Matt Shaw - The 8th

Just like every other day I was the last one into the classroom. It wasnt because I was late. Most days I was early as I opted to get the earlier bus to avoid the crowds and my fellow classmates. It was just easier that way with regards to getting the earlier bus and being one of the last into the classroom.

With my heart pounding hard in my chest I stepped into the classroom just behind Mrs Price, the teacher, who paid me little attention as she briskly walked across to her desk, in her tight-fitting black pencil skirt and white blouse, in front of the pupils. I closed the door and pulled the window-blind down to stop people from being able to look in. This was something I didnt usually do. Normally I was happy for other teachers to poke their noses in to make sure we were behaving while our teacher had her back to us as she scribbled on the blackboard. Today, though, I dont welcome their attention.

By the time I turned away from the heavy oak door Mrs Price was staring at me with a look of contempt on her face; an expression she regularly adopted whilst looking at me through no fault of my own. Im almost positive shes fairly pretty, with her curly shoulder length blonde hair, big blue eyes and full lips painted heavily in a seductive red lipstickIts had to be sure whether she is actually pretty or notunder that stern expression. It was fair to say she was one of the stricter teachers. I didnt move. Part of me wanted to go and take my usual seat in the front row of the classroom; as far away from Piers and his friends as I could possibly get without sitting in the teachers lap. The other part of me wanted to carry on as I had planned.

Mrs Price folded her arms. You knew she was angry when she did this. First came the deathly stare which could penetrate the most hardened of souls and then came the folding of the arms. Next up shell speak in a tone which would send most sane men running for the hills for fear of spontaneously combusting at the sound of her voice. I pity her husband. After a few warning words, which were normally laced with sarcasm, shed suddenly flip a switch and start shouting.

A quick scan of my fellow classmates showed they were all looking at me. Some of them looked worried for me and others just sat there with a sadistic look of glee upon their faces as they waited to enjoy the floor show Mrs Price and I were about to put on for them. All of them were thankful they werent standing in my shoes at this precise moment. Im starting to wish I had waited for my second class of the day to do this. Mr Smart was a much friendlier teacher.

Oh, Im sorry, I wasnt aware you were teaching the class today, said Mrs Price with just about the right level of sarcasm I was expecting. A few quiet sniggers from around the classroom. I didnt say anything. I just stood there, blocking the doorway whilst wondering whether this was the right thing to do. Had I really planned it through? Its too late now. Theres no turning back. With my left hand shaking I reached into my rucksack, which was one-strapped over my right shoulder. I froze. I could feel it in my hand but part of me was still screaming that this wasnt the right thing to do; screaming there were better ways of dealing with things

Shut up! I whispered under my breath to the part of me which was scared. I knew this was the right thing to do. It had been building for far too long. They had it coming. They all did. Everything that was to follow, when I pulled my hand from the rucksack, is deserved and I refuse to let the scared part of me, the quiet side of my personality, ruin the enjoyment Im going to get.

What did you say? said Mrs Price; a tone of voice I had never heard before. Neither had the rest of the class. A quick scan of my classmates showed they had all sunk back, ever so slightly, in their uncomfortable grey plastic chairs. The ones who previously had gleeful smiles upon their faces were now sat expressionless so as not to attract the attention of Mrs Price. Their faces were white as they feared what they were about to witness. They have no idea. Today, its not Mrs Price they need to fear.

Its me.

I pulled my hand from my rucksack, my fathers 9mm Glock, gripped firmly in my palm with my index finger on the trigger and my other fingers around the handle. Everyone screamed, even Mrs Price. Need to control them. Need to silence them. Dont want to attract any unwanted attention. I dont need this to be any worse than I already have planned.

I said shut up! I hissed. I pointed the gun at Mrs Price first. She fell backwards onto the floor. I couldnt help but smile a little. All those years of her shouting the odds at us. All those years of her believing she was untouchable. It was nice to see her fall. I span the gun around to point at my classmates. Some of whom were cowering behind their hands, as though they had the power to stop a bullet should I choose to fire, whilst others were trying to get under their desks. The sadistic part of me was surprised no one tried to make a dash for me. No one tried to wrestle the gun away from me. No one tried to control the situation. Im glad. I dont want the sound of gunfire. Not yet. That would have ruined everything I have planned. The fact theyre all petrified. It should make controlling them that much easier

It was weird seeing Mrs Price sitting in the front row, amongst the pupils who despised her so much. Not just because I was used to seeing her at the front of the class berating someone butHer expressionTears in her eyes, a pale complexionShakingShes shaking. Ive never seen that before. Not from a woman who presents herself as being so domineering. Speaking of domineering I had often heard Piers talking to his little gang, discussing whether Mrs Price would look good in skin-tight latex with a whip in her hand. The majority of the group said she would. Some of them even admitted to masturbating to the thought of her like thatOne of the group said the bulge of her penis would ruin the overall look. Seeing her, sat here nowTheres nothing manly about her. Theres nothing domineering. Shes a nothing. Maybe I should get her to stand up and prove to Piers and his gang that she doesnt have a cock hidden under her black pencil skirt. No. Thats not fair. This isnt about belittling her despite what she puts us through on a day to day basis. At the end of the day she is just being strict to keep us in control. Outside of the school shes probably a human. Deep down. Somewhere.

What are you doing? she asked in a meek voice. I have to confess, she surprised me. Most of the time there was a little masculinity in her voice but not now. Now she sounded like a scared little girl. Had you not seen who it was speaking you could have been forgiven for thinking it was one of the schools many female pupils talking.

I didnt answer her. Instead I reached across to her pile of folders, which she had placed on the desk when she first came into the room, and picked up the one labelled as registration. I flicked it open to the first page; a list of names of the boys and girls who should be sat in front of me for this lesson.

When I call out your name, I said, please say here. One by one I called out the various names from the list in front of me, not that I needed a list. I knew their names; my classmates. The people who had tormented me day in and day out for the past two years whether it was by name-calling or physical abuse. I wont ever forget their names. And after today, people wont forget my name either. Minutes later and the roll-call was done. No-one was absent for a change. Good. Id have hated for them to miss this.

I put the folder down and cast my eyes around the class. Its unfortunate some of them are here and have to witness this. In a class of twenty-five there are some who are like me. They dont deserve to be here. They dont deserve whats coming. I dont have a choice but to include them, though. If I let them go, theyll no doubt inform someone what is happening in here. If I were in their shoes I know Id go and get help if I was let out. My gaze fixed upon Rebecca Clarke who was sitting in the middle of the classroom, towards one of the walls. Rebecca was one of the louder girls in the class. She was more centered upon sleeping with as many of the boys as she could as opposed to soaking useful information. If the rumors are to be believed, and I have no reason to doubt them, shes swallowed more cum than Ive had hot meals. Of course she doesnt struggle to attract the boys attention looking the way she does; long dark hair down to her petite waist and large breasts enhanced further by a tight-fitting school shirt. Unlike a lot of the other girls who chose to wear trousers, she always opted for the skirt. She even took the time, in lunch-breaks, to roll it up a little to show off more leg. Sometimes she rolls it up so much you cant help but think of it as nothing more than a belt. Pregnant by eighteen, I reckon.