Author: der_diener   (mikedoran21@yahoo.com)
Title: French 301
Part: 1
Universe: French 301 with Mrs. Ilona
Summary: Mike delivers a bad grade on a French paper and receives appropriate feedback from teacher.
Keywords: FemDom, FDom, malesub, teacher, student, spanking, whipping, CFNM
Language: English, some French


<!--ADULTSONLY--> Fictional adult material, not suitable for minors



French 301

PART 1


Just another day in paradise:
16 year old Mike left home after breakfast, heading for the bus which would take him to school. He was in 9th grade and was looking 
forward to leave this gauntlet in about a years time, find a job and make some money on his own.
Going through the class schedule in his memory, it was Mathematics at 8am and French at 8:45. Great. His two favorite subjects.

Uhhh, the French exam last Friday. Shell probably be handing back the papers today, along with the grades. This day just keeps gettn 
better and better he was thinking while checking out the traffic from the window of the bus and observing the pedestrians, running to 
wherever they had to be. He was fully expecting a grade 5 (faulty) or a 6 (insufficient), both of which were fail grades and the kind of 
stuff you dont want to present to the elderly at home for signature. 

By the time he got off the bus at the schoolyard, he already made plans for the big 20 min break at 9:30. If he would make thru Math and 
French, he would reward himself with a hot bacon sandwich, double cheese, and an ice-cold chocolate shake, fresh made in the cafeteria, 
and a smoke afterwards  maybe two.

Trying to stay awake during Math, he found his sweetheart, Karin, a row back and a couple seats to the left. She was as pretty as ever, yet 
would not respond to his looks.

Maybe he should skip French and bail out for some shopping and / or a real breakfast at the mall. Not an option it went through his mind. 
Mrs. Ilona, the French teacher - and coincidently assistant headmaster of the school - kept an attendance log and was known to not tolerate 
unexcused absences. This blended in pretty well with her general reputation around campus. Though other teachers where often times 
made fun of and sized-up for a pre-puberty testosterone contest, none of the Halflings would fool with Mrs. Ilona. Her personal aura silenced 
just about everything and everyone, over a quarter-mile radius.

Along came the bell (changeover only, no break) and Steven and Mike rushed out to the restrooms for a smoke. Steven was not exactly 
looking forward to the exam grades either and they went back to class. Shared pain is half the pain Mike thought.

Mrs. Ilona was already in the classroom, taking her blouse off, and Steven was last to come in, closing the door and gaining Mrs. Ilonas 
attention in form of virtual knives flying at him - and Mike. They were obviously late and she knew they had been to the restrooms for a smoke.

Walking to his chair, Mikes fear to look at her was overcome by his curiosity as to how she would look today and what she was wearing. 
She was somewhat petit, about 52, maybe early 40s, pitch-black hair and very pale skin, couple of freckles her and there, dark hazel 
brown eyes. He reckoned she had some hot Southeast-European blood under that pale skin. That would explain a lot. She was dressed 
in a long one-piece gown with a long v-neck, some kind of red with a bunch of flowers on it. His eyes wondered down the dress, briefly 
stopped at the exposed lower calf and ankle supported by a pair of half-inch sandals. By the time he sat down, he remembered her red 
pedicure from last Friday, when he was searching for answers in the classroom. 

It slowly dawned on Mike: 
As much as he hated school, and French in particular, he looked forward to attending HER class. 
She was beautiful.

Sure enough, she handed out the papers with the grades. Unlike most other teachers, she would remain in her chair and at her desk and 
have every student walk up to her and pick up the paper. The appropriate verbal feedback came free of charge. Steven picked up a 4- 
(negative). He would probably get away without a beating at home tonight. Mikes turn. He walked up to the desk and looked at the grade 
on the paper. 5-. Though he somewhat expected that, his jaw dropped and his mouth dried up.
Mike, your grades are getting worse. We both know you can do better than that. I would like you to stay after class so I can have a word 
with you.

Walking back to his desk he realized her close proximity was what made him so nervous  it was not the damn grade on the paper. He 
caught a scent of her carefully dosed perfume, caught a glimpse of her cleavage which was moving as she breathed and almost touched 
her gentle hand as she gave him the paper. The rest of the class pretty much bypassed him as he wondered what kind of thunder and 
lightning would await him afterwards. He was nervous.
The bell went off and Steven wished him well, to the tune of Hang in there, buddy. Ill have a smoke on you.

A couple seconds later he was alone in the room with Mrs. Ilona. She was packing her satule while he sat at his desk. It was one of those 
situations where one could cut the air with a knife.
Mike why dont you shut the door and take a seat over here she said, pointing at the student desk in front of her.
He did as he was told and found himself sitting some 3 feet away from her. A classic 'tight spot'.

"Mike, what's happening. You delivered 3 and 3- grades until recently, performed well during regular class and were one of the best 
readers. I don't like what I'm seeing here, today. What's wrong?"

There it was again. He could scent her perfume. Too afraid to look directly at her eyes, his eyes ended up starring at her cleavage, 
watching it move as she breathed.

"Well.... Mrs. Ilona, ....... I don't know. The irregular verbs are really getting harder and harder, and the grammaticisms as well. I also had to
spend a lot of time improving Math, and catching up there...."

"I don't care much for your lousy excuses" she interrupted him. "In case your parents are a too lenient on you, I shall administer your 
punishment for delivering a fail grade, in form of twenty strokes.
Get up, drop your pants and bend over my desk, now!"

Mike's eyes grew to the size of bowling balls, his hands were shaking.
As he briefly made eye contact, she was starring at him and simultaneously reaching into her satule, pulling out a leather whip.
"What are you waiting for? Get up!"
Mike stood up and approached her desk. He unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them down to the floor. 
Hesitation.
Then he put his hands on the desk.
"Your briefs, too ! Aujourd'hui, s'il vous plait !"
Mike tried to access his brain and figure out the situation. There was no response. Only panic.

His hands reached for his hips and he slowly pushed down his briefs. His awakening member popped out as the briefs dropped to 
the floor. Trying to catch his breath, he was starring out of the window looking for birds.
Mrs. Ilona waited for 10 seconds or so to observe his organ swell to full size and eventually reaching up to his belly button.

She got up, with the whip in her right hand, and stood behind him.
"Bend over the desk, flat down. Hold on to the desk with your hands, left and right."

He did as instructed and his upper body was now flat, horizontal, in line with his bottom. His pucker was facing straight at her while
his member was dangling under her desk. He felt her right foot touching the inside of his calves. "Spread 'em!" So he did.
 
Smack.
By the time her heard the crack a wall of fire ran up his back and forced him to arch, pressing his belly on the desk.

"Count for me!" came from somewhere....

.......

"Eeeeehhhhh, one."

"One what ? What did your parents teach you to respond?"
 
"One ... thank you ma'am"

Smack ! 
"En francais" she demanded.

His back arched again as he longed for air.

"Deux ......."
"Deux, merci Madame" as he again tried to collect his thoughts.

On she went.
As they were on the 3rd floor, with all the other buildings only 1- and 2-story, he was suddenly glad at least nobody else could see 
him through the windows.
.....

"Dix, merci Madame"

Mike's hips spasmed pretty much ouf of control and he felt fluid pushing down his penis. 'Ten more to go'.

....

Finally: "Vingt, merci Madame"

His ass was on fire. He was drowned in sweat. But, at least, he started to breathe again.

"Stand up" as she went back to her chair.
He stood up, facing the desk again. He couldn't help but to look down on his member and realized that several drops of 
pre cum covered his tip and ran down his shaft.  

Sure enough, her eyes followed his and she spotted the situation as well.

"Mike: I expect at least a grade 4+ on your next paper. In addition: You will be first in line for the weekly readings and verbage 
recitations. Without me calling you. You will raise your hand and volunteer. Is that understood ?"

"Oui Madame"

"Disobedience will result in additional, more severe, whippings and me having to call your parents."

"Tres bien" he stumbled out.

"Now, we don't want you leaving this classroom with a tent. Go to the sink and masturbate."
"And clean up after yourself."

In his mind, he essentially agreed with that notion. 'No, it wouldn't look so good showing up in the cafeteria with a huge boner.'
He stepped out of his pants and briefs and walked over to the sink in the corner, next to the chalk board.
She turned around with him and watched his every move.
With his right hand holding on to the sink, his left hand went to work and his peripheral vision told him that she was still observing 
him.
And that she had a smile on her face.

It only took a few seconds for Mike to unload. He grabbed the towel, wiped everything clean and discarded it in the bin.

"Well done, Mike. Please bring my blazer while you're heading this way."
While he picked up the blazer, she would stand up slightly lift one arm.
Standing behind her, still semi-erect, he helped her into the blazer. 

"That'll be it for today" she noted.
"Now, put your clothes back on and join your classmates outside. I look forward to your much improved grades".




TBC.
Mike's grades will get better !

















