sight.
She felt the paddle move from the back of her knees.
“I like these tattoos. From your days as an exotic dancer?” Mr. Simmon asked.
Jenna tensed as his smooth hand gripped her thigh. His hand moved to the elastic band of her underwear and shimmied them down.
The cool air wafted around her, tightening her hot ass and cooling her sweaty pussy.
“Her ass is sweet,” she heard Jermaine say. “A tight asshole.”
His hard hands spread her asscheeks wide.
“Sweet and pink,” Mr. Simmon agreed. He pinched her butt.
“Miss Kennedy, this is the beginning of a long relationship,” Principal Simmon said.
Before Jenna could process the statement to understand what it meant and what it entailed and how long, she heard a smack and then felt a sharp sting.
The strike forced her to her toes. Her hands grabbed the edges of the desk. She finally released the air caught in her lungs when the sting on her ass cooled to a red-burn—a bee sting to a hot coal.
She pressed her cheek on the large monthly broad calendar that was marked with blue ink and yellow highlights.
As she took her second breath, there was the second smack. The sting returned painfully. She gasped and winced. Her cheek stuck to the calendar.
The sting of the third spank was muffled by the ongoing pain of he previous. The fourth spank had numbed her flesh.
The fifth spank landed lower, paddling her upper thighs. The flesh was tender, and the wooden paddle caused Jenna to wail. She twisted her head side to side. Her hair covered her sweaty face.
She waited, tensed and fearful, for the sixth swat.
Instead a large hand began to rub and massage her butt. It was soothing. While only a hand, it was cool compared to the burning sensations on her ass.
“Miss Kennedy, do you understand that you are in no trouble outside of this office?” Principal Simmon asked, leaning close to her ear. “You will never have a problem again.”
Jenna didn’t respond. She was attempting to steady her breathing.
She heard a quick grunt from the principal and then a burning sting on her ass. It was the sixth swat.
“Did you hear me, Miss Kennedy?” Principal Simmon asked.
“Uh, yea, yeah, yes,” she repeated through gritted teeth.
Perspiration had formed along her hairline and on the back of her neck.
Then the cool hands returned.
The men behind her talked about something, but she didn’t care. She just wanted the pain to ease. Her full body took her attention and not just her backside. Her hips ground against the edge of the desk, and her ribs were flush against the desk top.
A few moments later, a heavy hand touched her lower back. “Feeling better, Miss Kennedy?”
She didn’t answer. She didn’t want to.
Two pairs of rough hands took hold of her arms. They bent them back, as if placing her under arrest.
They raised her up. The calendar stuck to her cheek but just for a moment. It fell back to the desk.
They slid restraints on her wrists. She saw they were leather coupled with metal rings.
In a moment, her wrists were linked. She was trapped.
Each man holding an arm, they uprighted her. They then removed her panties, leaving them among the pile of pants. They lifted her feet out of the pile of black slacks. She was naked from the waist down.
She felt better being off the hard desk.
They jostled her to the couch.
“What are you doing?” She was concerned and confused. “What’s happening?”
She wriggled her arms, trying to flap free.
“You locked me up? Is this part of the whole thing?” she asked quickly and worriedly.
Neither man answered.
Jenna felt a shove in the center of her back and toppled over the rounded arm of the couch.
Her face bounced against the cushion. Her ass was high in the air.
Hands slid over her body, squeezing and pinching and massaging meanly. She squeaked when meaty fingers fiddled with her labia. Her hips twisted side to side, as if being tickled when she was a little girl.
Mr. Simmon spread her legs and grinned down.
“I love a bush like hers,” she heard him tell Jermaine. He brushed his hand through the thick, golden hair. “My wife won’t grow one—not even for me.”
“Disappointing.”
“She got a sweet ass though. Loves it hard,” Matthew said.
“Anyway, it’s all about a slick pussy,” the Jermaine said.
“So true.”
Jenna heard a belt buckle clack and the sharp sound of a zipper. A moment later, she felt a thick head put pressure against her. When it pushed on, she jolted and her back stretched straight. It lifted off the cushions.
The oncoming shoving forced her to mumble and hiss in this rough pleasure. She twisted her head. She had no way to brace herself with her arms restrained.
Mr. Simmon grabbed her wrists to keep her tight. The fucking got meaner. Slaps. Smacks. Grunts. Growls. Scratches. Pain.
She heard the principal’s baleful moaning and a hard yank on her wrist restraints.
She barked, but as much as it was pain, she began to bask in the sub-servitude. She was a gift for these men. She was letting them do what they wanted. She was making them happy. She was safe too.
Mr. Simmon thrust deeply, which jarred her from her mental pleasure to a purely physical pleasure.
He moaned again and pulled painfully harsh on the restraints. She raised up—her face a half-foot from the cushion—and felt his load fill her pussy. The juice hit her most sensitive walls. Cum had not touched her insides in years because she had not found a man who was worth all that would go with it.
When he pulled out, her pussy was left agape. The white juice oozed out and into the forest of golden hair. Then clumps smeared on the couch.
Jenna was able to smile and enjoy herself for what she had offered.
But a new pressure touched her asshole. Its movements were familiar.
“Jermaine,” she muttered. “Do me good.”
With an eased ass, Jermaine entered her effortlessly.
Her chest heaved for air at his first ruthless thrusts. Quick stuttered breaths. Bursts of exhalation. Pangs of lovely irritation. Her face scrunched as she teetered on the cusp of goodness and injury.
He brought her to orgasm quickly and easily, as she had been at the brink because of Matthew.
He unloaded into her, like he had many times before. It was wonderful.
Soon, she was rubbing the redness on her wrists. Her panties and pants were on again. She was messy, as there were few items to help with clean-up.
“Thank you, Miss Kennedy,” Principal Simmon said from his desk chair. “Remember: you’re safe.”
She nodded.
Jermaine opened the office door.
Outside, leaning on the secretary’s empty desk, was Rachel.
“Everything okay?” she asked immediately.
“Fine.” Jenna nodded. She was unsure if she should let on or act like she had been in a formal meeting about an accusation.
“Rachel, please come in,” Principal Simmon said.
Rachel straightened up. “Right here, sir.”
She winked at Jenna.
Before Jenna left the front office, the door was closed and the place was quiet. The heels of Jenna’s shoes clacked and echoed through hallways.
Turning the corner she gasped.
Mrs. Hampton was trudging down the hallway.
Jenna felt like she was in a duel. Would she or her enemy draw their six-shooter and fire first?
Natalia had a snarl on her face and narrowed eyes. Coming close she gave Jenna a warning.
“You got away this time, you hoe, but watch your back. Captured videos can’t hide the truth.”
Jenna raised her chin. “I have done nothing.”
Saying it, she felt the irritation in her ass and the icky wetness in the crotch of her panties.
“I’m a bloodhound. I can sniff out a hoe’s cunt and yours stinks.”
“Your husband know you eat slut pussy?” Jenna countered.
Mrs. Hampton growled at the comment and left, mumbling simply, “Bitch.”
Jenna left school pleased she was safe.
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