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Detention for Kim Ch. 01

By: DraceDomino



Chapter One: The Oral Exam

I was scared the first time Mr. Poln made me suck his cock. What girl wouldn't be in my situation? Up until that point, I hadn't had the slightest bit of trouble in school. A straight A student. College bound for sure, most likely with honors, with scholarships, with two proud, beaming parents and an army of jealous classmates. Well, all it took was being caught passing a note in class to drag that perfect student down. Down to a punishment, down to a black mark on her record.

Down to her knees.

Now, I know it seems silly, agreeing to do such a thing just so he wouldn't report my note passing to the school authorities, but you need to understand my mindset at the time. I was incredibly naive for an eighteen year old; something that I no longer suffer from, given the things my body's been through since then. And for all the stereotyping that goes on regarding Asian parents, let me tell you something...it isn't all just for jokes. There's real pressure there; pressure to perform, pressure to excel, pressure to make your family proud and never give them anything negative to say when they're spending time with their friends.

And so I agreed to his terms because I was afraid of what would happen if that minor infraction got out. Sure, what he was proposing was worse, but...it was also something that could be kept secret. Something that my parents would never have to know about. Looking back, there might have been a part of me that wanted the excitement. A part of me that was bored with being the good girl, bored of being the sweet, innocent thing. It's easy to analyze things years later, but in that moment? I was terrified.

"Go on. Open your mouth," Mr. Poln was a handsome enough man, barely into his forties and caught in what I assume was a boring marriage at the time. He had stern features but wasn't always mean; and had a reputation at the school for having the ability to let his hair down. As it turned out, his method of letting his hair down that evening after class was making a terrified honor student suck him off in the men's bathroom.

I nodded to his order and opened my mouth a little; still very scared, and very unsure of how to proceed. Aside from overhearing the cheerleaders talk about things they had done on the bus, I didn't know what to expect, or even worse, what was to be expected of me. What if I did poorly? Would Mr. Poln not only tell my parents that I was passing notes, but that I didn't know how to go down on a man?!

Like I said, naive.

"Wider," Mr. Poln demanded of me, as his hands went down to his zipper, and started to work. I just stared ahead, my eyes wide, and a rush of fear going through me. At the time the school had uniform requirements, which...to be honest, took on a whole different level of wrongness for an Asian girl. Sure, you pretty blonde girls get the Catholic schoolgirl stuff, but when you're a Japanese girl that pleated skirt, those knee-high white socks, that vest over a dress shirt...?

Well, you're a walking porn fantasy, whether or not you realize it.

And so Mr. Poln's little Asian schoolgirl opened her mouth wider, and her eyes closed behind the frames of her glasses - yeah, I had the glasses, too - so she didn't have to look at what was about to emerge. I could hear the zipper slowly going down, and then he made a faint grunting noise as he reached into his boxers and fished it out. I felt it long before I saw it; there was a warmth that slapped against my cheek that didn't feel like anything I had ever experienced before. I flinched from it, my mouth closing if only for an instant before my diligent teacher-pleasing mindset kicked in, and I opened my mouth back up wide as I had been instructed. Mr. Poln just chuckled at that, and I could feel his fingers moving into my hair, a black, clean mess of locks that went into dual pigtails down the back of my head, and held bangs that just dusted above the rim of my glasses. His fingers slid through my hair, though he didn't grip me so much as tilted me into position, and I tensed up as I knew the moment was coming.

Like waiting for a needle, the fear built and built, so much so that by the time his cockhead brushed under one of my lips, I had a moment of panic. The empty boy's room was filled with the sound of my panicked squeal, as I slapped my hands over my mouth and shook my head back and forth again and again and again. Even then, I knew that there was no realistic way of stopping, and before too long I recovered my fear and opened up once more, my eyes still shut tight.

To keep my hands from misbehaving again, I lowered them to the hem of my skirt, where it rested just above my bare knees that dug into the tile of the bathroom floor. It hurt to kneel there, but when I had asked Mr. Poln if I could just sit on the toilet, he had advised me, quite correctly, that...

"Your place is on your knees right now."

And so I knelt, wringing my hands against my skirt, and waiting with my mouth open for the moment to arrive. It came slowly, and as he slid his cock past my lips, the thoughts and emotions that struck me where numerous. Certainly, there was shame in the moment, and part of me wanted to cry over what I was doing. And I'd be lying if I said there wasn't curiosity there as well. I was an intellectual girl after all; it was my first chance to know what a man's cock tasted like. As he pushed it inside, past my lips, onto my waiting tongue, the taste both intrigued and repulsed me, the latter of which I've long since decided was just a reaction of a nervous girl giving her first blowjob. Since then Mr. Poln's head had rested on my tongue dozens of times, and the taste never bothered me like it did that first moment.

I heard him give a content noise, and he started to move his hips, pushing it in and out of my open, motionless mouth. It was truly a "scared girl" blowjob; as I knelt there with my mouth open, my tongue not moving, and my eyes shut quite tight. And after a few thrusts I could tell that his cock was wet with my spit, and that some of it was started to roll down my lips, down past my chin. Too afraid to even wipe it away I allowed it to drool down, and it wasn't too long before I felt it splash down onto my hands at my skirt, somehow making me feel even dirtier with the liquid proof of my actions.

Mr. Poln had only gotten in a handful of thrusts before my mouth closed, and I finally dared to open my eyes. I looked up at him, with spit rolling down my chin, and my body still wrapped in that now-fetishistic outfit of my schoolgirl attire. My eyes remained firmly on his face, which I still found handsome, and they didn't dare drift down to his cock, for fear of seeing it would drive me utterly insane.

Catholic AND Asian. The level of sexual repression I had at that point was staggering.

Mr. Poln seemed to sense that I thought were were simply...done, and he shook his head with a surprisingly kind smile given the situation. His hand went down, and he took my spit-covered chin to open my mouth again, guiding my head forward to press his cock inside once more. He took my head into his own hands, lunging his member into my mouth, forcing me to taste, to experience, to feel every inch of him that I could within reason. My eyes closed after a while, but there was a moment in which I just stared ahead at his lap, eyes wincing on each thrust when he struck a point of discomfort. My hands went slack at my skirt, and my knees fidgeted, though for the first time not because of the pain the tile was causing them.

"Use your hands, Kim," I heard his command and I tried to oblige, though my placement was awkward and amateurish. One of them rested underneath one of his knees, while the other was up far too high, by his stomach. He was patient with me, moving his hands from my head and guiding my own into a better place, and he even wrapped my trembling fingers around the base of his shaft. Once I was touching him as the forty year old liked, he patted my head, and gave me a few deeper thrusts in the form of congratulations.

The spit was rolling down my open lips now, as I had yet to fully seal my mouth around his shaft. I was still just holding it open, letting him fuck it, rather than doing the work myself. It was sloppy work, and in retrospect it would've been easier for me if I had just closed my mouth and done as I was told. Having your open mouth fucked like that is somehow...messier, and because it's messier, it's more embarrassing. With each wad of spit that fell down from my chin, I tensed in more embarrassment and worry. Would my Mom be able to tell from my laundry? Did cockspit smell? My mind was spinning with worry, but before I could dwell on it too much Mr. Poln pulled his member out, and pressed his hand to the back of my head, forcing me to gaze up at him.

"Look at me," he ordered with a smile, and held his shaft by the base, guiding it forward. "Stick your tongue out. Lick it underneath, and on the head."

"...o...okay, Mr. Poln." I offered my quiet response, and opened up as wide as I could, before sticking my tongue out. I did better with it than I did the sucking; I actually moved my tongue past the underside of his head, and I smeared it from side to side, bringing a few happy noises from my history teacher's throat. He was clearly pleased with me, so pleased that he took his spit-slickened shaft and crossed it over my cheeks twice, leaving wet streaks each time. Then he pressed down on my head, at the same time that he lifted his shaft, lowering his sack against my mouth, and just underneath my nose.

I didn't wait for any instruction, since by now I had figured out my role in all of his. As he offered his sac I let my tongue slip out and I rolled it against his flesh, contemplating the different flavor of the man's balls, how it differentiated from the shaft that had been so merciless with my mouth. His hand on my head threaded fingers through my hair again, and as he rocked his hips his other hand guided mine, forcing me to once again grip his shaft. Before too long he had coaxed me into movement, and I knelt there on the bathroom floor, stroking my teacher's cock while I licked messily at his balls.

It would be a position I'd find myself in a lot in the future.

I stayed like that for a while longer, though one of my hands lowered to continued to toy with the edge of my skirt. I was still nervous and didn't know what to do with my hands; and for the moment was thankful that he had at least given me instructions for one of them. By the time his grip on my hair pulled me away from his sack, my face was a mess of spit. It crossed my cheeks, my lips, and even my glasses to such an extent that one of the lenses was blurry and washed out. Knowing that we couldn't possibly be done yet, and learning more with every passing moment, I didn't wait for his instruction.

My mouth opened and I kept my grip on his shaft, moving slowly forward to take the cockhead back to my tongue. I cradled it there, and tried my best to get used to the unusual flavor, moving my head back and forth as I tried to simulate what I felt like he would like. My teacher was happy with that for some time, and though he never said anything directly to me, I heard him talking to himself quite a bit. About what a catch he had found. About what a good student he had.

About what a slut I was under the quiet, unassuming surface. He wasn't speaking to me, but rather of me...like I was property, or something meant to be used and utilized. For some reason I could never quite explain, the notion of it made me take him a bit quicker, and my grip at my skirt tightened, my knuckles white from the grip I had against the stretched fabric.

Before long he braced his hand into my hair, and started to move his hips with a renewed vigor. I was surprised at first, and my hands finally went to his pelvis, holding there, ready to push back if he dared to thrust in so deep as to choke me. At the time I was scared and worried he was going to hurt me, but it's one of those things that has a new perspective when I look back. Since that day in detention, Mr. Poln fucked my mouth much harder, much rougher, and much more ferociously. I've always been fine, and he's never once pushed me to a point I couldn't go back from. He was going easy on me that day; knowing that the bespectacled schoolgirl offering her mouth for his pleasure was terrified and clumsy with her offering.

When he was ready to blow, he pulled out of my mouth, leaving me swallowing cock-flavored spit and gasping for air. His hand forced mine onto his shaft, and he started to stroke himself off, using his student's hand. I looked up at him, my face ashamed and my cheeks red, my pale features made to glisten from the layer of mess that was coating them. My hand continued to pump at his wet cock, and I bit down on my bottom lip in nervousness, having only a faint idea of what was to come.

The first time he came on my face, I turned away from it, and it was forced to splash against one of my lenses, and dribble down my cheek as I made a face akin to a child eating grapefruit. It was hardly my finest moment as I went entirely tense, and wouldn't even look as my teacher shot his cream across my skin. He was breathing heavy, and the bathroom stall was filled with the scent of sex, but I couldn't appreciate any of those delightful senses that I would one day learn to adore. I was too afraid. I was too new. 

"Good job, Kim." I heard Mr. Poln say, and it was enough for me to dare half-open one of my eyes, gazing up at him with an ashamed expression on my face. I didn't even want to open my mouth to respond, since I could feel a line of the thick white cream crossing them. I just nodded in response to his praise, before reaching down, moving my hands to grab a cloth from my pocket.

I made quick work in wiping it over my face, wincing as it only served to smear it. Over my cheek, over my lips, and despite my best efforts, that day I got my first, incredibly brief taste of semen. Once my face was clear I took off my glasses, and squinted up at my teacher as I started to wipe them off. Already his shrinking cock was going back into his trousers, but he seemed quite happy with the results.

"There, I did it," I spat the words out, perhaps a bit more hostile than I should have. "Promise you won't tell my parents?"

"I promise, Kim." Mr. Poln smiled, and folded his arms behind his back. He had a look to him; a look of mischief, a glance I found very unsavory and yet...strangely enticing. His eyes drifted over me once more, and I closed my arms around my chest, biting down on my bottom lip as he spoke again.

"Although..." His words slithered out like a snake, and I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach. "You probably won't learn your lesson in just one day."

I swallowed; and when I did so, that fraction of a taste of Mr. Poln's cum rolled through my mouth. I didn't know it then, but the sweet, smart teacher's pet was about to become...

...well, a teacher's pet, but a totally different kind.

Detention for Kim Ch. 02



Chapter Two: Driver's Ed

"So does it still hurt?" Dad asked me, glancing over from the driver's side part of the car. I just turned my head and gave him an expressionless, flat look, letting him know that I wasn't at all amused by the implication that it no longer did. It was a Monday morning and we were on the way to drop me off at class, on a day that, in all honesty, I didn't feel like I should have been forced to attend.

"I guess it does." My Dad responded with a fatherly chuckle, shaking his head back and forth. "Dentist said that the weekend would be long enough, though, and you want that perfect attendance during graduation, don't you?"

"I guess." My murmur was a small response, after to open my mouth too wide. On Saturday evening I had been put into braces to fix a misalignment with my teeth, and between the trauma of having them installed and simply getting used to the feel, my mouth was sore as I ever remembered it being. Beyond that, I wasn't thrilled with the idea of heading back to class fit with visible braces, which made the most embarrassingly little combination with my glasses. It felt like with every passing day, my appearance was becoming mousier, nerdier, and even less likely to draw any positive attention. Seriously, braces at eighteen years old? It was humiliating. As if the embarrassment and the pain weren't reason enough to want to avoid class, there was one other big reason I didn't want to go into school that day.

Mr. Poln. It had been a full school week since he had made me work off my delinquency with him, and every passing day it felt like I was working off future missteps. He had taken my mouth every day after school during the last week, surely milking catching me with a note for all it was worth. Even in my naivety, I knew I wasn't merely keeping him quiet about a little innocent note passing anymore; I was trapped. Trapped by the situation itself, and trapped by a budding curiosity that was starting to infuriate me. Most of our encounters had been simple, short affairs in his office after class, where he'd lock the door, unzip his fly, and force me to take him until he released on my face. He never tried to undress me, never tried to make me swallow his cream, and given the situation he made it feel almost gentlemanly. Either he was genuinely concerned about pushing me too fast, or he just liked the idea of a cringing Asian girl with cum on her glasses, afraid of getting it into her eyes or nose.

Looking back, probably both. While I sat there expressionless with my Dad on the way to work, my mind continued to wander. I was a little afraid of how Mr. Poln would take it, when I would meekly tell him after class that my mouth hurt too much to service him. Would he be angry? Sad? Would he tell my parents? I was worried about getting in trouble, but beyond that, I was worried about disappointing him. Mr. Poln's opinion of me was important; as my history teacher it had always been, but in the past week something else had started to bud inside of me.

Friday had been the day I realized it. There weren't any late busses on Friday and so Mr. Poln had to drive me home, and on the way he pulled his vehicle into a rural section with plenty of long, isolated roads in a primarily forested area. Most of the other students that went to fuck away from prying eyes picked one of these lonely patches where other cars never wandered, and while we were going there Mr. Poln revealed to me that it was the same during high school when he was in it.

"My wife and I had our first time here," he advised me once we had parked, and I was bent over from the passenger side, working free his cock. In the past school week I had grown more confident, and more capable, and needed little more than a nod from my history teacher to get to my duties. My delicate hands had already begun to unzip his trousers, but I paused just an instant to grab my glasses off my face and set them on the dashboard. Since it was the first time I wasn't on my knees with him standing, it felt like it'd be difficult to keep them up if Mr. Poln grew energetic, as he sometimes did.

"Yeah, those were the days," my teacher continued, even as the schoolgirl in full attire wrapped her fingers around his growing rod. While I stuck out my tongue and began to tease his head, trying to avoid the drop of pre that I knew, at some point, I'd have to taste full on, he gave a wistful sigh and gazed out the window. "Kim, don't ever have kids. Once you do, your life becomes work, and your marriage is just nothing but keeping them in line." In order to keep one young woman in line just then, one of his hands rested on the back of my head, and I responded by licking the side of his cockhead. One of my fingers slid over the top, nabbing the precum and sliding it off his head, tucking it against his lap where I couldn't taste it fully. I was still new to things, after all, and still skittish about all the things his cock did when it was near my mouth.

"Pretty soon, your wife's cheating on you with one of your neighbors," Mr. Poln continued, though when I looked up at him with concern on my brow, he didn't seem particularly sad about that fact. In fact, he even gave a shrug of casual non-committance. "And you end up taking advantage of your students, because they're so much sweeter than you ever remember her being."

I blinked, holding his shaft in my palm, my lips connected to his cockhead with a thin bead of spit. Unsure of how to proceed, I just paused for a moment, as if awaiting Mr. Poln's instructions. Thankfully my teacher didn't keep me in that awkward moment for long, and after a momentary look of thought crossed his features, he quickly seemed to remember just what his current situation was. He gazed down at me and gave a laugh, shaking his head to dismiss whatever thoughts were in his mind, and letting his fingers entwine into the black hair at the back of my head. He offered me an encouraging smile, and despite myself in the awkward situation, I smiled back. It made me happy to know that I was taking his mind off of things, and I quickly turned back to my work. My lips parted and I moved my mouth over the top of his cockhead; closing my eyes as I sealed my lips, and let my tongue tease against the head.

"You're getting so good at this." Mr. Poln praised me, and in response I let my body get into a slightly better position, so that I could earn even more sweet words from my teacher. I moved so that my knees rested on the passenger side seat, and my rump was up in the air, nearly pressed to the window. It allowed me to service him better; my tiny frame contently fitting across both sides, with my head face down against my teacher's lap. My uniform was the standard school garb; a pleated skirt, knee-high socks ending in simple black shoes, and a white dress shirt that was starting to feel hot and itchy inside the car after a long day of class. I ignored the discomfort and continued, moving my head up and down, taking one of Mr. Poln's many inches into my mouth, past my lips.

In the past few days I had improved my technique, both through practice and a bit of study. I doubt I'm the only girl that's gone online to study how to perform oral sex better, but I'm likely the only one that did it fastidiously and with quite the same nerdy flare. On Wednesday I had even scribbled a note or two on the inside of my wrist; peeking at them while I serviced him. There were no notes on Friday night though, and for the first time since our adventures had began, I felt like I didn't need them.

Mr. Poln's hand controlled my head fluidly as I continued to service him, moving my head down is slow, steady thrusts while one of my hands cupped its fingers near the base of his shaft. I was taking him easier now; only tending to cough and sputter if he got particularly rough, something he was still hesitant to do with his student. As it was, Mr. Poln's seven inches turned out to be a good fit for me, easy enough to take a fair bit of, and yet long and thick enough for me to earn praise for extending myself, for going the extra mile. For being the honor student that was so very much in my nature. I went for that extra credit there in the car as we got started, and I let my mouth slide down his shaft, taking it to the very hilt. It was uncomfortable and for a moment I was worried I'd cough or choke, but Mr. Poln's light grip on my head was enough to pull me back up before that happened. After only a week, he knew his student's limits, knew what she was capable of. It was why he was such a good teacher.

He pulled my head up after the brief deepthroat, and with fingers curled in my hair tilted my head back, making me look up at him. Spit coated my lips and dribbled onto his cockhead, but he smiled, leaned in, and pressed a faint kiss to the top of my forehead in praise of my action. Despite how uncomfortable I was in these situations at times, I beamed like I had just been given a high honor, and turned my head down to return to work. I didn't dare deepthroat him again for fear of ruining my good credit, but I worked as well as I ever had on his member at that point. My hand gripped his spit-slickened shaft, my tongue dances across his cockhead, and I started to savor a flavor I had found distasteful no more than a week ago. The car started to fill with sounds of my content slurping, but also with the pleased half-grunts of the forty year old I was tending to.

"Such a good girl." More praise came, and I responded to it by lowering my other hand, and scooping them underneath my teacher's sack. I let my mouth retreat from his shaft so I could pay attention to his undercarriage, suckling and teasing at them like I had learned to do. When I was finished playing with them with my tongue I pursed my lips, and let a long line of spit drizzle from my mouth over his sack, like I was gingerly icing a cake. Before I was able to return to servicing his member Mr. Poln took things to a new level, and I felt the hand leave my hair, leaving me, for a moment, vacant from his touch and whimpering at the loss of it.

It was a touch I wouldn't be left missing for long, though. With a gasp of surprise I felt the back of my skirt flipped up, and the cool air of the car struck my rear, exposed now save for the plain white panties I had worn to school that day. In all of our interactions Mr. Poln hadn't once touched me sexually or stripped me down, but it was there in the car that had decided to break that first boundary. His hand moved over the slope of my rear and down along one of my legs, his strong fingers spooning the inside of my thigh. He didn't touch my sex directly just then, but for the reaction it had on my body he might as well have. My knee buckled and I dipped forward, losing control for the briefest of seconds. The motion forced my head to bob forward, and the result was his spit covered shaft smearing across my face from chin to brow, leaving a trail of wetness across half of my face. I was left with my head there for a second, his cock flat up against my cheek, the head positioned above one of my eyes, and the bridge of my nose serving as the only boundary to prevent it from wiping all the way across my features. My lips were parted, and I gave a heavy, heady breath into the car, shuddering as my teacher's fingers teased at the inside flesh of my pale, teenage thigh.

He said nothing; no dominating, deriding words, no confident and casual comments. He likely knew I had embarrassment in that moment defeated only by my curious arousal, and in his gentlemanly kindness decided not to shame me for it. Instead, the reward came through his touch, moving down my leg further, caressing me to the crook of my knee where it rested on the passenger seat. I wasn't servicing him any more so much as clinging to him, one hand wrapped around his shaft, the other digging nails against the side of his knee, mouth open and agape, and cock wedged to the side my nose. He stunned me with the intense arousal I had in that moment, and most remarkable of all he did it without suddenly thrusting his fingers to my sex. Instead, I was left helpless my a tease of fingers down my thigh, and then a playful dance across my calf. He even hooked a finger against the inside of my white kneesock, and tugged it up, as if he had to make sure his schoolgirl was perfectly in uniform. When he was done teasing his hand trailed up once more, and there his palm rested against the side of my rear, only the tips of his fingers near the edge of my panties. It was stimulating but the hand didn't move just yet, and it was still something I could recover from to continue my duties. To help me in my struggle Mr. Poln threaded the fingers of his other hand back into my hair, and guided my mouth to take his cockhead anew.

I groaned around his member, my lips sealing, and my neck working to allow his flesh to thread against my tongue with delightful ease. The stimulation of his hand possessively on my rear only forced my young body to respond with growing passion, and before too long, I found myself taking him quicker than I would have without that encouragement. The hand at his shaft began to work in time with my mouth, and before long I had pressed my lips against the edge of my fist, making sure that no part of Mr. Poln's precious cock would go ungraced by his student's touch for too long. With my head and fist working in unison, I began to service Mr. Poln so well that he gave a loud grunt, clearly having to force back a climax he wasn't prepared to lose just yet.

Something was starting inside of me, a feeling that I had only briefly experienced in my time with Mr. Poln before that day. A feeling of arousal beyond a teenage girl's mild curiosity, something that felt very feminine, very strong, very...adult. Something that, perhaps, I wasn't meant to feel in high school, and yet was driven there by the feel of my teacher's fingers at the edge of my panties, and the slope of his hard shaft moving past the reach of my tongue. I was wet, and undeniably so, I could feel it against the garment of my thin panties, and I could feel a heat below my sex that was altogether new to me. Aside from a few nights in which I had explored my body in the past, my experiences in my own blossoming arousal was fairly minimal, and never had I ever experienced anything even close to what I was feeling now.

I was ashamed of what came out of my mouth, yes, but by the same token there was no way I could resist saying it. The words were offered in between heavy strokes of Mr. Poln's cock with my mouth and fist, and as my sloppy deliverance of my services continued, my teacher was treated to two messy, slurred words from a very horny young woman.

"Touch...me." It was a plead, a beg, maybe even a wish. My voice carried into the car very mildly, as a sweet, soft plea from a desperate young woman. Mr. Poln gave another noise of contentment, and as was the case with my kind teacher, didn't torment me for obeying the wishes of my own body. He obliged in simple fashion, moving his hand over some, more towards the center of my womanhood. He didn't touch me underneath my panties, but at that point, he hardly needed to. His strong touch moved against my sex through the slick frame of my underwear, and my voice cried out in a sudden, glorious noise. A noise I never thought I could make, but one that was rivalled in its heat and desperation only by the sheer and utter submission that it offered to my teacher. His fingers against my sex made me buckle and tremble, and all I could do was keep taking his cock into my mouth, sucking and stroking it while he showed me what arousal really was.

In all the years since, I've only been able to think of one true way to describe what he did to me in the car. Only one thing I could think of to compare me to. As silly as it sounds, I was like a chocolate chip cookie dipped into milk. I was strong and resolute, but when he put his fingers upon me and began getting me wet, the cream weakened my resolve. And with every dunk, with every dip, I became more fragile, more moist, and more delicious. By the time my climax came, I was like a cookie that had broken off in the drink, unable to stay together anymore, unable to do anything but break, and hope he could fish me from the bottom of the glass.

My vision went dark as I came, and I shook, trembled, and cried out into the confined space of the car. Distantly I could hear another passing car go by, but I had long since lost the ability to care if we were seen. In that moment, my world had become Mr. Poln's touch, as well as his member, and I was soaked in his training more than I had ever been focused on any of my studies. My body came with such desire from his fingers dancing over my panties that my head bobbed forward, and for instants, moments, I could scarcely tell where I was.

By the time I had recovered my senses, the car had the unmistakeable smell of sex and lust. Mr. Poln's member was underneath my chin now, hanging limp into his trousers, with a small pool of cream leaking from the tip of his head. As I gazed at it I quickly realized that my mouth was full, and a flavor was thick against my tongue. In my post-orgasmic bliss I tried to piece together the seconds that led up to this, but I could remember nothing but the blinding light of my teacher bringing me to orgasm. When I got into his car that Friday night I would have recoiled from the touch of his cum on my face, but in that heated moment I thought nothing of closing my eyes, tightening my throat, and swallowing the mouthful with a ready eagerness. The flavor delighted me, like a child that refused to try something they didn't like the look of, only to find it was delicious in a way she never knew.

Mr. Poln gave my head a warm pet as I swallowed, and guided me as my neck dropped forward, and I found myself pressing a kiss into the side of his shaft; tenderly licking at it while my trembling hands worked to tuck him back into his pants. After a moment I looked up at him, my hair a mess, my cheeks red, and cum still against the side of my lips. His strong finger guided past my cheek to collect that cream; pressing it into my mouth, where I cleaned the tip with my tongue, and closed my eyes in submissive, blissful delight.

"Thank you, Kim." Mr. Poln's voice finally came, and he helped me back into my seat. Patiently he waited while I caught my breath, straightened my hair, and secured my safety belt once again. My hands smoothed down the length of my bare knees, and I steadied myself, trying to regain any sort of composure.

"I'm looking forward to Monday." He offered with a smile, quirking a brow as the car's engine started. And despite myself, despite my shame, my headed eagerly nodded, and I gave my older teacher a bright, cheerful smile.

"Me too!"

Days later II pouted, with my chin in my hand, and my forehead pressed against the side of my Dad's passenger window. No more than three days ago I had enjoyed the most exciting moment of my life in a passenger seat in a car, but now it felt like a slogging funeral march. Mr. Poln adored my mouth, which was now sore, achey, and lined with metal against my teeth.

What would he do, now that he couldn't have it anymore?

-End of Chapter Two

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Detention for Kim Ch. 03



Chapter Three: 
Brace Yourself



Classes had gone predictably poorly for me that Monday. I spent most of my time trying to make sure that my mouth was closed, afraid to open up and reveal to the others that I had been suited with braces over the weekend. In many ways it was an easy feat to accomplish; I didn't have many friends and none to speak of that would seek me out unless I made the first effort, so it wasn't a challenge for me to slink to the sidelines during lunch, or make sure that between classes I was snugly hidden away on the very outskirts of the halls. At a private school of the sort I attended, pretty much everyone dressed alike. A sea of pressed dress slacks for the boys and pleated skirts for the girls; hundreds of white dress shirts with a blue accessory if the student felt like standing out. It was a bit bland to look out over our student body, unless someone had a thing for finely dressed Catholic boys or schoolgirls with skirts that rose just above their knees. Then, well...then it was a delight to see, I imagine, but from my perspective after so many years it was a bit boring. And more than boring, everyone had a unified look, meaning anyone that was a little different from that nearly robotic lineup would be descended upon like a fish in the middle of a shark tank.

When I was just starting out in school, that identifying marker was my glasses. Thick lenses even as a child, I had a hard time seeing straight without them. As we all grew up and the other students learned a thing or two about different races, being Japanese was enough to single me out. Dark hair, almond eyes, fairly pale skin...I didn't look like the rest of them, in a very noticeable fashion. Those prejudices faded in time though, and the novelty of the Asian girl in class only came up when a new student arrived and wanted to pick on her to make themselves cool. That hadn't happened in a while, and I was starting to think that I'd be able to get through my senior year without incident, and could safely blend into the shadows and ignore all that nonsense until I graduated.

But as I walked the halls that day, I knew that wasn't going to be the case. The stigma of glasses went away as more students grew up and needed them. The prejudice against the Asian girl faded as kids grew up and realized that it was okay to be from a different culture. But one shame that would never fade, that would never go away?

Having braces when you were eighteen years old.

I was terrified of revealing it, and so my mouth remained knit shut tight throughout the day. Disappointing, considering how much I had recently learned that I enjoyed opening it. As I mentioned, it wasn't an issue with avoiding friends, but what truly set the tone for the day was my classes. I couldn't raise my hand to be first to answer, nor could I put my teachers through a litany of follow-up questions about the assigned homework. Several of them asked if I was all right, and I just nodded and smiled, eager to move on and get to my next lost opportunity. My mouth had ached throughout almost the entire day thanks to the braces, and I was very, very eager by the time the final bell came to be able to head home. 

I hadn't had class with Mr. Poln that afternoon; my history lessons were replaced with a study hall on Mondays, and at the time I had considered that a blessing. I wouldn't have to sit through his class gazing at him, shifting in my seat and wondering if he'd be mad that my mouth wasn't in fitting condition for after class. Not that it didn't stop me from worrying about it, but it was easier not having to see him. But when the bell rang and the other students started to head home, I knew that I owed Mr. Poln at least a visit, and I made my way to his classroom at the end of one of the halls. I had barely made it halfway down the hall before the janitor shut the lights off for the night, leaving the hallway lit only by the emergency lightning and what sun was able to slip in through the blinds along the walls.

I loved school after hours; I always found it peaceful and relaxing. To take a place that was usually so full of noise and chaos, to strip it down to something calm and quiet was wonderfully refreshing. I took my time walking to Mr. Poln's office, one of my hands holding my bookbag over a shoulder, and the other idly stretched out, letting my fingers dance across the cold metal of the line of lockers. I wasn't in a hurry, but I also wasn't delaying unnecessarily. My pace was casual, and hinging somewhere in between timid and excited, a state Mr. Poln seemed to have a tendency to place me within.

I idly licked my tongue across the metal of the braces on my teeth, something I could already tell was becoming a nervous habit. As I moved to the front of his office and put my hand on the doorknob, I took a deep breath, steadying myself before opening up and slipping inside.

"Kim." Mr. Poln's voice greeted me as soon as I slipped inside, and my eyes passed over the dimly lit history room over to his desk. He was leaning back in his chair, making marks against a clipboard, while a nearby cup of coffee sat, filling the room with a freshly brewed scent. My eyes fell on my teacher, still finding him as handsome as I did before our interactions started, before he had begun helping himself to my body. For the first time since Friday I saw his strong jawline, and those experienced fingers that had so expertly brought me to a climax in his car. I tensed for a moment, the memories flooding back, but before too long I managed to force a nod, and address my teacher in kind.

"Mr. Poln," I offered, moving my backpack down to hold in both hands, walking forward casually. The rubber of my dress shoes squeaked against the tile floor, a simple sound that echoed like a gunshot in the otherwise empty silence of the room. Without wanting to delay the moment, I took a breath, and then blurted out the matter at hand. "Mr. Poln, I can't do that...that thing we usually do today, I-"

"You got braces?" Mr. Poln looked up from his clipboard, and gave me a coy smile. At my confused look regarding how he knew, he just laughed a little, and waggled the clipboard at me before tossing it onto his desk. "You didn't really think that it wouldn't be the talk of the town around here, did you? If someone wears the wrong color after Arbor Day, you can bet the Jennison girl will make sure the whole school knows it." He gave a chuckle at that, but the revealed secret didn't make me feel any more confident. I shifted in place, rubbing my legs together, and holding a tighter grip on the edge of my bookbag. Mr. Poln just continued, but he stood up from his seat as he did so, beginning to move around his desk and slowly work towards approaching me.

"Don't worry about it, Kim," his tone was comforting and kind, and he offered me a supportive smile that somehow made my own feel better. "I'm sure you're sore. We'll wait for a few days before we go back to it, give you some time to rest up."

I blinked, and gave a sudden nod, answering before my mind even had a chance to process the fact that we'd still be doing these things days from now.

"Wonderful!" I chirped up, tipping my hand far too early, and making Mr. Poln smirk in regards to it. "Thanks for understanding, Mr. Poln! I should head out then, maybe I can still catch the bu-"

"No, Kim, not so fast." Mr. Poln held out a hand, silencing me instantly like the obedient girl I was becoming. I stood there dumbstruck as my teacher continued, and he approached me like a tiger moving on prey, shifting back and forth until he stood but a foot away from me. Instantly I could pick up the scent of his cologne; something that had started to show up on my shirts and skirts, causing me no small amount of irritation as I had to launder all my clothes anew each night. Uniforms were a bit of a pain sometimes. As Mr. Poln stood before me my head tilted up, and I gazed through the lenses of my glasses to the man that was ever controlling my body with his mere presence. Already I could feel my pace quickening and my body heat; and I squeezed my thighs together involuntarily, as if reacting to something primal that my good girl sensibilities didn't want to admit.

"Just because you can't use your mouth," he continued, and reached forward with one of his hands. He allowed the back of his knuckles to brush down the slope of my cheek; a delicate touch that made my knees nearly buckle on the spot. I was staring now; with wide eyes, flushed cheeks, and a stunned expression on my face. Mr. Poln just continued with a confident touch to his voice. "That doesn't mean we can't continue your studies. Follow me, Kim."

I practically floated behind him as he walked back to the desk, my legs moving without my mind actually telling them to. I was pulled along almost entirely on instinct, as my body rejected my hesitations and profoundly, undeniable said "You need this, Kim." Before too long Mr. Poln had stood me just before the end of his desk, so close that my knees were touching the side of it. Curiously I glanced over at him, only to watch as he moved behind me, and lowered his strong grip to my waist.

"Ah..." A gasp slipped from my lips as my history teacher took hold, and my hands moved to rest atop his own. For all of the things we had done in the past week, I was still taken off guard by Mr. Poln's touch, still completely disarmed by being handled by a man more than twice my age. I wondered idly if it would be like that with every man, if every hand that would grip me in the future would make me gasp, make me hot, make me wet...or if it was simply the burning taboo nature of what Mr. Poln had drug me into. And if it really was a side effect of our illicit affair, I wondered if that rush of excitement would ever fade with time or overuse. Secretly, even secret to myself, I hoped that it wouldn't.

Mr. Poln's hands squeezed at my waist, and he pulled me back a bit, letting his lap roll against the back of my rear. I could feel his warmth, breathe his scent, and as his hips rolled I could certainly sense the presence of his length underneath the fabric of his slacks. Part of me wanted to instantly turn around, drop to my knees, and take him as I had been for the past week, but something much more powerful inside of me told me to behave and stand still. It told me that something greater was coming, if only my teenage body could be patient.

His hands slipped away from underneath my own, and Mr. Poln took the opportunity to begin exploring my body. I was left a gasping mess as one of his palms moved over my stomach and drifted up, finally closing over one of my breasts. His hand pressed in, through the fabric of my dress shirt and the cotton of my bra, and I could feel his grip tighten around me in a way no other man's ever had. My voice carried out into a muffled cry, one that would have been louder had I lacked the foresight to slide a hand over my mouth. After all, school had only just ended, and I could still hear the hissing rattle of idling school busses from through an opened window at a distant end of the room. My cry went into a muffled whimper, and I bit down on my fingers as I felt Mr. Poln's hand slowly massage my breast, squeezing it, rolling his grip, and all the while pushing into my back. I felt gloriously trapped, paralyzed by his possessive hold, and unable to do anything but control my reactions for both our sakes. His other hand soon moved up to take my other breast, and soon Mr. Poln's hands were full, squeezing me in a building hunger as he clutched me close to him. He was tall enough that laying flat against him brought the top of my head to just underneath his chin, and as I rested back, panting and whimpering, I felt a warmth that was frightening in its addictive sensation. There was security there, but also danger, the two flirting and dancing in a way that only my history teacher could force the elements to battle.

"Mr. Poln..." I whispered, my fingers leaving my mouth and my tongue briefly dancing across the front of my braces. "We...we shouldn't be doing this..." Words spoken purely from a good girl upbringing, a triggered response that I didn't believe for even a fraction of a second. Fortunately, Mr. Poln saw right through my programmed words, and he silenced me first with a squeeze of both my breasts, and then by lowering his head, and taking a deep, sensual breath of my hair. The sound of him taking in my shampoo's scent, and the shudder that went through his body afterwards, still stands as one of the most erotic moments of my life. Leaning back into him, letting him fondle, smell, and caress me...I knew then, what was to come. I was going to lose my virginity to Mr. Poln, right there, right then, and I couldn't imagine a reality in which I wouldn't want it to happen.

Mr. Poln said nothing, not even any words to reply to my feigned desire to stop. He read my body well, and let his hands further drag me into the web of arousal and desire that I was increasingly falling into. He kept one at my breast, while the other moved up, slipping against the collar of my shirt. One by one I could feel the buttons of my blouse open up, and in the stillness of the room I could even hear the snap of plastic as they came free of the fabric, exposing more and more of me to the open air. I was trembling hard, but he kept me grounded with that firm, doting hand on my breast, rolling his powerful grip, and once even teasing me through the bra with the back of his knuckle, experting pinpointing where my sensitive bud would be. My knees buckled, but they remained steady thanks to being pressed against the desk, a decision I now see as all part of Mr. Poln's master plan to have me that evening after class.

Before too long, my shirt was open, and my pale flesh was exposed to the curious fingers of my teacher. I was forced to bite my hand again as his touch went over my stomach, those calloused digits teasing my soft, light skin. I was never a supermodel, but I had done what I could to stay in shape, or at least, in shape enough to avoid any teasing from other girls in high school. As a result my body type was quite average, my rounded breasts a bit on the small side, but nowhere near to the point of one of my friends. I had a friend that went to college the year previous, who boasted an A-cup so small her frame was often mistaken for a boy's.

Poor Alice. She'd never know what it'd feel like to have her history teacher fondle her, preparing to make her a woman atop his desk. Mr. Poln's hands left my body only long enough to strip away my shirt entirely, and once it had fallen to the tile floor below, he let his fingers go to the back of my simple, department store bra. It wasn't sexy; and at the time I was ashamed at its plain white frame, but I'm sure that anything else would've been easy for Mr. Poln to see through; I wasn't the type of girl to wear sexy underthings. Yet.

I could feel his masculine hands toying with the snap at the back of my bra, and then there was the sudden release as it came free, my breasts falling a bit once the tension holding them to my chest was released. I closed my arms around them for a second, a brief shyness overtaking me, but by that point I had long-sinced been trained to know what was coming, and what was expected. I turned my shyness around rather quickly, and instead of covering myself up like some afraid little girl I owned the moment, and willingly pulled my bra away, exposing myself in the history classroom.

Mr. Poln seemed pleased, and he rewarded me for being so bold by letting his fingers shift down my body, drawing lines down both sides of my waist. I shuddered, rocking with him now as his hips started to sway, the promise of what was to come building up more and more. He took my hands into his own and lowered them, moving them down, down past my waist, to the edge of my skirt. He gave a simple command, emphasized by a thrust forward with his hips, making me nearly squeal from the delight he was promising me.

"Lift."

I did so with a nod, and nervous, trembling fingers. My hands lifted up my skirt, exposing to the empty classroom the plain white panties; now marked with a wet streak at the front, and it freed up Mr. Poln's hands to snake forward. He circumvented my skirt, hooking his fingers against the waistband of my panties, and rolling them back and forth, forcing them to grate against me, tease me, torment me just enough to make me whimper further in the bumbling mess he was turning me into. My breathing was so heavy I'm sure he could hear it, my chest rising and falling from the tension in the moment. And when my panties started to lower, dropped down by my forty-some year old teacher, I was almost positive that I'd faint. Somehow I maintained, though my body was almost impossibly aroused at that point, and with my panties laying around my ankles, I finally lowered my skirt. It hid my exposed sex from Mr. Poln, but that was only part of my intention. Secretly, in my teenage inexperience, I was worried that he'd be able to smell my excitement, and somehow wouldn't like it. Naive, yes, but thankfully my teacher was on to my teenage nonsense, and his arms drew against me from behind, holding me close as he finally, after all this time, offered me a few whispered words of encouragement.

"Boys like cheerleaders, Kim," he whispered, as one hand went flat against my stomach, pressing me back into his strong frame. My eyes opened, arching curiously at his words, until he drove his point home with an emphasis that my young, insecure self desperately needed to hear. "You don't know how sexy you are to a grown man."

The words to this day stick with me, and in that moment they meant so much that I nearly teared up. Well...I would have, if by that point I wasn't already so aroused that I was about to pounce on my teacher myself. Regardless, it made it easy for Mr. Poln to turn me in his arms, and lay me flat to the top of the desk. I went down to it with a gasp; my cheeks red and my arms falling back, spreading myself out for my teacher to view. My black locks were spread about the desk, my glasses askew on my eyes. I fit perfectly on Mr. Poln's desk, with my knees bent and my school shoes perched at the very corners of it. The action had flipped my skirt back up to lay across my stomach, exposing my wet, ready slit to my teacher. I had a small tuft of black hair near the top; unshaven, but I naturally didn't grow very much. The sight of it clearly pleased my teacher, because the look on Mr. Poln's face was ravenous, and he took a long, deep breath before stepping up to the edge of the desk.

His hands worked furiously, moving to his zipper and making short work of the restraining pants. I heard the clatter of his belt hitting the tile, along with the noise of fabric landing in a pile, but before I could even see his cock that I by now adored, there was the sound of a wet slap as his cockhead struck against the outside of my lips. He had flopped it right out, letting it strike my sensitive folds, and I gave a sudden cry that was so loud I threw both my hands over my mouth, breaking down into a whimper after the moment subsided. Mr. Poln just grinned, and pressed in close, taking one hand to guide his cock direct to my entrance. My heart was racing, head spinning, and I was preparing myself for the pain of my first time, but much to my surprise, it was nowhere near what I had been told.

In the moments of Mr. Poln taking my virginity, there was some pain, and some discomfort, but those sensations were vastly overwhelmed by the careful, sensual motions of my teacher. The pinch of his cockhead slipping inside of my walls came as the first surprise, and I was amazed at how...intoxicating it felt. The warmth, the presence of my teacher's member inside of me, I almost instantly wanted more. As he got comfortable, and his member went a little deeper, Mr. Poln scooped an arm underneath one of my knees, and lifted my leg to spread me out more. The knee was soon hooked around his shoulder, and I could see in my hazy vision that it was the same leg that still had my panties dangling from them, swaying lewdly with each motion. A fitting white flag of surrender if there ever was one.




Detention for Kim Ch. 03



His hands fell on my thighs, and he pushed forward slowly, bringing himself to the cusp of my womanhood. To say it was a painless experience would be lying, but I also firmly believe that despite our taboo relationship, and despite the debauched things I have done with Mr. Poln since then, he took me like the most caring of lovers. Mr. Poln, even in his dominating embrace, even when I was but a timid teenage girl on her knees on tile floor, sucking him to climax and cringing at the cum, had never scared me. His mastery of me, of my body, came from something beyond fear, something beyond abuse. Something I was all too willing to give in to, and something that eased my first time into a moment so thrilling and delightful that I felt wonderfully happy to experience it. 

By the time the pain from my lost virginity faded, Mr. Poln was slowly taking me, having at me with steady, slow thrusts. From the expression on his face, I could tell it had been a very long time since he had been inside a woman. It was a mix of relief, pleasure, and an almost reminiscent glow, as if he was remembering what pussy felt like. His hands moved from my thighs to brace against his desk, and he loomed over me, his thrusts growing a bit quicker, and taking me a little deeper. My walls clutched him tight, each motion of his cock drawing out new levels of moisture from me, new excitements that I didn't know I could feel. I was lined with sweat as I reached a hand out, and dared to cross the gap between us to move my fingers into my teacher's brown hair, tangling in the locks, and holding onto him with a loose grip. His older features bent into a smile, and I could feel my tongue pass over my braces once more from the building habit. We were rocking in time now, the smell of sex undeniable in the room, and my young frame firmly pinned underneath my diligent teacher.

We didn't say much; although I was almost constantly moaning, whimpering, or biting on my fingers to avoid outright screaming. The dim history classroom was filled briefly with the sound of busses going past, and I remember not even caring if the blinds were drawn down far enough, or the windows tilted away from it enough. Before too long I had moved my legs forward, and had taken the initiative to wrap them around Mr. Poln's waist, linking my ankles together to make sure our union was firmly connected. I was still wearing my schoolgirl skirt, flipped up now so Mr. Poln could watch himself deflowering his student, but I also still wore my kneesocks and shoes, a stripe of white leading into stark black along each leg. My ankles shifted and I threw my head back, whimpering in passion as I ground my hips against my teacher's, eager to feel more of what he could do to my body.

"Such a good student..." Mr. Poln smirked as one of his hands moved up, brushing past my cheek, and pressing his thumb against my lips. I willingly parted them, taking his digit against my tongue, and suckling on it as if it were his member. My eyes were heady and lust-filled through my glasses, and I stared at him like the broken doll that I had become. I gave a murmur of agreement with his words around his thumb, and my hands moved to rest on his shoulders, hanging onto him so that he couldn't thrust me right off the desk.

"I'm giving you some homework for tonight, Kim," he continued, his hips still rocking forward, his member still hilting me amidst the livid gasps I was offering around his thumb. My eyes blearily opened and I tried to focus, for even as I was being taken by my teacher, the idea of homework still registered as something my diligent side should pay attention to. As he administered it I could feel myself melt, drawn even more into the haze. "You're going to do some research....mmn. Look up positions. And tomorrow, you're going to tell me how you want me to fuck you."

My cheeks flushed at that, the idea of being given that tiny level of control making my entire body tremble. I was to think about positions...and decide which one my teacher would use to take me. And then, openly ask him to do it. The idea rattled around in my mind, instantly spinning with possibilities, but at the moment I couldn't offer him any more than a moaning nod as my walls tightened further around him. Mr. Poln just grinned, and braced his hands against my stomach, starting to thrust harder into me.

"Good," he breathed out; sweat starting to line his brow, and his face beginning to show signs of strain. His cock took me deep on every thrust, and just as the desk made aching sounds on each motion, I too made noises of my own threats to shatter. Mr. Poln's voice drowned us both out though, and as he spoke I could tell that the moment was coming very close, for both of us. "You belong to me now, Kim."

The words echoed inside of me, and combined with the pistoning of his member, I lost my control and exploded in desire. My voice carried out into a sudden moan, my glasses falling from my face to the desk below, and my sex convulsing tightly around my teacher's cock. Mr. Poln met his own peak, but his older sense of responsibility kicked in, and just before his moment arose he yanked himself free, grabbing his member and giving it the last final jerk to completion. While my sex twitched and convulsed, I could feel the spray of his cum against my hood, slathering me in cream, before shooting up and across my body. Like white hot bullets I felt his strikes of cum riddle my body, one against my stomach, one over my chest, and most distant of all, one that splashed over my face, crossing my open mouth from my chin to the bridge of my nose.

My tongue licked across my braces, this time with the flavor of my teacher's cum as a reward.

Mr. Poln pulled back after the moment ended, and my legs were left to dangle over the edge of the desk. I hadn't been filled with his seed, but what he shot against my hood now drizzled down my sex, travelling the course of my pussy to pool against the flat surface of his desk. My hands idly worked to collect the seed that had been shot against my stomach and chest, and I toyed with it, feeling the texture and consistency in my digits, before I let the dirty fingers travel to my mouth. While Mr. Poln watched me, I licked his cum from my fingers, like the good girl I had been trained to be. Trained by my parents, trained by my school, trained by my teacher.

And the good girl always did what her teacher said.

The good girl always did her homework.



Detention for Kim Ch. 04



Doggy. I had settled on doggy. Granted, I went about my homework in the nerdiest way possible; looking up positions and the various sensations they supposedly focused on, conducting what was likely the most bland and clinical observation of sexual positions ever imagined. My motivation was pure though; in that I wanted to make sure I picked a position that Mr. Poln would not only enjoy, but one that I would find memorable.

It was just one night ago that my history teacher, after taking my virginity on top of his desk in his classroom, had given me the homework assignment of picking what position he would take me next. It had been a gentle demand, like most of Mr. Poln's orders, but laying underneath the seemingly simple request there were layers upon layers of deeper meaning. Choosing a position was a difficult task for a young woman that wasn't terribly experienced; even if she was eighteen. I was still quite naive, and hadn't experienced anything even remotely sexual that wasn't with my forty-something year old teacher. If Mr. Poln was expecting something new and exciting that young people were doing these days he'd be sorely disappointed, but then, I think by that point he had a pretty clear idea of the type of girl he was playing with.

I was up late that night, pouring through information on the Internet, trying to get to the bare basics of sexual positions without being swarmed by pornography. I didn't want stimulating images, I wanted cold, hard facts! The average depth a man can get in one position versus the other, how much leverage he has for an expected thrusting force, testimonials about the female orgasm in comparison to the different positions! I knew that I was absolutely not prepared to try being on top just yet; despite Mr. Poln's clear attraction to me the teenage doubt of my own appearance was still very much present in my young mind. If I was going to choose a position with Mr. Poln, it wouldn't be one where I was necessarily on display, and it certainly wouldn't be one that put me in a position of being the aggressor. And so, as I looked through them all, I ruled them out one by one for various reasons. For the unwanted authority they would lend to me, for the physical limitations of a middle aged teacher and a teenage girl that wasn't particularly athletic, or simply because they didn't arouse me as I read them over at two in the morning, sitting there in my pajamas.

My parents believed in an early bedtime, and by that point they had already been asleep for four hours, distantly down the hall. The house was kept bathed in darkness, save for the dim glow of my monitor, which I knew from experience my parents could see unless I took the precaution of lining the bottom of my closed door with laundry to hide it. The house was still and silent, save only for the creak of it settling, the gentle tapping of my keyboard, and of course...the occasional, aroused whimper as I idly toyed with myself.

My hand was down the front of my long pajama bottoms, fingers and palm curled under the waistband of my panties. I had been toying with myself for the past hour, keeping my arousal on the very edge, and keeping my fingers quite wet and delightfully coated in my nectar. Since my experiences with Mr. Poln began I had been slowly waking up to my sexuality, and masturbation had slipped into my mind much more frequently lately in the still of night when I was alone to let my imagination wonder. As I hooked a single finger into my pussy and gave myself an unfulfilling, but certainly teasing prod, my mind was spinning with the possibilities of what Mr. Poln and I did together. In the past week I had sucked his cock so often that I could still remember the feel of it in my mouth, and how my tongue would dance on the underside of it, making him squirm and throb against my lips. There in my bedroom, my tongue didn't pass by anything more exciting than the metal frame of my braces, but my imagination was livid enough to conjure the sensation of my teacher taking me again. I could almost feel his encouraging hand at the back of my head, or the press of my nose into his lap in the rare instances in which he'd force me into deepthroating him. I started to rock back and forth on my chair, my fingers becoming more eager the more I pondered it. 

And the positions, oh the positions, each one was a wonderful thing for me to imagine. Even if they weren't the position of choice for the next time I was with my teacher, I could still enjoy imagining what it would be like to be claimed in them. My head danced with thoughts of me riding Mr. Poln, confident as any beautiful woman could be, thrusting my lap into his own and making him fuck me, and not the other way around. I envisioned him taking me missionary style again, but with both my legs looped around one of his shoulders, letting him have at me with a deeper, more passionate ferocity. Then I thought about him claiming me doggy style, and I knew that would certainly be my choice for the next evening.

Something about it made me melt, and I could feel the fingers inside my sex speeding up, coaxing me into even greater heights of pleasure. My eyes were dimly focused on simple line drawings of the position, but in my head all I could see was myself, on hands and knees, being fucked by my teacher on the floor of his classroom. The tile of his floor hurt my knees; I knew that much from all the blowjobs I had given him, but somehow it was even more exciting knowing I'd be completely doubled over, offering myself to my teacher like the animal the position was so named for. There was something ultimately submissive about it, like uttering "this hole belongs to you," without ever needing to speak a word. I would kneel there, and I would be fucked by my teacher until he was finished, and then-

The idea of him cumming inside me flitted into my mind, and at the thought of it I gave a sharp little cry into the darkness of my bedroom. The sudden thrill of it made my walls tense around my fingers, and goosebumps rise on almost every part of me. Just a few hours ago, Mr. Poln had pulled out at the last minute, and showered me with his cum across my pussy, my stomach, even up to my face. At the time I was thankful for it, afraid to get pregnant as every virgin girl is, but in the heat of that moment there in my bedroom...well, my mind spun with possibilities. There had been so very much cum that shot across me hours ago, what if he had instead shot it all...inside of me?

My sex tightened and I hunched forward, bracing an arm against the desk as my other hand started to work faster. I was close now, picturing what it would feel like to be fucked and taken by Mr. Poln, and imagining what it'd be like to be filled with his cream. I had no frame of reference, but I imagined it to be warm and delightful, like a sweet coating for the inside of my sex. My eyes blearily looked at the simple line drawings of people doing doggy style, as if the research was still continuing, but by that point my mind had been lost.

I brought myself to a peak while pretending Mr. Poln was fucking me, cumming inside of me, and then rolling me to the side to let it slowly leak out of my used, and well-claimed sex.

Once I caught my breath, the diligent student recovered, and I almost immediately began to look up information on birth control pills.

If looking up positions was homework for the first day, I considered researching the pill to be working ahead. After all, it might be part of a future lesson.

The next day I met up with Mr. Poln just as I had planned, eagerly counting down the hours until after class. I had been shifting in my seat throughout the entire day, constantly fidgeting with the hem of my skirt, and letting my tongue dance over the front of my braces on so many different occasions. I had been sexually awakened, and was eager for more of it, even if it came from the stiff member of my older history teacher. I wasn't shyly afraid of his cock anymore; I craved it. The sensations it gave me the previous day spun through my mind almost nonstop, and I spent the entire day in class moist underneath my panties, always just at the very edge of immeasurable arousal. I practically skipped to his classroom after the final bell rang, my throat tight from nervousness, but my insides warm and excited.

I tossed my bookbag into my locker before heading to Mr. Poln's class, and paused at the girl's restroom to make sure I was looking to my teacher's liking. Glasses squarely on my face, my black hair straightened down my head. My schoolgirl outfit was just recently cleaned and pressed, and my skirt's pleats were as perfect as ever. I bent down to straighten the lengths of my black socks, forcing them to go taught until they stopped just under my knee, and as I did so I caught one last glance at myself.

Even in my naivety, I knew about the cliche of the slutty Japanese schoolgirl. The mewling, mindless fuckdoll that would lay back and let a man thrust into them, or lay with sealed lips and a cringing face as countless men jerked off onto her face. And as I stood there adjusting my sock, gazing at myself in the mirror, I knew I was closer to those women than I ever would've imagined I would be. I was already eager to fuck my teacher, and I had been servicing him with my mouth with a growing, building hunger. The only difference was those girls in the videos so often looked like they were coerced, or pressured into things. And while my first time with Mr. Poln had certainly come under similar circumstances, since our time together began my interests had grown.

I smiled wide, and I could see my braces in the reflection, accenting nicely with my glasses. I looked every bit the cliche, and I was ready to fuck like one.

I trotted to Mr. Poln's classroom, eagerly dropping my hand on the doorknob and swinging it open, calling out into the room without really looking.

"Mr. Poln, I'm read-oh." My voice was silenced as I looked into the room, and my eyes took in the scene before me. Mr. Poln was there, that was for certain, sitting behind his desk like he always was, like he had been waiting for me. But his expression had fallen and looked taken aback, and I quickly spotted why. Standing across from his desk was the principal of the school, Mr. Lorne.

Mr. Lorne was a stern man by any stretch of the imagination. Bald, sour faced, probably in his late forties at the time. While most of the other students at the school had nice things to say about Mr. Poln, the same couldn't be said about his employer. Not that he was a bad man, most likely far from it, but he was a no-nonsense educator that wasn't known for throwing up his hands and gently going "kids will be kids" like some of the softer teachers were. When I stepped inside, Mr. Lorne's head turned to me in an angry glare, his arms folded across his chest and his eyes gazing ahead without any trace of emotion. I instantly froze, my mind going blank, and my excitement crashing into fear like the sudden stop of a car crash. My already pale features went even lighter, and I could feel all the burning heat of arousal cease in a sudden, frigid instant.

The moment was incredibly awkward, as the three of us stood there, each trying to read the other's thoughts. I wanted to look over at Mr. Poln, to get encouragement or advice from him, but even if I wasn't too terrified to move my head, I knew that it'd only lend credibility to the worst suspicions that Mr. Lorne could have. Suspicions that, if we're being honest, couldn't be any more true.

"Kimberly..." Mr. Poln used my full first name to break the silence, and it was enough for my head to tilt to him, arching a brow and trying to feign ignorance. Mr. Poln's speech was slow and paced, and I could tell my teacher was being careful. I had heard him talk in similar tones to students that were having a hard time learning, but now, it seemed very clear that he was picking his words to avoid the worst of outcomes. "This is a private meeting between myself and Mr. Lorne. If you need assistance with your studies, I'm available any time during study hall tomo-"

"Oh, for god's sakes, David, I'm not a fucking idiot." Mr. Lorne's voice chirped in, sounding every bit as accusatory, hard, and demanding as I expected. It made us both flinch like we were students caught doing something we shouldn't, and Mr. Lorne saw our shared reaction, which only worked to fuel the fire he was stoking. "Kim Chang is one of the best students we have, I don't think she needs to drop by your office after class to help her remember when the Three-Fifths Compromise was put into effect."

"Seventeen eighty-seven." I chirped up, the good girl reaction triggering so fast that I couldn't even control it. My eyes went wide as I realized what I had just offered up, and I swallowed sheepishly, adding as a quick addendum. "...sir."

Mr. Lorne regarded me with that cold glance of his and reached up a hand, smoothing it over his scalp, which had been bald for as long as I had known him. He was the sort of man that likely went bald just around the top, but fully embraced it by shaving his head entirely, giving him more of a look of authority and power. As opposed to Mr. Poln, who embraced his mane of shaggy, cute brown hair with streaks of gray, aging gracefully and warmly.

Lorne looked back to my history teacher and glared at him, his eyes narrow as he process what was going on. I wasn't known as the bad girl, but then, educators were trained to see this type of mischief, and not be swayed by preconceived notions. I likely wasn't the only good girl that had gone bad, led down a trail of debauchery from a boyishly handsome older man.

"David, are you and this girl-"

"Fucking? Yes we are." This time, it was Mr. Poln's turn to interrupt, and I was so disarmed that I nearly fainted. Mr. Lorne's reaction was priceless; ranging from righteous anger to building curiosity, and then flat out indignation at being interrupted. My own was likely no better, with blushing cheeks, a quivering brow, and a weakness in my knees that required I lean against the doorframe. There was something about Mr. Poln admitting it that made me tremble, and the way in which he owned that fact to Mr. Lorne, with a confident, cocky grin, that made me wish I had him inside right that minute. He continued to make me swoon from across the classroom with each word, dripping with authority and confidence, even over his employer's angry glare. "She came here after class today so I could fuck her, in fact. If you didn't want to talk about how you're fucking me over with the cost of living raise, I'd probably be getting my cock sucked right now. But you're not going to tell anyone about it, Jerry."

"Oh really?" My principal blustered and straightened out, puffing his chest out with authority. I could tell he was ready for a fight, and for a minute I was afraid for Mr. Poln's safety. Mr. Lorne was bigger than him, a former physical education instructor, and I could tell that he still kept in shape. For an older man, there were muscles underneath the suit of an administrator, and he already seemed to be in a foul enough mood to trounce Mr. Poln just for his attitude. "Think you can threaten me, you little shit?"

"Threaten?" Mr. Poln just grinned, and leaned back in his chair. I continued to watch the exchange with interest, my eyes going wide as my teacher and principal argued over the fate of my forbidden relationship. I bit down on my bottom lip, my excitement and arousal returning as I watched my beloved Mr. Poln operate with confidence. "Lorne, I'm not a violent man. I figure you'd know that considering I never want to chaperone those fucking football games. I'm going to bargain with you."

Mr. Lorne seemed intrigued; his brow raising and his arms coming to cross over his chest once more. He gave Mr. Poln an appraising look, as if expecting a bribe in dollars, likely already figuring out in his head what the cost of his silence would be.

"Obviously I can't offer you money, since my dickhead boss fucks me over on raises every year," Mr. Poln smirked, Mr. Lorne fumed, and I couldn't help but giggle. My giggling stopped when Mr. Poln gestured towards me; however, and his words echoed in my mind, stunning me to my very core. "But if you forget about this shit, Kim will suck your cock."

"I can't believe I'm doing this." Mr. Lorne looked down at his lap, from his position seated at Mr. Poln's chair. His fly had already been undone by my hand, and his member was out, hanging before my face. I blinked; kneeling there on the floor, a place that I had come to know very well from my time with Mr. Poln. At the moment I was simply kneeling on the floor, my skirt dusting the tile, my gaze fixed a few inches before my nose at Mr. Lorne's cock. It was...well, frankly, a lot larger than I had anticipated.

"Yeah...me neither." I heard my own voice pipe up curiously, and at the sound of it Mr. Poln gave a little laugh. My history teacher stood near his desk, watching his prize student kneeling before his boss, waiting for her to take the older man into her mouth. I still wasn't sure why I had accepted Mr. Poln's terms that he had set for the principal, why I had agreed to do this. But as Mr. Lorne's member bobbed closer, and my own trembling hand reached up to wrap fingers around his shaft, I soon remembered.

I hadn't.

Never did I give my agreement, never did I say that I was all right with this arrangement. It had simply been assumed that I would, naturally given that I would do what my teacher told me, even if it was to suck off another married man. I had either complied without even thinking it through, or Mr. Poln's influence over me was so great that the man could get me to do practically anything.

When my head leaned forward and my mouth opened, I knew which one was accurate. My eyes closed as I took my principal's cockhead into my mouth, and for the first time I tasted a prick that wasn't my history teacher's. I heard him give a hiss of contentment almost instantly, and I remember wondering at the time if he was yet another frustrated middle aged man, one whose marriage had long since lost any element of passion or contact. I had a growing sympathy for men like that, thanks in part to Mr. Poln, and because that errant thought slipped into my mind, I was drawn in more into the act of servicing Mr. Lorne's cock.

The wheels of the office chair squeaked as Mr. Lorne adjusted in it, spreading his legs wider so a student could work her lips around him better. Before long I had a fist wrapped around his shaft, which was growing slick from my spit and throbbing from his own excitement. I worked with techniques that Mr. Poln had shown me, twisting my grip as I started to take him, teasing the underside with my tongue, making sure that I delighted the most sensitive parts of his sex. It had a taste different than Mr. Poln's and yet wasn't unpleasant, though it was still very apparent to me that it was not, in fact, the cock I had grown accustomed to.

The knowledge made me even more excited, and despite my hesitations I could feel the wetness returning, feel my pace quickening.

"Good little slut, isn't she?" I heard Mr. Poln ask, and as if to prove my teacher's words I began to bob my head up and down quicker on my principal's cock. The sound of wet stroking began to fill the room, accented randomly with the noise of Mr. Lorne's hissing gasps, or my own muted, ashamed moans. In response to Mr. Poln's question my principal just gave a chuckle, and before too long I could feel hands thread into my hair; hands that were not my history teacher's.

"Can't believe you've been fucking her after class," his hips started to thrust forward, his cock growing thicker from the excitement. I suspected that the taboo nature of the arrangement was making his head spin, especially the fact that as of a few moments ago, he had become an implicit part of the arrangement. The principal had joined us in our taboo sin, and he was reaping the rewards with every hungry thrust of my mouth down the length of his shaft. His words continued, and as he and Mr. Poln spoke of me like I was less a person and more a property, I popped my mouth off of his cockhead and lowered it down below my fist so I could tease his sack with my tongue. "Chang's such a pain in the ass in parent meetings. Wonder what he'd think if he saw his little girl now, on her fucking knees."




Detention for Kim Ch. 04



My dad was notoriously obnoxious during parent teacher meetings; that much I knew. He was a constant embarrassment with a litany of questions that drove my teachers nuts. And now my principal, who had always gotten the worst of my father's overbearing nature, was able to take out his frustrations on Mr. Chang's daughter. Before too long both of his hands were in my hair, and he had entwined his fingers through it in a possessive manner that Mr. Poln never had. He guided my head in swerving it from side to side, forcing my mouth to dance quicker over his sack, and smearing my spit on my lips and cheeks, making it practically impossible for me to service him in a state other than sloppy and messy. I stretched my mouth open wide, holding my tongue out as Mr. Lorne polished his sack with me, and my eyes looked up from Lorne's bald, stern face, to Mr. Poln's kinder, yet still confidently in charge expression.

"Mmm. We're not done talking about this David, but I don't have all night to fuck around." Mr. Lorne remarked, and just like that he yanked me by the hair, forcing my mouth to go over his cock again. He picked up in speed and strength, and before too long I wasn't sucking him off so much as being fucked in the mouth, my principal dragging my head down on his cock, only stopping when he'd strike resistance. My sounds of teasing slurps and kisses melded naturally into a noise of squeaking gags, and the spit I was drooling around his shaft pooled more heavily at his base, soaking his hair and seeping into the fabric of his trousers.

Mr. Poln had never been so rough, and I went through a great many sensations as Mr. Lorne fucked my mouth. There was an initial shock and fear, but I remembered the lessons my dominant, kind history teacher taught me. Lessons about keeping my muscles loose, and lessons about taking myself past my comfort levels. It helped me as Mr. Lorne fucked my mouth to his hilt on each thrust, claiming me in a fashion far sluttier than I ever had been before. It was still uncomfortable; my braces were aching and I had coughed once or twice, but Mr. Lorne only seemed encouraged when my whimpers were of pleasure mixed with discomfort, and when I coughed and spit it only coated his throbbing member in more hot, wet joy.

My bare knees dug into the tile as Mr. Lorne continued to fuck my mouth, and when his peak came he wasn't gentle. He suddenly forced my head down into his lap, and I struggled and tried to push free as his cock struck the back of my throat, choking me as he came. I could feel the threads of white cream suddenly striking the inside of my mouth, sending my hands flailing before clutching his knees, and my eyes watering from the uncomfortable blast. Mr. Lorne didn't let my head up until my coughing became unpleasant for him, and when my mouth popped off he made damn sure to give my face a slap with his sticky member before tucking himself back inside of his trousers.

I was left coughing, falling onto my hands as I continued to choke on the mess. I spit out what I could, but I was sure I had swallowed some, and against my face I could feel tears rolling down my cheeks and, even more startling, a line of Mr. Lorne's cum seeping from my nose. He had taken my mouth so roughly, and came so uncaringly, that he had gotten it into my sinuses.

I was still coughing as Mr. Lorne tucked himself away and stood up, trying to keep himself cleaned to hide his sin. I wasn't able to see much of the exchange through the tears, but I could tell that Mr. Poln was furious; and was only barely able to remain civil. I kept coughing as the two men spoke a bit more, until finally Lorne left, leaving me alone with my history teacher.

"F...Fucking asshole." I finally coughed out when I was sure Mr. Lorne was gone. Getting up to my knees, I looked over at Mr. Poln near the door, who regarding me with a look of mixed sympathy and pride. Another cough came from my chest, and once more I spit his cum out, before dragging the back of my hand across my mouth, trying to wipe away his taste. Mr. Poln just smiled and knelt down, avoiding the spit up cum, but sliding his box of tissues from the desk and offering it out to me. Sniffling, I nabbed one, and moved it up to begin cleaning off.

"No argument here, Kim, but let's be honest." Mr. Poln smiled at me, arching a brow. "You were enjoying it up until the end." I lowered the tissue from my mouth, my brow bending in as I regarded my teacher. My mouth opened as if to reply, to protest, but I could only muster the strength to bite down on my bottom lip in an expression of submission and agreement. Mr. Poln just smiled in that confident, calm manner of his, and he drew a hand out, letting the back of his knuckles pass sweetly down the side of my cheek.

"Now, you had homework to do, yes?" Mr. Poln asked, and my heart started to race again. My tongue danced over my braces, and for the moment, I forgot all about my principal's taste, scent, or thick, throbbing cock.

Turning in my homework was always the best part of the day.

*****

End of Chapter 4.

Note from the author: Thanks for reading chapter four of Detention for Kim! If you'd like to see more of my work, or learn how you can support it, please check out my bio on Literotica!