A/N: This story is based on a roleplay I did with .net/~sephielyajmaxwell . What we have here is a boarding-school AU, with England and South Italy from Axis Powers Hetalia as a sadistic teacher and a rich, snotty student, respectively. Essentially, some shameless English-school erotica. Originally edited into a fic for the Hetalia kinkmeme, but I put so much effort into editing it I've decided to share it elsewhere. Not to mention it's hot. Really hot.

Warnings: Like all good English school erotica, this story includes a corporal punishment/caning scene. Additionally, there is dubcon teacher/student sex and some powerplay. Consider yourself warned (or encouraged, depending on your tastes). Simply put, if you don't like those things, don't read the fic; if you do, please enjoy!


Class really was a tedious thing sometimes. Arthur loved the subject and that was half of the problem. The more you loved something the more irritated you became when someone didn't take it seriously, or worse, they butchered it. That being the case, he had developed a terrible habit of playing 'favorites'. There were his 'pets' who got the best of grades and turned all of their work in on time. They shared his views and became active in class, discussed subjects about whatever they were reading. It took a little extra effort to become exalted in Arthur's eyes. Anything less of course was met with disdain, and detention slips were given out like candy. Currently they all sat quiet as mice in their seats, pencils to the paper and heads bowed down. One glance up or towards one another could be called cheating attempts. Not that his tests were ever set up in a manner conducive to cheating in the first place; no, instead they would contain various essay prompts which asked for opinions, like 'what do you think this scene meant?' or 'what is the significance of this quote?' The Brit styled his tests so that they would last the full length of the class, and that was if you worked through it at a timely rate. That being said, green eyes swept slowly back and forth across the rows of filled desks, sharp as a hawk. He almost enjoyed catching 'cheaters'. Little did he know that, today, he was going to find one.

At the moment, said student was crouched over his desk in Professor Kirkland's class, trying desperately to pass his English exam. Lovino Vargas had never been very good about studying for exams in general, and the one he was sitting at the moment was no exception. What did it matter, he thought, if he remembered any of this nonsense a few days from now? The foreign student had always had trouble with literature, and the fact that it wasn't even in his native language made it especially difficult for him. This fact also gave him a pretty simple way to justify his poor test-taking behavior to himself. Rather than beginning to study early enough that he would actually be able to remember the material, he had procrastinated until the night before the exam and had utilized that evening preparing a very elaborate crib sheet, which covered everything from significant dates in the life of the author to important notes on key characters to lists of instances of each of the novel's key 'themes.' He'd never been good at studying for exams, that was true, but he'd gotten damn good at cheating on them. Or so the young Italian thought.

The folded sheet of paper covered in dozens upon dozens of useful things he should've memorized, written in the tiniest of print, jutted out of the sleeve of his blazer, just enough that he could read the words that he needed for the question he was working on. He put on a great show of working intensely, but for the most part just tried to keep the crib sheet hidden from his instructor's view.

In hiding his notes, the effort was successful. Unfortunately for Lovino, it was his posture itself that attracted Professor Kirkland's attention. It was probably about half-way through the test that Arthur realized something was off about the way his exchange student was sitting. Test-taking posture wasn't something he usually enforced actively, but sitting quite like that for any length of time had to be... uncomfortable. In fact he couldn't see why anyone in their right mind, at least anyone who wasn't an absolute masochist, would do it! He stood up slowly, and everyone in the room seemed to tense. He'd spotted someone, they all knew it. Those who were cheating began to sweat, and even those who weren't feared being accused of it. Detention with dear Professor Kirkland was... painful, to say the least.

Arthur headed for the rows of desks, starting down one about two rows away from Lovino, who was concentrating so hard on his exam that it took a bit before his ears registered the sound of his professor's footsteps. The man didn't glance at anyone as he walked smoothly down the aisle, giving no indication of where he was actually headed nor whom the unlucky student was. Kirkland seemed to be headed in the direction of a desk several rows over from Lovino, so at first the student thought he was safe for now. Just to be sure, he tucked his cheat sheet all the way into his sleeve; however, he must have been too obvious in doing so, because the footsteps suddenly seemed to change direction, and were now headed straight toward the hapless Italian.

Kirkland moved quickly now, his target finally obvious, reaching out to snatch up his wrist in a surprisingly strong grip. The student yelped in surprise as the man seized his arm painfully tightly. "Ow! Merda," he hissed under his breath, though whether it was more in response to the painful grasp or to the fact that he had been caught was debatable.

A slight grin spread across the professor's face at his discovery. "What's this?" he asked as his fingers slipped into the sleeve, fishing out the folded piece paper as if he'd known it was there all along. "This had better be a grocery list," he half-teased, cockiness in his expression. Glancing at it, he rose one thick eyebrow. He cringed as he watched Kirkland's eyes scan his incredibly detailed notes, at that moment nonsensically willing with all his might for it to actually be a grocery list; this was of course to no avail. Giving a low whistle, he released the Italian's wrist and reached down to lift the test. "Your test is completed, Mr. Vargas. You'll meet me after your classes. Not here, in my office."

Lovino shook his wrist several times after it was finally released, scowling. But as pissed off as he was, he still knew better than to confront a teacher in the middle of class, when he would have a better opportunity to do so one-on-one in the man's office. "Yes, sir," he uttered disdainfully, but not without a note of fear slipping in. He'd certainly heard stories from students who had had detention with Professor Kirkland, and from the sounds of it, it was nothing to look forward to.

After his classes were over, Lovino wandered around the halls of the building aimlessly for a bit, trying to delay meeting with his teacher for as long as possible; he knew he was in a good deal of trouble over his cheating. Still, there was only so long it could be put off, and after twenty minutes or so of delay, he found his feet making their way in the direction of Kirkland's office. Thankfully, he didn't run into any of his classmates from English literature on the way there, so he didn't have to address the issue of where he was headed and why—not that they wouldn't have known. Finally, he found himself before the door, arm shaking slightly as he raised it to knock several times before listening for a response.

On the other side of the door, Arthur was waiting impatiently. In fact, he'd been just about to call over the intercom for the errant Italian when he heard the knock. "Enter," he said firmly, leaning back into his chair. Lovino pushed the door open with some trepidation, though he tried to feign a look of dismissiveness in spite of his fears, his eyes idly scanning the room as he entered. The decoration managed to be both showy and simple at the same time; a perfect match for its occupant. Professor Kirkland's desk was large, mahogany, heavy and old by the looks of it. Expensive. As were the books in shelves all around them, some of them even behind cases of glass. On the walls were hung his teaching credentials as well as awards he'd gotten for his accomplishments which stemmed all the way back from when he himself had attended this school; the wall nearest his desk also held a classically-painted portrait of his father, who had been affiliated with the school before him.

Holding out his hand, the professor indicated the chair in front of the desk. "Have a seat, Vargas," he ordered. Lovino nodded, closed the door behind him, and seated himself in the empty chair before the desk, which was surprisingly sparse despite the detail everywhere else. A plate with his name on it, a lamp and a few trinkets for holding pens and the like, and now, the unfolded sheet of paper containing Lovino's notes. In fact, it appeared as if the desk had been intentionally cleared. "Now, young man, if you'll explain to me…" he lifted the paper now, waving it, "why this little paper shouldn't give you an automatic zero for this test."

The student no longer had to fake the tired, dismissive face; he was quite irritated that the man seemed to think the subject he taught was such a big fucking deal. "Sir," he began, feigning respect, "I don't know if you've ever had the experience of trying to study literature in a language that's not your own, but for me, this is the most difficult class I have! And with someone like Golding, especially... his writing can be so sparse that if you miss one detail, it can be a problem." He tried to draw upon stylistic issues that Kirkland had brought up in class, hoping that it would support his story that he had at least been paying attention to what had been said. "And a good deal of those notes are just useful vocabulary! I would have had no way to write an essay if I didn't have access to the appropriate words." This last statement was true; there was indeed a long English-Italian glossary on one side of the page consisting of significant and otherwise impressive-sounding words that Lovino had looked up the night before. "And I did put the effort into writing it all up, you know. That much should be clear." He tried everything he could think of to add cogency to his argument, as he was certain that his already-shaky grade in Kirkland's class couldn't handle a zero on an exam.

Arthur set the paper down in front of him as Lovino spoke, smoothing it out with his hands. He listened to everything that was said, even nodding a few times, as if he agreed. When he did look back up from the desk, however, he was frowning. "You're a bright boy, I can see that much. In fact, if you had put the same amount of energy into your studies that you put into this cheat sheet you would have aced the test! However, you assume too much." Now he tapped his index and middle finger against the desk a few times. "You know nothing about me before you present your case here. Much to my displeasure, I had the opportunity of learning French. In fact, I spent two years of my university studies abroad in France." He explained, now sitting back to cross his arms. "It was a language I detested, but it was a building-block that I needed. For honors, one class in foreign language and time abroad was a must! It was either French, German, or Russian. I simply chose the lesser of evils," he explained. Damn, Lovino should've known the man had studied abroad at some point in his life, with all the other accolades on his walls. That argument had immediately fallen flat. "Now," Arthur uncrossed his arms to place his hands onto his desk. Rising to stand, he now looked down at the Italian sitting at the other side of his desk. "No matter the reason, you cannot escape the fact that you attempted to cheat. If you want a chance to retake the test, you will accept the punishment for the crime." A chance to salvage his grade? Lovino didn't want to retake the test, of course, but he sure as hell needed to if he were to have any hope of passing English literature. "You are aware of the methods of correction at this academy?"

In response to the question, Lovino nodded. His father had not hesitated to remind him time and time again before sending him to the academy that corporal punishment was still perfectly licit in English private schools, even though it had been banned from Italian schools before Lovino himself had ever set foot in one. As far as the student could tell, that was part of the reason his family had chosen an English school to send him to when his arrogant, abusive, sometimes-violent behavior had gotten him 'asked to leave' two different prestigious Italian ones. "Yes, Professor Kirkland, I am aware." His voice was quieter now, as if suddenly subdued. Perhaps surprisingly, thus far the boy had managed to avoid being punished since he'd arrived at this school, but it seemed he'd gotten too cocky again and his luck was about to change.

"Very good." Arthur gave a nod. Though he might have liked to have informed the Italian himself just to see his expression, he knew that he'd end up quite satisfied with the events to come. Moving over to a small bin he kept his umbrella in, he pulled out from it a long, smooth rattan cane. He bent it slightly in his hands, gave it a swish through the air, smiling fondly at it. "Stand up, and drop your trousers and pants. You may take off your jacket if you like, otherwise you'll have to hold it out of the way..."

Lovino cringed at the sound of the cane swishing through the air behind him. He could already feel his palms beginning to sweat from nervousness. Gripping the arms of the chair, the Italian forced himself to his feet, and once he was fully standing he began to unbutton the jacket of his school uniform with jittery fingers. Once he had done so, he removed it, slipping it off each arm and folding it over the back of the back of the chair in which he had previously been seated. However, the rest of the command struck him as suspicious. "Drop my trousers and pants? Is that even legal?" He turned and gave his instructor a stare. He was bluffing, of course; he had no idea whether it was or not, and he was attempting to stall.

"I assure you it's quite legal." Arthur rose an eyebrow when he was questioned; he wasn't used to that much anymore. Most boys just listened, they knew better than to stall. "But if you'd rather keep them up then you're prepared to accept a higher count. I give double strokes for cheeky boys who dare to be late, and won't take their punishment like a man. I'd say a good ten more, for leaving them up. Just to make sure it sets in. If I can't see what I'm doing then I am essentially blind, I have to be good and sure." Arthur explained, giving the cane he held another swish. "Thirty over your trousers, only twenty without."

Lovino's mouth dropped open. Thirty strokes if he kept his trousers on? It sounded obscene. "All right," he said in a slightly higher voice, his throat tightened in shock at what he felt was an excessive number, but he could tell that arguing any further would only make things worse for him. "I'll take them down." His hands reached for his waistband, and he quickly had his trousers unfastened, not wanting to test the man's patience any further. He hooked his thumbs under the waistband of both his trousers and underwear, pulling both halfway down his thighs in one go.

Arthur managed not to smile when he got his way; that would be too childish of him right now. His green eyes dropped to that bared skin as soon as those trousers came down, along with everything else. Ah, Italian skin was a little more tanned than English, wasn't it? Spoiled little rich boy probably spent his time outside and on the beaches, right? Moving the cane, he tapped those full, rounded buttocks a few times. "Bend over the desk, rest on your elbows. Palms flat," he ordered. Lovino leaned over the desk as he was instructed without a word, bending sharply at the waist to rest his hands and forearms against its cool wood surface.

Once this position was assumed, only then did Arthur give a small grin. "Good, good..." He moved to stand behind and a bit to the left of the student, tapping a few more times, lightly, before... Swish-crack! The strike was lightening-fast, not even enough time for the Italian to flinch before it landed. The cane indented that full flesh when it struck, right across the middle of those supple cheeks, where it raised a red welt at once. At first Lovino felt little more than the pressure of the impact, but instants later a harsh, burning pain came flooding across his bottom. "Ahhh!" he hissed aloud at the intensity of it.

Arthur didn't play around with punishment; when he caned a student, he made sure the lesson would last. "Count after each stroke," he ordered curtly. "You stand up, and I start over." He didn't wait for an answer before he gave four more, two above and two below to the more sensitive underside. Each stroke lit up a new fiery line across Lovino's bottom.

"Two..." he hissed out, "three... four... five!" The Italian gritted the last few numbers through his teeth, clenching them tightly at the horrific pain that had engulfed his backside. His fingertips curled against the solid wood of the table, aching to be allowed to reach back and grasp at his poor bottom, but if there was one thing Lovino knew at that moment, it was that he didn't want to be adding on to his punishment. The young Italian could feel tears burning at his eyes, but he stubbornly refused to let them fall. He didn't want to give Kirkland the satisfaction of knowing just how much pain he was in.

"Good so far." The professor seemed to praise. "And here I thought you'd just whine and cry like any other spoiled prat in this academy... Not even begging yet!" Arthur had felt his heart begin to race as he watched those supple cheeks jump with each strike of his cane. Each red welt that rose, bright and angry, contrasted with that lightly tanned skin wonderfully. And perhaps it was just that reason that made this different from all the others. Oh, it wasn't that it had never excited him before. But he'd caned many pasty white bottoms in his time, and after a while it all seemed to merge into one image. Lovino was different, both in sight and in his purely honest shock to being punished like this. Had he never felt the kiss of the rattan before? Such a shame. As he spoke, Arthur went about tapping again.

"Now, here we go..." Lovino cringed at the sound of those words, anticipating the next stroke, but it didn't come right away. Though he had given that warning, Kirkland continued to tap a few more times.

Then— swish-crack! Right across the tops of those thighs. "Six!" came the count, high and desperate. Swish-crack! To the lower side of his bottom again. "S-seven…" His body jolted forward with the strength of the blows, and his fingers dug at the desk with such pressure now that the areas surrounding his fingernails and knuckles were white. Swish-crack, swish-crack, two more strokes in rapid succession on those full cheeks, this time crossing welts left behind. "Eightnine!" Lovino cried out in a single loud yelp, the tears easily overflowing his cheeks at the pain those strokes brought with them. Where the new strokes had cruelly crossed over the deeply-colored stripes that already painted his flesh, it didn't simply double the pain where the welts met but instead multiplied it many times over. His torso began to twitch every so often with small sobs.

Lord above, this was distracting! Arthur couldn't control it, the way his body reacted to this punishment. Many of the other regular trouble makers had long ago grown dull. Either they would whine and cry too much or not at all, taking their punishment with a cold dignity no matter how hard and how many that Arthur gave. But Lovino was new, and... perhaps even a little exotic. It was a good thing that the Italian was busy crying, as that meant he didn't see the now quite noticible bulge in his professor's pants. Arthur was panting lightly, but that alone could have been taken as pure exertion. Still he was smiling, his face a bit flushed. Licking his lips swiftly, he reached down to adjust himself a bit, moving a bit more behind the Italian. When he spoke up at last, his voice was a bit husky, only making his accent thicker. "Now, Vargas... You have a choice." He said simply, moving around to the other side of the desk. Crouching down to dig through the bottom drawer, he pulled out a small tube of clear, viscous fluid. Then he closed the drawer and came back over behind Lovino. "One... You submit to me right now... And agree to undergo anything I tell you for the next hour. I can promise, it will be much less painful to do this... And two, you can choose to accept eleven more strokes of this cane. Eleven of the best! And then, you can walk out of here with a zero. And why would you accept the strokes and leave with a zero? Well now, standard for cheating is expulsion... A zero is generous! But of course you could avoid the cane all together..."

Biting his lower lip to keep from sobbing aloud, Lovino listened carefully to the offer Kirkland was now making him. He mentally weighed his options. Eleven more strokes of that cane, given with the same force as those first nine, would almost certainly draw blood. The Italian had already come pretty close to begging his instructor to stop; there was no way, he knew, that he could make it through the rest of the caning without completely losing his composure. Not to mention that zero... the threat of destroying his grade was strong enough all on its own. He couldn't have that happen here, and he definitely wanted to avoid having to face his father with a failing grade... especially if that grade was because he had tried to cheat. On the other hand, the alternative was an hour of his time, after which he would be given the opportunity to study and retake the exam. A compelling offer, indeed, especially relative to the first option…

Arthur watched the boy curiously, waiting on his choice. Either way this turned out, he was going to have fun, but right now relieving this throbbingproblem in his pants outweighed the desire to see that tanned skin break under his cane. That was why he'd thrown in the zero, of course. And if that didn't work, Arthur had an entire arsenal of threats just waiting to be given—yes, he got his way quite often at this school.

Then came movement from the student on his desk, as if an answer were finally forthcoming. Lovino turned his head to one side and wiped the tears off his face and onto his shirt sleeve. Not lifting his arms from the desk, he craned his neck over his shoulder to look at Kirkland with quite a miserable expression on his reddened, tearstained face. "All right," he said, making every effort to keep his voice steady and maintain some semblance of composure, "you can have me for an hour." As proud as the boy was, he'd come to the conclusion that it was much more dignified to concede now than to beg for mercy later.

"That's a good lad," the professor praised with a disingenuous grin, supressing a shudder when he saw that tear-streaked and flushed face. And with that he set the cane onto the desk, alongside the Italian's body, as a reminder. The boy's eyes were certainly drawn to it—he wasn't keen on feeling that again, ever. Snapping the cap to the lubricant, Arthur smeared some onto his fingers without much ceremony, moving up behing the student and placing the tube aside before he placed his hand firmly on those shoulders. "You're mine for the next hour, Lovino Vargas. Anything that happens in this hour will never be spoken of again. Am I clear?" Slick fingers came up between those striped cheeks, sliding right between them to find his entrance.

Lovino inhaled sharply and his body flinched forward as he felt one of the man's fingers slide swiftly and unceremoniously inside of him. His face contorted at the unfamiliar sensation, tears threatening to well up in his eyes again from the shock of it. It's only an hour, the student reminded himself. He hung his head in concession. "Yes, sir."

Arthur began to move the digit inside him, unable to resist a smile at his student's reaction. "Has a rich, spoiled boy like you ever played around with this, hm?"

Another gasp. "N-no," he admitted honestly; he had 'experimented' with male classmates, of course, but it had never gotten that far.

"Aah,then this is quite a treat for me indeed." Arthur commented simply at this, his eyes practically glued to those hips and that ass. Lovino wasn't struggling, so he let his hand slide from the boy's shoulders down along his back. Pity he hadn't told him to strip completely... Fingertips trailed down over the curve of one cheek, feeling those hot welts with interest. He thrust his finger slowly back and forth as he used the thumb of his free hand to slide between those full cheeks, pulling it out of the way and spreading him a bit as if to get a good look at that tight little hole. This was getting humiliating, which fired up Lovino's temper; it was not the sort of treatment he felt he deserved.

Arthur gave a low whistle, followed by a small chuckle. "Such a lovely sight. You really should breathe, you know. This will go much easier if you just relax down here and accept it." His breath was a little heavier at the sight, the thought of what he could do in just a short while...

Suddenly, Lovino felt a second finger beginning to wiggle inexorably inside, stretching him painfully. It burned, in a way that was completely different from the sensation overwhelming the rest of his backside. Though the professor was no longer actively trying to cause him pain, the fingers weren't exactly merciful, either. "Ow!" the Italian let out an angry shout, indignant. And he was struggling now, or at least trying to—the desk in front of him kept him from successfully doing much more than pulling away enough that those fingers slipped out. Relax and accept it, Kirkland said? Fuck that. The student's fear was still there, and the throbbing stripes of pain across his bottom had faded little, to be sure, but this treatment left him incensed, and the condescension in the professor's voice was irritating his last nerve. He had been willing to submit to punishment, but this... "I didn't come here to play sick power games like this!" Not that Lovino was any stranger to such things—after all, life was power games—but thus far in his life he had been largely a stranger to losing them.

Arthur rose an eyebrow. Hearing that protest only made the Brit laugh a little, and he let go of the cheek he'd been spreading. His hand pulled back, and there was a sharp smack right across those welts, Arthur's palm cupping that sensitive underside. "AH!" Lovino cried out in pain as the harsh swat suddenly stoked the fire of the marks left by the cane.

"Ah-ah-ah, can't you remember one simple rule?" The man's fingers were forced back inside him, this time spreading and stretching him deliberately, causing him enough sharp discomfort to force a sobbing gasp from the Italian. Though he knew it would be painful, Arthur was very careful not to really injure his student, never causing any damage that couldn't be rubbed away in a few moments. "You've never harrassed other students like this back at home, hm? Humiliated them for daring to cross you? Shown them their place?" The fingers closed again, the Englishman thrusting them with that slick sound, almost making as much sound as possible like this. "This is your place here, Lovino." The professor's words were ringing terribly true, of course, and it turned the Italian's stomach to think that he was really only receiving the same type of treatment he'd dished out to his peers, if not to several teachers, while he was back home in Italy. Not that he was convinced he deserved it, but the accusations certainly made him uncomfortable.

Smack, smack! Arthur's free hand dealt two more heavy blows to those sore cheeks, which brought forth two accompanying indignant yelps, as well as coaxing a single tear to overflow down Lovino's face. "This will happen if you accept it or not." The third finger began to worm its way inside, though Arthur himself frowned at how tense the teen was. "Jesus, you're tight. You really are a virgin, aren't you? It's been a while since I've deflowered such a spoiled princess as you!"

Lovino couldn't even utter a protest at the "princess" comment. The feeling of three fingers forcing their way inside him was too invasive, too uncomfortable, overwhelming; he let out a shuddering breath and began to cry. He simply nodded to indicate that he was indeed a virgin, hoping that it would convince the other somehow to go easier on him.

Seeing that nod, Arthur was pleased at this confirmation—as if he had doubted it! The boy's reactions were all too obvious, and not just physically. He did, however, take it easy with his three fingers now, stopping their movement all together once they were fully inside. "Alright now lad, just relax then. I've got no reason for this to be unpleasant for you, the punishment half of this is over." The professor's tone of voice had changed almost completely now; instead of insulting and accusatory, it was almost soothing. It seemed the knowledge that Lovino had never done this before really was enough for him to be more chivalrous about it. Now his free hand slid up under the back of the student's shirt, rubbing at his lower back firmly with his thumb. "You have to relax here,alright? Like it or not, call it a survival method. I'm sure you don't want to be limping tomorrow just to have everyone assume you can't take a simple caning from mean old Professor Kirkland, hm?" Lovino managed a deep, shuddering breath, making a rare effort to calm himself down. He nodded quietly—it was true, he didn't want his classmates to think a simple caning was enough to break him. In fact, he craved his old reputation now more than ever.

Kirkland's fingers gave a testing wiggle, moving back and forth a bit, and while Lovino did gasp in response, he was no longer crying and had now gotten his composure back for the most part. "Just feel it, let it happen now... I'm being quite nice, you know." The student gave the faintest of nods as he forced his breathing to slow, inhaling and exhaling as deeply as he could several times before lifting a forearm to wipe the tears that had fallen down his face with his shirt sleeve. As his breathing finally started to become more regular, he willed his body to relax, particularly where Kirkland had been suggesting.

"Splendid, Lovino..." Arthur praised his student, and for such a vulgar thing as this! He couldn't help but smile again, his eyes falling back down to his busy hand. The student continued to concentrate on breathing steadily, pleased right now simply to hear the praise and unconcerned with its sincerity. "This is more like it! Accepting what you can't change will be a big step for you, I think." Now his fingers were moving more easily, spreading apart whenever he tried. As for Lovino, those fingers still weren't what he'd call pleasurable, but they were no longer causing him pain, at least. Not pleasurable, that is, until...

"Ohhh!" Lovino's voice came out at an unexpectedly higher pitch when he felt that sensation. What in the hell was that?

Arthur had pressed the digits in as deeply as he could, searching for and finding Lovino's prostate with little effort. At that reaction, he didn't bother to disguise a smirk. "There we are... This place will make any man a princess, mark my words..." He brushed it again, and a third time.

The Italian was bewildered as it happened again, and again... there must be someplace inside him that Kirkland was hitting, someplace arousing, someplace exquisite. So those stories he'd heard about this kind of sex were true, then. Lovino had had no idea that those fingers would be capable of making him feel like this, he hadn't believed it. That final time Arthur stroked against it even elicited a soft moan, and his back arched at the unexpectedly good feeling he'd just been given.

It took every bit of self control that Arthur had, and right now that wasn't much, to keep from ending his little game here and just taking the student now. But no, think ahead! Men, especially, were weak to pleasure, and it wasn't hard to teach their bodies—Lovino's body—what felt good like this. Train this insolent little body now and he'd have an easier time later...Lovino had, what, more than a year here, at least? The boy would mess up again, he was sure of it! "There, you see? That's nice isn't it," he said simply, confident as he could be. But enough was enough, and he pulled those three fingers back slowly. Undoing his own pants swiftly with his clean hand, he didn't even bother to drop them. Arthur merely freed his own erection, licking his lips swiftly as he spread some of the lube over his now quite aching cock. "Now, remember to breathe... and relax, of course!" he reminded the student as he stepped up close behind him. With one hand he guided himself right up against that entrance, holding back his groan as he began to push inside. As he did so, his clean hand returned to Lovino's lower back, rubbing firmly to remind him to relax.

Lovino sucked in a breath of air as he felt the other push into him. This felt... definitely different from the fingers, and certainly more comfortable than when the man had been stretching him open with all three digits. In spite of the initial coolness of the lubricant, it felt warmer somehow too, and smoother. Relax, yes, he was trying now; a great deal of his difficulty with it was no doubt psychological. His shoulders rose and fell with the deep breaths he forced himself to take, every so often heaving a particularly vocal one. His body was slowly acclimating to the feeling of Arthur's cock inside him, and that warm hand rubbing the small of his back only helped encourage him to relax all the faster.

"Aahh... G-good..." Arthur didn't really specify whether he was talking about how it felt, or if that was a praise for Lovino—perhaps it was both. Licking his lips again, he smiled as he came to press his hips flush against that hot and welted bottom. The student did not find the sensation of Arthur's clothed hips pressing against him very pleasant; the fabric was abrasive, and his backside was still more sensitive than he would've believed. The Englishman gave a little thrust, enough to push Lovino's hips against the desk in front of him and to make sure that he was in as deep as he could go, and the edge of the desk dug unpleasantly into the front of the student's hips, who winced at the discomfort. This reaction only seemed to satisfy Professor Kirkland, and he leaned down over the Italian's back. Heavy breath fell over Lovino's ear, and his tongue came out to trace the shell. "H... How's it feel, boy? This isn't some children's game anymore... You've got a real man's cock inside you now," he taunted before pulling back a little, both hands gripping those plush hips.

Lovino opened his mouth to respond to the taunting, but only managed an "Ah!" when the man's hips thrust hard against his own with a damp smacking sound, and Kirkland gave a small groan from behind him. Those hips pulled back again for a second thrust, strong enough to give the Italian's own smaller body a jolt. With every slap of the other's body against his wounded backside, he jerked forward from not only the force but also the pain he experienced whenever something made firm contact with his flesh. As with the cane, his instructor's hips pounded into him hard from the very beginning, no longer showing him any mercy. But it wasn't only the renewed pain in his bottom that he took notice of; he was also taking in the very new sensation of the man's cock sliding in and out of him, hot and slick and hard. It set his nerves afire in an entirely different, less-than-painful way, making him gasp not simply from pain but from a different kind of feeling... perhaps, though he would not have admitted it, even pleasure. The other was filling him in a way he'd never felt before, never even could have imagined before experiencing it for himself.

As the Englishman continued to slide in and out of him, he noticed the student's moans growing louder with some amusement. The body was a funny thing, he mused—it could love something that you detested, if you did it just right. Though he certainly wasn't going all out to make this enjoyable, there were the natural and unavoidable sensations to take into consideration; even the feeling of being slid in and out of, of being filled was something not all together unpleasant. As soon as he started to get those curious and pleasured sounds, Arthur's parted lips curved into something of a smile. He moved his hand down under those hips, between the desk and Lovino's body. His fingers were still slick with a bit of lube, and they found the boy's member, which, much to his satisfaction, was already more than half-hard. With a mocking chuckle, those slick fingers began to fondle it a bit, almost playfully, and it didn't take much stroking before Lovino became fully aroused. "You like this, princess?"

Normally, Lovino would have been humiliated and disagreed immediately; however, in the face of his body's response, there was no denying that he liked it. The heat coming from the stripes across his buttocks, combining with the heat coming from the friction between them, produced what was simply an intensity of sensation that set his every nerve on edge and made him respond to the question as he otherwise might not have. "Y-yesss,"he hissed, his voice quivering.

That admittance was all the professor needed to give a deep and throaty chuckle—as if he couldn't tell just from that expression, from the way Lovino's body had begun to accept him, and of course, from the now fully-erect cock in his stroking hand! "That's right," Arthur murmured, his voice coming out more breathy now. Every man could be made a princess, spoiled or not! Not a prince, naturally, for the prince was the one doing the fucking here. And he intended to do it right. While Arthur couldn't angle his hips with the best accuracy in this position, he knew how to at least try. He was quite sure that stroking and thrusting would be enough to bring the student off all on its own, but if he could hit that as well... "Mmh, then… come for me, princess..." Now, later, it didn't matter; he was simply determined to make this stubborn prat come before him.

Lovino's face felt hot, and was surely flushed at the voice that breathed a satisfied "that's right" into his ear. It was abundantly clear to the young Italian that he wasn't going to be winning this, and it seemed that throughout the ordeal his professor was not going to allow him to forget his place here, as Kirkland had put it. Even so, there was far too much happening to the student now for him to fixate on his stubborn pride for very long. The hand beneath him continued to tug and pump at his ever-more-sensitive erection, encouraging Lovino's hips to begin to rock back and forth into the slick hand. The other consequence of this action was, of course, that he ended up alternately leaning back further onto Kirkland's thrusting cock each time he withdrew from his fist.

Feeling that youthful body pressing back into his thrusts was invigoration for the Englishman. Of course he knew that it was simply a byproduct of thrusting into his hand, but he could really care less about that right now. His hand was only a kindness, a necessary step in bringing the unruly Italian under his sphere of influence. The better he made him feel, the more that Lovino was going to think about this. The welts would last a while, he'd made sure of that, and every time the Italian sat down on them he was going to think of this. Would it arouse him in class? Oh, that was a fun thought! Arthur gave an emphatic slap of his hips against the boy's ass as he imagined it.

The feeling of the man filling him up only served to make Lovino's arousal even more sensitive, and he felt that familiar tingling sensation building up in his shaft far more quickly now than it usually did when he was simply stroking himself alone. His fingers curled against the desk again, this time in pleasure, and he felt himself stretching up onto his toes with a loud gasp when his instructor's shaft struck against the same spot his fingers had found previously. "Fuck!" he cried, his own accent quite thick.

Lovino's body beneath him was changing slowly, pleasure so strong even Arthur could feel the boy tensing up. Not much longer now... When the professor knew that his hips had struck true, he changed his pace all at once, aiming mercilessly for only that spot as he bit his lower lip to hold himself back.

With that place in him being struck repeatedly now, it was simply too much for the young Italian to bear. It was almost cruel—being stimulated from the inside and outside at the same time was more intense than anything Lovino had ever felt in his life, and orgasm quickly overtook him. "Aaaah!" he nearly shouted as the ejaculate shot from his body in spurts, spattering against the side of the desk uncontrollably. His breathing came in harsh pants, and his legs trembled slightly beneath him. No longer in the mood to support himself, his arms slid out from under him and his torso was flat against the desk as he continued to heave hard and fast breaths, as his climax had hit him hard. It was like nothing he'd ever felt before; but then, this was nothing he'd ever experienced before.

As for Arthur, he was pleased with that every reaction. To watch that body go nearly limp onto his desk, to know he'd taken that much out of the willful student, was quite a treat indeed! He removed his sticky hand from that spent erection, replacing it onto Lovino's hip. This time he stood back up straight, and like this, he was able to put strength behind those thrusts. His student whimpered as Arthur continued to thrust into him, almost begging for it; one might assume he would be spent, but on the contrary his pleasured body now wanted nothing more than to feel that cock fill it up as much as it possibly could.

Lovino felt those hands grip both of his hips more firmly than before, and Kirkland slammed hard into his now-slack body. The student felt himself being tugged backward as those hips slapped against him—still irritating those hot, throbbing welts!—the combined force knocking a low "unh!" out of him on impact. Still, in spite of the mental resistance he strove to maintain, his body clearly wanted this. He arched up onto the balls of his feet, ankles twisting slightly to point his toes inward, unintentionally sticking his ass out even further and enabling those thrusts to go in even more deeply than before.

Ah yes, this was more like it! Now that the young man's immediate release was out of the way, this body was much more compliant. No, not just compliant! It was eager to please.As such, Arthur's own voice fell out more freely. "Hgn, yes... oh, wonderful...!" The slaps of flesh grew louder in the office, along with Arthur's panting and groans. "That's right, heh... T-take it, all... of it...! You love it...!" Oh yes, he made him love it! He wasn't aiming for Lovino's pleasure anymore; his turn was over. These thrusts were deep and hard, without holding back—they were for himself. "Come on, boy! Let me, nnh, hear you...!"

It was all so much, too intense. A small, but growing, part of Lovino wanted to simply give in, swallow his pride and allow himself to enjoy it, and when Kirkland demanded to hear him, he finally obliged, indulging them both. "Nnngh-ah… oh!" The student continued to let out small, high-pitched noises with each slap of the other's body against him, almost a single, drawn-out whimper, "Hhn-n-n-n..." The pace of those thrusts was quickly picking up, and the friction inside him grew even more intense. He had come earlier, but this... this, too, was pleasure as the student had never understood it before. He noticed his own breathing growing heavier again, and he was practically clawing at the desk by now in satisfaction.

A low, breathy laugh issued fromArthur behind him; the man couldn't be more pleased with the noises his student was making now, nor could he suppress his own. "Oh, ah... nngh...!" He couldn't last much longer like this, not with how long he'd been holding back. His fingers began to dig into Lovino's hips almost painfully, and suddenly the professor was pounding into him with much less regularity, almost spastically. This forced out a series of indistinct, but clearly pleasant, vocalizations from the younger, which gradually tapered off into humming whines. "Oh! O-o-oh, mmph, mmhnn..." Finally the Englishman felt his body give in, gripping those hips more tightly as he came, emptying himself deep inside of that tight, hot Italian student with a low and satisfied groan.

After the thrusts had begun to slow, Lovino continued to gasp heavily. He could feel the Englishman's cock throbbing inside his body, stretching him slightly with every single beat of his now-rapid pulse. The schoolboy heaved a gigantic sigh and collapsed completely onto the desk.

Arthur's own legs felt slightly wobbly, worn out from all of this exertion. He stayed like that for a moment though, half-bent over the Italian's spent body, waiting for his breathing to return to a more collected level. When he was no longer gasping for breath, he pulled out slowly. He moved over to the other side of his desk to grab a handful of tissues and wiped his spent member clean, then tossed the used tissues into the trash bin. Fixing his pants, he sat down in his chair again, smiling with such smug satisfaction at his worn-out student. Reaching out, he picked up the cane which he had lain on the desk earlier, running his fingers over it smoothly. "I've still got a good fifteen minutes of my hour left, so don't pull your pants up."

At that, Lovino couldn't hide a look of horror. Surely, the last eleven strokes weren't still to come? He wouldn't put it past the man after what had happened thus far…

But Kirkland merely pointed to the corner of his room with his cane. "Go and stand over there, nose in the corner and hands behind your head. I've got some tests to grade, and I don't need you distracting me." There was no attempt on his part to hide the smugness he felt; he'd gotten a delicious rush from the terrified expression which had flashed across his student's features moments before! Now, he wanted to enjoy the sight of that well-striped backside for as long as he could.

Much as the Italian student hated that condescending face, the words were certainly a relief. Lovino's breathing began to slow itself now, and his heart stopped pounding, though his legs still shook enough that he could feel it. He lifted his head and nodded, then brought his hands underneath his torso and raised himself up with his arms, though a bit unsteadily. Hampered slightly by his pants, and perhaps also by the physical aftermath of their little scene there, he turned around and shuffled his feet across the floor in the direction his instructor had pointed, stopping when his body was situated snugly in the corner.

Arthur observed every awkward shuffle and limp with the utmost attention, following every sight and sound of it as if determined to commit this to memory. True, Lovino was obedient enough for now,but there was no telling what the jilted rich boy would do once he was out of this office. Arthur wanted to make sure that the humiliation and subjugation left quite the impression. He continued to observe as Lovino faced the wall and lifted his arms, lacing his fingers loosely behind his neck and resting his hands against the back of his head as he had been told. The student stuck out a full, pouting lip, his face blushing as he stood there like a naughty child with his well-striped bottom exposed, though it still hurt badly enough that Lovino was almost grateful for that; he wasn't sure he was ready to pull his pants up yet, either.

The Italian hadn't been standing there long before he suddenly let out a surprised gasp and shifted his weight uncomfortably. The noise caused Arthur to look up, raising one eyebrow as he noticed the young man's slight, awkward movement. Then it dawned on him; it had to be that. Indeed, if he looked closely enough, he could see the shiny trail that was now making its way down his student's thigh, confirming his suspicions, and he couldn't help but smirk, satisfied in knowing exactly what was taking place. "You feel my mark on you, boy? That's not something you'll forget very quickly now is it?"

Having never had sex like this before, it hadn't crossed Lovino's mind that the man's semen had to go somewhere, and that somewhere had been emptying into his body... and now it was emptying out of it, the warm, sticky substance dripping a wet trail down his legs. Helpless to do anything to stop it—he didn't want to risk some sort of retribution if he moved his hands—he simply continued to stand there with an awkward look on his face, squirming slightly as he felt an especially large droplet of it roll down the inside of his right thigh. Perhaps the worst part was that the Englishman had made it clear with that comment that he knew exactly what was happening to his student, which made Lovino feel yet again humiliated. He could only stare at the wall and hope that his hour would be over with as quickly as possible.

Kirkland, of course, continued to lecture. "The next time that you want to take a short-cut in my class, you'll think of this moment. This is how I deal with cheaters here." The instructor opened his briefcase and pulled out a stack of tests that he had to grade. Lifting his precious red felt-tip pen, he set about grading them, every now and then stealing an amused glance at his recalcitrant little student. He was keeping an eye on the time as well of course, he could be fair! He'd let the boy go only when his time was up.

Lovino stared fixedly at the corner in front of him, scowling. He rolled his eyes at the lecture, though he only did so because he knew the Englishman had no way of seeing his facial expression. Bla, bla, bla, no he wouldn't be cheating in Kirkland's class anytime soon, the man could shut the hell up now, he thought to himself. After having stood there for awhile, he began to chew impatiently on his lower lip; the student was getting antsy. His neck turned away from the corner to cast a momentary glance over his left shoulder, hoping to find a timepiece within his range of vision that might tell him how much longer he had left to wait, but no clocks were immediately apparent. "Quanto dovrò stare qui?" he mouthed under his breath to himself in Italian, shifting his weight again from one foot to the other. How much longer...?

Sitting at his desk, Arthur was ever so patient, grading his papers as he was. Every now and then, his eyes would flicker back up to that wonderful sight in the corner of his office, and he would smile again. He caught Lovino looking over his shoulder once or twice, but he didn't try and hide his own amusement. This was Lovino's place: something to be used, something to be looked at. It did seem like forever before he noticed the time, setting down his pen and giving a small sigh. "Time's up," he said simply. "You may use some tissues to clean up if you like." The tissuebox was offered to the student with a grin.

Lovino's arms lowered as soon as he heard those words, turning around and gratefully accepting the tissues without yet meeting his professor's eyes. Immediately, he reached back around to wipe between his thighs, embarrassed at the fact that he was now having to clean his teacher's come from his legs and, very gingerly, from between his welted buttocks. Finally, he turned away from Arthur and wiped what was left of the lubricant and his own ejaculate from his long-since limp member. Having finished cleaning himself off, he threw the tissues into the wastebasket and tenderly righted his trousers and underwear, holding the waistband away from his skin in the back so that it wouldn't drag painfully against the marks as he pulled them up. After fastening his trousers, he turned back around to face Professor Kirkland.

Arthur had kept his expression neutral this time as he watched the boy fix himself. "I'll expect you back tomorrow to study in my office for the retake of your test. You can come back in on Saturday to retake it. I know it's a weekend, but it's the only day I have free. It's that or nothing."

Lovino didn't even bother with playing stubborn anymore. "I'll be back tomorrow, then. And on Saturday," he sighed, knowing that, for the sake of his grade, he desperately needed to retake the exam. He certainly hadn't gone through all of that just to accept a failing grade. "Will you give me my crib sheet back to study from tomorrow, at least?" he asked carefully. For all the hell that stupid sheet of paper had gotten him, it was probably the most useful thing he could've had for a study session. "Those are my own notes, after all."

The professor took a few long seconds to give the suggestion consideration, with Lovino looking on in tense silence. Finally, he handed over the paper, giving a sigh. "I suppose your work is your work. It's not bad you know, but if you had just taken the time to memorize it then you wouldn't have had trouble in the first place! You see? You're a bright boy, Vargas, but you're spoiled and full of yourself. The sooner you let go of that ego when it comes to learning, the happier you're going to be here." He did smile a little now.

Lovino accepted his paper, offering a muttered "Thanks" in return before tucking it into his pocket. He lifted his blazer up off of the chair where he had placed it an hour before and pulled it on, then buttoned it up as it had been when he had first entered the room. His arms crossed defensively in response to the man's assessment of him, but the gesture went largely ignored.

Kirkland continued, "But until then, I'm putting a warning out on you. That means that if other teachers have issue with you, it will be brought directly to me."

"A warning?" the Italian's eyebrows lifted curiously as he heard the explanation. It was clear what the other meant of course; screw up again, regardless of when or where, and Lovino would be answering to Professor Kirkland for discipline. "You can do that?" It seemed absurd to him; but then, he supposed, that was just the way things were here. His only recourse, then, would be not to screw up in the first place.

"Of course I can! It's easier for the school to keep track of a student's discipline if only one teacher is handling it. Because I'm the first teacher to step up and catch you at something, I'm going to take that part," Arthur replied in a matter-of-fact tone. "It makes perfect sense really. That also means I'll have everything you do on record, including this. But no one will ever see those records if you continue to behave..."

Lovino gulped and nodded at that. "Yes, sir," he responded simply. He needed no one to ever see the records of this. In that case, perhaps having all of his records in one person's hands could be a helpful thing, he supposed. If this was the first time he'd ever gotten in trouble so far, then surely he could keep it up after having been given the... extra motivation. Indeed, his bottom was still more than sore, and he suspected the marks would likely still be there in some form to remind him for weeks to come. "If that's all." And here the Italian's eyes directed themselves questioningly toward the door.

"Yes, you may go," Kirkland dismissed him with a nod, the professor's features still bearing that gratified smirk even now. Much as it pleased him to see Lovino so submissive, he knew the student's deference wouldn't last for long—although, in a different way, that thought pleased him too. This would not be the last time, he was sure, that the student found himself in this office; the boy was too stubborn and brash to really keep out of trouble for long. When that day came, Arthur was looking forward to showing Lovino his place again.

Finis.