The Secret Journey (10 page)

“I was at the Club on Saturday night, sir. I
saw you there.” She put her hands behind her neck, fingers laced
together, raising those high, firm breasts to me, offering them. I
ever so carefully didn’t look, but before I didn’t look I saw her
nipples, standing hard and proud, jutting evidence of her arousal.
They weren’t a good sign. She knew about the Club.
The Club
with the capital implicit. The Club was in the city, a good two
hours from here. The Club was where my other life was lived out, in
a world far darker than this quiet little community could ever
imagine.

And here was Julie, little Julie. How did
she… how
could
she know?

It didn’t matter. “Julie, stand up.” I said,
in my best teacher voice. It brooked no misunderstanding or
disobedience. I couldn’t allow this to continue.

“Yes sir,” she said, and stood, with her
hands still clasped in the back of her neck.

“And put your hands down.” I glanced out the
windows, afraid someone might have already seen what she’d done.
Innocence, in a case like this, is no defence at all.

“Yes sir.” She put them down by her sides and
stood there, obediently, quietly, waiting. She was doing exactly
what she was told, which was exactly the wrong thing, under the
circumstances.

“Julie,” I said, my voice quieter. “This
can’t happen. You’re too young…”

“I’m old enough, it's perfectly legal.”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t legal I said you were
too young.”

“I’m not too young to be your student,
sir.”

“Not this way, Julie.”

“In every way, sir.”

“Julie…” I groped for words. “You don’t know
what you’re talking about.”

“Yes I do sir. I saw you at the Club…”

I held up my hand, my stomach tightening.
“And how do you know about that?”

“I had a hunch. I went there. I saw you,
sir.”

“Enough! This isn’t something we can do. We
can’t even talk about it. Ever.” There was finality in my tone.

Julie looked at me, her eyes big and round,
her cheeks flushed. There was a tremor in her voice. This had taken
courage for her to do, I had to hand her that. She wasn’t about to
give up.

“My marks are bad sir,” she said. “I want
them to be better, I want to go to university. I need you to help
me, to punish me when I’m bad, when I don’t do my work.”

“Julie…”

She didn’t let me finish. “I’ll be good for
you sir, I’ll make it worth your while. I promise. I’ll do
anything.” Her voice was pleading, desperate for help, desperate
for acceptance.

I looked away from her, looked out the window
so I wouldn’t see her tight young body or her big, begging eyes. I
took a deep breath and swallowed. What she was proposing might be
legal, but the school district has a single rule for a situation
like this.
Hands off.
It was up to me to be the mature one,
the responsible one, to turn away from what this beautiful,
intelligent, eager young woman was offering, to refuse to give her
what she clearly needed so much. Her parents, the principle, my
colleagues, the world at large, they all expected me to make the
right decision here, to live up to the expected code of ethical
conduct, to not take advantage of the situation. Just as I had with
Suzanne.

And would Suzanne be alive now if I’d kissed
her, if I’d taken her, slept with her? Would she have enjoyed her
teacher-fling and then gotten over it, gone on to her scholarships
and her degree and her brilliant and successful future? Would she
now be writing me a warm Christmas card, remembering what we had
briefly shared, excitedly describing her new and expanding world?
Or would it have ended in disaster, in heartbreak? It might have,
but nothing could have been worse than what had really happened.
The world at large didn’t have to bring flowers to the grave of a
smart young woman who’d died for unrequited love. I’d apologized to
Suzanne’s mother as though I’d done something wrong, and she’d
looked at me and looked away and said “I wish…” She hadn’t
finished, but I knew what she was wishing. She was wishing I had
loved her daughter, if only for a little while, and thereby saved
her life.

I looked back to Julie, standing there, young
and firm and waiting. Decision time and I really had no choice.

“Be at my place, ten o’clock tonight. Be on
time or don’t come. If you don’t come, if you’re not on time to the
second, it’s over.” I looked her in the eyes. “Understand?”

She shuddered. Did she climax at that moment?
“Yes sir.”

I jerked my head at the door and she ran out,
not looking back. As she grabbed up her books I caught a glimpse of
what she’d been reading while she should have been paying attention
in class. A plain black cover with a single red rose, I knew that
book. How many young women had their first look into their own
sexuality through the eyes of its thrice-tested heroines? I looked
down at my desk, put my head in my hands.
What have I gotten
into?
It was wrong, and it would ruin me, but I couldn’t deny
my desire to bend that lithe body to my will, to discipline that
brilliant, undisciplined mind. My cock strained upwards at the
thought. I felt guilt and desire, fear and lust.
I can’t do
this.
The words ran through my mind in a permanent loop, but I
was doing it.

Or was I?
I hadn’t expected Julie’s
approach, I had no plan to deal with it, but I’d made one on the
spot. Ten o’clock was a deliberate choice, not so late that she
could protest it was an unfair time to meet, but late enough that
her parents might stop her from going out. My phone number is
unlisted, my address along with it. Smart teachers do that, to cut
down on the prank phone calls and the toilet paper strewn all over
the lawn. Students have dug it out before and I’m sure they will
again, but she’d have only a few hours. If she didn’t figure it out
in time I’d be able to end it cleanly before it began, save my
career, save myself from the memory of Suzanne.

At home I made supper, tried to grade papers.
Visions of her body kept intruding, visions of her in the same
positions I’d had Lize in, had Jana in, had Colleen in at the Club.
Beautiful women, intelligent women, women who came to purify
themselves on the Club’s altars of leather and steel, who came to
consecrate themselves with me. The difference was, Julie was my
student, forbidden fruit. That was exciting, in a way that none of
the others could offer. That was exciting, as much as I wished it
wasn’t, and the danger involved was just the icing on the cake.
Unable to focus, I tried to read and found no distraction, and
found myself wishing I’d set the time for nine instead, to end the
anticipation sooner. I didn’t want her to come, and I wanted her to
come more than anything. Finally I laid the riding crop on the
desk, ready, and forced myself to do my own writing. Ultimately I
managed to lose myself, to do it so thoroughly that when the door
chimed I’d lost track of time. I glanced at the clock. 9:59 blinked
to 10:00. Her timing was perfect. We’d play this game out to the
end.

She was there at the door in a pleated skirt
and neat white blouse, demure and conservative clothing, not at all
like her usual style, and dangerously close to Suzanne’s. I don’t
know what lies she told her parents to get herself out of the
house. It didn’t matter. I was in too deep to back out now. I
didn’t say anything, just turned and went back inside. I heard the
door close behind me, the slight scuff of her shoes on the carpet.
I led her into my study where I had been writing, where the riding
crop waited. I pointed to the desk. “Grab the far edge,” I said.
“If you let go before I tell you, it’s over.”

“Yes sir.” She bent over, stretched out,
wrapped her fingers around the far lip of the desk. That position
forced her onto her toes. Roughly I shoved her legs apart, so each
foot was outside the edge of the desk, hooked around the legs. She
inhaled sharply, her nose almost touching the riding crop. She had
transformed in that moment, from girl to woman, her breasts pressed
flat against the wood through her thin blouse, her legs long and
feminine, her waist small and tight and her ass, her taut, rounded,
upthrust and spread ass, so wonderfully presented beneath the
skirt, ready for anything I might care to do to it.

I picked up the riding crop from its place
between her outstretched arms and flexed it, watched her muscles
tense in anticipation. I flipped up her skirt with the crop’s tip.
She had no underwear on, and her cunt was shiny wet, and
swollen.

“You’ve been a bad girl Julie,” I said. I
raised the crop. “A very bad girl.”

“Yes sir,” she said, her breath catching in
her throat. I brought the crop down, fast enough to whistle through
the air, hard enough for the smack of impact to echo around the
room. The stroke left a burning crimson streak across her smooth
round buttocks and ripped a cry from her throat.

“You’ve put me in a very difficult position,
Julie.” I kept my voice level, in control, but I was angry at her.
I was angry for the boldness of her action, for the inescapable
logic of her proposal, for reminding me of Suzanne. I brought the
crop down again, slashing it hard against the sensitive crease that
divided her ass and her thighs. She moaned something inarticulate
that might have been, “Yes, sir.”

“Your homework is not up to standard Julie.”
Slash!

“Your attitude needs correction Julie.”
Slash!

“
I’m not going to stand for this
Julie.” Slash!

At first she said “Yes Sir,” after each
statement, each stroke, but then they came too fast and her words
became grunts, inarticulate noises of pain. Tears welled up in her
eyes, and her ass flexed and danced. I wanted to make her let go,
to break. I was angry at her for risking my career, and for making
me desire her so much. I took that out on her, brought the crop
down over and over, working her taut, red streaked buttocks,
letting the tip snap into the tempting cleft between them. Her
pussy was open now, her clit rigidly erect, peeking from beneath
its protective hood, and I snapped the crop up against it. If she
was so eager to be punished I was willing to make sure she got what
she was looking for. The whipping seemed to go on forever, and
finally I tore a word from her throat, choked out around her
sobs.

“Please…”

“Please what?”
Snap
, I brought the
crop down again.

“Please stop.”
Snap
. “Sir.” There was
desperation in the word 'Sir'.

“Are you going to behave?”
Snap.

“Yes sir.” Her cunt had swollen more under
the sting of the crop. The inner and outer lips opening to reveal
the entrance to her vagina. Her hymen was intact. She was a
virgin.

“Homework in on time?”
Snap
.

“Yes sir. Please sir.”

“Well composed, well written, properly put
together?”
Snap.

“Yes sir. I’ll be so good for you sir. Please
stop.”

“No more reading in class?”
Snap.

“No sir, no sir, I’ll be good, please stop,
please please…”

I gave her one last stroke, drove it hard up
between her legs so the shaft of the crop split her labia and the
tip snapped against her clit. She screamed then, her cunt visibly
pulsing under the impact as she shuddered hard, and it may be that
she climaxed. I paused to breath. My cock was ready to burst and I
wanted nothing more than to drive it up into that tight, wet, pink,
and vulnerable hole. Instead I tossed the crop down and collapsed
into my armchair. “We’ll see on Monday, just how good you’ll
be.”

“Yes sir. Thank you sir.” She stayed in
position, crying softly. Her ass was a solid mass of red welts.
She’d have trouble sitting for a week. Her pussy was swollen and
slick with her desire.

I tore my eyes from her display. “Get up.
Go.”

She stood up and turned to face me, her tear
stained eyes begging for comfort. I just pointed to the door. I
didn’t want to build intimacy with her, I wanted her to understand
that she was in too deep, that she couldn’t handle what she thought
she’d seen at the Club. She couldn’t have been in my presence for
more than five minutes, but it had seemed like forever. As soon as
I hear the door close I hauled out my cock and started
masturbating. It took me under a minute to finish, spurting huge
globs of white hot sperm over my hand, my balls contracting so hard
they hurt. The image of her tight, virgin cunt was burned into my
brain. I was shaking at the end of it, and her vision filled my
dreams that night.

Saturday dragged and Sunday dragged slower.
She had me hooked though I didn’t want to admit it. It wasn’t just
her body, it or her eager innocence. Part of it was her
intelligence and maturity, so far in advance of her peer group, but
there was more than that too, something deeper, something darker
that showed in her eyes when they looked up into mine.

I understood when I thought about that, when
I thought about her, how it was that she’d found herself at the
Club. She was bored, not just with the advanced daycare centre we
call high school but with her entire world, with the entire way of
life in this bucolic little suburb, revolving as it did around
shopping malls and high school football and the top ten shows on
cable. A lot of girls in her situation discover drugs, use the high
to lower their bar, submit themselves to the inexpert fumblings of
half drunk jocks. Not her, she was too smart for that.

How many nights had she lain in her bed,
surrounded by cute frilly things given to her by relatives who
didn’t understand the first thing about her, masturbating to
visions of trial-by-ordeal? She would know how to defeat the
parental controls on her computer and surf the darker corners of
the internet. She would know what was available, and she craved it
and she had sensed in me that I had exactly that to offer, though
with only the vaguest of idea of exactly what
that
was in
reality. She had followed me and found it, and decided she wanted
it, screwed her courage to the sticking point and found a way to
get it.