[ENF] She's a bad teacher...

[tehtrs]

"Bradley Peters, wake up this instant!"

That was all it took to finally wake Brad from his slumber. The voice was sweet, but the tone was commanding, and it only took him a brief second to realise exactly what situation he was in. He had fallen asleep in class, in the middle of a test, more specifically.

Shit.

He shot up in his seat, his body having been slumped over on the desk. There was a small trickle of drool where his head had been. There were a few giggles from other pupils, some looking over their shoulder, others too familiar with the scenario to bother caring.

He blinked a few times, and saw that the fiery gaze of his teacher was right upon him. Her brow was furrowed behind her spectacles. Her lips were in a huffy pout. Her tits looked great in that shirt. …What did you expect, he was sixteen?

Her name was Jennifer James. She had only been at the school for a month, but already her and Brad were enemies. She was a twenty-four year old substitute who overstepped her boundaries, who ran the year eleven classroom like it was boot camp and whose youthful appearance could make her easily mistaken for a student herself.

In any other life, she would have been Brad's ultimate dream chick; blonde, tanned and slim with an hourglass figure. Great breasts. Great ass. Plus, she wore glasses. What wasn't to love about her? …Perhaps her authoritarian style of teaching and condescending attitude towards students. Particularly students like Brad, who wasn't exactly a model example.

She had only been there as long as she had because their regular English teacher had broken his leg in a curious cross-dressing incident. Which was an interesting enough story, but ultimately irrelevant to our tale.

"So I'm assuming you've completed your test in a remarkable five minute span, and you're now resting to conserve your superhuman intellect?" she shot at him in words so concise you'd think she'd rehearsed them.

Brad took a look down at the drool-smeared test paper on his desk. So far, all he had completed was the 'name' section. Actually, not even that. He had gotten as far as 'Bra' before giving up.

He looked back up at her, and smiled. "Yeah. That's pretty much it."

"Fantastic." Ms. James said, rolling her eyes. "Honestly, you really just saved us both a lot of time, because we both knew you were going to fail anyway."

The retort was met with another roll of laughter from the classroom. Brad wasn't used to being the butt of jokes, especially ones from his own teacher.

"Then I guess you should thank me?" he said with a smirk, leaning back in his chair.

"We'll save the thank you's for detention later." Ms. James said as she walked back towards the front of the classroom, "For now, I want you out in the hallway. That'll be enough distractions for now."

Brad took a few bows as he left his seat and walked outside, slamming the door behind him as though trying to accentuate some point he hadn't yet made. He flopped onto the floor, and immediately wrenched his hand up in disgust. He took one look at the gooey clear substance on it, which was also smeared on the seat of his pants. He had happened to sit right in someone's phlegm-infused spit.

"Shit!" he exclaimed, scooting from the spot like it was toxic. And looking at the puddle of yellow saliva, he wasn't so sure that it wasn't toxic.

Through the classroom window, Ms. James was able to see this event in its entirety. Despite herself, she couldn't help but giggle, just a little.

~

She looked at herself in the mirror, tilting her head as she tried to judge her appearance on a scale of one to ten.

It wasn't often she got the chance to go out these days, and going to a party hosted by an old friend seemed like an excellent way to kick back and get a load off her mind.

"Jennifer," she muttered to herself under her breath, "I'd say you're a definite ten."

Anyone in attendance would be hard-pressed to disagree. She looked stunning, her makeup immaculate, her dress conservative enough for a professional, but glamorous enough for a young woman.

Jennifer James was ready to be herself again, if only for a night, away from the demanding job of a teacher. She hadn't foreseen the workload she would receive upon Mr. Mann's injury, but she was an opportunistic girl, and the choice was obvious.

Now the only choice she had left, was… underwear. She had her options laid out on her bed. White panties, or black thong. She always agonized over things like this, meticulously mulling over each minor detail. She almost never wore thongs, always paranoid that it would find a way of peeking out from atop her pants.

She had once caught a student looking at a website dedicated to voyeuristic photos of exposed thongs, and shuddered to think what it would be like to end up on a site like that, the unwitting recipient of thousands of leering eyes.

But she loved the comfort. The fit. The freedom. And, wearing a dress as she was, an exposed thong wasn't a risk. Besides, she was going to a party, having a rare escape from the rigors of life.

What the hell… she decided, pulling the thong up her legs, It's not like anyone will see it anyway…

~

In the time it had been since Jennifer had last seen this friend of hers, he had come a long way from the lazy dreamer he had been in school. In fact, he had eked out a successful career as a DJ, and like most DJs, his party was loud and crowded.

Each room was packed, and people were spilling out into the front and back yards. The only locked door led to the bedrooms, where the man's nephew was staying while the boy's parents were overseas. Part of Jennifer felt as though having a child in the house during such a raucous party was dreadfully irresponsible, but the more she drank, the more that part was overwhelmed with thoughts of 'SCREW THAT, IT'S PARTY TIME.'

Apparently, Jennifer was unaware that she was a lightweight, and it was only after a few drinks that she was pretty well inebriated.

Her intentions going into the party were fairly innocuous. She was hoping to chill out, hang out with some old friends and maybe have a drink or two. Instead, she danced with a lamp, called the television a sl*t, and accused twenty guests of having small penises. Clearly, the night had taken an unexpected turn.

As the hours went on, her drinking slowed a little, and she was content to simply take in the music and have some fun with her friend. At one point, she was having some trouble finding him.

She approached a partygoer whose gender seemed ambiguous to Jennifer at the time.
"Hey buuuuddy," she slurred the words out like a bad Pauly Shore impersonation, "Do you know where Mickey is?"

"I think he's upstairs…" the person replied, their face contorting in disgust at the liquor-strong smell of Jennifer's breath.

"Thanks… man!" Jennifer said gratefully, before pausing and staring bemusedly at the person, "…Wo…man!"

With that, she hobbled up the stairs and stumbled around the hallway, trying to locate her friend. Where could he be? What were these people doing upstairs? Why hadn't she noticed that this house was two storeys beforehand?

She came upon a closed door, a sight she knew to be unusual during this party. So with a heap of confidence, she flung the door open, and found herself in a dimly-lit room with a group of people huddled around a table.

"Shit! I thought you locked that door!" one of them said to another. Jennifer was quickly pulled into the room, and the door was shut and locked behind her.

"Hey!" one of the people said, "You're that crazy teacher lady, yeah?"

"That's me!" she responded, draping an arm over her newfound friend, "Wooo!!"

"Well, teacher lady… take a seat and join us."

She fell gracelessly into a chair, and someone handed her another drink. She swigged it down quickly, and tried to adjust her eyes to what was going on. There, in the dark light, someone was pressing a credit card on the table like a knife. She couldn't quite make out how many people were in the room, or, in her current state of drunkenness, which silhouettes were even people as opposed to pieces of furniture.

"Alright!" the person with the credit card declared, "Fifty for a line." With the credit card, he carefully pushed a white powder on the table towards Jennifer.

For the first time in a while, rational thought crossed Jennifer's mind. She had stumbled into a room she would rather not have, now confronted with the decision whether or not she should snort cocaine.

She had never touched drugs before, and that first rational thought was whether it was really worth tainting herself for an unnecessary thrill like this.

The second thought was of whether this would affect her ability to teach on Monday, further augmenting the weight of this decision.

The third thought, now that the alcohol was kicking back in, was whether this was a good price; fifty dollars for one line sounded like a ripoff.

Her fourth thought was of whether or not that person downstairs was in fact a man or a woman, and whether she should ask around to find out.

With that, she made her decision.

She unleashed a fifty dollar note (from where she can't quite recall), though she ended up replacing that with a hundred as her giggling caused the first line to be blown away.

Someone rolled the note up tightly for her, and, her hands shaking, her breath held tight so as not to lose a second batch, she sniffed the whole line of coke up in one breath.

There felt like a bright flash of light before her, and before long, she was feeling on top of the world.

It would be a long time before she would feel this good about herself again.

~

Daylight. A pounding headache. A disoriented young woman. An empty house.

Jennifer sat up slowly from the bed, and tried to gain her bearings. She hadn't a clue where she was, or what time it was. She was still wearing her dress, which was a good sign, but her hair was a mess and her breath stank of alcohol.

Despite how horrid she felt, she began to regain her composure and felt a rush of panic. She looked around her, and her eyes fell upon the bedside table, where her glasses were sitting. She put them on hastily, and saw a note sitting next to a glass of water. She grabbed the note, and gave it a quick read.

Jen,

You passed out, so I took you to my bedroom. Don't worry, the hallway door is still locked, so nobody will come in to bother you.

What were you doing? We need to talk. I'll see you when I get home.

Michael

Jennifer felt a wash of relief fall over her. Mickey had taken care of her, just like he used to back in school. She wasn't robbed, she wasn't sexually assaulted, and above all else, she didn't lose her glasses. She hated losing her glasses.

She rubbed her eyes, and peered over at a nearby mirror. She was a disheveled mess, and just looking at her reflection caused her embarrassment.

Despite the urge to simply flop back on the bed and just die, Jennifer decided that she should probably leave, call Mickey later on and make up some lame excuse. Do people still get their drinks spiked? That's what she would go with.

She picked up her shoes by the door, and woozily crept out into the hallway. She slowly made her way towards the locked door, when she heard a voice from behind her. A voice that filled her with pure horror.

"Someone had a big night, huh?"

She whirled around, nearly falling over in the process, and was face to face with Brad Peters. The look on her face was enough to fill him with smug delight, and he stood there with arms folded, leaning against the wall.

"Br-Bradley," she stammered, "What are you-"

"It's Brad." He said, cutting her off, "I didn't think you would have noticed last night."

"Noticed… what?" she said warily, trying her best to fix her hair as though that was going to solve everything somehow.

"That I decided to slip out and join in on uncle Mick's party." He answered, his words sinking into Jennifer's mind like a submerged ship.

"You're… you're Mickey's nephew?" she gasped.

"Your powers of deduction are incredible!" Brad said sarcastically. "Uncle Mick sure has some wild friends. But none, I guess, quite as wild as yourself…"

With that, Brad pulled out a camera, and upon the display was a picture of Jennifer during her lamp dance.

Jennifer's expression was filled with more horror as each picture came up; a terrifying montage of negligence and bad dancing. And then, finally, there was the money shot. Literally, in a sense. The photo of Jennifer with a rolled up hundred dollar note, sniffing up a line of cocaine.

Jennifer could hardly recognize the person she saw digitally displayed before her, this traitor who had thrown everything out the window in one night of idiocy, caught with evidence so incriminating even O.J. wouldn't have gotten away with it.

She tried to form a sentence, but all that came out was a pitiful whimper. For some reason, she couldn't help but reach out towards the camera, but Brad was quick to pull it back.

"So I was wondering, what can we do about this?" Brad said in a mocking tone, "Hmm?"

"Bradley, nobody can see-"

"It's Brad." He said firmly, "And I won't tell you again."

Jennifer struggled to find any words whatsoever that could free her from the horrible place she found herself.

"I…" she said softly, adamant that she wouldn't let herself cry, "If anyone saw these, I would lose…" She couldn't even commit herself to finish the sentence.

Brad nodded his head, knowing all too well what kind of power he wielded.

"I don't think either one of us really wants that to happen…" he said softly, almost seeming sympathetic, despite the smile still upon his face.

"What do I have to do, Brad?" she had to stop herself from saying Bradley one more time, "I'll do anything just to… just don't let anyone ever see them…"

"So I was thinking money." He said bluntly, "Like, lots and lots of money. Or like, one of those favors that I would call you out on in about twenty years when I needed it…" His face turned to one of complete seriousness. "But I decided that your payment wouldn't have to wait. In fact, I don't think there's a better time than right now."

There was a long, uncomfortable pause, and a confused look crossed Jennifer's face. Though she didn't really want to find out what her payment was, she couldn't stand the suspense, either.

"So how… what is the payment?" she asked.

The smile returned upon Brad's face, this time laced with a wickedness as the words came from his mouth.

"I'm going to spank you."

Jennifer's expression turned from the confused uncertainty to downright angry disbelief. She dropped her shoes from her hand, and resisted a strong urge to just slap the boy in the face right then and there.

"Excuse me?" she said sharply, "You will do no such thing!"

"Oh, really?" Brad replied, his voice full of faux disappointment, "Then I guess these pictures will be seen by quite a few people after all…"

"No!" Jennifer returned to softness after her brief moment of defiance, "Now listen, Brad… That's just not the way we should handle this. If you, say… you… wanted me to boost your grades on some of the tests you've done lately…"

"You're trying to bribe me with schoolwork?" Brad scoffed, laughing cruelly, "Maybe you really shouldn't be teaching, y'know? You know, these photos might do a lot of good. It could save us both a lot of time, since we both knew you were just going to fail anyway."

Jennifer bit her tongue, regretting not only her actions last night, but basically the entire school term.

"Look, it might suck for a little bit, but it's a pretty sweet deal." Brad said, his words sounding like those of a sleazy used car salesman, "One spanking, just for five minutes. After that, I swear to you that nobody will ever see the pictures of you acting like a moron from last night."

Jennifer took a minute to take in the offer, still not convinced. "And how do I know you won't just leak the photos anyway?"

"Actually, I hadn't even considered doing that." He said with a laugh, "That would be pretty sweet… But look, if uncle Mick found out, he'd kick my ass. Same with my dad. So you know I'm not going to go back on my word here."

A shiver went down Jennifer's spine as this fate was becoming more of a reality.

"What are…" she muttered, adjusting her glasses, "What are the conditions? You're not going to spank me with like a cactus or something, right?"

Brad let out another laugh at this absurd remark. "No. No cactuses. In fact, I won't spank you with anything other than my hand. But you have to do exactly as I say. If you complain once, the deal is off, no matter how far we've gone."

At that, a thought crossed Jennifer's mind that made her blush. An angry look crossed her face again, and she tried to take on a more authoritative stance.

"Well, there is to be no funny business!" she said bravely, "Nothing more than a spanking, do you hear me? I'm not going to… eugh…"

"Deal." Brad said snidely, "Just the spanking, no blowjob."

Jennifer let out a groan at the boy's crassness, and closed her eyes. A long sigh escaped from her lips. After the horrible mistakes she had made last night, the idea of getting off with just a spanking did indeed sound like an incredibly light consequence. It felt like Charlie Sheen-esque sentencing, and be it from her desperation or her hangover, she felt like her options were running out.

With all the courage she could muster, Jennifer said in a resigned voice, "OK."

Brad held a hand to his ear, "I'm sorry? That wasn't thorough enough, I need to hear exactly what's going to happen."

Her eyes still closed, Jennifer could feel her face flush red.

"Yes… Brad." She said quietly, "I'm going to let you spank me."

"Going to let me spank you?" he said, not impressed, "You're officially doing everything I say now, and you're not going to have any control whatsoever! Oh, and another thing, from now on, you'll call me 'Mr. Peters'."

Another shiver down her spine. "Yes, Mr. Peters… I want you to spank me."

"Ha!" Brad laughed, applauding, "Not exactly what I was expecting, but I like it!" He turned towards the room he was staying in. "Now, I just need to get things ready. You wait here… Jennifer." He said her name with particular delight.

"Yes, Mr. Peters." She said in an empty hollow voice, speaking words that she could hardly believe.

From her place in the hallway, Jennifer's mind was racing. Was this really happening to her? Could she really not get out of this in any other way?

She briefly considered running out of the house and seeking Mickey's help, but she had no idea where he was, and she was in no state to drive anywhere. She could only hope that he would be back soon, and put a stop to this whole horrible nightmare.

There was a sound from Brad's room, like paper ripping, and then the sound of sticky tape. Jennifer wondered with horror whether he was going to sticky tape her mouth shut. In fact, this whole thing now seemed like it was going to result in her being murdered.

Though, really… right now, death didn't seem like such a bad option. In fact maybe, Brad's death would be even better. She eyed her shoe on the floor for a pensive moment, trying to figure out exactly how to bludgeon a teenage boy with a pair of heels.

"Alright! It's all set." Brad poked his head out from the doorway, gesturing for Jennifer to enter. With one last sigh as her freedom slipped away, she followed him into the room. As a side note, she chose to leave the potential murder weapons behind.

The room filled her for a moment with alarm, though considering the events that had transpired prior to this, it probably shouldn't have. On the walls, he had taped up various magazine pictures of scantily clad women. There was an inexplicable look of sadness upon their faces, as though they were the unwilling audience to Jennifer's spanking.

"I'm sorry, but that's just creepy." Jennifer spat, causing Brad to whirl around and point his finger at her.

"Hey hey!" he snapped, "You can't talk like that, remember? Just for that, it's ten minutes now. And that's your final warning."

"Yes, Mr. Peters…" Jennifer said hurriedly, "I'm sorry."

"Besides, I'm just reinforcing your knowledge that you're nothing but a dirty sl*t."

Jennifer wasn't sure what she felt more; anger at Brad's statement or amazement that he was capable of such advanced thoughts of chauvinism.

"Now then," Brad said, placing the camera on a table as he sat on the bed, "To business."

Jennifer looked at the camera with one last desperate thought of smashing it right there. But ultimately, she couldn't be sure that other copies of the pictures didn't already exist, rendering that decision pointless. Satisfying, though.

"And talk it up, b*tch." He spat.

She figured she might as well appease the little bastard, or else he might add more stipulations along the way.

"Ooh, Mr. Peters!" she cooed like a bimbo, "I've been very bad… I need you to spank me right now!"

Even he was shocked, and clearly impressed. "Well then, Jennifer. You need to lie down across my lap right now!"

Jennifer couldn't help but groan. The kid was a terrible actor.

This was it. Do or die time. Time to bite the bullet and let Brad win this time. And so, Jennifer bent over and laid down upon Brad's lap.

"Put your feet up!" Brad commanded, and Jennifer did so quickly, her toes curled in nervous anticipation. Brad took a moment to look at Jennifer's feet.

"Why have you got your toenails painted pink?" he asked.

What in the hell? Jennifer thought in annoyance, Is he really going to pop quiz me about nail polish now? What kind of freak is this kid?

"Because, umm…" she racked her brain for a vapid response, "Because it's pretty!"

"No, Jennifer." Brad replied, "We both know that it's because it's a sl*tty colour, and that's all that you are."

Oh, duh. I guess that one should have been obvious.

"You're a bad little teacher, aren't you?" Brad said sternly.

"Yes, I am!" Jennifer responded with more feigned enthusiasm than she had intended, "I'm a bad…" She paused in disbelief at what she was saying, "…Naughty little teacher."

Brad placed a hand atop Jennifer's rear, and already she began to squirm uncomfortably. His hand upon her rump felt wrong in so many ways, and it served as a reminder of what was about to come.

He gave it a sick little squeeze that made Jennifer gasp, and then finally he lifted his hand and brought it down in the first swat. For the briefest, fleeting moment, Jennifer felt relieved. She had hardly felt it at all, actually. Apparently her dress was well-suited as an anti-spanking tool. A feature that she doubted she would ever use again, but it was good to have it now.

Brad spanked her a few more times swiftly, and as time went on, they started to sting just a little bit, causing her to wriggle around slightly, and for her legs to sway back and forth. Each smack was accentuated by a quiet little grunt from Jennifer, more so from the embarrassment of the situation than from any apparent pain.

Whap, whap, whap.

There was the sound of a hand cutting through the air before landing upon the fabric of Jennifer's dress and the quiet grunts coming from the girl.

"Do you like your spanking, Jennifer?" Brad asked suddenly.

"Umm, yes, Mr. Peters." Jennifer responded in a bemused tone. Really, she had kind of zoned out, content in the knowledge that one minute had probably been completed already.

"But you deserve for it to be much worse, Jennifer." Brad said sternly, "Because you have been a naughty young lady, you are to take that dress off right now."

It took everything for Jennifer not to say no. Her feet fell to the floor, and she laid there on his lap in disgust. She knew this was coming. It was just going too easily for this not to happen. She just wished that she had chosen the white panties instead.

"Take that dress off now!" Brad snapped, letting down a strong smack that actually did register as painful, causing Jennifer to yelp and shoot up to her feet.

Jennifer rocked back and forth on her feet as she uncomfortably reached back and unzipped her dress from the back. The front fell forward before she had finished unzipping it, and she instinctively threw an arm over her breasts in embarrassment. The red pushup bra she was wearing was her favourite, but now it was the victim of her student's satisfied leering.

"Nice tits, Jenny!" Brad said, entirely dropping his character, "And that's a cute bra, too! Move your arm so that I can see it."

Her lip curling in disgust, Jennifer moved her arm, affording Brad a full view of her exposed cleavage. It was certainly a magnificent sight, and he certainly appreciated it.

"Jump around a little." He commanded, and she did so. With each hop, her breasts bounced and jiggled wildly behind the bra.

"Yeah! Look at those boobs go!" Brad said, deeply satisfied, "Nice little floral pattern around the nip area, too."

Jennifer immediately stopped and looked down at her breasts. The flowers were accentuating the nipples? Really? She was amazed to see that he was speaking the truth. The design that once looked pretty and elegant was revealed to just be basically pointing all attention to the nipple region.

Shit! I had no idea. Stupid goddamn bra must have been made by some perverted old man.

"Now then, I want the rest of that dress off, too." Brad said, his eyes running down Jennifer's smooth tummy.

Obediently, Jennifer unzipped the rest and, with tears beginning to well up in her eyes, but not quite coming out, she let the dress fall down around her ankles. Brad's eyes just about bugged out.

"Holy shit!" he gasped, "Are you wearing a… Turn around now!!"

Blushing profusely, Jennifer turned around, her buttocks entirely exposed in her sl*tty little thong.

"It's a thong!!" he cheered loudly, as though this was some sort of miracle, "My b*tch teacher wears a thong!! You really are a sl*t, aren't you? Hahahahaaaa, wooooooo!!"

"Yes… I'm a… sl*t." Jennifer said sadly, almost half-convinced herself.

She stepped out of the dress, and waited for further instruction, her arms covered in goosebumps from the sudden chill.

"Put that dress over in the corner, sl*t." Brad said, particularly satisfied with calling her a sl*t this time.

Jennifer dropped the dress over in the corner, and turned to walk back, but Brad wagged his finger and shook his head, smiling. "Uh-uh-uh…" he scolded.

So Jennifer picked up the dress again, and, all dignity long gone, replaced instead with a sort of understanding of how this sick game went, put the dress back down, this time making sure to bend over and put it down very slowly.

"Wiggle it!" Brad ordered wildly, hardly able to contain himself.

And so she did just that, waving her rear in the air like bait. During this time, Jennifer mumbled more expletives under her breath than she had in her entire life prior to this point.

"Well look at that cute little thonged booty!" Brad said. By now, his awkward youth was apparent, and his voice was shaking, "It's a little pink, I see…"

"Yes, Mr. Peters, it is!" Jennifer replied, and added in a tone that Brad couldn't hear, "No shit, Sherlock."

"Here, on my lap, now!" Brad shouted, his expression an incredible mix of ecstasy and satisfaction.

Despite the urgency of the instruction, Jennifer took her time getting back to the bed, but as soon as she was within Brad's reach, he yanked her by the wrist back down over his lap, and grabbed her ankles to put her feet back up in the skyward position he preferred.

And again, Brad resumed spanking. This time though, it was entirely unlike the mild sensation Jennifer had felt through her dress before. Now, it felt exactly like what it was: a spanking upon naked buttocks.

"Oww!!!" Jennifer gasped, flinching under Brad's hand. Not only was it harder, but it was faster, too.

"Oww! Hey!! Oww!! No, wait!! Ooooohhhh!!" Each yelp from Jennifer was more humiliating than the last, and her feet began to kick as she writhed around in Brad's lap. Her breasts were heaving around now, but it was the way that her bottom jiggled and wobbled upon impact that Brad found most hypnotic. Jennifer's writhing was only unwittingly adding to this show, and it caused the spanking to become more and more fervent.

By now, Jennifer's rear had turned a bright shade of pink, matched only by the pink of her face, full of embarrassment and pain.

"Talk!" Brad commanded between spanks, his breath heavy and his tone comically high-pitched.

It wasn't really easy to come up with appropriate dialogue under such conditions, but to her credit, Jennifer responded admirably.

"I, ahh! I, umm… Ugh! I love the… Eek! I love how, owww!! I love how you, ooohhh! How you spank!! Ahhh!"

Such witty banter would win an award in some circles.

There wasn't a thing Brad didn't love about how this was going. Here was the teacher who had been causing him grief all month, put in her place, her thong-clad rear being smacked. He loved the sound she made, the look on her face, which he could see from a mirror he had only just realised was there, and the way her flesh reacted to the punishment. She was his little plaything, and she was being owned!

But he wanted more. And so, he grabbed hold of her thong and rudely yanked it up her rear. Her back arched as her bottom lifted up to the air, and she let out a shocked squeal. Again, exactly what he wanted.

"Owwwwwwwwiiiieeeee!!" she wailed, her bottom wobbling uncomfortably in its new position.

Brad couldn't believe how stretchy the thong was turning out to be, and so he pulled it further and further, her feet now kicking frantically and wildly as the fabric crept further up her lower regions. This was accentuated by her continued squealing.

His sick satisfaction grew as he formulated a plan for the thong, and he managed to grab hold of her hands, pulling them into place so that he could work the thong up over her arms.

"Stop!!" she cried, "Stooopppp!!!"

Either he didn't notice her deal-breaking protests or he just didn't care, because he continued pulling, with great effort, until finally, the sides of the thong rested atop Jennifer's shoulders. It was like the worst, most painful pair of suspenders imaginable. And though Jennifer previously hated suspenders for looking tacky, now she hated them for reasons she would not have previously foreseen.

"Hell yeah!" Brad declared, proud with his accomplishment, "How do you like that wedgie, b*tch?"

"Augghhh," Jennifer snarled, "I… I love my wedgie, Mr. Peters! I love how it's riding so high up my… up my everything!!"

With that, Brad resumed spanking Jennifer, her raised rear now in an even better position for the flurry he was unleashing. This kind of pain was getting unbearable, and Jennifer's hands now shot up to cover her bottom and block off Brad's smacks.

"Oh, are you too good to be spanked now?" Brad queried angrily.

"No, no Mr. Peters!" Jennifer whimpered, "It just… it hurts!"

To her surprise, he didn't simply spank harder for this. Instead, he just rubbed her sore rear, clutching each cheek firmly in his palm.

"Oh, it hurts, does it Jennifer?" Brad cooed as he fondled Jennifer's bottom in his hand.

"Yes…" she said in an exasperated voice, relieved that she could say something honestly without risking breaching the deal.

"Well then, let's give you a little break!" he said excitedly, and though his words would indicate peace, the way he threw her onto the bed so violently seemed to mean otherwise. He sat atop her back, pointing down towards her rear, and Jennifer was shocked when he grabbed one of her feet, and began brushing his finger against it lightly.

Her free foot kicked around wildly again and she was bucking and squirming all over again, unable to contain her laughter.

Shit, no!! He never said tickling was part of the deal!!

Jennifer hated to be tickled. She always had. And being tickled in such a position, with a bright red bottom and a thong wedged high up your rear, made things that much worse.

"No, nooo!!" she said between laughs, giggling and snorting. Brad was able to corral her other foot, and was now tickling both of them mercilessly, making Jennifer howl with laughter.

Though it should surely be a relief from the cruel spanking, Jennifer could only think about how horrible it felt to not be able to stop laughing, gasping for breath as her student ran his fingers across her feet.

For a moment, he stopped, but it only got worse when he resumed. Now, it was a feather, and it was dancing around Jennifer's buttocks. She squealed and wailed, wriggling like a mad thing underneath Brad. He delighted in running the feather across her bottom and her upper thighs, making her cheeks clench and writhe.

He shifted his position now so that he was seated next to her, one arm wrapped around her struggling torso to hold her still, while also allowing him to turn her however he desired.

Now he was able to tickle her sides and stomach, as well as her armpits. That was the worst. Getting tickled in the armpits ranked up in Jennifer's mind with eating rocks and swimming with sharks. Perhaps a dire exaggeration, but she believed it to be true.

In all of her wild movement, the thong had slipped off each shoulder, and was now resting on her trapped arms, making the wedgie far less painful, but in her current state Jennifer neither noticed nor cared.

"So tell me Jennifer…" Brad mocked, "How does that spanking seem now?"

"Ahahahaha," Jennifer cackled pitifully, "A spanking, hahahaa, seems wonderful!!"

"So you want me to stop tickling you and get back to spanking you, huh?" Brad asked lazily, making sure not to stop tickling her while he questioned her.

"Yes!!" she shouted, for the first time actually wanting to be spanked instead, "For the love of god, hahahahaahaa, please please please spank my bottom!!"

"Even if I make the spanking far far faaaaaarrrrr more embarrassing for you?" he teased, wiggling the feather around in her armpits.

"Yes, pleeeeeasssseeee!!" Jennifer shouted.

"Alright then," Brad said with a sigh, "Don't say that I didn't warn you, though."

Brad wasted little time. Immediately after he had relieved Jennifer of her tickle torture, he reached over and unclasped the back of Jennifer's bra. In horror, she felt it fall around her. Before she could lift her hands to cover her modesty, Brad had already grabbed hold of both of her arms, pulling the thong free, and giving it one final, powerful tug.

With a high-pitched squeal and the sound of fabric tearing, he finally snapped the thong clean off of her rear, and Jennifer James, substitute teacher turned spanking slave, was officially naked.

He delivered a few powerful smacks to her rear from his seated position, but her hands instantly shot back to defend her rear again.

"You know what, your hands are getting really annoying!" Brad exclaimed, and grabbing Jennifer by the wrists, he dragged her over towards the head of the bed, lifting her arms over her head and flipping her onto her back, her breasts now free and visible.

Jennifer whimpered in misery as Brad tied her hands against the bed head with her bra, leaving her defenceless and entirely exposed. As a final humiliation, he took the ruined, broken thong and stuffed it in her mouth, then stood back to admire his work.

"Wow, your tits are even better now that they're all bare naked…" Brad said, letting out a wolf whistle, "And ha! Your nips are hard as hell! Ha! sl*t."

He kneeled next to Jennifer on the bed, smirking as he looked at her.

"You know, now would be the perfect time to get back to tickling you…" he suggested, to muffled protests from Jennifer, "But it's time for the coup des gras…"

Brad grabbed Jennifer's feet and lifted them up to the air, holding her legs together with his arm as she shrieked in horror at her exposed, shameful position.

And so Brad began spanking her in the diaper position, her legs trapped and her body fully exposed. He spanked her in this humiliating position for what felt like hours.

Jennifer had promised herself that she wouldn't cry, and up to this point, she had held true. But she had had too much. She had been degraded beyond her wildest fears, and now the tears were flowing. She wailed muffled, garbled cries that sounded like music to Brad's ears.

Her thong was stuffed into her mouth.

Her bra was tied up tightly around her wrists, and her breasts were exposed.

Her whole body was on show, in particular her bright red bottom.

Her dignity was taken from her.

Her punishment was over.

~

True to his word, Brad never did show the photos from the party that night. And so Jennifer's reputation as a party-going coke user was never revealed.

Most unfortunately however, she had not realised that the camera upon the table had recorded her entire spanking, complete with compromising angles displaying her womanhood and sleazy imagery on the walls.

It set a record on Youtube for most hits before deletion, and then made the rounds on every dirty website that would allow it. Though Jennifer had once feared a partially exposed thong being shown on the Internet, she ended up showing her thong and a whole lot more.

There were many messy legal connotations behind such questionable conduct with a minor, but Jennifer was able to get away with only having to do hours and hours of community service. Indeed, a Charlie Sheen-esque sentence.

The public outcry was massive. They declared her a filthy wh*r*. They declared her a corrupt woman. But above all else, they declared her… a bad teacher.

Of course, Jennifer would never teach again. She wasn't even allowed within fifty feet of a school, for that matter. And so, she entered the only profession who would take her, and they welcomed her with open arms.

Jennifer James became a spanking model.

Her infamy made her the most coveted spanking model around, and though she became quite wealthy from it, she still hated being spanked just as much as she had that day. For the rest of her long career, she would have to relive the degrading humiliation of being punished like a naughty little girl.

For anyone who is saddened by the plight of Jennifer James, I offer you this simple condolence…

Yes, Bradley Peters got his ass kicked by uncle Mick. Hard.

…Unfortunately though, he would always know that it was definitely worth it.

[Meepo]

I'll admit, spanking, wedgies and so forth aren't really my thing, but nonetheless I have to commend you for a very well-written story. It was easy to read and had a good sense of humour, which I appreciate! Nice work!

[Mackie]

Very well written and as Meepo said, very easy to read. Ending was sad but really enjoyed the story.

[dreamr3478]

Would love to read more stories with forced stripping and tickling woven together like this! Thanks!

[cerindclvr]

Very well written! Got to agree with the others. Would love to see more from you.

[thepac]

I agree great story loved the forced spanking and stripping you wrote her humiliation really well really good story shame he didn't keep the blackmail going and spanked her one day in school during detention

[Partynekkid]

A very enjoyable read, the humiliation was well written, the spanking was nice, with a wonderful tickling scene, thank you for posting!

[jtrombone]

Very nice, this was so good I had to make my first reply!

[skullking2]

I have to say that wedgies aren't my thing but the story was well written