“Spring Break! Spring Break! Spring Break!”
It was Desmond the linebacker who began the manic chant, and within moments, his three teammates took it up with gusto, the battered white pickup truck he’d “borrowed” from his father racing down the lonely highway at breakneck speeds. The first beers were popped open, the promise of bikini-clad beach babes lured them onwards, and as ever for the star players of Milton High’s football team, any thought to their studies, responsibilities, or basic consideration for anyone else were casually discarded and left behind in the dust. Such things were for freshmen and nerds, after all, not athletes in their senior year, and having finally broken the team’s twelve-game losing streak by a single field goal, they felt quite entitled to indulge themselves.
There was a fifth occupant in the pickup, and unlike the others, she was in no mood to celebrate. Not that she could give a cheer even if she wanted to thanks to the half-roll of duct tape wound repeatedly around her head and keeping the filthy rag sealed inside her mouth. Indeed, there had been plenty of tape in the toolbox occupying the flatbed, and all of it had been put to good use; balling her hands into useless fists, keeping her wrists and elbows locked painfully behind her back, securing her long, pantyhose-clad legs at her ankles and thighs, and binding her upper body above and below her breasts, highlighting her shapely figure in the process. Her formal white shirt, mid-length skirt and black tie were all left disheveled from her frantic struggles, and crammed into the back seat between two bulky football players, she sweltered in the unseasonable heat, rivulets of sweat tracing paths through the dust and grime staining her fair skin. To her right, coarse, brutish hands pawed at her strawberry-blonde locks, and she twisted away as far as she could from the unwelcome touch, blue eyes made hard by impotent rage. “Mmmpgggh, mmmpppgghhh!”
“Aww, come on, Ms. Grayson, you don’t gotta be like that,” Jerome, star quarterback of the Milton High Marauders, chastised the captive teacher, dark hands continuing their exploration of her bound figure. “Give me a break, will ya? We’re just havin’ a little fun, that’s all.”
“Mmmpggghhh!” thirty-five-year-old Moira Grayson screamed in protest, glancing about desperately for any sign of release and finding nothing but leering, arrogant faces staring back at her. Milton High was not known for its academics. Like too many schools in the area, the administration was content to let its library fall apart and its science labs remain painfully undersupplied even as they lavished all their attention and funding on its football team. Worst still, said team knew they were the school’s only real priority, and that bred a certain arrogance in them. Most of the discipline issues, academic underachievers and outright bad apples in the student body were connected to that damned sport in one way or another, and after ten years of putting up with this nonsense, the lovely English teacher was past due for a break.
And even by that miserable standard, Jerome was the worst of them all: ill-disciplined, arrogant and painfully stupid. Time after time, Moira had been pressured by the football coach and principle to give him a break after he failed to hand in an assignment, or bullied a classmate to tears, or outright spent class sexual harassing her. That he could barely read on a sixth-grade level or actively made life worse for his fellow students were of little consequence, so long as he could catch a ball, and she’d been fully prepared to give him a failing grade, even if it meant he’d be held back and wouldn’t graduate. After all, if he didn’t wish to fall behind, then he should have put in a token effort.
Unfortunately for her, Jerome had gotten wind of the plan, and made his displeasure known by clamping a hand over her mouth just as school was shutting down for spring break, and hauling her struggling form away. His teammates, nearly as academically lazy and dismissive of consequence as he, were more than happy to aid in her kidnapping, and now she sat bound, gagged and helpless to resist as her student loomed over her, rank with sweat and animal lust. “You know, you’re actually kinda cute, Teach, ‘specially that behind of yours,” Jerome drawled, and she shuddered as he reached to brush her cheek. “Come on, relax, why don’t ya? Seems like you could use a break.”
“Mmppgggh! MMMPPPGGGHHH!”
“No need to play hard to get.” Strong hands encircled her waist in a firm, possessive grip, and it was all she could do to keep from breaking down. “Nobody’s gonna notice you’re gone, at least for a few weeks. Time enough for you to make up for the way you’ve mistreated me. And once that’s done, we can put the past behind us…”