The Dorada Girls [Restricted] Teacher x Student

Of all the schools in the world there was said to be one which could protect your child from anything, whether that was the dirt of the world or the cruelness of society. This school was renowned for its policy of making sure your child would stay pure. In short, so that the child would stay a virgin.

This school was the renowned all-girls school, Dorada. But the Dorada girls were no cleaner than the muddy water in a swamp.

~Claire's POV~

The room smelt of chemicals and gas from the last class and the metal floor was cold underneath her. However, she had only one thing swarming her mind. Claire watched in complete shock. She clutched the cross hanging from her neck and desperately tried to rip her eyes away from the scene in front of her. This was supposed to be a straight-laced school. This school was meant to be her sanctuary, a safe haven away from men and anything masculine. Instead, it seemed as if her choice of setting for the rest of her studies had pressed her even closer to what she dreaded. All she had wanted was to read her book away from the loud whispers of the library and the disgusting munching of the other students eating the classrooms, she had thought that the laboratory would help her fall into her own world. She had no clue what she would witness. 

"Uh! No, Sir!" the girl whined again as she panted and clung to the back of the science teacher's white shirt.

It was Heather Kirby, the historian for the student council. She would take photos of anything and everything, which was about to be confirmed by the way her thin hands were searching around on the desk she was pressed against for her pink mobile phone. However, every so often her hand would shake and lurch towards the back of her teacher's brown hair and tug it roughly between her fingers as she moaned into his ear. She was gasping. And his fingers kept pushing in and out between her open, shuddering legs. Heather's hold-up tights hung from her legs, half taken off along with her jumper, blouse and tie. Her glossed, damp lips pressed against his ear in satisfaction, purring how good he felt as she tugged at his ear lobe with her teeth before moving down to lick his neck.

Claire felt a warm wave spread over her as she watched from her hiding place behind one of the huge desks in the lab. She could feel the flush of her cheeks and her breathing became unsteady. Why was she watching? The thought made her blush even more. She wasn't the type to be loved by guys, she'd always begrudgingly imagined it but it had been nothing like what she was seeing now.   Such fantasies never contained such raw emotion and heat. And Heather's face was reflecting all of this. Her eyebrows arched with every whine and her teeth and tongue tried desperately to claim every part of the teacher's golden skin with red marks and lip gloss trails. It was as if only he could quench her thirst, as if every bit of his skin she could reveal would make her more alive. She struggled with his tie as she shivered. His fingers went from two to three and his speed increased, forcing her to press closer to him and hold on to him once again. 

As she thrust her hips towards his fingers and she called out his first name, "James." At the same time she tried to reach out to remove his glasses.

In an instant he pulled his fingers out of her with a wet sound that masked his brutality.

"What?" he breathed into her ear and he tugged it closer to him by her hair, "You don't get the privilege of calling my first name," He then wiped his damp fingers on her cheek and let her go, throwing her onto the teaching desk. He seemed angry. Maybe even infuriated. "Get out."

Heather pushed herself back up into a sitting position. Her big, brown eyes were wide. They couldn't seem to decide whether to be seductive or innocent, the constant switching was dizzying. But it seemed as if he was serious. So Heather, stood up to leave, pulling up her pink thong before it tripped her over.  Once she had gathered all her clothes she left. Her make-up was smudged and she was sweating, for once she looked less than her perfect, big-boobed self and Claire would be lying if she said that she didn't feel kind of triumphant when she slammed the classroom door shut. But the triumph didn't last long.

"I meant you too," the teacher's voice lazily sighed.

For a minute, Claire even played with the thought of another person being in the room but she knew he meant her when he added,

"You know, you should probably find another way of venting out your sexual desire instead of watching people like a pervert. Will this be a regular thing?" It didn't even sound as if any future commitment would bother him.

Claire  climbed on all fours from behind the desk, her temper flaring,

"Well it's not like you can talk! You're the pervert!"

Then she realised she had taken the bait much too easily, she could tell by his smirk. It was also perhaps the first time she saw her teacher, Mr. Reynolds, really saw him. On the first day he was introduced during church she didn't see what all the fuss was about, it was a man, so what? But not only was he a man, he also was tall and broad, his posture was good, important. It was true he looked the part of a teacher, his glasses made him look smart. But, his hair was long, unkempt, his lips constantly tugged into an arrogant smirk that seemed to laugh at the girls who clung to him and folded the waistbands of their skirts so that they could have a chance at him. And Claire could see why.

However, even if her nun-length skirt was taken off completely she would have no chance. She had the body of a man, she, like him, was broad and tall. She was a ruler with a scruffy, uneven bob to top it off. Her eyebrows were horizontal. Her eyes were big but droopy and her nose was sharp and pushed out of her face like a mountain range, a contributing factor to her wide forehead. Her perhaps only good feature was her thick lips. Compared to the rest of her pasty skin and shapeless body it was the lips of a movie star. On a movie star her lips would be like a commoner's in comparison. It was also because of her serious, expressionless face that often people believed she was cruel, perhaps even snobbish. She hated the world she lived in and it hated her. But she didn't mind, she had books.

But maybe books weren't enough anymore?