After Class [mf]

Hello there! This is my first submission: I’ve been told by friends I have a knack for writing erotica, but I’d like the internet’s greater opinion. Here’s a piece I wrote a few months ago. I’ve deliberately decided to write my smut in a first person perspective, as I believe it makes the scene more “intimate” for the reader. I welcome all your feedback, both positive and constructive criticism!

The grade on your test has a big, red F emblazoned on the front, large enough that even your classmates sitting next to you can notice. Underneath, in unnecessarily bold text are the words “SEE ME AFTER CLASS.” The bright red marker is almost like a brand, somehow making you feel like you stick out. You can see other student’s papers, and none of them seem to have such loud red markings.

As the last student leaves, you’re left with your desk in the middle of the room, and at the front I sit, looking down at you from my larger desk. You can feel my stare pierce through you, as though I’m seeing straight into your most personal thoughts and desires.

“Your performance has been lacking, Ms. Griggs.” You can try to argue. You know you’re smart! You know the material! There’s no way you failed that test! Something went wrong! Whatever criticisms you have are cut short by my blunt words. “You’ve fallen behind in class, dangerously so. If you keep on with this pace you’ll end up being held back a grade.” I stand, taking my time slowly to walk around the desk toward you. You can practically feel each foot pressing into the hardwood floor. “Even worse, you’ve become a major distraction for the rest of the class. Your behavior is absolutely unacceptable, and your dress is even worse. The boys can’t focus on their work, and the girls are resentful of the attention you receive. You’re becoming a liability.” I stand at your desk now, towering over you. I don’t even have to touch you for you to know that my strong arms could easily overcome you should I choose it.

“But, as a teacher, I am also an understanding man. I know that this stems from your desire for attention. I know you’re not a truly bad student, merely a misguided one. So! I have decided to offer you the chance to make it up. You’ll get to do some extra credit to bump up your grade, and on top of that we are going to address some… concerns that I have with your manner of dress.” One great hand grips your shoulder, you feel it squeeze you, strangely warm against your flesh. It remains there only for a moment before withdrawing.

“Stand. Now walk to the front of the class.”

As you obey the commands (what else can you do?) you can feel my eyes on you, as though my stare were physically touching you, pressing against your body. “Stop. Turn around.” You see the row of empty desks in front of you, plus my large form in the middle of it all. “When you dress, you need to think as though you are in front of the class giving a presentation. How would your fellow students judge you based on your attire? Other teachers? Your father?” I walk toward you, and even when you’re standing I still tower above you. “Is your cleavage really what you want the world to focus on when they see you? Don’t lie, you know it gets you attention. You know it acts as a magnet for the boys. You think it can even throw me off.” I push one finger into your collar bone, then slowly start to drag it down, letting it slip into your cleavage, then I pull at the end of the V in your top stretching the material and making you lean forward. “What you don’t realize is that, if you’re going to draw this attention to your chest, you might as well just bare it.”

My hands suddenly grab the hem of your shirt and rip it to either side, tearing the fabric and, more importantly, spilling you out into the air. As your chest hangs out, I take a step back, letting you imagine the rows of seats filled with students. “This is what you are really showing them when you dress like this.” I step forward again, my hands taking each breast in hand, fingers digging into your flesh as I grope you. “You show us all how you want to be treated. How you want me to treat you.” I grip your nipples between my thumb and forefinger, pulling out and then up, so that you feel the weight of your own breasts dragging down on my grip. “But I don’t blame you for wanting this attention. You’re young, you’re hormonal. It’s only natural. Even so, brazen, slutty behavior like this must be punished. And not just for your shirt, either. Your skirt is far from up to code.”

My fingers release your breasts and they fall heavily back down. I take a moment and walk away from you, going behind my desk to fish for something you can’t see. “You flirt with disaster when you do that. You may feel sexy, but it’s because at any moment you are at risk of exposing everything under your skirt. Since you are such a risk taker, you will be removing your panties, otherwise, what is the point?” Did I really just command you to do that? I’m not saying anything else, other giving you that intense stare. It seems like you have no choice but to slip them off. As you bend over you are suddenly MUCH more conscious of just how much your skirt rides up as you do. “Throw them in the trash. You won’t be needing them anymore.”

With your underwear and quite possibly the last of your dignity thrown away, I begin to walk around the desk toward you again. You can see what I was fishing out before now: a thick, footlong ruler. “When girls like you get out of hand like this, well, I’ve learned there’s only a certain avenue of discipline that works for your type. Step forward, and bend over the desk. Not mine, one that belongs to a fellow student.”

As you bend over one of the front row seats, you’re suddenly aware that it belongs to that cute boy that you’ve passed notes to once or twice. If only he knew what was happening to his desk now… Your nipples touch the cool surface first, hardening at the lower temperature. Next, your full breasts spill onto them, almost like water, as you fully come to embrace the wood. Instinctively you know to grip the edges of the desk. You’ll need something to hold on to during your punishment.

My hand grabs the hem of your skirt, lifting it up and resting it on your ass (not like there was much to pull up anyway). “You’ve got very nice hips for a girl your age, and a good backside, too. More things to tease the boys with. Now, I want you to say, ‘I’ve been a distraction in class.’ Go on. Say it. Good.” The ruler comes down on your ass cheeks, leaving one red, perfectly parallel line.

SMACK.

“Now say, ‘I’ve been a bad student, and a very naughty girl.'”

SMACK.

“Now say, ‘I dress like a slut because I secretly crave the attention I get.'”

SMACK.

“Now say, ‘Please, discipline me more.'”

SMACK. SMACK. SMACK.

Each strike of the ruler adds more quick sharp pain to your sensitive ass. The first few hurt quite a bit, but as you start to adjust a certain numbness sets in. Oh, it still stings for sure, but now there’s a certain tingle to it. A funny sensation that you feel deep inside you, making your nethers quiver as warmth spreads through your curvy flesh. You’ve lost count of the hits from the ruler now, all you know is that you are beginning to love your punishment.

The hits cease. You ass is red, and feels hot from the constant punishment as blood flows into your abused cheeks. It’s not all that’s hot, either. Everything below your hips is burning… tingling…. yearning.

“Very good. You took your punishment with dignity and grace. I would expect no less from a student like you.” You might try to stand up, but my hand pushes against your back, forcing you back down. “There is still, however, the matter of your grades. You’ll fail the class, unless you earn extra credit. I’m prepared to give you some. Are you ready to earn it?”

From your position you can see me step behind you out of the corner of your eye. You hear the sound of a zipper, followed by the rustle of cloth. Next, one great hand steadies itself on the small of your back as you feel my own flesh press against your young, flowering lower lips. My cockhead opens your door, entering whether you invite it or not. The rest of the shaft slides in, filling your wet, velvety pussy with your teacher’s dick. Once I hilt myself inside you I bend over, nibbling on your ear before I whisper. “Good girl. This is the best you’ve been all semester. Make as little noise as you can, but I know you won’t be able to stop yourself from making some.”

My hips rock out, then back in, then out, and in, and out and in again, establishing a steady, slow rhythm as I plunge your most intimate of places. I stand back up, gripping onto your hips for support as I continue to fuck you, picking up the pace, my large body slapping against yours, each pound making your already abused ass jiggle. “Good–ugh–good fucking girl.” My own voice comes out ragged, almost beastly. My pace gets faster and faster, ramming into you harder, the sound of flesh and your juices smacking and sticking fill the room. Eventually the thrusts come hard enough to make the desk start to inch forward. It’s at that time you can feel me ramming down inside of you, drilling into you as though I could fuck right into your very soul. Suddenly I jerk hard into you, my whole body tensing up.

You can feel the hot load shoot inside of you. Hot, sticky man cum goes straight into your slutty student pussy. You can feel my cock throb, and each throb brings another explosion of spunk directly into your needy, warm slit. You feel warm, gooey, and full, like a rich dessert.

When my orgasm dies down I lean back over you, taking a moment to rest myself. My warm, heavy body gently presses onto you, and you can’t help but feel somehow secure underneath me.

“Very good, Ms. Griggs. Verrryyyy goood.” I nibble at your ear again, then at your neck. “You’ve truly earned your extra credit today.” My teeth sink into your neck, just for a moment, enough to tease you. I stand up, pulling myself out of and zipping up. You can’t help but feel somehow… emptier…. now that I’m not inside you.

“Of course, it will take more than that to make up for your grade. You’ll have to do a lot more extra credit to get to the point where you’re passing. I think we’re going to make this a regular thing. I want you staying after class from now on, so we can continue tutoring you.”

You feel my presence walk away, and you find yourself finally allowed to stand. You can’t help but think it a little unfair. After having zipped myself up I look almost as though nothing has happened. You, on the other hand, have a torn shirt that barely will stay in place now, and on top of that you’re a gooey, sticky mess below the waist.

I excuse you, and you’re free to make your way home. Fortunately for you the school has mostly emptied by this point, otherwise it would be incredibly obvious to everyone what just happened to you, not to mention that you can feel cum occasionally dripping down your thigh.

As you make your way home, only one thought keeps popping up in your mind:

What will you wear to class tomorrow?

Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/6sis4w/after_class_mf