Matt Shaw: The 8th

“Please stop!” Mrs Price begged.

I shook my head. “These people… They made my life miserable… They didn’t stop. I asked them. David asked them. They never stopped. Even when we asked you for help… You turned us away. Remember that?”

“Had I known…”

“We tried telling you. You didn’t listen!”

“I would have stopped it.”

“Hindsight is a wonderful thing, isn’t it?”

Thinking about hindsight I wonder whether I made things worse, for David and I, when I initially spoke up. Would things have turned out differently had I stayed quiet like Craig? David never said the general level of abuse had gotten worse because of me but he was the sort of person to keep that sort of thing to himself. Maybe it wasn’t as frequent before I came? Could ask him. Doubt he’ll answer.

“This isn’t the way to put things right,” Mrs Price continued. You’d think she’d shut up but obviously it’s against her nature. “They can get suspended… Expelled even…”

“You really think they care whether they’re in school or not?

The third, fourth and fifth days were easier. They were even quite pleasant. Mainly because the back row of our class was empty as Piers and his friends didn’t show up. I’m not sure where they went and I don’t really care. Their absence, probably due to the beating they gave David and I. No doubt they were scared to come in, expecting a one to one with the Headmaster; not that David and I told anyone what had happened. Sure, we were asked but… We figured… It’s done. It’s over. Move on. Hopefully Piers, and all, will move on too.

By the end of the third day, I was comfortable enough to make my own way around the school without needing David showing me everything but I still hung around with him. Definitely one of the good ones. Who knows, when I leave this school — as, no doubt, I will as soon as dad says we’re moving away — maybe, just maybe, this is a friendship that will stick. Be nice. Normally, when I move on, friendships are quick to disappear. That’s always disappointing.

“I’m sure they’ll care,” said Mrs Price as she still tried to convince me that grassing the bullies up was still the right thing to do.

I shook my head again. “Do you know what they say about you?”

“I don’t care…”

“You should. Half of them want to fuck you… Disrespectful to both you and your husband… The other half… They think you have a cock…”

“Playground stuff…”

“Not denying it…”

“What?”

“Show us.”

“Don’t be so ridiculous.”

“I said show us… Prove they’re lying,” I pointed the gun at her.

“What have I ever done to you?”

My mind drifted back to the numerous occasions she made me, or one of my classmates, feel stupid in front of everyone else. We’d stand there, after she told us to stand, and not be able to do a damned thing to stop her from tearing us apart over the slightest thing. Talking in class, no homework, poor homework, not paying attention, not getting the required pass mark on one of her many surprise tests… Anything could set her off. Sometimes it was justified but most of the time the dressing down we received was over the top and probably against the school’s policies. I wonder if the school actually has any policies, thinking about it.

“Come on,” I said. “We’re waiting.”

“What do you want?”

“What do I want? I want to make you feel as little as you make us feel…”

“I make you feel little?”

“You know you do and, more to the point, you know when you’re doing it. You always have the same wry smile upon your face.”

“If I’ve ever made you feel stupid, I’m sorry…” She looks as though she’s about to cry but I don’t care. She deserves this. I aimed the gun directly at her eye so she could see straight down the barrel. “Please don’t make me do this…” I pulled the hammer back once more, having carefully released it earlier. She started to cry. I, on the other hand, started to get excited. The feeling of power I’m wielding, I could get used to this. “Okay…” she said. She stood up, with her legs shaking, and unzipped the back of her tight black skirt. She paused, perhaps hoping I was going to tell her I was joking and she didn’t have to remove it. I’ll be doing no such thing. I could feel myself harden. Is it wrong to ask Rebecca to come back over? Maybe I should test out Mrs Price? Well, that is if she doesn’t have a cock. Don’t think I fancy a blow job from a woman with a prick.

“What are you waiting for?” I asked; a wry smile on my face. Her face reddens as she drops her skirt. I can’t help but feel a little disappointed to note she isn’t wearing stockings but rather tights instead. On the plus side, they’re over the top of a white cotton thong. Not quite the PVC or latex we were expecting to see. Perhaps she saves that for the weekends and days where she works the detention hall? A further plus to the situation reveals no penis. Just a nice mound where her pubic bone is. I’d love to fuck her. I bet she fucks like a good ‘un.

“Happy?” she asked, fighting back her tears.

“What do you think class?” a quick scan of my fellow classmates, of which I thought the lads would be grateful for this, revealed no one was looking at Mrs Price. They were all looking directly at me. “Look at her!” I ordered and they did. I looked back at Mrs Price, “Turn around… Let them see you…” Following instructions like a good little student, she turned on the spot. She looked at them… A look in her eyes suggesting she was hoping one of them would come and help her, perhaps give her a jacket or something to wrap herself in. “Bend over I ordered.”

“Surely this is enough,” she said.

I shook my head. “Not yet. Bend over.” She wept as she bent over, facing me. “Now turn around,” I said. She did as she was told until her sweet arse was facing me directly. I can see the outline of her pussy lips through the material of both the tights and the thong. It makes me wonder what it would taste like. Perhaps a step too far? I’ll have a bet I’m not the only one thinking along those lines, though. Even Piers, through his bloodied face, must be fancying a taste too. I should have made him turn around. I didn’t mean to give him such a delightful treat. I licked my lips at the thought of what her juices would taste like and shifted in my chair. I’ve heard people say it tastes of fish but I don’t believe it. I hope it doesn’t. I’m not a fan of fish. I’m hoping it tastes like chicken like one of my other friends described. Maybe I’ll be in this school long enough to make a relationship with a girl. That’d be nice. But then… Maybe I could just pull Mrs Price towards me now… Pull her towards me, rip her tights… Pull her knickers to one side and give her a lick. My mouth is watering. I’m tempted but I won’t. Not because I don’t really want to and not because she isn’t attractive. It’s just… She is older than me. Maybe too old? Maybe she is past her sell by date and her creamy juices are off? Perhaps that is when they taste of fish. All this picturing what it tastes like… Rebecca… I’m ready for round two…

“She is fit, though,” I said to David. He didn’t answer. He just smiled as he tucked into his lunchtime sandwich. “I mean, how are we supposed to concentrate when faced with that every day? I definitely would…”

“I wouldn’t,” said David. He swallowed his mouthful and took a sip of his carton of orange.

“What?”

“I said I wouldn’t.”

“You wouldn’t want to sleep with Mrs Price?” I asked with a surprised tone of voice. David shook his head. “You’re kidding me, right? I think you’re the only person who doesn’t want to sleep with her… I mean, as long as the rumours aren’t true and she doesn’t have a manhood growing down there.”