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She waited around for him after the bell, smirking all the while as her friends patted her shoulder and wished her luck with what would surely be just another feeble chewing-out by naggy Mr. Stringer. He waited until they were alone, then shut the door.

"So what, you gonna give me the whole 'even if you don't want to learn, maybe your peers do' spiel again, Stringy? 'Cause maybe you didn't realize, nobody's learning shit in your stupid class."

If he hadn't decided before, that tone decided it for him. "I don't know, Trish, I think I could teach you a thing or two."

She made a disgusted face. "What is that? Are you flirting with me or something? If so, that is so fucking gross. Holy shit, what are you doing! This is sexual... harass... that's so... bad..."

There it was in front of her, and thus was Trish Billingsley's attitude broken with a mere glimpse of his magical cock. "Trish, I think you and I need to come to an understanding."

She nodded. "Mmhmm. Whatever you say, Stringy."

"There's a good point. I know when you call me by the wrong name you're just trying to get my goat. I'd like you to call me Mr. Stringer, or sir. Understand?"

She smiled at his cock, slowly inching her way around his desk as if she were trying not to be noticed. "Yes sir, Mr. Stringer sir." Still a little sassy, but obediently so.

"I'd also like you to behave yourself during my class. No more outbursts, or eye-rolling, or throwing paper, or cursing when you don't think I can hear you, or talking back when I ask you to do something."

She giggled. "Now why would I do that?"

He laughed right back. "Suit yourself." And he tucked his cock away.

Trish collapsed to her knees, crawling forward desperately. "No! No, bring it back! I'm sorry! I'll be good from now on, sir! Please, just bring it back! I'll be good, I promise!"

"That's the spirit, Trish. You sass me at any point, talk back at all, show me any attitude, and you never see it again, understand?"

"I understand, Mr. Stringer sir!"

He gave her a moment to wallow in her desperation, then let her take in her prize. The worshipful look on her face was all it took to get him hard, and he'd be lying if he said her body wasn't cause enough on its own. She was one of those girls made for high school basketball - tall and leggy, plenty of muscle in her thighs - while being exactly the sort not to make it far in college - big DD tits, curves better suited to being looked at than being run up and down a court.

"Oh thank you, sir!" she cooed. "I'll be totally good from now on, promise. No more bullshit."

"Trish, was that a curse word?" he chided.

"No! Oh I'm so sorry. You can punish me however you want, a million detentions or whatever, just don't pull your underwear back up!"

"However I want, hmm? What if I wanted to make you write extra essays?"

"Sure - name the topic, I'll do 'em. And no more copying from the internet, I promise."

"So... you're saying you think the work for my class is punishment, is that right?"

She glanced up at him, taken aback. "Oh. Um, no? No, I love doing it. I do now, anyway. I will from now on."

"Oh? So if it's not punishment, then I'll have to think of something else. What do you think would be a good punishment for you, Trish? Bear in mind, I just put up with your crap for most of an hour - for the better part of a year, really - so that one little profanity isn't the only thing you have to answer for."

She seemed to be thinking it over for a good long while, until he realized she'd just gotten lost in staring at his cock. He covered it with a hand, which got her attention. "Trish? Answer my question."

"Oh. Um... hmm. Well, I guess... oh! I really hate giving head. So you could, umm, make me suck you off," she said, licking her lips eagerly, hoping he'd fall for her line and let her taste the object of her newfound obsession.

"Why don't I believe you, Trish? You look like you're a little slut who would love to suck me off if I gave her half a chance."

"I would, OK?! Come on, Mr.

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