Special Detention for the Teacher’s Pet Brat

  Special Detention for the Teachers Pet Brat

  THE TEACHER’S AGE GAP BRAT

  PENNY SNOAK

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  EPILOGUE

  ALSO BY PENNY SNOAK

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  CHAPTER ONE

  Mr. Carlyle is my favorite teacher, so I feel like a bit of a bitch for being mean to him. I can’t help myself, though. He’s the one handling detention today and I’m pretty damned pissed off that I’m stuck in Saturday school.

  School?

  For fuck’s sake, all this bullshit involves me sitting at my damned desk for eight hours!

  The worst part about it is I’m the only student here today. I guess I’m the only terribly delinquent student this week. No, the worst part about it is that today is the first day of detention, but I’ve got a bunch more Saturdays ahead of me!

  “I hate this shit!” I groan.

  “Mandy!” Mr. Carlyle says sharply from where he sits at his desk. God, the sound of his voice is so sexy when he’s stern. I think of how many orgasms he gives me. Of course, he has no idea he’s my go-to fantasy when I masturbate. “That language is unbecoming to a young lady,” he says.

  “I’m eighteen!” I protest.

  “You’re still a young lady,” he says. He stands up. “I’m going to make some copies for my classes next week. I’ll be gone about an hour. I want you to sit and stay put. Do some studying. If you behave, maybe for lunch I’ll order us a pizza.”

  “Whatever,” I say. I actually want a pizza but I’m hoping to piss him off so he uses his stern voice again.

  “That’s enough, Mandy!” he says, and I sit up straight. I can feel my nipples growing hard as hell at his tone. “You’re the smartest student I’ve ever had. You’ve got a great head on your shoulders but this year you’ve gone completely downhill.” He’s right. It’s because I’m eighteen. I started my senior year at eighteen and still can’t handle being an adult without any real adult rights. “I may not be able to get you to turn that around, but you can be damned sure you’ll behave while you’re here!”

  God, that’s so fucking sexy!

  I dwell on that while I sit alone in the classroom. I’ve had a crush on Mr. Carlyle ever since I met him when my parents took me to visit the high school in eighth grade. The fantasies started not long after that and poor Mr. Carlyle has no idea that I spend most afternoons imagining him bending me over a desk and punishing me in the most delicious possible way for being such a brat.

  I imagine his hand landing on my bare ass and actually feel a sting just from fantasizing about it! I shift position in my chair and when my thighs rub together, a thrill runs through me, causing me to gasp. The gasp changes into a moan and I look up sharply, forgetting that I’m alone.

  I’m alone!

  I try for a moment to resist the urge to dwell on Mr. Carlyle’s deep, sexy voice, dark, hooded eyes, and fit, powerful body, but—

  Oh, who am I kidding? As soon as I remember I’m alone, my pants are around my ankles and my shirt is pushed up to my shoulders, so my breasts are exposed. One hand caresses those breasts while the other travels over my navel and down my thighs, skirting my pussy but not touching it. Denying myself stimulation makes the sensations I feel thousand times more intense and only occur when I fantasize about Mr. Carlyle.

  “Mr. Carlyle, please,” I whine softly as I imagine his hands teasing me but refusing to grant me what I desperately want.

  I imagine him commanding me to spread my legs. I comply, excited and desperate for the release he will finally provide. Instead, my hands continue to travel everywhere but my pussy, driving me to insane heights of desperation.

  “Please!” I whine, my voice rising.

  I giggle a little bit from how absurd it is that I’m intentionally not touching myself even though I desperately want to. God, if Mr. Carlyle has that kind of power over me when he’s not here what could he do to me if she were here?

  Whatever he wants. That’s what he can do.

  That thought pushes me over the edge and I can’t hold back anymore. My hand slides over my pussy and it’s like a bolt of lightning shoots through me. I cry out, moan, cry out again, moan again, basically go crazy. I struggle to stay upright in my seat as my hand moves at an increasingly frenetic pace over me.

  When I feel my orgasm approaching, I wish desperately I could have that orgasm around Mr. Carlyle’s cock. I’ve never had sex before and for him to be my first would be indescribable.

  That’s right, I’m a virgin. Go ahead and laugh. I’m the only senior in high school who’s given dozens of blowjobs and hundreds of handjobs but has never allowed anyone inside her.

  God, I wish Mr. Carlyle would put himself inside me.

  Just before I cum, I scream, “Fuck me, Mr. Carlyle!”

  Then I cum, hard.

  Right on Mr. Carlyle’s cock.

  My eyes fly open, and my legs slam shut and the next instant I realize they slam shut around Mr. Carlyle’s thighs, and my eyes rest directly on his dark, piercing ones. His gaze is predatory, and I am immediately lost in it. My arms fly up, so my hands cup his face and I say, “Oh God, yes! Just like that. Just like that.”

  And just like that, I’m not a virgin anymore. He groans and I feel his cock begin to twitch inside me. The sensation of his cock moving in my pussy and the knowledge that it’s moving because he’s filling my pussy with cum sends me right back to the peak and I scream as a second climax rolls through me.

  He looks at me as we cum together and I see his expression change from predatory to ecstatic to deeply satisfied all in the span of a few seconds. Then he looks at me and his expression changes to one of alarm and guilt.

  He pulls out of me and quickly dresses. He says, “We’ll talk about this later,” and rushes from the room, leaving me twitching and gasping on the chair.

  I lay there a while, waiting for my body to recover from the intensely sharp pleasure of two orgasms and the feeling of a cock pumping inside me. “Best detention ever,” I breathe.

  I decide since Mr. Carlyle helped me out, I can at least do a little studying. I pull out my math textbook and open it to the chapter on unit-circle trigonometry. Riveting, I know.

  Somehow, instead of being bored to tears, I manage to focus. Well, mostly focus. My thoughts keep straying back to the feeling of Mr. Carlyle filling me up like I belong to him.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Wow.

  Just… wow.

  I mean, how often does this kind of thing happen, when a girl masturbates about a fantasy about a teacher for years and then one day it comes true just like the fantasy?

  Mr. Carlyle is everything I dream of and more. His cock is certainly a hell of a lot better. I can still feel him inside of me nine hours later as I sit at the table and my parents as me in their typical way whether or not detention helped me learn my lesson.

  “It’s just the first day,” I say, “and I have Saturday school for the next six weeks.”

  “That’s not an answer, Mandy,” Dad says.

  “It was just me in detention,” I say, “and I guess that’s good because it meant I didn’t… I don’t know. It meant I didn’t get distracted.” Except for the man who fills my fantasies by shoving his big fat cock into my virgin pussy. I giggle at the thought and Mom raises an eyebrow.

  “You need to take this seriously, young lady.”

  I nod and say, “I’m just laughing because without anybody else there, I ended up doing my homework and I think Monday will be the first day ever I go to school and actually have all my homework done.”

  Dad looks surprised and pleased. “Well, that’s something, then, isn’t it?”

  I giggle again and say, “I guess I’m a good kid now.”

  Mom shakes her head. “You’ve always been a good kid. You just don’t do good things.”

  “Well, maybe I’m turning over a new leaf.” Or maybe I’m turning over so Mr. Carlyle can fuck me from behind.

  “From your lips to God’s ears,” Dad says. “Well, let’s hope this keeps up.”

  “We’ll see how next Saturday goes,” I say.

  Mom and Dad look at me with a guarded kind of optimism that probably makes a lot of sense given my history.

  As I lay awake in bed later, I decide I don’t want to wait until next Saturday. The next morning, the first thing I do is open my laptop and go to the school website. I look up the staff page and find Mr. Carlyle. He’s smiling in the picture and he somehow manages to retain his stern, powerful appearance even though his eyes are kind and his expression is joyful.

  God, he’s so sexy.

  His page has his email and his cell phone number but not his address. I am stymied but only for a moment. I go to the phone directory and type his number into the search box, hoping that he’s still registered. When the number comes back as not listed, it occurs to me that he has a cell phone and not a landline. You know, like a normal person.

  I’m about to give up and wait until Saturday when a final thought strikes me. I check for his name on several social media sites and find one where he forgot to turn his location off.

  Bingo.

  I take a screenshot of the location and pin it to my phone’s maps. I dress quickly and rush through breakfast. As s
oon as breakfast is ended, I shower and dress—again really quickly—and head downstairs. I hop on my bike, promising my mom I’ll be home for dinner, and follow my phone’s map to a nice residential neighborhood about ten miles away. I pull up to the house and pinch my nipples, so they grow rock hard, then walk to the door.

  When Mr. Carlyle answers the door, his eyes widen in surprise.

  “I want you,” I say.

  He looks sharply around, and I say, “No one else is here. Just me. I want you.”

  He pulls me into the house and closes the door. I moan and reach for him, but he stops me. “We can’t,” he says. “It’s not right.”

  “Yes, it is,” I say. “I’m eighteen. It’s perfectly legal.”

  “Just because it’s legal doesn’t mean it’s right.”

  I stare at him and my lust is briefly overshadowed by frustration. Why does he have to make this difficult?

  “Hmm,” I say impudently. “I wonder if the principal will agree with you when I tell him? Maybe my parents will think it’s wrong too. Or, maybe you can just fill me up again and I don’t have to tell anyone.”

  His eyes darken and before I can register what’s happening, he turns me around, pushes me against the wall, and lifts my skirt. I gasp and moan, “Oh, Mr. Carlyle,” as he rips my panties down to my knees.

  That moan becomes another gasp when instead of fucking me, he swats my ass hard enough to send a stinging shockwave all the way to the crown of my head. That spank is followed by another, then another, then another. It hurts like hell but at the same time I am more turned on than I’ve ever been.

  When he’s spanked me fifteen times and I’m pretty sure I’m going to explode in orgasm just from how sensitive I am, he spins me back around and pushes me down to my knees. My body reacts before I’m even aware of what I’m doing, tugging his pants down and wrapping my lips around his cock.

  I suck deeply and powerfully but he puts his hand on the back of my head and forces me to go even deeper and harder until his cock pushes into my throat with each thrust. I nearly panic but soon find a way to time my breathing so I can take his thrusts without suffocating.

  As he fucks my mouth, he says, “You are not in charge, little girl. Do you understand?”

  God, hearing him call me little girl is like a vibrator on my clit. I nod and moan “Mmhmm,” around his cock.

  “You’re going to call me sir from now on, do you understand?”

  “Mmhmm,”

  “You’re going to straighten up, do you understand?”

  “Mmhmm.”

  He gives me some more instructions—things he wants me to do between now and Saturday. After each instruction, he asks, “Do you understand?” and I respond in the affirmative while continuing to suck his cock.

  “When I see you on Saturday, I’ll give you more instructions. Do you understand?”

  “Mmhmm. Mm!”

  He groans and begins to fill my mouth. I keep sucking and moaning, “Mm, Mmhmm, Mm,” while he cums and when he commands me to swallow, I pull off of him, giggle and say, “I already did.”

  It might be my imagination but as he commands me to dress and go home, I think I see a smile on his face.

  There’s certainly a smile on mine.

  God damn.

  CHAPTER THREE

  As I walk into detention, I have all of my assignments ready. It’s so strange to show up to school eager. Well, I guess I might show up eager just because Mr. Carlyle is here but what’s really strange is showing up eager to share the schoolwork. I mean, I can’t remember the last time pride is part of my thinking because of an assignment or completed homework. I have a feeling I have to go all the way back to elementary school to find a memory like that.

  I walk in with a proud smile but when I do, my heart sinks. There are two other kids there.

  Kids?

  I’m eighteen. I’m not a kid anymore.

  But I’m a kid today, and it feels terrible.

  Silently, I find a desk and open my backpack. Just as silently, I pull out all of my assignments as well as the piece of paper summarizing the things accomplished this week and put it on his desk. Then, I walk back and sit down, sulking.

  I know one of the kids, Amber Snow. She smiles at me and rolls her eyes, assuming the disappointed look on my face is just about being stuck in detention. Naturally, she has no idea I’m unhappy about extra company. Nonetheless, I groan and roll my eyes, too.

  “Eight bullshit hours,” the other kid says. I don’t know his name.

  Amber says, “For five bucks each, me and Mandy will kiss.”

  “A real kiss? Like French kiss?” he asks.

  This really pisses me off because Amber and I did that at a party once and made like twenty bucks each. She’s not being a bitch. Every now and then we talk about doing it. I don’t want to do it today.

  Unless Sir commands me to.

  Thankfully, the door opens and Mr. Carlyle walks in.

  The three of us turn to him and wait for instructions. The boy who will have to find something to jerk off to besides the image of me and Amber kissing snaps to attention with a comically fearful look. Amber turns lazily to him and smiles impudently. I sit straight in my chair with my hands folded, just like Sir instructed me to on Sunday.

  He sits and looks at the paperwork for the other two kids. He has mine already since this is my second week of detention. After a moment, he asks, “How did you all get here today?”

  Amber replies first. “I decided to be honest when Mrs. Gentry asked me if I took her for a fool.” She smiles wickedly. “I guess she wasn’t looking for honesty.”

  “Cute, Amber,” he replies without looking up at her. “But I meant how you got here physically. Did you drive or were you dropped off?”

  “I drove,” she replied.

  “Mark?” he asks.

  The boy in detention with us swallows and squeaks, “I drove.”

  “Mandy?” he asks.

  “I drove, Sir,” I say without thinking.

  Amber looks quizzically at me and I manage to put a sarcastic smile on my face just before she sees me.

  “Excellent,” Mr. Cartwright says. “I have some errands to run today, so you guys are going to catch a break. I want each of you to complete one assignment from any of your classes and turn it into me. Then you can leave.

  “Score,” Amber says. She pulls out her Geography quiz and starts answering questions rapidly fire. I don’t see what Mark does. I pull out my math assignment. It’s the toughest one I have and I choose it so Sir will be proud of me. I’m a little surprised by that. It’s the first time I’ve ever wanted anyone to be proud of me that I can remember.

  Amber finishes first and saunters triumphantly to the desk. She leans over and her full breasts dangle invitingly in her tank top as she watches Mr. Carlyle review her assignment. I feel a stab of envy that fades when I see he doesn’t even look at her when he hands the assignment back and says, “You’re dismissed.”

  “Sweet!” she cries. She walks out of the room. As she passes by Mark, she lets her finger trail over his shoulders and says, “Maybe we can find a more exciting way to occupy ourselves.”

  Mark’s eyes widen and he quickly scribbles the rest of his answers before practically sprinting to the desk, dropping the paper in front of Mr. Carlyle, and rushing out the door.

  I guess he won’t have to jerk himself off after all.

  I wait a minute to make sure the other two are gone. Then I stand and approach the desk.

  “I already completed my assignments, Sir,” I say. “Do I have to leave too?”

  He looks up at me and says, “I’m sorry pet. You were supposed to complete a new assignment. You have to stay.”

  I smile at him. “I’m glad, Sir.”

  His eyes flash and my pussy twitches with anticipation as he unbuckles his belt. “Pull your panties down and lift your skirt over your hips,” he commands.

  I say, “Yes, sir,” and immediately comply.

  I spend the next eight hours being fucked in multiple positions. When my pussy is too overwhelmed from the multiple orgasms Sir gives me, I take a break by sucking him off. By the end of the day, he’s cum five times and I’ve cum—fuck, I don’t even know how many times I’ve cum. There’s a point where I’m not sure if I have multiple orgasms or just one really long exceptionally powerful one.