The Bad Boy part 2

The weekend was extremely awkward. Neither my son or I wanted to be the one to bring up the subject of what he saw through the window of my classroom. He was distant and kept to himself, but I didn’t push like I normally would, knowing what the problem was, and not knowing how to resolve it.

Yes, I should have turned Mike in for rape. But, my logical side knew that doing so would not truly help this kid, and likely only make things worse. I knew it wasn’t all his fault. He had learning issues, and a homelife that didn’t allow for him to show any ‘weakness’ or fault. So, he bottled it up, and let it out in ways that were detrimental to him, but also the only way he knew how to deal with these things. Of course, another part of me didn’t want to turn him in, because I actually somewhat enjoyed what happened and some part of me actually hoped it might happen again.

The next week at school was not as awkward as I expected, but mostly because Mike didn’t show up to school all week. I asked some of the other teachers, and some of the few students I knew were part of his ‘group’. The teachers didn’t know anything, and the friends wouldn’t say much. After that week, there was another awkward weekend with my son. However, he spent most of the weekend with his friends.

The next monday, Mike was back in class. He didn’t say much, or cause his normal disruptions. He just sat quietly, obviously not really paying attention, but also not being his normal self. Most of the week went by like this. Finally, Thursday and Friday, I once again tried to include him in class and bring him out of his anger over his issues. Both days, he just got up and left class angrily.

Then came Friday afternoon. My son left school with his friends to head to one of their houses. I was working late again, grading papers, when someone knocked on my door. I told them to come in, and oddly enough it was Mike. He wasn’t being his normal self still, and sat in one of the desks at the front of the classroom. He didn’t say anything for a few minutes, until I finally asked him if everything was okay. He kind of laughed. “Here I am, the one who raped you, and you are asking ME if I’m okay? Why didn’t you turn me in?”

I thought for a moment, working through my conflicting thoughts, then explained the logical aspect of why I didn’t turn him in. He thanked me, but warned me that I had to drop trying to help him. He was fine without my help, and it only caused more problems for him at school and at home. I offered to give him some private help, but he got angry again, yelling at me that I “Just don’t get it!” Then he angrily stormed out of the classroom.

The following week, things were back to normal. Mike was in class, and being his normal disruptive self. And I, as his teacher, was trying to help him and get him involved and working through his learning problems. Wednesday came, and it was the bi-weekly early release day. My son went to his friends to play video games right after school. This was the day that Mike came back into my room after school, once again locked the door, and angrily came over to me.

“I told you to stop helping me! What do I have to do to make you stop!” he yelled. It was only then that I noticed the bruises on his face. I asked him what happened and he only got angrier, telling me it was my fault, and if I didn’t want anything to happen again, I would leave him alone. I should have dropped it then. Or called someone to come help me deal with him. But that primal part of my brain that enjoyed what happened before kicked in, and I stood up to him and once again told him I was not going to stop.

He seemed conflicted. He looked at me, anger, fear, and guilt flashing over his face. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if you don’t stop.” I once again explained that as his teacher, I was obligated to do what I could to help him learn. The anger came back and he once again grabbed me by the throat, pushing me up against the wall. “Why won’t you just stop?! Do you want this to happen again?” Once he said that, he looked at me, a sudden realization coming to his face. “That’s it, isn’t it? You actually LIKED what I did to you and want it again??” I didn’t say anything, sure that if I opened my mouth, I would only confirm what he said. But something in my face must have given it away. He smiled evilly at me, still holding my throat, but coming very close to me. “You liked it. You like being my little rape-slut, don’t you?” I didn’t respond. I tried to give him a pleading look to stop, but it my face probably gave me away. Still holding my throat, he reached down and pulled my skirt up, pushing his hand between my legs. “Holy shit! You are soaking wet!”

I moaned slightly as he pulled my panties down and started roughly finger fucking me. He seemed to enjoy the fact I was getting off on all this. Finally, he let go of my throat, putting his hands on my shoulders and roughly pushing me down to my knees. I didn’t fight back this time, as he undid his pants and grabbed my hair, shoving his cock into my mouth. I wanted this so bad by this point.

He roughly fucked my mouth, making me gag, choke, and cry. My face was a mess. Makeup running down my face from my tears. After a few minutes, he grabbed both sides of my head, forcing his cock as far into my throat as it would go, then shooting his cum down my throat. He finally pulled out, letting me breath, choke, and cough from his forced face fuck.

Once again, it didn’t take him long to get hard again. He once again bent me over my desk, pulling my skirt up around my waist. He rammed hard and deep into my pussy, pounding in and out as hard as he could. Then he pulled out. “Let’s see how much of a dirty rape-slut you really are” he said, as he pushed his cock into my ass. I cried out, begging him to stop. But he didn’t. He pounded my ass hard, until I had another intense orgasm.

He again pulled out, pulled me off the desk by my hair, and pushed me back to my knees again. He then made me suck his cock, after just fucking my ass. He didn’t do this for very long though, as he seemed to be getting close again. Then, he pushed me to the floor, telling me he wanted to look into my eyes as he raped me. He held my hands over my head as he moved between my legs, pushing hard and deep into me again. He fucked me hard there on the floor. Finally he looked at me and told me to tell him what I wanted. I weakly told him to stop. He told me that wasn’t the right thing. I begged him to stop, and he drove harder into me. I wasn’t sure what he wanted me to say. But then, as I felt him start to tense up, I looked up at him, and begged him not to cum inside me. That’s when he roared out, pushing as deep into me as he could, releasing his cum deep into my pussy.

Once he was all done, he got up and put his pants back on. He told me he was looking forward to the next time, as he left the room quickly, leaving me laying on the floor.

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