**Detention**

I was supposed to be grading papers, not watching her squirm in her seat. Emily was the kind of student who always pushed the limits—tight skirts rolled up just a little too high, buttons left undone, those teasing glances when she thought no one was looking. Tonight, though, she was alone in my classroom after hours—her punishment for talking back in class.

She tapped her pen impatiently on her desk, her crossed legs bouncing slightly. I could see the strap of her bra peeking through her thin blouse, the outline of her tits beneath the fabric.

*Fuck it.*

I got up from my desk and walked over to her, the sound of my shoes on the linoleum making her look up. “You think detention’s a joke?” I asked, standing over her, close enough that I could smell her perfume—something sweet, like vanilla and trouble.

She smirked. “I think you like keeping me late, Mr. Carter.”

That was all the invitation I needed.

I grabbed her by the hair, yanking her head back so hard she gasped. “You’ve got a smart mouth,” I growled, my other hand sliding up her thigh, pushing the skirt higher until my fingers found the damp lace of her panties.

She whimpered—not in protest, but in twisted excitement. Her hips jerked at the sudden touch, and I could feel her heat through the fabric. “Please—” she started, but I didn’t let her finish.

“Please what?” I squeezed her cunt roughly through her underwear, making her choke back a moan. “You want me to stop?”

She shook her head, eyes wide, lips parted.

I smirked, dragging her out of the chair and bending her over the desk. Papers scattered as I shoved her face down, hiking her skirt up to expose her ass. Her panties were soaked, clinging to her pussy, and I ripped them aside, running a finger through her slick folds.

“You’re fucking dripping,” I muttered, spreading her juices over her tight little hole.

She tensed—realizing too late what I was doing. “Wait—no, that’s not—”

But I didn’t give her time to protest.

I spit on my fingers, rubbing them against her asshole before shoving two inside without warning. She cried out, body jerking, fingers scrambling against the desk for purchase.

“Relax,” I ordered, fingering her roughly, stretching her tight ring as she whined beneath me. “You wanted this, didn’t you? Flashing me those pretty little tits, bending over just right—you knew what you were doing.”

Her ass clenched around my fingers, her cunt pulsing with arousal despite her protests. I unzipped my pants, freeing my cock—already rock hard—and pressed the thick head against her untouched hole.

She sobbed when I shoved inside, her scream muffled by the desk.

“Fuck,” I groaned, feeling her tight ass squeezing me like a fucking vice. “Should’ve known you’d take it this good.”

I didn’t wait for her to adjust—just started pounding into her, gripping her hips hard enough to bruise. Each thrust forced another broken noise out of her, her body shaking, her nails digging into the wood.

Her pussy was dripping onto the floor, her clit swollen and ignored. She was getting off on it—the humiliation, the pain, the way my cock split her open.

I reached around, pinching her nipple through her blouse, making her yelp. “That’s it, take it like a good little slut,” I growled, slamming into her harder. “You’re mine now.”

She came with a shuddering cry, her ass clamping down on me, and that was all it took to send me over the edge. I pulled out at the last second, splashing my cum across her trembling back.

She collapsed against the desk, her breath ragged, her body used and marked.

I tucked myself back into my pants, wiping my hands on her skirt. “Clean yourself up,” I told her. “Class starts early tomorrow.”

And then I left her there—ruined, aching, and already wondering what I’d do to her next.