Shes a good girl

Something was wrong. Marianne was sure that she had come home and her cover-up outfit was beginning to feel more like a costume. She knew that she was supposed to not believe herself above her students, so she couldn’t understand why she was wearing so many clothes to cover up when she came to school. It wasn’t like the principal or the other teachers were much better. Just today, on her way out, she had seen the principal in a bikini offering to do a car wash; when Marianne asked her about it, she said that good principals find creative ways to raise money for their students, apparently, she was trying to buy Jose a new car.

Still, looking at pictures, there was definitely a time, not so long ago, when she was dressed quite conservatively. She hadn’t even touched her textbooks in a while out of a fear that she would be showing that she was smarter than Lyle; these past few days, it felt like she had gotten dumber and dumber. She found herself switching the TV from Jeopardy! to trashy reality TV so that she had something to watch where she could turn her brain off.

The weirdest part of it was that lately she had been so undeniably horny. She found herself constantly wet, especially after getting spanked by the boys that day. After she dropped a plate when she got home, she bent herself over the table and spanked herself, calling herself a naughty girl. It was only right, since teachers love creative punishments, and the boys had said this would be her, but it felt like things hadn’t always been this way and she couldn’t quite figure out why.

She walked around her living room in just a loose bra and panties and picked up a picture of her and her husband. It felt like it had been so long since they had a nice night out together because he had been so busy with his court cases and she had been busy with school. At least he seemed to be gaining a little bit of confidence lately as he ordered her around to grab beers, massage his feet, and even give him blowjobs because he works so hard. She did love being helpful, especially when he told her how fun it was to give blowjobs, but she hadn’t married him for his sexy nature or his confidence. She was usually the confident one in the relationship, but lately it felt like their roles had swapped at some point and she was at his beck and call like some sort of trad-wife.

She went upstairs and took a warm, steamy shower. The mirror faced opposite the shower, so as it steamed up, she moved the curtain to the side and watched as she carefully ran her hands over her large breasts, stopping to massage them, pushing them up into the soap, causing the constant pattern of the waterfall to differ, if only temporarily. She then turned around and stuck her large ass towards the mirror. She ran her hands up along her curves. She had spent so long in high school and college trying to hide these curves, believing them to diminish her. But recently, she had learned how much her students admired her sexy body, and she wasn’t any better than them, so why shouldn’t she admire herself?

She put some of her body wash onto her hand and spread it, lathering her ass and then rubbing it over her breasts. She was no longer looking in the mirror; instead, she just watched her body, taking the time to touch herself and let herself feel good. Jose seemed to have a particular affinity for her tits; he couldn’t take his eyes off of them. She played with them extra and let out a soft moan. She let herself imagine that Jose was there. It might’ve been a little inappropriate, but she was just having fun, and good teachers know how to have fun. She imagined Jose walking forward in those boxers that barely contained his large package and ordering her to touch herself. “You’re just being helpful,” he would say.

Her hand was already working between her legs, rhythmically massaging her sensitive clit with her fingers as her breath started to grow more ragged and the steam became so dense that it was almost suffocating in just the right way. She got so close to her orgasm once, and twice, but it just wouldn’t happen. She let herself fall back into the tub, groping her tits vigorously while her hips thrust in the air against her hand. “Fuck!” she yelled into the air from the pure pleasure of it, but she still couldn’t cum. Finally, she imagined her class watching her, enjoying the sight of their bitchy teacher fingering herself to orgasm. And as soon as she imagined those stupid seniors sitting at their desks, she came harder than she ever had in her life and let the water drift down over her naked body.

She came out of the shower dressed as professionally as she had been months ago. That was the last time. From now on, we are back to normal, she promised herself. Even though in the mirror she felt like a terrible teacher for dressing the way she was. I mean, she wasn’t even on campus, but it really hurt to walk around in a tank top and some tight booty shorts, or maybe even just her bra and underwear, or really, what was so bad about walking around fully naked? It was fun for people to admire her naked form, and she was sure that it would be very helpful to any of her neighbors watching from their windows if she just stood nearby playing with her tits. She shook the thought away and focused as she pulled out her laptop and pulled up her PhD thesis.

It felt like an eternity since she last worked on it. In fact, it took about 20 minutes before she was able to start to remember her most basic information. But by the end of an hour, Marianne Laucella was starting to feel more like herself. The clothes didn’t feel as uncomfortable, and the knowledge was starting to pour out onto the laptop. Perhaps she had become too lenient in class and, at some point, it had snowballed to a point of gross negligence. She resolved that tomorrow she would take back control over her classroom as she typed away.

She had been writing for almost two hours, bottle of wine in hand, when her husband showed up. “Hey sweet cheeks,” he said. “Tough day at work. I’m going to need that beer and foot massage pronto.” He walked right by her on his way to the couch, barely paying any attention to her until he turned and did a double take. In the last few days, he had seen his wife change her dress code quite significantly and had chosen not to question it, but it seemed that whatever miracle had taken over his life was fading, as his wife was back to her usual pantsuit with her hair back in a severe bun. “You feeling okay?” he asked.

Internally, she was struggling. She wanted nothing more than to go grab her husband a beer, get down on her knees, and massage his feet until he revealed his cock to her for a fun time, but she willed herself to stay seated as she previously had. Something was wrong, but that “something” didn’t have to win. Marianne was a smart woman. “Not today,” she said. “I’m busy. But please, feel free to refill my wine and get yourself a beer, young man.” She knew that calling him “young man” always bothered him, but she was fighting desperately for control of the situation.

He stood up, and for a second, his face was one of anger, but it had been his nature for his entire life to be meek. As soon as he heard his powerful wife speak, it felt like the roles had once again returned to where they were always meant to be as he walked over to the kitchen. He grabbed himself a beer, popped it open, and grabbed the bottle of wine so he could give his beautiful, strict wife a drink. They had fun while it lasted, living in that fantasy. But, funny enough, as he began his slow walk back up the steps, he first caught his eye on the edge of a pamphlet sitting inside of his wife’s purse.

He turned towards it and walked to the kitchen table where it was currently sitting. Normally, a pamphlet would never catch his attention, but there was one word that really stuck out to him, one word he had noticed and paid particular attention to: “Helpful.” He put down the beer and slowly pulled out the Teacher Guidelines from the purse. He read them over and over and over again. He knew something had been affecting his wife, but could it really be as simple as a pamphlet? His wife, who had worked so hard to establish who she was, to maintain her decency, build her intelligence, and establish so many levels of respect that instead of attraction she received admiration, something already so difficult for women in this world had been turned into a slutty parody of a teacher by… this

Teacher Guidelines:

Rule #1: Good teachers always try to help.

Rule #2: A teacher never believes herself above her students.

Rule #3: A teacher is creative with her punishments.

Rule #4: A Good Teacher Knows How to Have Fun.

He looked at the trash can that stood in the corner of the kitchen, then at the scissors by the knife block, and then finally at the cabinet where they always kept their lighters in case of a power outage. There were a number of ways to dispose of this document which had been so detrimental to his wife, who was currently upstairs, pages away from finishing her PhD.

“What are you up to, slowpoke?” she teased. He took one more long glance at the paper, nearly crumpled it up before placing it in his pocket, grabbing the beer, and going upstairs.

“Sorry about the wait, had to make sure it was the right wine.”

She twirled the wine in the glass around before wafting the scent into her nostrils. “Our 2012. Excellent choice.” She beamed with a smile. For a couple of days she had felt quite down, but she was glad to be back now. She looked at her husband, who was just sitting and watching her, and a nervous smile made its way from her lips to her eyes as she asked slowly, “Are you going to drink your beer?”

“I will, once you open it for me.” He put the beer bottle in front of her and on her keyboard, preventing her from writing. “It would be very helpful.”

Her hands automatically started reaching for the beer bottle, but she held them against the table, her knuckles turning white. “How dare you? I am so close to finishing; if that beer so much as washes onto my laptop, I’ve lost all of my day’s progress. Do you really think after all of that, I would open your beer?”

“Because you can’t really work on your PhD anyway when you are as stupid as you are.”

She laughed at that one. “No offense, but I was ranked way above you in high school and college. You’re lucky I didn’t enter law school with you.”

“Oh really? Because I thought a teacher never believed herself above her students, and I know you have some really smart students.” He approached her, getting closer and closer as he spoke. “But I know you also have some really, really, really dumb students.”

As she thought of Lyle, she could feel her thoughts popping away in her brain.

“I’m intel—” but the word wouldn’t come to her. “I’m smart!” she said proudly.

“You think you’re smarter than your students?” he asked.

“Well, no…”

“And your dumbest student isn’t smart, is he?” At this point, she was starting to look a little confused. That familiar fog was starting to wrap itself around her mind.

“No, he’s pretty dumb.”

“And if you’re not smarter than he is, what does that make you?”

She thought about it for a second, but even with her intelligence as reduced as it had been, there was only one answer and she knew it. “I’m dumb.” She had a bit of a pouty expression as she said it, and it made him harder than ever before.

“Who is the commander-in-chief of the US military, Mrs. History Teacher?”

“Umm, Colonel Sanders.” She giggled. That probably wasn’t right, but she couldn’t really think of any other name.

“Aww, you’re so dumb. But a teacher is supposed to be smart. Do you know how a dumb, stupid teacher can still be helpful?”

“Umm,” she was having trouble thinking of, well, anything, but she did think of the shower and her pretty titties and her big fat ass. Her students really loved her ass. “I can be sexy! It doesn’t take a big brain to have big boobs!” She ripped her blouse open; buttons went flying everywhere to reveal her sensible bra encasing her wonderful breasts. Those kids had really done a number on her, he thought to himself.

“Yes, that’s exactly right. A teacher can be so sexy for her students, and she can also get and open a beer for her husband when he asks.” He pointed at the beer that was sitting on top of her keyboard.

That beer. He had stopped her PhD work with that beer. She couldn’t remember a thing about what she was writing, but she had started writing for a reason, and that reason became her determination as she said, “Get your own beer, asshole!”

He stood up rapidly. “You do not talk to me like that, do you understand?”

“Or what!?”

“Or you’ll be punished.”

He saw her expression become more fragile. She had managed to fight back a bit, but he still had this power, and he doubled down. “It is a very creative punishment, made just for you.”

“It’s very helpful for me to follow through on creative punishments,” she said, almost robotically.

“Yes, it is,” he replied, taking out his phone and filming her. Her blouse hung open, her tits still in her conservative bra, and her most expensive pair of slacks adorning her legs. “You’re going to take that beer and pour it all over those nice boobs of yours. It’s gonna turn that bra see-through and then you’re gonna squeeze them, give them a shake, and say, ‘I’m so sorry, daddy.’”

She was already opening the beer bottle as she replied, “Daddy?”

“Yeah, because I take care of you and you listen to me no matter what. Do you understand?”

She slowly started pouring the foamy beer all over her chest; it reminded her of her shower earlier, and she instantly felt herself getting wet again. Something was wrong, but she was having trouble remembering what. After emptying the entire beer bottle, she rubbed her tits together with her hands, her nipples coming up and over the shelf of the bra. On camera, her entire body was shining, and she looked like a wet dream. She reached back and undid her strict ponytail, allowing her luscious hair to fall down around her shoulders. She didn’t look happy, but that could be fixed. “Isn’t it so fun to be punished?”

It was fun to be punished, she realized as a dumb, vapid smile spread to her lips, and she continued to shake her jiggly titties until she finally said, “I’m sorry for being such a bad girl, daddy.”

“Are you enjoying shaking your tits for me, Mrs. Lachella?” he asked mockingly.

“Mmmm, yes sir.” The words were dripping from her mouth now.

“A girl who enjoys showing off her body and touching herself like you do is a slut. And I think it would be very helpful if you referred to yourself as such. And give yourself a spanking, sweet cheeks.”

“Yes, daddy.” She turned around slowly, unbuttoning her slacks and pushing them over her wide hips and down her legs. She bent herself over the table, elevated her hand in the air, and said, “I’m a naughty teacher slut, daddy.” She kept repeating that phrase, spanking herself over and over again until eventually he stood up, pulled out his cock, and said, “Do you wanna have some more fun?”

She dropped to her knees with a smile, but even as she sucked him off, all she could think about was how fun school was going to be tomorrow.

ENDTAG:

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