Change in Teacher's Demeanor

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Preeta sat in the staff room, her legs crossed as she dangled one of her beautiful hot pumps absentmindedly. She scrolled through her phone, lost in her thoughts. Karan’s obsession with her feet and his utter devotion had sparked something within her. She felt an intoxicating sense of power, a feeling of being on top of the world that she had never experienced before. Her demeanor began to shift, and she no longer felt the need to help Karan improve his studies. Instead, she was driven by a desire to deepen his devotion to her.

The bell rang, signaling the end of her free period and the beginning of her next lecture. With a newfound elegance, she made her way to Karan’s classroom. The students greeted her as she entered, and she noticed Karan sitting in his usual spot at the front bench, his eyes lighting up at the sight of her.

“Good afternoon, class,” Preeta said, her voice carrying a subtle hint of authority. “Please hand in your homework.”

As the students passed their notebooks forward, Preeta collected them, pausing when she reached Karan’s. She flipped through his pages, noting his progress. Though he had improved, she decided to use this moment to assert her dominance.

“Karan,” she said, her tone icy. “This work is still not up to standard.”

Karan’s face fell. “I’m sorry, Ms. Preeta. I’ll do better.”

Preeta’s eyes narrowed. “Sorry isn’t good enough. You’re of no worth if you can’t even complete a simple assignment. You’re not doing anything good in life.”

Karan felt a lump in his throat, the sting of her words making his eyes water, but he fought back the tears.

“Stand up,” Preeta commanded.

As Karan stood, Preeta slapped him hard across the cheek. The sound echoed through the silent classroom, and the students gasped in shock. Karan’s face turned red from the impact, but he remained silent, his head bowed.

Preeta moved on, slapping two or three more students lightly, enough to show that the punishment was for everyone, but it was clear that Karan had received the harshest blow.

“Now, sit on the floor near my desk,” she ordered Karan. “Complete your work here, where I can keep an eye on you.”

Karan, feeling humiliated but strangely satisfied, obeyed and took his place near her feet.

Preeta began her lecture, moving around the classroom with a deliberate grace. She would occasionally brush her foot against Karan, but now the touches were more forceful, almost like indirect kicks. Karan winced from the pain but remained silent, his admiration for her growing even stronger.

As the lecture came to an end, Preeta snapped her fingers at Karan. “Pick up my belongings and the notebooks of the students. Carry them to the staff room.”

Karan silently followed her demand, gathering the items and trailing behind her. After placing everything in the staff room, he turned to leave.

“Karan, wait,” Preeta said, stopping him in his tracks.

He turned back to her, a mixture of fear and anticipation in his eyes. “Yes, Ms. Preeta?”

“You should learn to properly greet your teacher when you meet her and when you leave,” she said, her voice dripping with condescension.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Preeta. How should I greet you?” he asked, his voice trembling.

Preeta’s eyes glinted with a sadistic satisfaction. “Get down on your knees and touch my feet with both hands. Ask for my blessings.”

Karan’s eyes widened. The way she said “ask for blessings” sounded more like she wanted him to beg for them. But he complied, bending down to touch her feet with both hands.

“Please bless me, Ms. Preeta,” he murmured, his voice filled with reverence.

Preeta looked down at him with a cold smile. “Good. Now you may go.”

As Karan left the staff room, his heart was racing with a strange mix of emotions. The humiliation and pain were overshadowed by an overwhelming sense of happiness. He thought it was all a coincidence, but he couldn’t help but wish for these moments to happen more often.

Back in the corridor, anyone who saw Karan could notice the gleam of joy in his eyes. He had never felt so alive. Every painful slap, every harsh word from Preeta, only deepened his admiration and devotion to her.

After School

Preeta’s luxurious home was a stark contrast to the chaos of her day. The opulent decor, the plush furniture, and the serene atmosphere provided a perfect setting for her to unwind. She slipped off her jacket and sat down on her plush couch, ready to remove her beautiful pumps. As she did so, a thought crossed her mind, and she smiled devilishly.

“What if Karan were here, serving my every whim?” she mused aloud, her voice filled with a mixture of amusement and dark anticipation. “Imagine him bringing me juice, then kneeling to remove my heels. Oh, the possibilities…”

She took a cloth to clean her branded heels, but her thoughts grew even darker. She imagined Karan not just removing her pumps, but cleaning the soles with his tongue. The idea sent chills down her spine, a mix of power and pleasure overwhelming her.

“Yes,” she whispered to herself, “that would be perfect. A beautiful dream I must fulfill.”

Preeta leaned back on the couch, her mind racing with thoughts of how to make this fantasy a reality. She needed to ensure Karan’s devotion grew to the point where he would do anything for her without hesitation. She plotted and planned, thinking of subtle ways to increase his subservience.

Meanwhile, across town, Karan had just returned from school. The events of the day had left him in a state of exhilaration. He replayed the moment Preeta slapped him in front of the entire class, the humiliation and pain blending into a strange, intoxicating mix of desire and devotion. He sat on his bed, lost in thought, his mind drifting to deeper, more submissive fantasies.

“Ms. Preeta,” he whispered, his voice filled with longing, “I want to serve you, to be at your feet. I want to be used by you like a tissue paper, discarded and insignificant.”

Karan closed his eyes, imagining scenarios where Preeta’s dominance over him grew even more intense. He pictured her making him do all sorts of menial tasks, humiliating him further, and using him for her own pleasure. Each thought sent waves of excitement through him.

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