Institute Play

By Razor7826

       “What the hell?” I yelled as I stumbled backwards into the chair, shocked that a woman so tiny could kick me in the shin so hard.

       My boss, the head of the Math department at Serenity Falls High School, stood in front of me, her right hand resting on her hip between her black skirt and white blouse. 

“I’m dead serious when I say that you have to take care of your own class.  You can’t come to the department whenever a student acts up.”

       “I’ve tried everything, but…”

       She lifted her foot and slammed her heel down onto my right foot.

       “Ah!” I yelped.

       “Like I said, take care of it on your own.”   She glared down into my eyes through her rimless glasses before lifting her heel off my toes, allowing blood to rush back into my digits. 

“If I hear anything about your class getting out of control again, you’re finished.  Understand, Brian?”

       I grabbed my foot in pain.  “Okay, okay, I’ll crack down on my students.”  I retreated to my classroom and readied my papers for the next day.

That night, I couldn’t stop thinking about Miss Reynolds.  I never really talked to her while she was just a coworker, but she became department head after her first year of teaching, over coworkers that had already made tenure like myself.  Now, two months into her second year, I was finally getting to know her; she was every bit as big a bitch as my friends made her out to be. 

She had transgressed my boundaries and I hated her for it, but there was no way I was going to let others know that I was assaulted by a four-foot-eleven woman.  I thought I could keep my class under control and evade the wrath of Gertrude Reynolds.

I was wrong.

-----

The next day of class was even worse, but I tried my best to handle the crises one by one.  First period brought an unusually surly Michael Wilkin.   He tried to push me when I told him he wasn’t to play Gameboy during class.  Security discovered three empty bottles of Dayquil in his backpack.  Second and third periods were managed with the mere threat of referrals, but even that nuclear option failed when it came to sixth period.

Normally, the Howards twins sit in the back of the classroom and quietly pass notes to each other, but they spent the entire day whispering to the boys in front of them, slowly escalating until their voices could be heard across the entire classroom.

“Kim, Laura, please be quiet while I’m talking,” I asked timidly.

They smiled and ignored me and got louder and louder until I had to scream to get my message across.  They both shut up, but a thirty seconds later Gertrude poked her head into the room.

Her blue eyes locked on to me from behind the dangling strands of her blonde hair. “Is everything under control here?” she asked.

“Yes, everything’s fine,” I responded nervously, memories of her intimidating tactics fresh in my mind.

“It doesn’t sound fine.  Stop by my office after school.”

The classroom erupted in mocking taunts, my students having picked up that I was in trouble.  Blood rushed to my face, and I retreated to my desk in silence, brooding as my class worked on their homework for the rest of the period.

What had motivated her to act so brazen in front of my students?  Teachers are supposed to show solidarity with each other, not help turn students against the faculty.  I’d never felt so embarrassed in my life.

       The day ended.  I spent twenty minutes grading homework before walking through the deserted halls to Gertrude’s office.  The door was open.

       “Close the door,” she commanded from behind her office desk, her eyes momentarily diverted from the stack of papers in front of her. 

I complied.

       “Why are you late?”

       “I’m not late.”

       “Yes, you are.  I told you to come here after the school day ended, which was over twenty minutes ago.”

       “I…”

       She rose from her desk and threw her marker at me, dotting my shirt with red ink.  “No excuses!  You’re late, and you have to make amends for it.” 

       “What is your problem? You won’t make an effective department chair if you act like that.”

       “Don’t tell me how to do my job, you spineless worm.  You can’t even keep your classes under control.”

       I stood from my chair and looked down at her, trying to use my physical superiority despite knowing that I would never hit a woman.  “I didn’t ask to teach basic algebra.  I came here to teach calculus to students who actually wanted to learn, not a bunch of inevitable dropouts.”

       She reached forward and clenched my balls in her hands.  “Don’t talk back to me.  I’m your boss, remember?”

       I could do nothing but stammer out a meager response.   “Y… yes.”

       “Yes ma’am.”

       Her falcon-like grasp hurt my balls and spurred me to do as she wanted, lest I forever lose my boys.  “Yes, ma’am.”

       “Good.”  She unclenched her claws.  “Now kneel.”

       “What?” I asked, not believing my ears.

       Her she reached to my crotch again and gave a quick squeeze.  “Don’t make me ask twice.”

       I instinctively collapsed to my knees and caressed with my balls with my hands.

       Gertrude walked to the office door and locked it shut. 

       “What are you doing?” I asked, the blood rushing from my face, fearful of what the tiny little demoness had in store for me.

       “Brian, can I ask you something?” she asked, her voice slowing down, making her sound almost sincere.

       “Sure.”

       “How on Earth did you manage to survive as a teacher this long?

       Never before had I been so cruelly stripped of what I once took pride in.  I tried to defend myself, “I already told you…”

       She pinched my left ear between her thumb and ring finger, digging her nails into my skin.  “Stop lying to yourself, worm.  Whatever skill you once had is gone.  You’re worthless as a teacher, and it’s making me look bad.”

       My heart began to race, a mixture of fear and anger flooding my systems.  She was crossing a line that nobody had ever crossed before, dragging me into uncharted territory.   “Nobody cares about what you…”

       A sudden slap across my face silenced me instantly.  “No.  No more words from you.”

       I froze, unable to push myself to resist her demands.

       “Good.  Now pull down your pants.”

       “Wha, what?”

       She dug her nails deeper into my ear.

       “Alright, alright.”

       She slapped me again.  “I said no more words.”

       I wanted to plead, to ask why she was doing to this to me, what I could do to make it stop, but I didn’t.  I slipped the silver pin out of my buckle and unfastened the zipper and button.  My pants slid down to my ankles, revealing my solid-blue boxers.

       “Good.  Now, close your eyes, lie on your stomach, hands at your sides.”

       I complied.

       “Now, this might be cold.”  She slid something cold and thin into my asshole.

       I squirmed beneath the pressure and yelled as it entered my rectum.  “What the hell is that?”

       She ignored my protests and slid it in the rest of the way.  “A reminder, you could say.  So you remember to do your job well.  You’re excused.”

       My insides hurt more as I struggled to my feet; whatever she had shoved in my ass had begun poking my bowels. “What did you put in me?”

       “That’s a surprise,” she laughed, “for whenever you can poop it out.  Now get the hell out of my office.  I have grading to do.”

       My week would have been a lot more pleasant if I could have pooped it out, but hours on the toilet produced nothing but what looked like blood.  Panicked, I headed for the emergency room.

       “What the hell is that?” the doctor asked as he stared at the x-ray of my insides.

       “I don’t know,” I answered honestly.

       “Well, I should be able to get it out.  Why don’t you go ahead and lay on your stomach.”

       From my anus, he pulled the same red grading marker that Gertrude threw at me when our meeting began.  “How did this get up there?” he asked.

       “I don’t know,” I lied, my face turning red with shame.  What I thought was blood was just grading ink, a sad reflection of my own failure as a teacher.

       I pulled my pants up and gathered my belongings.  However, before I was out the door, the doctor asked, “Do you want the pen back?”

-------

       I never told anyone what Miss Reynolds did to me that day.  What kept me silent, I can’t say.  Was it fear for my job?  Shame for permitting this abuse?  Or, the fact that nobody would believe that tiny Gertrude Reynolds could do something so horrible?

       My class doesn’t get away with the crap that they used to, that’s for sure.  I crack on my students the moment anyone tests my authority.   I will bend my students to my will, lest Miss Reynolds bend me over to hers.

       Copyright Razor7826