Failing Art

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When you’re teaching you find your pupils fall into a wide variety. The mass of them are in the middle of the curve, learning an average amount at an average rate and getting average results. At either end you have the extremes. One extreme are those who learn by glancing at the textbook at the start of the year and absorbing all the information therein by a sort of osmosis. They’re fun to teach. The other extreme are the pupils where you’re drilling through dense bone trying to get through to them. All too often once you’ve drilled through the bone you find only empty air on the other side, having missed their miniscule brain entirely.

Finally there are the wild cards – the most frustrating people of the lot. You know they’ve got a brain, you’ve seen them use it. They should be up there with the over-achievers, but they’re in nowhere land, with you never knowing just how much they have absorbed.

It’s especially infuriating when you have a student who has been putting in an effort and achieving high marks just to have them suddenly go cold on you. You have to start digging around in their juvenile psyches to find where their train of thought became derailed.

I was currently having trouble with a pupil like that. Helen was a bright young girl who had sailed easily through all her grades and was due to graduate this year. When I say young girl I guess I should say young woman. She’s turned eighteen and should be looking to what she’s going to do after school. She should be considering university or gainful employment, not stuffing around and threatening to fail.

She was an artist of some ability. Better than me, I have to admit, and I was the art teacher and not a bad artist in my own right. Helen, however, had that touch of genius that has never marred my pictures. Now she was doing daubs and trash and I was infuriated. I was going to have to speak to her and see if I could get to the bottom of the problem. I’d already checked other teachers and she was doing badly across the board. The reason I was nominated to talk to her was because art was her best subject and the other teachers were only too happy to foist the problem onto my shoulders.

I decided to set up a little project for Helen to work on; something that would earn her extra credit for her art. I was damned if the best student I’d had for ages was going to fail just because she was going through some sort of emotional crisis.

Helen’s art class was the last period of the day. I was in the art room before the students began straggling in. I saw Helen enter and she flicked a glance towards me and seemed to wince and turn away. What the hell, I wondered? I shrugged and called her over, then informed her I’d like her to stay after class as I had some things I needed to discuss with her. On hearing that she paled slightly and nodded, seeming extremely nervous. Just what was her problem?

After the class was over I noticed Helen looking at the door and dithering about, leaving me with the distinct impression that she was going to bolt and pretend she’d forgotten to see me. I caught her eye and indicated the chair in front of my table and this time she visibly cringed before slouching over to sit down with a defeated expression. Very humbling to me. I hadn’t realised that I was such an ogre.

As soon as the stragglers had departed I sat opposite Helen and gently asked her if she had any problems. She just shook her head and was mute. I explained carefully that the teachers were here to help if something was bothering her. Maybe she’d like to talk to one of the women teachers. Again a head shake and not a word.

I pointed out the signs that something was wrong. Her poor performance academically, when we all knew she could do a lot better. Would it help if I or someone else talked to her parents? Apparently not.

Damned if I knew how to get through to her. I was damned certain that yelling wouldn’t help. She’d probably collapse in tears and I’d feel the ogre she seemed to regard me as.

“Well,” I finally said, “you may fail some of your other classes but I’m damned if you’re going to fail art. I have an extra assignment that I want you to do to make up marks. Come and see what I’ve set up and I’ll explain what I want you to do.”

I rose and started towards the storeroom where we kept our art supplies, expecting her to follow me. She just cowered in her chair and wasn’t going to budge. I turned and waited and she finally spoke.

“Please,” she said, in little more than a whisper. “I don’t want to be raped.”

I blinked at that. There was a statement that had come out of nowhere. I returned to my chair and sat down.

“I’m sure you don’t,” I said in a soothing voice. “Ah, who’s threatening to rape you?” Someone was going to be sorted out in short order.

“Um, you are, aren’t you?” she whispered.

Well, there was a turn up for the books. I was now starting to wonder about her mental health.

“Well, it’s not on my current to-do list,” I said carefully. “What makes you think I am?”

“I güvenilir canlı bahis siteleri saw you doing it?”

“Excuse me? You saw me doing what?” I know damn well that there was no way she’d seen me having sex with anyone, consensual or otherwise. What did she think she’d seen?

“I saw you raping me,” she explained.

“Oh. You saw me raping you. Ah, and just when did this take place? I seem to have forgotten about it.”

“It hasn’t happened yet,” she snapped, starting to get angry, “and you know it. You must have it planned for the future.”

“You’ve lost me,” I conceded. “Can you explain slowly and carefully, in words that I can understand, why you’re of the firm belief that I’m going to rape you. Do you believe other men are going to rape you as well?”

“There’s no-one else,” she said. “Just you, and it’s not fair.”

“Elucidate,” I cajoled, circling my hands in a gathering motion, indicating I needed more information.

“I saw you doing it in a dream,” she told me. “I’m psychic and I have prophetic dreams. You must have guessed that I’m psychic. I’ve seen you looking at me after you’ve looked at some of my pictures where I’ve painted a dream.”

Actually I hadn’t dreamed that she thought she was psychic. Thinking of some of her odder paintings I was willing to concede that maybe she was.

“So, you’ve worked yourself into a state because you saw me raping you sometime in the future, thus interfering with your studies and letting your grades down. Did it occur to you that the dream may not be a vision?”

“I did the first time. I ignore single dreams as I don’t trust them. But I’ve had this one several times so it must be going to come true.”

How do you argue with a psychic? If they knew it, they knew it. Maybe interpretation was the key.

“So, assuming that you saw me having intimate relations with you, how do you know it was rape? Couldn’t it have been consensual?”

“What? Do you think I’d agree to have sex with you?” she protested.

“Oh, my poor ego,” I mourned. “It was just a thought. Do all your visions come true? It’s really not in my plans to have to rape you and I hate having to change my plans.”

“I can’t help that,” she grumbled. “I know what I saw.”

I leaned back, considering the situation.

“Tell me, how far does the vision go before you wake up?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do I just pounce on you and you wake up before things get interesting or do you suffer the whole experience from start until I walk away laughing, leaving your ravished body lying there.”

“It’s not funny,” she snapped.

“Do I look like I’m laughing? How far do your visions go?”

“Not right to the end,” she muttered. “I generally scream and wake up just as you’re about to take me.”

“Well, that’s a relief, in a way. Still humbling to think I’m such a poor lover that you scream and wake up, but one can’t have everything. A solution suggests itself.”

“If it means you rape me today, forget it,” she said, sounding quite determined.

“I’m not going to rape you at all,” I pointed out. “However, there’s nothing to stop us playing our roles up to the point where you wake up. Your vision comes true but stops short at the point where you wake up, so you don’t get raped. Maybe that way you’ll be able to concentrate on your blasted schoolwork.”

“What? Do you mean you’ll start to attack me and then stop at the right moment? How do I know you’ll stop?”

“No. I mean I’ll make moves as though I’m attempting to seduce you. You can fend me off and at the right moment I stop. If you like we can bring one of the women teachers here to make sure I stop.”

“We can’t. There wasn’t anyone else around.”

Ever feel that you’re swimming against the tide? You keep trying and you get nowhere.

“Have it your way,” I said. “We’ll ignore the problem for now. Maybe your dreams will change to show you studying hard and getting good marks and we can forget about what is probably a false vision.”

“It’s not a false vision.”

“How do you know? It hasn’t come true and I have no intention of raping you, I can assure you. Has it occurred to you that it’s just your hormones speaking? You might be finding me wildly attractive and your dreams are just a way of dealing with it.”

“Oh, please. You’re old enough to be my father.”

“Thank you. I hadn’t realised that I’d been such a precocious child, fathering children before I was even a teenager. Shocking behaviour on my part.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I didn’t mean to be rude. You’re not all that old, I guess.”

“Didn’t mean to be rude. You just have a natural talent for it, I guess,” I mimicked. “Shall we move on from your putative rape and deal with your extra assignment? I still don’t want you to fail art, either before or after I rape you. Now there’s an idea. I’ll promise not to rape you until after you’ve graduated.”

Helen opened her mouth to say something but I jumped in first.

“No. Don’t tell me it güvenilir illegal bahis siteleri has to be before you graduate. Why don’t you write an essay specifying all the criteria I need to consider if I intend to rape you? I can read it and, if you care to specify an approximate date, I’ll arrange to be in Africa at that time. Now, your assignment!”

I turned and headed to the storeroom again, catching a look of fury as I turned that I’m quite sure was an inappropriate way for a young lady to regard a respected schoolmaster. Being that respected schoolmaster I knew enough to not notice.

Helen came stalking after me, her entire body radiating offence that I was taking her vision so lightly. I’d laid out on the table in the storeroom a rough draft of what I wanted her to do. The assignment was well within her capabilities but she’d have put in some honest effort.

I beckoned her over to look at the draft. I was confident that I wouldn’t need to explain it to her. Where art was concerned she was red hot. She took one look at the draft and spun away from the table, gasping.

“Oh my god. That’s what I was looking at when you jumped me. It’s now. You’re going to do it now. Oh my god.”

“Helen, not one more word,” I snapped. “Just look at your assignment. Do you think yourself capable of doing this or do your psychic abilities say no?”

She looked at the assignment and shrugged.

“Of course I can do it,” she snapped. “Assuming I’m not too traumatised by your unconscionable assault upon me.”

I sat down on the chair next to the table, sighing.

“Helen,” I said, speaking softly and calmly, “I have already said I have no intention of raping you. That still stands. However, if you persist with this baseless accusation, I will have no qualms whatsoever in putting you across my knee and spanking you. Capiche?”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she said, sounding shocked.

“Will you listen to yourself?” I demanded. “Are you saying I’ll have no problems raping you but would draw the line at spanking you?”

She looked everywhere but at me, her face wearing a mulish look. Apparently she knew what she knew and facts wouldn’t change anything.

“Take the draft and select the equipment you’ll need to do the work,” I said tersely, and waited for her to gather the various bits and pieces she would need.

“Now take the draft and run along,” I said as soon as she had picked the items she wanted.

“But, but. . .” she mumbled, looking at the draft and then looking at me.

“Don’t say it,” I said warningly.

“But this was in the vision,” she protested. “Today’s the day it’s supposed to happen.”

“That’s it. Once too often. I’ve already said what I’m not going to do but I also said what I am going to do.”

I patted my knee.

“Bend over,” I said calmly. “I’m going to spank some common sense into you.”

Now the obvious thing for Helen to do was to grab the draft and flee, running as though a pack of hungry wolves were close behind. That way she avoided both spanking and her much feared rape, or near rape, or whatever. What the sensible girl did not do was walk over to the irate teacher and bend over his knee. There again, who ever said artists or psychics were sensible?

I idly wondered how far I could push this before she bolted. Not far, I suspected. I flicked up her skirt and took hold of her panties.

“What are you doing?” came the nervous demand.

“I’m going to pull down your panties so I can spank your bare bottom. Do you have any objections to this?”

“But, I thought you’d, ah, spank me with them, um, on.”

“No. You didn’t think at all,” I pointed out. “You haven’t said if you object to this,” I added as I started pulling them down.

“Um, no, I guess,” she mumbled, leaving me wondering what the hell was going on in her mind. Females are bad enough. A female psychic was totally outside my experience.

I pushed her panties well down, leaving a very nice little tush on display. I was tempted to pat it rather than spank it but discipline must prevail. I brought my hand down smartly for a firm spank. Helen gave a little wail and a wriggle but didn’t try to avoid what was happening. A half a dozen firm spanks with accompanying wails and two things came to my attention.

The first, and most noticeable, was the fact that her legs had drifted further apart, totally exposing a nicely shaped love mound. A very aroused love mound. Her pudenda was flushed and swollen, her inner lips puffy and protruding. It appeared that Helen was finding a spanking thoroughly arousing.

The second, somewhat harder to spot, was the fact that she was muttering softly in between wailing from the spanks. I listened harder and felt like throttling her. She was saying, “I knew it. I told him and he didn’t believe me. I just knew he’d do this.”

I ceased the spanking, letting my hand rest on her bottom.

“What did you know, you wretched woman?” I demanded.

“That you’d spank me prior to the rape,” she güvenilir bahis şirketleri replied.

I now had a very strong yen to slap her silly. Fortunately for her she was bent over my knee and any slapping would be on her bottom and I’d just done that.

“You didn’t say anything to me about the fact that I was going to be spanking you prior to further, ah, action,” I pointed out.

“Oh, didn’t I? I guess I thought that you’d know. I mean, you’re the aggressor and must know what you intend to do.”

I was idly drumming my fingers on her bottom while I considered this. At her rather startled gasp I glanced down and saw it wasn’t quite her bottom where my fingers were drumming. Still, close enough.

“Tell me, if you think the spanking was going to lead on to other things why did you submit to the spanking? Why didn’t you just leave, at great speed?”

“Because I couldn’t stop it. I saw it coming and it’s no use running away from fate.”

“I see. Did it occur to you that fate was warning you of what might happen if you didn’t take precautions? You know, fate trying to help you, giving you a clue as to what you should or shouldn’t do?”

There was dead silence from Helen as she chewed this over.

“Um, you’re saying that what I see is not irrevocable but just a possibility?”

“Bingo. What would have happened if you hadn’t harped on and on about the possible rape?”

“Um, I’d have walked out with my assignment and it wouldn’t have happened?”

“And we have a second bingo. Have you ever heard of self-fulfilling prophesies?”

She shook her head.

“They are prophesies that come true simply because they’ve been announced. For instance, Fred is told that John will kill him the next day. Fred rushes out and attacks John in what he thinks is self-defence and John kills him. Prophesy fulfilled. What would have happened if the prophesy had never been given?”

“Ah, nothing. Fred wouldn’t have attacked John and no-one would have been hurt. Oh!”

Oh, indeed. She got the point. If she’d kept her mouth shut she wouldn’t be currently over my knee.

At some stage that idle drumming of my fingers had switched to some rather sensual rubbing of the same area. Helen was breathing somewhat harder, too.

“So what are you going to dnngh,” she asked. I’m pretty sure that she was going to finish that sentence with ‘do now’ but I’d accidentally brushed my fingers too close to her clitoris, which sort of scrambled what she was saying.

I continued rubbing in the same general area, ignoring her squirming and muffled moans.

“Good question,” I said. “What I’m not going to do is rape you. However, do you think you’re woman enough to take a good fucking right now? I’m definitely ready to give you one. I think if we do your vision comes true and just shows your interpretation was slightly off. It must be hard to tell exactly what a vision means.”

I moved my hand away from her slightly, giving her a chance to get her thoughts in order. I figured it might be hard to concentrate when someone is playing tiddly winks with your clitoris.

“Are you saying you’re going to make love to me?” she asked.

“Not quite,” I said. I swung her off my lap and onto her feet, standing up myself. I unzipped, letting my erection breath fresh air. Taking her hand I placed it firmly against my cock.

“What I’m saying is that if you care to bend over that table I will give you a closer acquaintance with your little friend there. Do you think you’re capable of handling something like that?”

The way she was clinging to it the answer was yes, she could handle it quite well. However, hand wasn’t the operative word I wanted.

She dithered. It took me a moment to work out why.

“Your vision didn’t get past this point did it?” I murmured and she shook her head.

“And would this be because you’ve never got past this point?” I asked, my hand closing over hers where she was clinging to my erection, helping it to stand tall.

From her blush the answer was yes.

“So that would be the reason you always wake up at this point,” I observed. “You didn’t know what was coming next.”

She was not looking at me. She started to stare at the floor, spotted what was between her eyes and the floor and hastily looked elsewhere. Unfortunately she also hastily let go my cock and put her hands behind her back.

I eased her back until she found the table was pressing against her. Her hands went behind her to help prop herself up. There was no way she was going to say, “Yes, do it,” but there again, she didn’t want to say no. It would only be the act of a gentleman to help her out of her dilemma.

I hitched up the front of her skirt, tucking it into her belt, leaving her exposed. She looked down at herself, exposed and with my cock hovering close at hand, and blushed, looking very flustered.

“What I’m going to do is just touch you a little,” I said. “If you think I’m going too far just tell me to stop.”

I proceeded to do that little thing, my hand slipping between her legs and resuming the rubbing I’d been doing earlier. The fact that she was now looking down and seeing my hand moving between her legs seemed to make the act even more erotic. I saw her swallow a little nervously but she kept her mouth firmly closed.

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