Classroom Discipline: Unfinished

Story by eccentricman

Not something I'd write everyday, but the experience was rather cathartic. The original ending was horrifically dark though and that is why the story is unfinished; it will not be released, no matter how many people ask for it. I will however, consider rewriting the ending if there is enough interest.

WARNING: This story is unpleasant in places and is based upon the 'rape myth' in certain places. It is also not complete and, barring popular demand, may never be. Themes include, domination, overpowering, drug-taking and intimidation.

CLASSROOM DISCIPLINE

Connie hated Mondays and for many of her friends this came as quite a surprise. Those she stayed in touch with had always admired the fire and verve with which their pal could teach, and inspire others around her to learn. Vivacious, smart and pretty, it seemed like this woman was destined to become a great educator, but her new posting at the New Girl's Empowerment Academy had evidently not quite hit the spot.

Rather than bounding into the school grounds at the start of every week, sharing smiles and genteel greetings with staff and students alike, she now walked, hesitant and withdrawn into the main building, her smiles rarer now and tight around the corners of her full mouth. She would walk down the quiet connecting corridors in preference to the bustling main hall, her clear eyed gaze troubled and focused, frowning at the floor ahead of her.

So this Monday, she sat facing the empty class room, the only sound that of her breathing as the sunlight through the open classroom door bathed her morning marking and administration. Her brow drew down though as she glanced over at the register, inadvertantly clenching her fist as she saw the grid of names and ticks taken next to daily attendance; more specifically the ticks diminishing in number as they got closer an closer to that morning's date.

More and more girls had dropped out of the class as the year went on, pledging to retake the year in the following academic period, voluntarily putting themselves a year back. It made no sense. She taught her biology lessons as well as she could, encouraging, spending time with those girls who were having trouble, enjoying pleasant periods of learning and laughter a couple of times a week and generally doing her impressive best to impart knowledge. Every time some girl or other excelled in class, aced a weekly quiz or wrote a sterling essay though, they would stay around for a couple of days and then be gone the next week. No real reasons given, just the usual, "personal issues", "in my parent's better judgement" and so on.

Connie heard the bell ring in her empty class and sighed, standing up and making to move to the open door, if only to see if anyone at all was going to attend her lesson this week. She stopped as the light from the door was suddenly eclipsed and the other reason for her Monday blues edged slowly into the classroom. Maria was the only student that Connie had never been able to feel that she could trust; the girl was pretty much allowed free rein of the school. With her mother as the Principal and her father as by far the single greatest funder of the institution, she was untouchable and she knew it; Connie could never help but be disappointed by the massive blind spot that the otherwise excellent head of the school had towards her daughter.

If she was to be honest with herself though, this professional irritation was only one partner in her union of misery: she knew in her heart that she was also afraid of Maria, a primal response to the fact of her existence. Maria was simply terrifyingly huge and muscular, what would be an innocent and pleasant face surmounting nearly seven feet of layered and bulging muscles. Arms as thick as Connie's desk was deep, meeting at shoulders the size of beach balls, flowing into a chest so deep from back to front that Maria could barely fit into the class sideways; every motion of every step, some hyper-developed muscle would bulge and flex, turning the girl into some huge, moving anatomy chart. And, well, Maria was a slut.

Every morning as she squeezed though the door, hard, cut muscles straining aginst her bronzed skin she would let out a little mewl of pleasure as her ridiculous implants wobbled around the creaking door frame, biting her lip as a thick nipple brushed the wood work and then another. Her tiny t-shirt would often barely go down past the bottom of her mountainous pecs, causing a huge, fake, wobbling tit to come free almost every lesson. Her skirts rarely made it past the equator of her phenomenally ripped ass, little cotton concessions to decency that did nothing at all for modesty and her panties were always g-strings, almost always on show. She was a walking, talking steroid whore and she loved it, the alpha queen bitch in the entire school, her full, cocksucking lips (collagen enhanced no doubt) and darkly kohled eyes always caught in an epxression of s

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