The home stretch

+15 BS. 65 remaining.

Today’s the day. I’ll try all I can to get those 10 extra points, but no matter how many I have, I’m going forward with the plan.

Let’s check the spread rate.

98%

Nice. And it looks like all of today’s students are convinced. In fact, out of the people whose name I know, only two haven’t been turned yet: the dean and the vice-dean. The app is geographically limited, so it makes sense they wouldn’t have been reached. There’s also two more people that don’t have a check mark in the list, but both are displayed as just ???, so they’re unlikely to be a problem to me. Maybe they’re just unusually strong willed students, or people who are also temporarily away from the school, for one reason or another.

I get everything ready for my first class of the day. As a group, they’re actually my smallest, at only 11 students, and they’re also the oldest girls in the school. Most of them are 20 or 21, with some of the more problematic students reaching 22. I’ve heard one of them is even older than that, having somehow still not given up on high school despite failing year after year. Apparently, she’s older than some of the staff. I’m still not sure which girl it is, since it’s just a rumour I overheard at lunch one day, but... well, I have a suspect in mind.

I’m the first one to reach the room this time, and the students all come in around the same time. As a group, their smaller size means they’re more tightly knit than the other classes I have, with a lot of their unity revolving around their de facto leader, Tatiana. She’s the one I believe to be older, as she seems to know a lot about how this school works, and she has a knack for getting high school girls to respect and obey her, to the point that it can only have come from years of practice.

I also suspect her of being a bit of a bully towards students in other groups, as well as the ones in her group that refuse to obey her (which currently only seems to be one girl). I’ve never seen it happen myself, or I would’ve intervened, but I know a red flag when I see one. She acts like a prison gang leader. Never openly threatening to hurt another girl when I’m within earshot, but always making it clear that they had better not get on her bad side.

Despite being my smallest class, and the one with the oldest students, they’re also the most unruly. Their chatter is simply deafening. I try to get their attention the old fashioned way:

“Hello? Can we get started?” I yell with my hands in front of my mouth to make my voice reach further.

I’m not sure they even heard it, or noticed I was there.

Well, let’s do it the fun way then.

“Will you shut up or do I need to pull down your panties and make you stand butt naked with a chalk up your asses for the rest of the hour?” I bellow, menacingly raising a potential makeshift butt plug in front of them.

Ah, crap, it’s a green chalk.

I bet I’m all out of white ones again.

They look at me, dumbfounded, finally falling silent, before turning to their equally stunned leader.

Tatiana meets my gaze and opens her mouth, looking for the words.

“What’s wrong, Tatiana? You got a problem? If chalks aren’t enough, I can find bigger things to stuff up there. What do you want? A pen? A marker? That beer bottle you didn’t even bother to try and hide? Ooh, I have a ruler that I could put up the front if you’d prefer. What will it be?”

She lowers her gaze.

“It’s... Nothing... Sir.”

I can tell that last word nearly physically hurt her to say.

She’s gonna be calling me that and much, much more soon enough.

“Alright then. Let’s get started.”

I turn to start writing on the board, but suddenly feel a bit uncomfortable about holding a chalk, for some reason, so I decide to use a marker on the whiteboard to the side instead.

+5 BS. 70 remaining.

I tell Julian and Jenny about my class as I joyfully eat up my cold soup (it’s not gazpacho, it’s just that the kitchen staff forgot to reheat it for our lunch).

“A chalk up their ass? Man, that is a good one!” Julian concedes with a hint of envy.

“Thanks! Feel free to use it, it’s really effective.”

“Eh, I don’t know... It’s easier for you to maintain discipline that way, since you’re a man. It’s always been harder for us.”

Right. I forgot that when I first talked Ellen into believing this rule, I said being a man made me better suited to this. It feels like a lifetime ago already.

“Yeah, I suppose it is. We should try and do something about that. It’s unfair,” I say as I wink at Jenny.

She seems to understand the message and I can see a myriad of scenarios playing behind her eyes as she lets out a wishful gasp.

It’s kind of a shame I had to put that men-first clause in in the first place. There’s no reason why I should be the only one to sexually harass the students. In fact, I should make sure not only that the female teachers can also do it, but that they have fun in the process.

I’m so thoughtful, aren’t I?

We finish lunch, chatting about the best sexual threats I should use next time. As an English teacher, Julian is quite skilled with words. I can’t wait to see her partake in the harassment.

We go our separate ways and I head for my classroom to teach my main group.

And everything seems to be a repeat of yesterday. Rachel comes in first, doesn’t say a word, then the rest trickle in. They all stop talking the second I ask them to, and they pay attention and work diligently during the whole class.

I’m so disappointed. Students who listen to and are respectful of their teacher? How am I supposed to get any BS in these conditions?

The class ends as uneventfully as it started, I despondently wish them a nice day as they pack their bags and gradually empty the room, until Rachel is the last one left, having waited until she can leave without bumping into anyone or making any eye contact.

Wait.

Rachel.

She was never a loud student, and she was always paying attention in class, right from the get go. In other words, she never had any reason to feel targeted by my threats.

Which means that the diminishing returns haven’t applied to her, so threatening her now would give me a lot more points than anyone else in the class.

“Rachel, can I talk to you for a minute please?” I ask in a soft spoken, patronly voice.

She flinches, slowly turns to face me and makes a gesture that may have been a nod in a previous life.

“Please, sit down,” I smile while pointing her towards a chair close to my desk.

She does as she’s asked and looks at me with the eyes of an ensnared deer who just heard the sound of approaching boots and the barking of hounds.

“Look, I know this is hard for you, but you need to understand that things can’t just keep going this way forever. This anxiety may feel like a brick wall in your path, but you won’t get anywhere if you don’t start whittling it down. Have you received any counselling from the school?”

Her anxious tremors become slightly more horizontal, which I interpret as her trying to shake her head.

“That’s what I feared. Listen, I’m not asking you to just act as if this anxiety didn’t exist, but you need to take some action. Do you think you could at least try to talk to me? I promise I’m not going to judge you or penalise you for speaking, and it can take as long as it needs to. But as a teacher, if I can’t see any effort, I may have to take some action. Do you know what kind of action?”

She shivers questioningly.

“Well, again, as long as you make some efforts, it won’t come to this. But if you don’t, I may have **** but to take you, strip you naked, handcuff you to a bed and slowly penetrate your every hole until you are reduced to a lustful mess, unable to form sentences — not out of anxiety but out of sheer blissful, orgasmic haziness. Again, I hope you realise that this would only happen if I have no other choice, but it is a possibility,” I explain with a kind voice.

She looks down, understandingly. I’m a teacher, it makes sense I’d have to say this, after all.

“I think it’s important to set realistic goals here. Do you think you could try and talk just with me, and only when we’re alone? And you don’t need to make any long sentences, any amount of words will do.”

She closes her eyes. Her breathing gets slower and more controlled. Her shivers slowly die down.

It takes her at least a good minute to fully steel herself, and I wait patiently until she’s ready.

Eventually, she opens her mouth.

“Yes, sir,” she manages to say.

“I’m proud of you, Rachel,” I smile. “Now, remember, as long as you keep doing these efforts, everything is going to be fine, okay?”

“O- Okay,” she says, only needing a few seconds to get ready this time.

“And what do we want to avoid here?”

“You v- violating my every hole.”

That didn’t seem any harder to say than “okay”. She really does see it as a perfectly normal thing.

“Attagirl. You’ve already made some great progress today. And don’t forget, it can take as long as it takes. Now go get ready for dinner. And it’s okay if you can’t say goodbye right now.”

She stands up and makes her way towards the door. As she stands on the threshold, she breathes in, turns around and looks at me.

“Good... bye, sir.”

“Goodbye Rachel.”

+5 BS. 75 remaining.