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Emerald, Part One
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
EMERALD Part 1/2 by Caged Bird
I'm just standing there, looking at him.
He looks back at me, intently, then he lets his emerald eyes roam over my
body. My body....
My pants are down at my ankles, my arms are hanging by my side. I don't dare
move a muscle. I'm still wearing my briefs, but I feel naked all the same. I
want to be a thousand miles away from here, preferably on the bottom of the
sea, instead of standing here, but there's no way I can get out now.
Not that he's got me tied up or something. That's just not necessary and he
knows it. He smiles at me, with a glint in his eyes.
I can't help wondering how I got to be here.
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I'd been informed there'd be a new boy in this class. I'd been ill for a
while, so I hadn't seen him yet. I'd hardly entered the classroom when I
heard that unmistakable whistle usually made by certain males when they see
a beautiful woman. Now I won't have that kind of behaviour in my classes so I
glanced quickly at the direction the sound was coming from. I looked into a
pair of unfamiliar, very green eyes looking straight at ME! He held my gaze
while I was still walking and the next moment I stumbled over the dais on
which my desk was standing. The surprised whispers that had started in the
class right after his whistle turned into jeering. I tried to look unmoved
and told him coldly that he should learn some manners. Silly thing to say of
course, and not in the least impressive, but he apologized smiling, saying
that he hadn't meant to upset me. Upset me, indeed! I didn't like this
condescending air of his, especially as he was just a boy.
I remained uneasy however, feeling that there was more to come. And how right
I was! After about half an hour, I turned to write something on the
blackboard. The piece of chalk snapped in my fingers when I heard him say out
loud "And a beautiful ass, too!". Red-faced, I turned back again and ordered
him to shut up. He did so obediently, much to my surprise. As soon as I saw
the derisive and knowing glances the other students exchanged I regretted
having lost my cool over something like this. It wasn't as if I was new at
teaching and usually I had a firm grip on the unruly bunch of adolescents
visiting this school. But there was something in his glittering eyes, in the
relaxed way he leaned back in his chair that made me uneasy.
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He's been talking to me for some time now, and my heart misses a beat when I
realize that I haven't listened to what he's said. He notices this, and
raises his eyebrows. When he asks if I've been listening at all I can only
stare at him mutely. His expression, which has been quite pleasant until now,
changes. His emerald eyes take on a steely look and he starts walking towards
me. He's a few inches smaller than I am but somehow I feel like _I_ am
looking up to _him_. He makes me look right into his eyes and then starts
talking again:
=I expect you to pay attention, I thought you would have understood that by
now.
I still don't say anything.
=Moreover, I expect you to answer me when I'm asking you a question.
==Yes, but..
This comes out as a whisper, so I clear my throat and try a second time:
==But you didn't ask me anything.
=I asked you if you had listened to anything I'd said, remember?
==........Yes.
=You really should learn some manners, sweetie.
He's mocking me, using the first remark I made to him when I first met him.
=That is "Yes, Alex", or "Yes, sir", if you prefer. You still have a lot to
learn.
He walks to where the straightbacked chair stands, and tells me to come over
there. I walk towards him, taking small steps, selfconcious about how I must
look with my jeans down at my ankles. He makes me stand behind the chair and
lean forward. Then he tells me to hold on to the seat of the chair. I can't
even start to explain to myself why I'm doing this. Why don't I just pull up
my pants and walk away? Somehow I know that he won't stop me.
He says that he's going to fetch some things and tells me to stay exactly in
this position. He walks out of the room, but leaves the door open.
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The uneasiness didn't leave me in the next few weeks. His unabashed,
appreciating looks made me nervous, though I tried not to show it. I did my
best to treat him like any other kid, but every now and then I caught myself
reacting sharply, even aggressively to things he said or did. Now I had some
reason to do so, for his demeanour was quite different from that of his
fellow students. Most of the kids have some respect, maybe not always for us,
teachers, as persons, but at least for the school as an institution. Of
course there are always some who won't accept any authority at all, but
usually I can manage even those.
Alex was different, though. He wasn't defiant, but he wasn't respectful
either. He surely didn't look up to any of the teachers. I guessed he
considered himself as equal to us. I thought that was a bit arrogant; after
all, he was only seventeen years old, whereas _we_ were adults.
This morning I'd come in early, before any of the students had arrived. I
wanted to have some things ready before the lessons started. I was still
writing a few things on the blackboard when the class started to come in.
Suddenly I froze. A hand had caressed my ass softly as its owner passed me
by. Until now I had gritted my teeth and remained silent every time he paid
me a compliment, but this time my anger got the best of me. God, was I fed
up with this boy! I came down on him like I'd never done to a student before.
While I was carrying on about his attitude, he stood before me, looking at me
dispassionately, never taking his eyes off mine. In the end I ordered him to
leave the classroom, but told him I expected to see him again in the
afternoon to discuss the way I'd deal with him for this offence. I needed
some time to think about what that would be. He nodded curtly and left
without a word.
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He's come back. I can't see him because I'm standing with my back to the
door, but I can hear him. I don't know how long he's been away, if he's been
away at all. Maybe he's just been standing in the doorway, checking whether
I'm obeying him.
I am. He told me not to move, and I haven't. I've just allowed myself to move
away mentally, trying to escape reality. The sound of him walking back into
the room snaps me back to attention.
He places some implements on the seat of the chair, right under my face. One
is a belt. I look sideways and see that it is his. Next moment he grabs me by
the hair and turns my face down again. Until now he hasn't touched me. It has
taken only a second but leaves me with a flood of conflicting emotions. His
touch makes my hair stand on end. It forces me to acknowledge this is for
real.
When things become too threatening, too emotional, I usually withdraw a bit
into myself, turning reality into something resembling fantasy, making it
somehow less real. His hand has put an end to that.
But his hand felt also warm and in a strange way comforting. I find myself
trembling, my knees are weak and I'm close to tears.
=Are you frightened?
==.........Yes.......yes, Alex.
I remember just in time I've already been lectured about my "manners".
=That's okay. Do you know what these things are for?
I know, but I don't want to say it. If I say it out loud, it'll become more
real. So I remain silent, despite his warnings to answer him whenever being
asked a question.
=You think you can ward off everything by just refusing to think about it,
don't you, sweetie? You remind me of little children: they will hide their
face behind a piece of curtain and then they'll think they're invisible.
"I can't see you so you can't see me". For you, things aren't real as long as
you don't talk about it. Magic thinking.
Silence. How does he know these things? How can he be aware of what I'm doing
to bear all this?
Now he pulls up my shirt towards my shoulders. My waist is bare now. He lays
his right hand on the small of my back, lightly. It is all I can do to keep
my legs straight. I feel I can bolt any time now, and this thought frightens
me even more than his hand. He feels my fear and puts his hand back in my
hair, pulling me up until my eyes are level with his.
Fiery green jewels they are, his eyes. When he looks at me, his face softens.
I take a deep breath. I'm shaken by the profound effect his actions have on
me.
=So, you won't talk, will you. You prefer to hide. Well, I've got all the
time in the world. You just go back to your previous position and let your
thoughts wander. By the time you're tired of standing like this you may tell
me so. But I warn you, by then playtime will be over. You WILL pay attention
and you WILL feel everything I give you to feel.
With that he pushes me back over the chair and walks out of the room,
leaving me to myself.
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Somehow I didn't expect him to come back in the afternoon, so I was rather
surprised when he came into my room at three o'clock. I told him I was
pleased he had the decency to show up and accept his punishment. I'd decided
to give him an assignment which would keep him occupied for at least a week.
Before I had the chance to say anything more he told me that if I wanted to
discuss punishment, he would see me at his home this evening. He gave me a
note with the address written on it and left. I was too perplexed to stop
him.
I really was dumbfounded. HE would see ME? Who the fuck did he think he was?
The little bastard! I started to call him al lot of names silently but that
didn't help much. There was nothing I could do to get back at him now, so I
went home.
But I couldn't get him off my mind. I was pacing up and down my livingroom
restlessly, thinking things over again and again. No way was I going to let
him call the rules of this game! I decided to report him to the headmistress
first thing next morning, but even that couldn't settle me down.
All the way to his house I scolded myself for going to him. My own actions
baffled me. What did I have in mind? Maybe I thought the presence of his
parents would make him easier to deal with. When I arrived I knew I could put
that idea right out of my head. This was a student's house, by the looks of
it. I rang the doorbell all the same. After a while he opened the door and
led me to a basement room. There didn't seem to be anyone else present in the
house.
He told me he was pleased to see that I had the decency to show up. I
blushed, recalling my own words this afternoon. I looked around. The room was
almost empty. I saw only an armchair and a straight-backed chair. He sat down
in the armchair so I walked towards the other one when he told me, sharply,
to stay where I was. I looked at him, stunned. I opened my mouth to tell him
I was getting sick and tired of him but he beat me to it:
=I'm sick and tired of you, you know. You don't have any manners and you
don't have the grace to accept a compliment when you get one. Instead you
choose to whine about "what people will think".
Now that was true, I'd been very worried I'd get a bad reputation because of
his coming on to me.
=I've done my best to control myself every time you overreacted, but this
time you've gone too far. I won't accept being yelled at just because I
admire you and your body.
==Admire me? You never showed me any respect!
=I showed you all the respect you deserve, even more than that, for you
didn't do much to deserve any. It's just this attitude problem you and your
colleagues have. You can't see any student as another human being, but only
as "a kid", "a minor". It's you who don't have any respect.
I didn't have any answer to that. I suddenly felt very tired and wanted very
much to sit down. He, on the other hand looked very competent and at ease. He
was looking great. At school I'd always refused to really look at him, really
_see_ him. I never really looked at any of the kids. I was their teacher and
that was all there was to it, I always thought. But now I saw he was gorgeous.
He had a very young face looking impressive because of those eyes. Short,
straight blond hair. He wasn't very tall but he was very well built. Muscular,
but lean. He was beautiful.
=So, I'd better teach you something about respect, sweetie.
I didn't reply. He exuded so much power, the power that had brought me here
in the first place. I could only stand there, watching him and listening to
his words.
=Open your pants.
Like hell I would!
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