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Colonization Coursework [SnowSage x Jasmeen]

SnowSage

Moon
Joined
Oct 5, 2024
The classroom was spotless as Marcus Olson poured over the projects and tests which were strewn across his desk. His lips curled into a smile and a predatory gleam sparked in his dark eyes as they ran over the very first project that this student had brought in. A family tree assignment designed to help the students see the ways that their own lives connected to the history they would be learning throughout the year. In truth, the one sitting before him had been the best one in the entire class on its own merits. However, more importantly, the assignment had included pictures of all of this student's many relatives. Front and center of the board was a picture of the young man's mother, an intimate photo which she surely had not intended for him to even have, let alone share with his teacher. It was not truly a nude photo, but it revealed details of her enticing, curvy body and an expression which no man who recognized would ever get out of his head. It was not what any woman wanting to make a professional first impression would want. And yet the young man, clearly not yet having had a sex ed class or discovered pornography, had glued it to the center of his board and turned it in to Marcus on only the second week of class.

Spread across the desk were every project, every homework assignment, and every examination that the young man had taken since handing in his mother's photograph. The crisp fall air coming in from the slightly opened third floor window, carrying with it the scent of pumpkins and the crunch of brightly colored leaves, announced the impending end of the first of four grading periods that the school went through. For freshmen like Marcus' students, this was the first point at which their competitive potential in the race for college began to set into shape. There were almost a dozen analytic writing journals, three more projects besides the family tree, and four exams which lay in front of Marcus. Each had work that was truly exceptional for a 14 or 15 year old student, insightful, well written, citing to actual research sources, none of which were wikipedia. And yet, every last paper in front of him had a score below a 60%, etched in Marcus' own hand with red pen. The nuanced, intelligent essays that made up this student's exam answers were liberally sprinkled with terms such as 'debatable' 'overbroad' and 'generality'. Comparable projects which had put much less thought, talent, and effort in were hung around the walls of the room with glowing A and A+ marks publicly adorned as examples to aspire to. There was not a single one of the undersized public school desk chairs which could not clearly see some lesser work than what this student had achieved which had nonetheless been bestowed a laudatory mark. As a result, the gradebook he had sitting at the corner of his desk had that student's name highlighted in red. His current mark was only a 63% overall. Two percentage points below the required threshold to avoid an F being permanently etched on his transcript for his first semester of world history.

Marcus glanced up as the warm light of sunset poured through the window, accompanying the echoing click of shoes walking down the empty high school halls. It was close to 8:00 already, and even the last of the athletes and theater kids had torn down and headed home. He had let this student's mother believe that he agreed to such a late conference as an affordance to her job, but in truth, he didn't want anybody to be around to hear the indecent proposal he was about to make to the woman. He waited until he heard the knock on his classroom door, before standing and walking slowly across the room. His stride was short, deliberate and languid, making her wait for him just to set the tone of the relationship dynamic they were going to have. As he curled his muscular fingers around the doorknob, he took in a breath, and pulled the portal open, revealing him in his full six foot, three inch, broad shouldered, muscular glory to the young indian mother waiting on the other side. His tight white dress shirt left almost nothing of the well-maintained military physique to the imagination, and the unbuttoned spaces at the top of the garment allowed her to see the smooth caucasian skin beneath. Khaki slacks and a set of dressy-looking sneakers completed the business casual public school teacher uniform.

"Please. Come in." His voice was a full baritone with just the first hints of a raspy scratch to betray years of screaming himself hoarse in military exercises, deployments, and public school instruction. Those dark eyes still carried their predatory gleam as he made direct eye contact with the woman, turning his body to invite her into the classroom. There was one of the tiny desks already set up in front of his much larger, much more stable and authoritative office furniture. Waiting for her to enter past him, he slowly pushed the door closed, sliding the deadbolt subtly closed behind his back to lock the two inside the room together. This time, he crossed the classroom with decisive, powerful strides, overtaking her and coming to sit behind his desk before she even had a chance to sit down. "Before we get started with specifics, I'd like to know... How involved are you in your son's homework and projects? I need to knew what the current practice is before I can suggest improvements." He smiled a fake, customer service smile as he awaited her response, knowing full well that her answer was meaningless to the arrangement which he would be insisting upon if her son were to have any hope of attending a well-credentialed university, or even gaining entry to a history or social sciences program which matched his apparent skills so well.
 
It was just past 7pm when Esha Das finally switched her work computer off and was able to lean back in her creaky office chair, the heels of her small hands pressed against her closed brown eyes as if they could drive out the exhaustion from her. An elongated sigh lifted and dropped the ample curves of her breasts under the flowy white blouse she wore. Her last patient had been complex, and scoring their dense battery of tests had taken the better part of the day. But at last it was done. And the patient definitely had acute PTSD, meaning Esha would have to conduct a lengthy conversation with them tomorrow before she could approve them for one of the center's clinical trials.

It has been three years now that the thirty-four year old psychiatric nurse had been working with PTSD cases for drug trials, but the conversations with the patients never got any easier. However, she had to firmly remind herself that these were thoughts she had reserve for tomorrow, and right now she had to hurry over to Avan's school for a meeting with one of his teachers. As Esha rose from her chair she smoothed out any wrinkles in her wide legged black slacks, which were cinched at her trim waist. They provided an elongated look that the shapely yet petite woman appreciated. She also wore a pair of red ankle-strapped heels to add two inches to her paltry 5'3", and bring a pop of color to her outfit. Before she left the building she stopped in the washroom to tame any flyaways in her bun of glossy black hair, unruly curls neatly tucked back. As a finale, she swiped on a fresh coat of dark red lipstick that contrasted and complemented her latte brown skin. Typically she didn't care about refreshing her face at this hour but she did have one more stop before she could collapse at home. Today was unusually busy, and she already longed to be in her pj's with a pinot in her hand and a brooding murder mystery on TV.

At least this troublesome teacher of Avan's had been open to seeing her late. Esha did not think she was one of those hawkish self-proclaimed "boy moms" who thought their son could do no wrong. In fact, she was often correcting Avan's wrongs, from when he would pull other kids' hair as a toddler to most recently when she found a vape in his room. Her methods were gentle but firm, and Avan was typically quick to listen to her. He was a sweet and intelligent boy, always a little quiet, but he tried his hardest at everything he did, from being on the swim team to each of his homework assignments. So it came as a huge surprise when he had glumly told Esha that he was failing one of his classes. She had expected math or a science but to her puzzlement it had been social studies. Concerned, she had started to check his assignments before he submitted them, and they had all seemed fine to her, exemplary even. Her boy had a knack for writing and it showed in his thoughtfully written papers. Yet they would always return branded in red pen with substandard scores and unhelpful remarks. Over time her agitation at his teacher mounted. It almost seemed like the teacher was targeting Avan, or had a personal issue with the fourteen year old. She had even wondered if it could be racial bias. Concerned about how a failed class would impact Avan's eligibility for college, she had asked to meet with this harsh grader.

When Esha arrived at his classroom she was confused to find the door shut. Didn't they usually keep them open throughout the day? Perhaps it was different after hours. She glanced at the hallway to her left and right. Empty. Not even a janitor sweeping up. The quiet was slightly unsettling. Lips twisted slightly in uneasy irritation, Esha knocked on the door and waited. She could hear footsteps approaching but they took their sweet time. The door finally swung open and Esha had to tilt her head back. And back. The man was huge, monopolizing almost the whole door frame with his height and broad shoulders. Squaring her own shoulders and meeting his gaze Esha offered a tight polite smile.
"Mr. Olson? I'm Esha, Avan's mom." She introduced herself, her dulcet voice was normally soothing but right then it held an edge.

He welcomed her in with a voice that had a depth to match his height, and Esha caught a whiff of his woody masculine cologne as she passed him to enter the classroom. The first thing she noticed was the tiny desk situated in front of the much more roomy teacher's desk, as if it had been readied for her. She raised a thick, dark eyebrow at the display then turned to face him as he sat down. Esha remained standing, casually leaning back on the smaller desk so that the firm curve of her backside was nearly sat on top of it. Sitting was an option, she'd definitely fit but it almost seemed belittling. Though maybe it wasn't that deep and she was just feeling a little sensitive about Avan's unfair situation. Arms crossed over her chest, she did not return the teacher's smile, though managed to keep her expression neutral as he spoke.

"I look over his homework and offer advice when asked," she responded, keeping her tone light. "Which is why I'm confused about his grades, Mr Olson. They seem unusually low," she continued as her attention fell on the spread of paperwork on the teacher's desk. One caught her attention immediately and her already large eyes widened further. It looked to be a family tree but Avan, being somewhat naive still, had used a photo of her that definitely was not appropriate.

It was from last year's family vacation to Hawaii. She was wearing a strapless bikini top that flaunted the soft swells of her breasts and the smooth slope of her bare waist. She had been laughing at something, one hand in the curly volume of her hair, the sun making her skin glow almost golden. Esha's mouth fell open in surprise, and her eyes darted from the offending assignment back to the man's smiling face. She began to feel her blood simmer and bring an unwelcome heat to her face.
"Avan shouldn't have used that photo, I'd like it back please."
 
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Marcus' eyes ran over Esha's body as she stood in front of his desk, doing her best to appear casual and in control of her situation but betraying the insecurity and defensiveness that his power over her son had instilled in her through the crossing of her arms and the immediate edge to her voice. He appreciated the way that her defensive posture also presented the warm heft of her buxom chest for his enjoyment. In total, his appraising look had taken less than a full second before his eyes returned to her own, a time that left it plausible that he was just engaged in the typical drifting of eye contact during conversation to avoid coming off as overbearing rather than leering at her figure. Yet, the way that her posture and her tone had told him so much about her understanding of the situation had melted the customer service smile and replaced it with a more genuine, broader smile as he enjoyed this view.

He allowed her to state her position clearly and in full without interruption, his eyes holding her own as he nodded along quietly to communicate that he was hearing everything that she said. His eyes sparked slightly with mischief as she finally turned her attention to the inappropriate photo that Avan had turned in with his first project. The fluster of heat and color entering her face as she realized what the man sitting across from her had seen of her drew an almost palpable hunger to his gaze as he finally opened his mouth to respond. "You have no idea how right you are, Ms. Das." He replied, his tone low, knowing and carrying the casual assurance of someone who actually had the control Esha was trying to fake. His fingers reached forward, peeling the tape that kept the picture attached to the project off of its card stock. His other hand gestured behind him, to lesser family trees done by lesser students, yet nonetheless placed on the wall in spaces of honor. "You can see why I couldn't display his exemplary work for the class." With the photo peeled up off of the assignment, he drew it back to hold in hand as he continued on.

"Take a look around the room, Ms. Das..." He said, gesturing further to either side, showing off more recent projects from students who had stopped their analysis significantly short of Avan's. "I want you to understand something in no uncertain terms. I don't think Avan is dumb. Far from it. He has a gift for this material." His eyes returned to her own, after having cast sideways with his hand to coach her where to look to see the most infuriating examples. "He will be an exceptional historian or social scientist one day. Maybe even a senator or governor. Assuming he can get into the right program." His hand which was not holding her intimate photo tapped its fingers down twice on the most recent project Avan had turned in, a college-entry level essay on the lasting impact of the Brittish tea trade in India. "This paper would have earned a perfect score for any other student in my class. It would be hanging front and center above my whiteboard for all the students to see what they should aspire to. But Avan isn't graded like all the other ninth grade students in his class. I grade him the way that his professors will in his first year of college. Now... Why do you think I would do that to the boy?" He asked, leaning forward with a sly smirk as he held her gaze in a challenging, unblinking and unflinching stare.

"I could tell you that it's because I see potential in him, and that I'm trying to get him to rise to the challenge by living up to that potential. If this conversation we're having right now ever goes to anyone outside of the two of us, I will swear up and down that's why I'm doing it. And the people who matter will believe me. But it's horseshit." Marcus extrapolated, his voice dripping more and more each sentence with the self-assured playfulness of a cat whose claws were already in the spine of a helpless mouse. "You probably considered that it was because he's brown and I'm not, but..." He allowed his eyes to drift down her body, this time making no pretense that there was any innocent explanation, overtly allowing her to understand in no uncertain terms that he was undressing her with his eyes. As they finally returned to her own with a smirk, he shook his head gently. "That is very much not a problem for me."

He stood up from his seat and stepped around the desk in a single, easy motion, his assured way of carrying his body making clear just how closely familiar he was with the space and how precisely he knew where every corner of every desk ended. Holding her eyes in his gaze, he stepped into her personal space, using the fact that she had set herself up against the student desk with no avenue of escape to pen her in. The hand which was not holding her photo moved confidently to her hip, taking her lower back as he advanced much more aggressively into her space than she could have anticipated. "I'm grading him harshly because he is your son, and because he made the mistake of making me aware exactly how enticing his beautiful mother truly is." He whispered into Esha's ear, as he pressed the picture into her outstretched hand, releasing it to her. "Don't worry... I already made my own copy."

With that, he gave a smug, flirtatious wink, and released her hip, stepping back out of her personal aura after only a few scant moments. Turning to the board, he continued. "Now, I'm not so naive as to think that you're going to spred your legs or get under my desk just because I have a nice picture of you and your son's grades are in my hand. Even if you were that easy, I'm not interested in you being an unwilling participant in anything. So, here's my proposal: You want me to give your son the grades he has earned and deserve. I want access to see if I can tempt you into enthusiastically doing all the things I have in mind for you. So, for the rest of this year, you're going to be something of a kink submissive for me, with a twist." He picked up a dry erase marker, beginning to write numbers on the board. "I command, you obey, Avan gets graded fairly. I even go back and give him retroactive credit for what he should have gotten from the start. Here's the twist: That grab of your hip there? That's the last time I'll touch you or order you to touch me until and unless you ask me to do it again." As he turned, a phone number was written in its entirety across the board.

"This is my number. Program it into your phone. If you manage to go the whole school year without ever being tempted to ask for more, then I'm an annoying guy who sends you links to porn you're required to watch every so often, and Avan gets his A. But if you ever ask me to take another step of control over you, whether that's telling you how to touch yourself while you watch, telling you what to wear, or telling you to go somewhere so I can manhandle you... The first time you ask, I get to command that of you for the rest of the year. No take backs. So... Do we have a deal?" He asked, with a smirk. "Or do you think you'd succumb too quickly to be on the winning side of this arrangement?" He dropped the final goad in, baiting her to accept the challenge.
 
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