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I was a little frightened of Katya. Totally irrational, I know. After all, I had no reason to feel this way because I was a teacher at the school where Katya was a pupil. However, recently she had been made a Prefect and seemed to revel in the authority this gave her over her classmates, especially the boys. These days she strutted around the school with a haughty air and was not afraid to punish wayward pupils with detention after hours. I had heard many stories about what went on during detention and the rather unorthodox ways she had of dealing with miscreants.

One evening I had stayed late to catch up on some marking. By chance, as I was leaving I met Katya at the door. We exchanged pleasantries and I discovered that she had just released two young boys from detention for failing to complete their homework. Although it shames me to admit it, Katya looked stunning in her uniform.  She wore the standard kit, but her rank as Prefect allowed her to choose the length of her skirt and to wear stockings. Her crisp white shirt was tight across her youthful breasts and her school tie was loose around her neck. Her choice of mini-skirt accentuated her shapely legs. I felt myself becoming aroused, which was embarrassing given that I am thirty years older than she is. Katya smiled at me as if sensing my arousal.

“You seem to have pupils in detention rather often, Katya,” I ventured by way of small-talk as I held open the door for her. “I can’t imagine how you can keep them occupied.” In truth, I was fishing for information about her detention sessions to try to substantiate some of the stories I’d heard. “Oh, there’re plenty of things to keep naughty boys occupied during detention,” she said. Then suddenly, with a glint in her eye: “I can show you if I you like!”

To my amazement, she took me by the hand and led me into the Prefects room. I had never been in there before: there was an unwritten rule that teachers should allow the Prefects their privacy. The room was pretty much as I’d imagined it. Tables and chairs arranged haphazardly, books and magazines strewn about, a television etc. However, on one wall was what I recognised to be a St. Andrew’s Cross. How odd, I thought.  Katya saw me looking at it.

“In detention my pupils are required to go through their lessons one by one,” she began. “First we do a drama class. Then we have PE. After PE, we proceed to the science classes, biology and physics. And we finish with my favourite - Russian!

My first inkling that something was amiss was when Katya suddenly closed the door of the Prefects room, locked it and put the key into her satchel. “Now, sir,” she said, emphasising the “sir” with an ironic sneer. “Unless you do exactly as I tell you, I’m going to the headmaster tomorrow morning and I’m going to tell him that you attempted to molest me.”

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” I blurted. “I shall tell the headmaster that you put your hand inside my shirt and tried to fondle my breasts. That will surely lose you your job. However, if you follow my instructions you will be free to resume your duties as a teacher.”

What a bitch!  Clearly, she had left me with no choice. Anyhow, it surely couldn’t be too bad. And, it was a chance to spend some time alone with Katya.

“I like my boys naked!” Katya continued. “I beg your pardon?” The slap across my face took me totally by surprise. “That’s the first and the last time you will question me. From now on you will do exactly what I say, when I say.”

Katya quite clearly meant what she said, and I knew well she would tell her evil tale to the headmaster unless I complied. There was no choice but to go along with her cruel game. From then on, I found myself under Katya’s total control.

It began, as Katya had already explained, with the drama class. For this, she put on some loud disco music and I was made to perform a striptease in front of her. She told me I was to entertain her with a sexy dance “like a pole-dancer”. I tried my best, but frankly felt very inhibited and stupid. Every attempt I made to pose was met with squeals of laughter. Once I was finally naked Katya could not contain herself. She danced around me, poking me and tickling me. I squirmed with embarrassment.

Then it was time for PE. Katya taunted me for being out of shape. Physical exercise was what I needed, she explained. Running on the spot was the first test. “Five minutes,” she said. I started very cautiously, conscious of being naked. “Faster and faster,” Katya urged. I began to sweat and became breathless, my balls bouncing out of control between my legs. Of course, Katya noticed this and offered to help by cradling them in her hand. Then fifty star jumps, which made my cock and balls bounce all the more, to Katya’s obvious amusement. Twenty press-ups next. Katya made this more difficult by pressing her foot into my back. Lastly, fifty sit-ups with Katya standing over me. As I lay there exhausted, she dribbled saliva over my face and into my mouth, “to revive me,” she explained.

Katya then explained that for the science classes she required me to be restrained. This meant I was to be fastened to the St Andrew’s Cross - spread-eagled and helpless.

Biology was first. Katya produced a glass and, with a wicked smile, thrust my cock inside. “Fill it for me,” she said. She held the glass firmly in place. I strained, but could not bring myself to pee in front of her. “Perhaps I should telephone the headmaster now,” said Katya glancing across at the phone. That did it. With a supreme effort, I forced out the first drops. Then out it all came and soon the glass was full. Katya held the glass in front of me. She pressed it to my cheek so I could feel the warmth. At her insistence, I was made to smell it also. Without a word, the glass was at my lips. Katya raised it slowly and I felt the warm liquid against my lips. “Open your mouth,” she whispered. I gagged several times as I swallowed, and dribbled frequently so that the pee trickled down my chin and onto my chest. Nevertheless, Katya poured relentlessly and eventually the glass was empty. How could she make me do such a horrible thing?

However, worse was to come. In front of me, Katya lifted her skirt. She held the glass between her own legs this time. With none of the inhibition I had shown, she filled the glass without hesitation with a huge gush. “Now let’s see whose pee tastes the best!” The glass was at my lips again. “Open wide!” Katya began to pour once more. Like wines of different vintage, the taste was not the same. Slightly sweeter, warmer perhaps. The humiliation, however, was far worse. It was bad enough drinking my own pee, but Katya’s as well. What was this girl doing to me?

The physics class would take the form of a scientific experiment, Katya said. An experiment to test my pain threshold. In an entirely matter-of-fact voice, Katya proceeded to explain what the experiment would entail. The source of the pain would be electrical, she said. The electricity would be applied to my cock and balls using a variety of devices. At this point, she produced a small attache case, which opened to reveal an array of wires, clips, boxes and dials.

Panic gripped me when I saw the assortment of implements. Katya was purposeful and methodical. She would try each of the devices in turn. She would test my limit with each one and record the result. At future detention classes she would expect me gradually to improve my endurance. I was given a word to remember. When the pain reached my level of tolerance I was to say “Red”. Katya would write down the level and move on to the next test. She warned me however, that she would know if I faked a “Red” just to get her to stop. 

What sadistic pleasure she took. All of the devices were controlled from a box with knobs and dials. At the start of each test Katya would hold the box in front of me and carefully explain how each device worked and what type of pain I could expect. Of course, this served only to intensify my fear. Then she would delight in turning the knobs with her delicate fingers whilst watching me suffer, increasing the power by degrees until I shouted “Red”. I could do nothing but submit to those cruel fingers, pushing me mercilessly to the limit of my endurance.

I thought the Russian class would be a light-hearted way to draw these rather bizarre proceedings to a close. How wrong I was. It started as something of a relief because I was allowed to step down from the Cross.

Katya made me lie down on my back and to my pleasant surprise she sat down on my face, her knickers pressed against my nose. I took in her scent and was instantly aroused. The Russian class was going to take the form of a vocabulary test, Katya explained. First, Russian into English, then the more difficult English into Russian. Katya would say a word and I was to give her the translation. If I gave a correct answer I was to be allowed to take a deep breath and sniff her panties. However, if I made a mistake she would punish me.

So we began. Katya started with some very easy words: dog, cat and so forth. Then some equally simple Russian words. I was revelling in the delights of her crotch, although finding it slightly difficult to speak. Then the test became inevitably harder. I made my first mistake and wondered what the punishment would be. Without a word Katya leant forward and gave my balls a slap. Not a particularly hard slap, but it hurt and I gave a muffled cry of surprise. I got the next two words right, but then Katya asked me for the Russian word for “masturbation”. I had no idea. Slap! “Submission”? Slap! “Obedience?” Slap! “Humiliation”? Slap! So it went on. The slaps grew harder and the pain more intense. When would it stop? The answer to that was becoming clearly obvious - only when Katya had had enough. However, she appeared to be enjoying herself so much...

The End
 

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