Chapter 8

Sitting in the Vice Principal’s office, I found myself being held close to Lucinda Clarke’s bosom, of all people, letting her rock me and calm me down. It was surreal, especially as I was hard as steel in spite of the assault on my person. What followed was even stranger, because I hadn’t been in a sexy mood due to Larry’s actions, but now I had Lucinda Clarke raising her skirt and climbing onto my cock and making her wet pussy home to my dick. I didn’t resist, didn’t wish to resist, not now, with the loving, tender way that Lucinda conducted herself, her large breasts pressed against my face as she rode me to a fast, quiet, and mutual orgasm. When we were done, she pulled herself off me, kissed the tip of my cock, and then softly kissed my lips.

“You just ... looked like you needed it, babe. I know that sounds counter-intuitive, but you needed a reminder that you’re a man, not a wimp or victim. You needed your masculinity affirmed and I was happy to do that for you. Want to hear a secret?” she asked me, much to my shock.

“Sure, why not?” I asked aloud.

“I’m fertile, honey. You probably just knocked me up,” Lucinda whispered, laughing softly as she told me this, “Don’t worry. I can’t tell anyone that you’re the father, or else I’d go to jail. It can be our little secret.”

“But ... Dr. Goldman... , “ I worried suddenly.

“Anton and I have never been jealous about such things, not even that. I’m pretty sure that he’ll impregnate someone, sooner or later, maybe me next time ... but he’ll understand. My clock is ticking and the first one is yours. I want you to have that honor. It’s the least that I can do for you ... lover,” Lucinda added, “Call me Lucinda in private, even if you have to call me Ms. Clarke in public. I insist. I have an anchor baby and you’re the father.”

“Anchor baby?” I asked her, quite curious now.

“I was born in Belize. Local mother, Scottish father. Hence the Clarke surname. Gods willing, I’ll never have to return now, not pregnant with a future Yank. I’m going to love walking around school with a baby bump ... your spawn in my womb,” Lucinda assured me as she wiped my dick clean to erase the evidence of her committing statutory rape, “now, let’s strip you, darling. You’re already late for class. Don’t worry. We’ll deal with Mr. Scott’s infractions. I’m sure that you can guess how. No need for cops, right?”

“Yeah, no need for that. Larry’s a pig, but even so, I don’t want too much scrutiny, no more than you do, and I think that he’s gonna love the gym lesson today!” I calmly agreed, now that my panic was done.

“If you ever need to chill, you know, due to the trauma or whatever, I have some ... special medicine for you. Trust me, it helps,” Lucinda shocked me as she undressed me herself, much as Becky had dressed me earlier, and then whispered, “the green kind. Trust me, this stuff is the absolute best. It’s one of my great loves, besides dick and quim ... grass.”

My mind was ready to explode ... Vice-Principal Lucinda Clarke, the swarthy sex goddess feared and dreaded, yet lusted for by my classmates, had not only comforted and fucked me, but she had undressed me personally and offered me some weed from her personal stash. Talk about being a favorite, I thought. The way that she kissed the still sore sphincter of my asshole before I walked out the door made it abundantly clear that I was very much in favor. I could do no wrong in her eyes.

I hadn’t even gone to my first class, and I had already been fucked, I realized, as I went straight to homeroom, with just seven minutes left of it. Andrew Corbin was there, but thankfully, he was in a mood to placate me ... perhaps a bit too much so, given how much he stared hungrily at my cock. Adela and Chloe were also there, and they made a point of sitting right next to me, each of them taking one of my hands to show their fondness for me. The reaction of Ms. Howard, though, was what took the cake, as she puckered her lips a bit and tried not to ogle my dick too obviously. She also wore a low cut blouse that invited men and women to leer at her bosom, which I naturally did, much to her satisfaction.

“Like what you see, stud?” Ms. Howard asked me as the bell rang and I headed out to first period, “One of these days, I’m going to make damn sure that you get to play with them. I swear it, hon.”

“Like being cock of the walk, babe?” Adela teased me before stuck her tongue into my ear.

“I think that it’s clear that he does, even if he protests a lot. A bit too much, in fact,” Chloe said as she playfully fondled my balls.

Chloe and I soon parted with Adela so as to get to Biology, where a very concerned Mr. Waldron greeted me with a surprising bear hug. Chloe gave him one, too, and he apparently got stiff, because she slipped her hand down his pants to fish out his cock. Before anyone could say a thing, my girlfriend had the biology teacher’s dick in her mouth and she wasn’t going to let go until she got what she wanted from him. Sweating obvious buckets, Mr. Waldron looked at her, and then at me, before it got to be too much and he came down Chloe’s throat. Licking her lips, she took my hand and sat down with me, but not before mouthing, “my pleasure,” to our teacher.

Pulling up his pants and trying to act as if he hadn’t just gotten a blowjob from a student, Mr. Waldron proceeded to teach class like normal, but most of the students stared at him, anyway. We had expected his dick to be small and trapped in his fat, but it wasn’t, despite his size. It wasn’t freakishly large like mine, but it was cut and it was long, albeit skinny, which made it seem very disproportionate for a fat man. I made a mental note that, though I didn’t find him attractive enough to top him, if he ever wanted to bugger me, I’d let him in a heartbeat. Class rolled on, eventually settling into full focus on biology, especially thanks to Mr. Waldron’s clever use of Q and A as a means to make it less boring.

“So, if I might ask a personal question, Mr. Waldron, what is it, besides the obvious problems that it causes, that makes Christianity such a thorn in your side? Thank you, by the way, for your help earlier. I hope that we’re still friends, after everything,” I confronted Mr. Waldron at last.

“I ... married a Christian. Well, a Jehovah’s Witness, but close enough. Such a bitch! Biggest mistake of my life, except that we got twins from the deal. Once that was over, though, no more sex. I was completely cut off for the rest of the marriage. Not even ‘lie back and think of the Kingdom,’ just a total severing of marital relations. I had blue balls for years, and yet she still expected me to shower her with affection, to be kind to her, to be faithful, and worse still, not to masturbate. It was a serious bone of contention between us, and it led to one fight after another, until one day the food that I ate for comfort caught up with me and I had a massive heart attack.

“I realized that I had wasted a full twelve years trying in vain to keep a marriage that was literally killing me, and so I filed for divorce, from my hospital bed, no less, and banned her from visiting me there. Long story short, she was furious, but since she didn’t like using the courts, I got off lucky in that way. She agreed to a quick settlement, but to my surprise she has firmly refused to even date or let any man approach her, claiming that she is not free to remarry.

“She also apologized to me for cutting me off sexually and for marrying me in the first place, saying that it wasn’t ‘God’s will’ for her to marry outside her faith. I’m currently working with the theory that she just doesn’t like sex, since she couldn’t give me a coherent excuse for cutting me off, you see. Either that or it might have been guilt for marrying someone who wasn’t a Jehovah’s Witness. Who knows? If she was trying to use sex as a weapon to get me to convert, it backfired seriously.

“Anyway, that happened just over a year ago, and since then, well, it’s been rough, especially with my twins thinking that I’m doomed to be annihilated when Armageddon happens. She might have softened her attitude toward me, perhaps from fear of losing me entirely, but she also filled David and Michal up with serious lies and superstitions that will warp them for years to come, if not permanently.

“To make matters worse, it’s very tough to date as a single father, owing child support, and on a teacher’s salary, no less. Add to that my weight and baldness, and well, you get the idea. I’m often horny, very often hungry as I keep trying to control the weight through diet and exercise, and I have idiot students who often work overtime to drive me up the wall. Thank you, Chloe, by the way, for that relief. It was the first that I have had outside masturbation in a good six weeks, easy. Now, off to your next class, folks. Can’t have you be late, even if you’re in the Program,” Mr. Waldron thanked Chloe while sending us off.

“I told you, sir. It was my pleasure,” Chloe made it clear with her parting shot that she meant it.

“Yeah, anytime he wants a BJ, give him one. He’s been a great teacher, gone through hell, and has helped me out, at least,” I encouraged my girlfriend, who nodded.

“See, I knew that you’d understand! Thank you, papi!” Chloe told me with a kiss to my neck, “I’d kiss your lips, but I don’t think that you’d want traces of Mr. Waldron’s snowball on your tongue.”

“Thanks for being so considerate, as always,” I noted, as I stepped into Mrs. Cavendish’s English class, to be welcomed with a slap to the face ... from Trista Scott, Larry’s twin sister.

“Hey, what was that for? I know that I’m late, but that doesn’t justify a slap to the face. And you’re not even in this class, are you?” I turned on Trista, who slapped me yet again.

“Hey, now, that’s quite enough of that! Mr. Smythe is tardy, but I’m sure that he has an excellent excuse this time, no doubt related to your brother sexually assaulting him. Do you want to join him in the doghouse, Trista? For the record, Trista’s schedule was adjusted and she was transferred at her own request this morning to this class. Now I know why, so I have reasons to want to report her and make her go back to the old schedule, if possible. Sit down, Ms. Scott! Are we clear? Just because your twin brother is in trouble doesn’t mean that you have to be!” Mrs. Cavendish rounded on her at last, forcing us all to sit down.

This naturally meant that Sarah Karloff planted her sweet ass on my lap, and she wasn’t wearing spankies this time. Her bare bottom caressed my cock, its sweat adding slickness to the pleasure of such skin to skin contact between us. The whole class noticed as the majorette writhed in ecstasy as well as agony from having my dick pressed against her punst her puckered hole. Trista looked on in apparent disgust, but Mrs. Cavendish showed undisguised envy of me for getting Ms. Karloff’s attentions. She tried to teach her class, but it was very tough to do when Sarah made no secret of wha

she did.

Things just got worse once Sarah adjusted herself at the right angle and planted her pussy on my cock. Before I knew what was happening, Sarah Karloff, the very popular senior and majorette, was giving up the pussy that she teased me with yesterday, just like that. We weren’t just simulating sex now. We were actually fucking in the middle of English Composition and Literature class, while Sarah made it plain that she wanted Mrs. Cavendish to just act normally and keep teaching!

“Go on, Mrs. Cavendish! You have a class to teach! You don’t have time to just stare into space and envy Master my pussy! Yes, he’s Master to me now. I’m his sex slave, so get used to it! He gets to use me for sex whenever he wishes. Jealous much? I just bet that you want my mouth planted between your legs, eating that pussy of yours until you scream my name, don’t you? Or maybe you want to crawl to me and eat my twat, taste my ass, too! I’ll let you, but you must pay the price, and, yes, there is a price for it!” Sarah taunted Mrs. Cavendish openly in class, making our classmates’ jaws drop now.

“Anything!” Mrs. Cavendish blurted before she caught herself, turning red now with embarrassment.

“From now on, you’re MY sex slave. Are we clear, Mrs. Cavendish? You have to do my bidding, be at my beck and call, just as I do for Master. Oh, and even in class, you’re to call me ‘Mistress’ from now on, babe. Are we clear? Oh, and I get to call you ‘honey’, ‘dear’, ‘sweetheart’, etc., openly and in public. You’re to hold hands with me when I command it, and you’re to do whatever I ask of you, even in your capacity as a teacher. For example, give Ms. Scott here detention for slapping Master twice, especially since she deserves it. Are we clear?” Sarah insisted, turning the tables on our teacher, much to Trista Scott’s chagrin.

“Ms. Scott, you have detention today, and if you push your luck, you’ll get it two days in a row. Mistress is right, after all. You shouldn’t have slapped poor Mr. Smythe, let alone twice,” Mrs. Cavendish asserted, fooling no one, of course.

Trista made a barfing gesture, triggering the very punishment of which she had just been warned, only worse, “That’s it, Ms. Scott. You have detention for the rest of the week! One hour each day! At least you’ll have time for homework there, won’t you?”