New Lessons

2 - Ongoing Education

Some days are simply rotten, as if the entire world decided that you, yes you, will be its plaything for twenty-four hours and, by golly, it’s going to make the most of its time. Miranda came home after just one such day, ready to cry and scream and punch a hole in the wall. She wanted to murder someone, anyone. Maybe she’d go on a spree, she fantasized. Of course, she was raging at the world because if she were truthful, she would rage against herself.

Maybe it was the coming of spring. Hormones flared up and suddenly the kids were acting like baboons, trying to be the center of attention, trying to draw the gaze of the girls. Hell, even some of her girls, the quiet ones, were starting to giggle and gossip and behave like airheads. That was true. It was also true that Miranda didn’t have the tools to handle such situations. It had never bothered her too much before, but seeing… him managing the kids with such ease, well, it hurt. That was the thing hiding beneath the rage, the thing Miranda tried to keep at bay, buried deep. She was in pain.

She took a bath, hoping to relax and unwind. No luck. Thoughts kept intruding, needling her, making her chest tighten. How was she supposed to deal with downright feral fucking students? Was she so bad at her job that they felt they could do whatever they pleased? Was kicking them out of the classroom not punishment enough? Ah, to live back in the good old days of corporal correction…

There was something else in her mind, of course. Something that had been there for a while, and that she had stoutly resisted considering, but after the events of the day… shit, there was no way it was going to make the day worse, right? And maybe it would be good for a laugh, at least. Fine, she would listen to the first of that goddamn audio series.

She got out of the bath, toweled off and slipped into fresh panties. It was a warm night, and it felt nice to let her breasts out every now and then when nobody could see them. She sat at her computer and put on her big, noise-canceling headphones– useful when the neighbors were having a party, which was way too often. She opened her work email, scrolled through the million inane institutional notices and event announcements and other chaff, and found the email from the Assistant Principal. She scoffed a bit. Fine. Let’s get new tools for this teacher: after all, she was a big believer in ongoing education… in others, at least.

She frowned. Oh no, not one of those. Soft, spacey music; barely audible frequencies like undercurrents coming and going, panning left and right, left and right… Okay, fine, it wasn’t that bad… not annoying, at least. When the voice came on, she barely noticed, and immediately decided it wasn’t worth listening to at all. It was all the usual bullshit about seeing yourself as a strong, confident woman (what if the listener was a male, she wondered) that didn’t care what others thought of her and blah blah blah. The normal platitudes, empty words to fool idiots most commonly found in lame fake meditation Youtube videos. Why she thought this might be different, she couldn’t tell. But at least the background sounds were… nice. They were nice, she was not too proud to admit that. Relaxing. Ok, when life gives you lemons… she decided to ignore the voice and focus on the background, steal some rest from this stupid file…

She opened her eyes. Shit, she must have drifted off to sleep. What time was it? How long was she out? The file was done, and a quick glance at her phone revealed that it was already three in the morning. Fuck, she skipped dinner! Oh well. She couldn’t find it in herself to care much. Better to just go to bed and try not to think about the prospect of teaching with five hours’ worth of sleep under her belt.

She went out as soon as her head hit the pillow. One hour later, her eyes opened in a flash. Had she been dreaming? Not that she could recall, no… but something must have happened, she must have been having some weird dreams because she was absolutely soaked. Fuck, she needed to sleep! She needed to get her rest, but her body definitely had other ideas. Fine, a quick one and then back to sleep. She let her hand wander down between her legs… and suddenly stopped. What the fuck? It was as if her hand refused to touch her needy, aching pussy. What the hell was happening? It felt like a bizarre nightmare, and her stubborn side started flaring up. She needed to rub her cunt and by God her hand would do as she wanted! She focused and forced her hand to go down, to feel her slick hole…

It barely touched her pussy before reaching down further. Wait, no. No, no, no. What the fuck?! She… she needed… her finger, slick with her juices, started playing round her asshole. Oh no. No way. She didn't do that. She never did…

The word came to her and it felt as if a dike had broken. Anal. As soon as she thought it, her finger went deep inside her tight asshole and her brain was flooded by a barrage of sensations, ideas, feelings. Anal. Anal. Anal slut. I want to be an anal slut. I need it in my little hole. My ass is for getting fucked. My ass is for pleasure. My ass is for cum and cock and toys and fingers and…

She came, shaking, biting her lip to keep from screaming. It was a different kind of orgasm, one born deep inside, one that traveled up her spine and sent shivers through every inch of her body and short circuited her mind for a good thirty seconds. When she finally regained some measure of awareness, she noticed the drool all over her pillow and herself, the sweat growing cold on her skin, the calm, blissful sensation of having done something… right. Something proper. She couldn’t quite explain it– it was the sort of satisfaction she got when a puzzle piece fit perfectly, when a math problem was elegantly solved, when the world seemed, for a moment, to make sense.