Hi, my name is Becca and this is my first story. Hope y’all like it. 🙂
———————————————————————————
Well, I’ve screwed up. Third day in a row not having homework for Mr. Jackson’s class! Plus I broke dress code again. I knew the skirt was too short when I put it on, but Jake Matthews is in my class and he’s so cute! I wanted to show off! Mr. Jackson has glared at me the whole period and when he says, “Jenny Eldridge, please stay after class for a moment”, I’m expecting it.
The bell rings, but I stay seated as the class rushes out. It’s Friday, and Trevor Sullivan is having a party tonight, so they’re probably all going to get ready. I pout. I should be going to get ready, too!
“Problem, Ms. Eldridge?” Mr. Jackson asks with a smile.
“No,sir”, I say, trying to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. It leaks out anyway.
“I would hope not. And I hope you don’t have any plans this evening because you’re spending it with me. We’re going to washthe desks, dust the book shelves, staple papers, and whatever else else needs to be done around here.”
I look at him in shock my mouth hanging wide open. He’s still smirking. “B-b-but, sir, no! I can’t! I won’t!” I say, and get up out of my desk. I’m headed to the end of the row, prepared to walk out, when Mr. Jackson blocks my path.
“I wouldn’t advice you leaving, Ms. Ethridge”, he says calmly. Mr. Jackson isn’t fat, but he’s very buff. And tall. I am a pretty short girl, especially for my age, and skinny. I look up to his stern expression. I go back to my seat. He follows me. After I sit down, he leans across my desk. I feel a pang of fear shot through me. No one is at the school. He could kill me, and no one would know. I sit back and glare at him, but I’m pretty sure I don’t look too fierce.
“Ms. Eldridge, as I’m sure you know, you’re failing my class. Severely. You have very little time to bring the grade up, and you know I don’t do extra credit. You are also a veryundisciplined girl. You don’t do homework. You break dress code. Oftenimes, you are late. You show no interest in better yourself. Why is this?”
As all the words he’s saying sink in, I lower my head. It’s true. He raises my chin.
“Answer me when I ask you a question”, he says gently but sternly as I look back up into his piercing blue eyes.
“I-I-I don’t know, sir. School is hard. I’m just n-not good at it”, I say trying to avert my eyes. He releases my chin and stands up straight. Clears his throat and looks down at me. I shiver under his gaze.
“Very well then. I understand, but that is no excuse. However, I do have a solution, if you are interested. One that would guarantee not only a passing grade in this class, but in the others as well.” My eyes light up.
“What’s the solution? What would I have to do?” I ask urgently, giddy at the thought of being able to pass.
“This would be a private arrangement. You would tell no one. I have tried this with a few people, some who have graduated, some that you know. It has been very successful. If you want to know more details, you must sign a contract agreeing to keep this between us. Would you do that?” I nod. I’m so curious. He goes back to his desk to get the contract. I notice that he has a very nice butt for a man. I shake it off. He’s my teacher, for chrissakes! He returns, and I sign the contract right away, without reading it. He raises his eyebrow, but doesn’t call me out.
“Well, now that we have that settled, I can tell you exactly what this would entail. I would train you. Teach you the discipline that you obviously need. I must tell you in advance, there will be sexual tasks I have you perform. Our relationship would be sexual in nature, but there would be a purpose: your discipline. You will learn more than you have ever learned in your 12 years of education. I will be in charge. You will do exactly as I say, with no hesitation. If you do not, you will be punished. You have the option right now not to agree. If you choose to not go through my training, you will probably fail my class and most of your others and you will have a weeks worth of detention for your behavioral issues. If you choose to do my training, I will help you get your grades up and keep them up and you will not get detention. It is your choice. You have 5 minutes to decide, starting now.” He turns and goes to his desk as I stare after him in shock and mortification.
I couldn’t do this! It is illegal! I’m 18, but a teacher-student relationship?! I could report this! But I signed that contract….plus he’s a well respected teacher and I’m a…what did Ms. Flannigan call me? A hoodlum! Who are they doing to believe? And I do need better grades…and honestly, I’ve been wanting to have sex. I’ve had a dry spell since I broke up with Jerry Carter. I look at the clock. One minute left. Against my better judgement, I speak up. “I’ll do it.”
“Excellent”, Mr. Jackson says, smiling. “You’ll sign a contract agreeing to being my trainee. Remember, you must obey me in all things, or I turn you in for all your discipline issues and your grades. Are you ready to sign it?”
“Yes”, I whisper and walk up to his desk. I get a pen, and sign my life away (at least temporarily) to Mr. Jackson.
Leave a Reply