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Randy wasn't entirely sure what he'd let himself in for when he'd agreed to do this, he'd mostly done it for the kick of seeing
Ric trying to get all this gear together discreetly, which he'd somehow managed, a feat especially difficult given that everyone
they worked with were gossips with eyes like hawks, and because it must have taken some doing to find all this stuff, well
okay, some of it Randy recognised as some of Matt Striker's stage kit, but other things like the uniform he was wearing and
the gown and mortar board that Ric was wearing would have to have been bought in especially.
Randy appreciated the effort, even as he felt slightly uncomfortable, because it had been years since he'd worn knee length
shorts, and he'd been glad to graduate to long trousers when he had. It was a strange effect, making him feel more exposed
that the trunks or the towel photos ever had done. Even so, it was only fair that he should now at least try and be realistic
in his response to being in school. So he was chewing gum and leaning back on his chair so that only two of its feet were
on the ground. That covered most of what he'd got up to at school.
"Orton."
"Yes, sir."
"You are aware that you were sent to this detention to work."
"Yes, sir."
"Then why aren't you working?"
Because copying things out of ancient Geography textbooks was boring in the extreme and he'd already written half a page.
"Oh, but I have been, ... sir."
"Orton, this was designed as a punishment for you, not for my already sore tried patience." Randy chose that
moment to pop his gum and lean back further. "That does it. Orton, what are you in detention for?"
"Chewing bubblegum in class, not doing my homework. Oh, and talking back to teachers."
"Since you insist on continuing to do all of these things, I think that a harsher punishment is called for."
There was a pause. Who was going to blink first? "Come over here, Orton." Randy slowly sauntered over.
"Hands on your knees." Randy bent over, feeling, again, slightly ridiculous. There was no way not to, his
ass in the air and Ric's hand touching it, thumb on top and palm round the side, by the feel of it. And then this tapping
noise. He wanted to look over and see what it was, but he was worried that this threatened punishment would be worse if he
did. Except he couldn't not look, not when he didn't know what was going on.
One look told him that Ric had wanted him to look, since he was taping a cane against the floor. Which was unexpected,
but Randy had agreed to whatever Ric wanted and he wasn't going to pussy out of this.
"That look gets you an extra stroke. Bringing it up to seven in total." Ric's footsteps sounded loud on the
floor, accompanied by the continuing tapping of the cane. "Turn back around or else." Randy did as he was told.
He might not have been scared, not really, about what was going to happen next, but that didn't mean he was going to be inviting
more pain.
Ric carried on walking, till he was about level with Randy's legs. He stood with his legs shoulder width apart and took
some practise swings. And then the whooshing sound of wood cutting though the air far too fast, in Randy's opinion, given
that it was him it was going to be hitting.
And it hit. And hurt like fucking hell.
But Randy wasn't going to buckle. Pigs would fly before he'd moan or make any noise. He kept this up as the second and
third blows rained down on him, but by the fourth that resolve was starting to break. Because Ric was carefully and deliberately
hitting him in the same place each time, and, yeah, it would probably deaden with enough hits, but Randy wasn't sure he was
going to make it through to that many.
Five, six, hell that hurt.
Seven, thank God it was over. Fuck knew how he was going to sit down. Ric wouldn't make him sit down, he couldn't, that
just wouldn't be fair. This was the kind of thing that resulted in three days of standing up and hoping that there weren't
any bumpy landings on the flights.
Just in case the rules were still being applied Randy stayed bent over, he hadn't been told he could get up, and Ric could
just be getting swing happy.
"You can stand up straight now." Randy did, as quickly as he dared. "How did that feel?"
"Well," it felt like fucking hell, and his ass felt on fire now, "it hurt, Sir."
"I can hear that you're restraining that filthy tongue of yours. As a reward, I'm going take away a little of the
sting from your behind." If Ric would do that, Randy would do anything for him. "Bend over again." Randy
was worried, just a little, but the tone that Ric had said it in reassured him.
Ric opened something behind him; Randy could hear the unscrewing of a plastic lid. Then, a few moments later, Randy felt
something cool and soothing being smeared over his ass. It felt like cream and was oh so good against his reddened skin.
Ric took his time to cover every burning inch, and it felt better. Randy realised that he'd still hurt tomorrow, but right
now, he felt good, and he had Ric to thank for that.
"Thank you, sir." He tried to look bashful; he found it easier to do in this get-up than normal. "Sir,
I've been such a troublemaker, and I'm so sorry. Is there any way I can make it up to you?"
Ric's smile was part amazement that Randy was so into this and part the wicked smile that could and did convince Randy
to do anything and that got him so hot. "There is something. But it would have to be our little secret."
"I'd do anything, sir." And he would.
"Spread your legs to shoulder width, and stay bent over." Randy did as he was told, because this was going
to be fun. Ric used a little of the cream he'd applied to Randy's behind to smooth his way. He took his time preparing Randy,
maybe more than he usually did, because, normally, Randy knew what he was doing but now, with those dinky little shorts and
his boxers both around his ankles and his red ass exposed, Randy looked so damn fragile. "Does this feel okay?"
"Oh yes, sir, it feels so very good."
"That's good to hear. I want you to enjoy this as much as I am."
What Randy could see was a potential problem, that if he didn't lean on something, he could well fall over. "Sir?"
"Yes, Orton?"
"Could I lean on your table, sir?"
"You may. And well done for paying attention." Randy wouldn't put it past Ric to be covering up that he'd
not thought of that or to actually have been testing Randy. Then again, after this, he wasn't putting anything past Ric,
ever. Randy would never have guessed that Ric got off on hitting people with stick, not like other people he knew, but judging
by how hard Ric's dick is as he carefully entered him, he really did enjoy it. Randy was grateful that Ric was going slow
because his ass smarted and he was pretty certain it was glowing red, not that he could see it. Sure Randy liked it fast
and hard, but the slow and methodical way Ric was doing it now, like he thought that Randy didn't know what was going on,
like he had never done this before, this was getting him hot too. There was none of the usual hard thrusting, fast, messy
and quick. Ric was moving surely but slowly and with infinite care, not to hurt him, not to leave any sign, no mark on Randy,
beyond the redness of his ass after the caning, because whatever crazy school this was, because it would have to be a mad
house to hire Ric as a teacher, wouldn't really mind about their students being caned, but they'd mind about the fucking.
As would his parents, probably, although given that they'd theoretically let him go to a school that was bad enough to let
Ric teach, so really, they had no right to complain.
It was all slow burn and infinite precision.
Randy could feel the jerk of Ric's hips when he wanted to speed up but felt he shouldn't, and again, it was the restraint
involved that touched him. Ric was want, take, have, all the way, but now he was wanting and not taking what he wanted.
Randy didn't know how to tell him to take it, take as much as he wanted, because he doesn't have the right words. He wanted
to tell Ric to fuck him harder, make him come, make him scream but he knows the kid who he's supposed to be wouldn't say that.
He wasn't even sure if he was allowed to speak without being spoken to first, but he knew he'd have to speak without prompting
if he wanted Ric to do something, otherwise Ric wouldn't do it for fear of taking advantage.
"Please, Sir,"
"Yes."
"Please, Sir, this feels so good, could I have more?"
"Of course, if you're sure."
"Oh yes Sir, I'm sure. I want this to feel even better." So Ric gave him more. Randy flexed his fingers against
the wood of the desk. It felt wrong, the few wooden desks that his school had were covered in graffiti and he has a childish
urge to carve his name in this one, nothing major, just something like 'Randy Orton was here'. He wasn't entirely sure that
anyone would notice it, and even if they did it wasn't like it would get him into much trouble.
His fingers flexed again, caught the edge of the desk and clenched there. Clench tighter and slacker, tighter and slacker,
gripped so tight that he thought he'd pull the lid off if he moved backwards. Thankfully he didn't, Ric's arm holding him
and stopping him from moving too far.
Randy bit back most of a moan, clamping his mouth as tightly shut as he could, but still, some sound escaped.
"Try to be quiet, boy, or else I'll have to bring a gag with me next time." So Randy clamped down harder, trying
to please his teacher, anything to hold on to that promise of more of this.
Ric's arm left his waist and moved down to his dick, while his other arm was braced above Randy's shoulder, because Ric
was starting to move faster, but with the way he was jerking Randy off, he seemed to be determined that Randy would come first,
and at this rate, Randy was going to oblige him, because, oh, God, yes, that felt so good.
"Please, Sir, oh, sir, oh, yes!" Randy came over Ric's hand. He could feel his body pulsing as Ric moved his
hand from his dick to his hips and started thrusting harder. Still not as hard as usual, but it was still enough to make
Randy wish he were still hard just so that he could come again. The mind was willing but the flesh was recovering. Instead
he set about trying to make this as good as he could for Ric, keeping his ass back, trying to figure out what he would have
done if he'd been a school kid losing his cherry. He tried to say thank you, but all of Ric's thrusts were hitting his sweet
spot and he was being driven insane and beyond words.
Ric didn't stop thrusting when he came, he carried on for four or five more thrusts, squeezing every last moment out of
this before it finished with the end of detention. Randy, who normally couldn't wait for the end of detentions - it meant
he could go home and play computer games - didn't want this to end. Maybe Mr. Flair was only teasing him about doing this
again, and they wouldn't ever. Randy wanted to do this again, would do anything to do it again. But he didn't know if getting
into more trouble, so he'd get yet another detention would get him this.
Ric pulled out of him, back to being totally slow and careful. Ric must have pulled up and fastened his trousers first,
because when he had finished zipping Randy's back up and turned him round, he was already fully dressed. From Ric's appearance,
the only way you could tell that anything had happened was that he was a little red in the face and because his cape was rumpled
across his left shoulder.
"That's your detention over with, Orton. I don't want to see you in here again." Randy's chest suddenly felt
tight. "Because we all know what happens to naughty boys." There was such a twinkle in his eyes when he said it,
even though his voice didn't change, that Randy was already planning the next stunt that would get him into trouble. He was
going to get to do this again and he was so excited by that. It was the thrill of danger. Next time they could get caught,
and that was the thrill in both this play world and in the real one. Getting caught like this would be embarrassing and possibly
dangerous and Randy wouldn't stop doing it for the world.
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