Who's Teaching Whom?

Dodging Larkin's feet kicking at her, tie three was threaded around Larkin's ankles to hold her angry little feet together. Once she had this much done, Dale took a breath and got up off of her. Mrs. Larkin naturally struggled and wriggled like the little hooked worm she was, trying like mad to bite and rip these bonds. The next thing Dale did was draw the shades on the windows. She turned back around when this was taken care of, locked the door, and...oh! How convenient, she saw. The little window on the door had its own shade. She'd never noticed that before! How interesting. She drew it as well.

"Well, there we go!" she assessed, clasping her hands. "Just you and me now, Mrs. L. There's a fine howdy-do, wouldn't you say?"

The predictably furious Mrs. Larkin garbled and spat muffled words through the tie in her teeth, kicking and squirming to get loose. Dale had to admit, it was pretty sweet to see this authoritative 40-year-old snake doing the squirming for once. Dale knelt down beside her and took Mrs. Larkin's chin in her hand.

"Now you're actually gonna listen to what I tell you, Mrs. Larkin, and you're gonna listen good," Dale ordered. "Now, there's two ways we can go about doing this. Or—oh, wait, excuse me, Grammar Hitler. Did I really mean to say there are two ways of doing this?"

"Rrrrrrmmmmfffmrrrrmmmff!"

"I don't think I exactly got that, Mrs. L. Could you please try to make yourself clearer?"

Larkin reiterated her stifled outbursts. Dale processed that bad English was like kryptonite to Mrs. Larkin. To this teacher, poor grammar was a nightmare—when she was unable to correct it, that was to say. Dale chuckled to herself. I think I can work with that.

"Now, uh, as I were saying," grinned Dale, torturing Mrs. Larkin with her intentionally butchered English. "There are an easy way we can do this, and there am a hard way too." Oh, such horrible grammar. Larkin hated that. Hee-hee-hee, this are fun!

"See, I wants to ties you up in a different kinds of position," Dale explained. "But, if I lets you loose, even for one seconds, I has a feeling you'll tries to fights me off and gets yourself free. So, here are the deal. The hard way to does this involve me beating, and pounding, and kicking the living crap out of you, Mrs. Larkin...until you is having no energy left to fight me."

A wide-eyed Larkin gazed up at her. She did not love this idea. Dale couldn't blame her.

"Now, I doesn't wanna have to do that. Well...actually, I kinda does. But it ain't necessary. The easy way is you just let me untie you, and then tie you back up again the way I want."

Larkin kicked and thrashed, angrier than a spoiled child who couldn't have what she wanted. It went without saying, being attacked, wrestled to the floor and one-upped by a mere student—a kid, for crying out loud, all of eighteen years old—made her see more red than a mad bull. Appropriately, her behavior began reflecting that of a tied bull: fuming, grunting, snorting through flared nostrils...she looked so helplessly frustrated and infuriated, Dale just had to smile. She started feeling guilty for doing this, until she went back over the things she'd said to her earlier. Her guilt turned to smug satisfaction. Justice was effectively being served, she thought. Even if she had to take matters into her own hands. Want something done now, gotta do it yourself.

"So what's it gonna be, teech?" Dale grinned. "Easy way, or hard way?"

"Iu miffrable lihl brahh!" Mrs. Larkin growled at her through the gag tie. "Iu are ih sho mukh kroukhle, iu haff kho ighea. Wheh I geh ouh uh dishh, I will gkeshhkroy iu! Iu marff my workhshh: I will mayff iu wiff iu were never borrh."

"Ooooh, I is so scared," Dale feigned, making sure to keep mum about what would happen on Monday. "And who said you were getting out of this? I mean, you already tried pretty hard to get out of those ties, and you's losing stamina. If you couldn't get yourself free before, what makes you think you'll be able to now?"

The girl had a point, but Mrs. Larkin refused to concede it. She only struggled harder.

"Now then...I'll reiterate," Dale told her. "Are we gonna do this the easy way..."

She took Mrs. Larkin's chin in her left hand...

"...Or the hard way?"

...And gave her a light smack across the cheek with her right. Mrs. Geena Larkin winced at the pain, yet less able than before to believe that again, one of her own students had overpowered her, and that she was, in fact, now answering to young Danielle Sunderland.

Sigh. "Grrrrrrrr..."

Dale gave her another slap.

"Oukhh! Why, giu lihl—!"

Another.

"OW! Uhkay! Uhkay!..."

"Okay what?"

It was now Mrs. Larkin's turn to suffer a bout of abject humiliation...starting by making this decision.

She chose the easy way.

*****

Private Lessons (Teacher's Wet)

Friday, March 4th, 2016, 3:47 p.m.

Mrs. Larkin could never have expected nor bargained for this.

It had become just about the worst day of the 40-year-old veteran teacher's life. In due sequence, Dale'd dragged over her stool from the corner of the room, untied Mrs. Larkin, and grabbed her in a very tender area, warning her not to try anything funny. She forced her next to get undressed, and to bend forwards over the stool. Every time Larkin resisted or tried to fight her off, Dale pinched or squeezed her between the legs, coercing her with agony. Finally, Mrs. Larkin agreed to cooperate, bending over the stool. Dale tied her wrists to two of the stool's legs, positioned her feet on either side of the stool, and tethered her ankles to the other two. She used one more tie to wrap over Mrs. Larkin's eyes and blindfold her. Yet another was put to use securing the dunce cap to Larkin's head. When this was done, Dale retrieved her smartphone.

Click. "Oh, this is priceless." Click. She stepped around Larkin, taking pictures with the phone. "This is too good. Too good to be true."

"Gkahzyelle," she moaned, starting to feel defeated. "Peazh hweh me go. Ah apologhizh fuh mifftweahing iu. I wo' gkoo ih ehhymoh."

Click. "Oh-ho..." said Dale, circling her, assessing her handiwork. "Feeling a bit more willing to compromise now, are we?" Click. "Well, unfortunately for you, teech, you're not getting off that easy." She crouched down before Mrs. Larkin's face to address her.

"Let me tell you something, woman. Before this afternoon, Dale Sunderland was a nice, sweet, comfortably closeted lesbian. But once you reached in there and yanked her out against her will, and exposed her to this class, you changed that. You hurt her, Mrs. Larkin. Can you grasp that concept? You cut that sweet lesbian deep in her heart. You already made her sorry she was born.

"What you didn't realize, though, was that this nice little lebbi doesn't just run away crying when she gets hurt. She comes back, to set things right. For justice. I don't like malice, Mrs. Larkin. I don't like cruelty, and I don't like spite. And I especially don't like gay people being outed before they're ready. And when you did this to me today, you turned me into a nasty little lesbian."

"Gk—...Gkahzyelle, peazh," Larkin's entreaties echoed. "Liffen tuh me. I—oukh!"

Dale gave her another smack in the face.

"I'm done listening to you. Your words mean nothing. You're gonna pay for what you've done, Mrs. Larkin—and not just to me. But to every student you've ever bullied, pushed around, threatened, belittled, or humiliated. You're the one who's gonna learn a lesson now."

Under normal circumstances, a comment like this would set Mrs. Larkin on the rampage. But she realized right now she was rendered something she'd virtually never been before: powerless. She remained silent. Dale taunted her.

"What, nothing to say now?" she asked, even though she'd just explained she was done listening to her.

Mrs. Larkin took a terse, timid breath.

"Gkahzyelle...whahevuh iu're abouh fuh gkoo tuh me...peazh gkoh' gkoo ih. We kuh worff dishh ouff. I'm-I'm shawwy. Uhkay? I'm vehwy shawwy, fuh aw duh meeh fingsh I'ff evuh duh fuh kishh ih my kuhweeh. Ih wuzh aw rung uh me. Ih wuzh vehwy rung. Izh...izh zhah whuh iu wuh uh heeh?"

Dale stood, wandering around Mrs. Larkin's hunched naked body, to the far end of the blackboard slate. What the teacher'd just said to her Dale more or less expected: begging her not to do whatever she was about to, that they could work it out, that she was "sorry" for all the mean things she'd done, how wrong they were, asking if that was what Dale wanted to hear. She scoffed.

"No. No, actually, it's not, Mrs. L. 'Cause you don't really mean it. Those are just empty pleas to get out of this. You and I both know if I hadn't come back here today and done this to you, you wouldn't be sorry. Not in the slightest. You wouldn't change. You'd be doing the exact same damn thing on Monday. Admit it: you're only sorry now 'cause someone decided to get even with you."

While admonishing her with these words, Dale silently picked up the yardstick from the slate.

"Gkahzyelle, I will khhaykh!" Larkin pleaded. "I giff iu my workh! Ah khevuh piff uh uh shhtuffuhf akhehh!"

"No, ma'am," Dale shook her head. "See, that's just not good enough. You're supposed to treat us with dignity and respect on your own. Not force us to get vengeance and convince you to be nice. I'm sorry, Mrs. Larkin; you're just gonna have to suffer this out."

A cold chill assaulted Mrs. Larkin's spine and blood.

"Whuh...whuh gkoo iu meeh?"

Dale smirked, reared back, and delivered the first harsh blow with the yardstick, across both her teacher's ass cheeks.

SMACK! GASP. "OW!!" cried Larkin, feeling the shooting, stabbing pain extend through to her extremities. "Whuh d—khoh!"

"Oh, yes."

SMACK! "OUUUUFF!"

Dale chortled. "There you go. See what happens when you go too far, Mrs. L.?"

"Gkahzyelle, peazh! Dah hurffsh shhooooo mukh!"

"Oh, goody! Then things are going exactly as planned." SMACK!

"OWWWW!!"

SMACK! "Bad teacher!" Dale scolded, trying not to laugh. "BAD! Bad, bad, bad lady!" SMACK!

"EEEOWWWWKH! SHHTOFF! PEAZH!"

"You see, teech? There's a couple wise things typically said about revenge. One is that it's a dish best served cold. Another is that it's a bitch. A cold...evil, heartless bitch."

She leaned down to murmur in Larkin's ear.

"Sound familiar?"

"Gkazhyelle...pe-e-e-e-eazh..."

"Save it. You hurt me, you made me cry. Now I want you to cry."

Dale proceeded to serve her up several more ass spanks with the yardstick, until her rear end began turning bruised red, and Mrs. Larkin indeed failed to hold back her tears. Dale couldn't help but enjoy it. She didn't necessarily want to enjoy it so much, but took such delicious, mollified satisfaction in the knowledge that Mrs. Geena Larkin was learning her lesson the hard way, dearly paying the price, and would doubtless remember this the next time she felt like ridiculing someone.

Besides...Dale couldn't help but notice, the woman actually rocked a pretty decent physique. She probably worked out.

"Do you work out, Mrs. L.?"

Larkin didn't answer at first, but Dale didn't mind. She playfully teased Mrs. Larkin's pussy slit with a single fingertip.

Gasp. "Gk—...Gkazhyelle, khoh! Peazh! Peazh gkoh' tukh my faghiyffa!"

Dale chuckled. "Why not? Because I'm a lesbian??" She waggled her fingers spookily. "Ooh, what a scary, horrible thought, Mrs. Larkin! A girl who likes other girls! Oh, how terrible! Whatever will we do??"

"F-khoh! Be-bekuzh—"

"Okay," Dale cut her off. "I'll just keep spanking you then. You want my hand, or the yardstick?"

"KHOH! Uhk-uhkay! Iu kuh kh—..." Mrs. Larkin cringed.

"...Iu kuh khukh my faghiyffa," she croaked out in disgusted horror. "Gush peazh gko' hih me ehvymoh! I kakh shtakh paikh!"

"Well...alllll right. I can see you're in tears now, and I think you're learning your lesson, so I guess that's enough of that. Oooooh, and I can see the marks on your ass from the yardstick now," Dale commented, tracing her welts with a fingertip. "Beautiful."

Mrs. Larkin winced and sucked through her gritted teeth. "Oukh! Gkazhyelle!"

"Oh-kay," Dale reiterated, activating her phone to photograph Larkin's bruised ass. Click. Oh, she'd enjoy this one. "Fine, fine, no more pain. Hmmm, what else can I do to you..."

"Uhkhie me! Uh hweh me go!"

"Nah, I'm not done yet. Le'ssee..." Click. Click.

"Whuh...whuh uh iu gkoikh??"

"Just snapping up some nice, juicy pics here..." Click. "Y'know, for, eh..."

She teased Mrs. Larkin's exposed asshole with a fingertip.

"...Posterity...hee-hee!"

"AAAAAAAAHHH!" Larkin screamed. "Gko' tukh dah! Iu shtoff ih, Gkazhyelle! Iu shtoff dishh hrighf khow! Dahsh eh uhguh!"

Click. "Oooh, that's a good one. Mrs. Larkin's snatch, her taint, and her asshole! This one's going in my album."

"Shoh hehf me, Gkazhyelle, I'll shee to ih dah khiu're hruihhd fuhwevuh!"

Undaunted, Dale paused as another delightfully naughty trick entered her mind.

"You ticklish, Mrs. L.?"

A beat of silence passed. Mrs. Larkin's eyes widened with doom under the blindfold. She again changed her tune.

"Oh, Guhh, khooooo, Gkazhyelle...peeeeeeazh..."

"That sounds like a yes to me. Now where was I...oh yes, of course: your pussy!"

Now in mischief mode, Dale gleefully dug all ten fingers into Mrs. Larkin's cunt and tickled vigorously. Larkin blew up laughing.

"KHO-HO-HO-HO-HO! PE-HE-HE-HE-HE-HE-HEAZH!" she reiterated.

"OOOOOhhh!" Dale marveled, mocking her in a singsong tone. "Some-one's tick-lish!"

"GKA-HA-HA-HA-HAZHYELLE! I HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HAAAAAYHE DISHH!!"

"You hate being spanked, you hate being tickled...boy, you're not very agreeable, are ya, teech?"

Keeping one hand in Mrs. Larkin's coochie, Dale reached around and under her, digging digits into her side, her ribs, her armpit, her breast. Larkin guffawed uncontrollably, as Dale noticed something else quite intriguing.

"Oooh-hoo-hoo!" laughed Dale along with her. "Some-one's nipples're hard! 'S it cold in here, Mrs. L.?...

"...Or're someone's hormones...causing a little premature stimulation...in someone else's presence??"

Mrs. Larkin began turning red, in even more locales than before. They both knew Dale was right, and that she couldn't hide it. This really had turned into the worst day of the teacher's life. Having too much fun to let up, Dale forced her to laugh till she started crying.

"Oh, this is brilliant!" Dale chortled, driving Geena Larkin past insane with her crazily dancing fingers. Over, under and inside her genitals and other weak spots, Dale got her all over. The captive educator indeed continued learning, as she begged for mercy between wracking cackles. "Wow, Mrs. L., someone should've done this to you a long time ago!"

She went on terrorizing Mrs. Larkin a few minutes more. She vellicated her every sweet spot, from the neck to the tits, to the belly, to the cracks, to the knees, to digging under her feet. She raked the backs of her legs, up to the genital lips, and returned to spanking her ass. It was all way too much for Larkin to handle. In her unchanged state of helplessness, all she could do was bawl for relief. Which the fun-relishing Dale wasn't about to give up.

"OWWWWKH!...Gkazhyelle!...

"...GKAZHYELLE!!"

"Yes??"

"Peazh shtoff ih! Gush fuh wuh mihwih!"

But she agreed to let up momentarily, had Mrs. Larkin something to tell her worth hearing.

"...One minute, huh?...You have something to tell me worth hearing?"

Larkin sighed.

"Gkazhyelle...I..."

"Fifty-five seconds."

"I...I'm shawwy."

"...Uh-huh..."

"Kho. I meeh gih. Gkazhyelle, dehzh shumfikh gkeepuh goihf uh heeh. I wushhukh aboukh uh sha—..."

Dale furrowed. She was having trouble making out some of these words.

"Uh, hang-hang on there a sec, teech..." Dale crossed in front of her and took the gag out of her mouth. "I'll let you talk, but if you try to scream or get anyone's attention, you're gonna regret it. Now what was that?"

Gasp. "Th-thank you. I said, I mean it. Danielle, there's something deeper going on here. Now, I wasn't about to share the details of my personal life with you before. But I can't take this torture anymore. Danielle...the..."

Mrs. Larkin exhaled, in both relief and frustration. She was grateful to be again to speak coherently again, even if Dale wasn't anywhere near untying her yet. She swallowed her pride and went on. But...oh, this was difficult for her.

"Oh, this is difficult for me. Danielle, the reason I treat you students so badly is...because..."

Dale raised her eyebrows. This might actually be good.

"Because why?"

Larkin paused before spilling the real truth. She had still a bit more pride to gulp down.

"...Because I'm sick. I'm a disturbed, bad person. Teaching English is my only real skill, but relating to children isn't. I've so much hate and bile inside of me, and it just has to be let out sometimes. Hence, in the line of fire...my target is...you kids."

This was a bit of a surprise to hear.

"But why?" repeated Dale.

Mrs. Larkin took another breath.

"Because I've always hated them.

"...I wanted to be a college professor, but I didn't have the credentials. But since teaching was all I could do, I decided I had to teach seniors. I just couldn't bear to be around younger children. It's too painful."

"Why?" Dale asked for the third time.

"It's private...but I'll tell you. A long time ago...Mr. Larkin and I wanted kids. Our own kids. We tried...and tried...and tried. But whether it was he or I at fault, we couldn't achieve pregnancy. We finally had to accept that it just wouldn't happen for us. We were heartbroken. And our infertility caused a rift in our marriage. We thought we could get through it, but...but..."

She sighed again. Now with rapt attention, Dale urged her on.

"But what?"

"But this time in my life coincided with my teaching career. And I hardly realized how badly I was berating my students. But Mr. Larkin noticed something, when I'd come home to describe to him just how...pathetic these kids were. He couldn't believe I'd feel that way after all the time we spent trying to make a baby. He spent a lot of time thinking about it...and finally told me, that..."

Mrs. Larkin's voice cracked.

"...That I wasn't the same woman he'd married. We, uh...we got divorced not long after that."

Dale darted her eyes back and forth, not exactly sure what to say.

"Whoa..."

"I haven't been with another man since."

Dale's eyes and mouth went wide open.

"Since when?"

"...Since 2005."

"You...haven't had sex in eleven years?"

Mrs. Larkin shook her head. "If the infertility was mine, I didn't want to know. And by the time our marriage was over, I didn't want kids anymore anyway. It was as if the presence of all these kids in my classroom just-just scorned me, and tormented me day after day. I just...hated children, so very much, Danielle. I didn't want to have a thing to do with them. And I realized one day that...I-I just couldn't let go of that hate. It was built up from too much heartache. After that, I...I didn't even try to meet men. Who's going to want someone who's so cold-hearted and sick in her head that she can't stand children, or do anything about it?"