The morning after, when his head felt like there was a steel band laying a tribute to Led Zeppelin in an echo chamber, Ted would blame Miss Gonzales. It was her fault. That witch, that scarlet senorita, that svelte young angel with horns hidden in the mop of delectable black hair that cascaded down to her shoulders, it was due to her. Filled with rage, he still sighed that he adored her shoulders, the shade of her light brown skin and the contrast with any clothes she wore. Ted stretched out a yawn, rolled onto his back, winced, and let his mind return to what he could remember of the previous night.

----------------------------------------------

The headmaster had asked him to bring Miss Gonzales a margarita-making kit. Being a man of simple tastes, Ted had never made any drink more complicated than a pint of Guinness with a straw, so he had to ask some of the students how to construct this so-called margarita.

"You need salt and lime," said Jennyfer.

"And some Triple Sec," added Julie-Truly.

"Don't forget the tequila," smiled Suchaminx.

"And you'll need some fresh ginger, clean glasses, preferably two, and a cocktail shaker," said Chattel, putting unnecessary emphasis on the ‘cock’ of cocktail. “But you can use a blender.”

"And you’ll need some Aslutsay," grinned Seababy.

"What's Aslutsay?" Ted asked.

"She says 'Hi Mr Stoat, can I have a margarita, please?'" blushed Cariad, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

Damned girls, thought Ted. He almost wore his hand out giving Cariad a spanking after that one, a public one, knickers down around her ankles while the other girls watched on enviously.

Then it was off to the shops to pick up the ingredients. As the rather cute checkout girl smiled at him in a very obedient way, he reflected that it was strange how the spankings don't seem to make the girls any better behaved. He wondered aloud how often the checkout girl got spanked, who merely blushed and giggled nervously as she dropped his change on the floor.

Such a girl always put a spring in Ted’s step, and it was a cheery, happy, horny Ted that knocked on Miss Gonzales' door, confidently walking in without waiting for an answer. She was practicing her backhand, and an old red blazer on a coatstand was getting a thorough caning. Ted avoided being prodded by her backswing, and told her to sit down. She did so, a light flush appearing in her cheeks.

She was wearing her usual crisp white blouse, a knee-length black skirt that had a dangerous slash down the side, and bare legs down to a pair of calf-length black boots. Ted approved. He had not seen her with those boots before, but that wasn’t what caught her attention. The way her soft brown skin contrasted with the white blouse was astonishing, and he almost grabbed hold of her hair there and then for a deep and rough forced blowjob. Fortunately, Ted was a man who was able to control himself.

"You appear to be drooling," cooed Miss Gonzales. "You must be looking forward to these margaritas."

"Something like that," Ted replied.

"You got everything you need?" she oozed.

"I have everything you could possibly desire," smiled Ted, who then turned away from her. He didn't want to get into an innuendo-war, because the more time he spent exchanging double-entendres, the less time she would be sucking his cock. He pulled a three-pound bag of salt from the bag and banged it on her desk.

"Umm. You just need a touch of salt around the rim of the glass, Mr Stoat," she said with a grin that turned into a smile, which mutated into a guffaw. "We're adding a dash of flavour to a small shot-glass drink, not gritting the nearest motorway."

Ted scowled at her, knowing that he would get his revenge.

"Take off your blouse and get on all fours on the desk," he said quietly.

"Why?" she said defiantly, already reaching for the first button automatically before stopping herself.

"I want to test the tequila."

Strangely, although this was quite true, it seemed to satisfy Miss Gonzales, so she removed her blouse without taking her eyes away from his, and then crawled up onto her desk. He placed a hand in the small of her back, and she arched obediently. She seemed to have a fondness for black this day – her bra was shiny black PVC, matching her boots. A delicate squeak from underneath her skirt seemed to suggest that she was wearing similar panties.

"Stay like that. Don't move."

"Yes, Mister Stoat," she replied.

He pulled out the tequila from the bag, unscrewed the top, and poured a little into the hollow of her back. She hummed appreciatively, but did not move. He leaned in, and lapped the strong tequila like a thirsty dog, getting a delicate aftertaste that was purely Miss Gonzales.

"Any good?" she asked rhetorically, as he sucked some of the stickiness from her skin, a hand resting on her backside.

"You can put your blouse back on," he declared. "This tequila is dashed good stuff."

Miss Gonzales undraped herself from the desk to stand with her chest three inches away from Ted’s, but made no sign that she was going to put any clothes back on. In fact, to Ted’s surprise, she reached into the waistband of her skirt, and removed it with a flourish, hurling it to the corner of the room as she looked deep into his eyes. Ted looked over at it, as it hit the coatstand and toppled it over with a smash.

“You… er… knocked over the coatstand there,” he said weakly. There was something about the woman that was different. She held up a single finger to her lips, looking at him as he stared at the fingertip, and then she bent the finger as if to point at the chair.

Without realizing what he was doing, Ted instinctively sat down. He looked up at Miss Gonzales, taking in the beauty of her posture. She stood bolt upright, but not in a ‘standing to attention’ way, this was more like a ‘making sure you know I’m confident’ way. The outfit helped the impression. Ted took several deep breaths as his eyes drifted over the tight black bra that pushed up her breasts, matched by a pair of discreet panties, normal and practical except for the material. The PVC reflected harsh light at him, making Miss Gonzales seem even more imposing.

Finally, for the first time in minutes, she spoke. “I never drink a margarita fully clothed,” she purred.

Ted found words from his dry throat. “I-I’ll follow that tradition,” he said. “I’ll never drink a margarita while you’re fully clothed. This I vow.”

Miss Gonzales broke into a smirk. “You’re a funny man, Ted. You will be fun tonight.”

She turned, and felt his eyes watch her pert bottom as she strode over to his bag. She pulled out everything else he had bought – the Triple Sec, the lime, the blender, the glasses, and paused for a second before taking out the ginger. She smiled to herself.

Ted watched as Miss Gonzales dutifully made the margarita, slicing the lime while her brow furrowed cutely in concentration, before running a slice around the rim of each glass, as though she was softly running a finger around her lips. Next, she sprinkled some salt onto a leather folder, and forced the glasses onto it, face down.

“You need to make sure you have a salty rim,” she winked, pouring generous measures of the spirits into the blender, before turning it on for five (not four, not six) carefully counted seconds.

She took the cocktail to the edge of the desk, sitting down on the desk before pouring a measure of the mixture into each glass.

“Bottoms up,” she said, after handing Ted a glass.

Then it happened. Ted took a sip of his margarita, and without a moment’s pause, Miss Gonzales picked up her ruler and rapped him hard on the knuckles.

“Do not sip a margarita!” she glared.

“N-no,” replied Ted, downing his drink in one. His heart fluttered, he felt nervous, but the margarita was delicious. “P-please, Miss Gonzales, may I have another?”

Miss Gonzales downed her own drink, took Ted’s empty glass, and then swiftly poured two more shots. “Of course you may,” she cooed. She looked down at him as he emptied the next glass, and the one after that.

“My my, you’re a thirsty one tonight,” she told him after his eighth shot in as many minutes. “Good job you weren’t planning on getting erect tonight.”

In his half-drunken haze, Ted blinked at her, before getting her into focus, smiling weakly as he saw the light in her eyes. “I can get erect, if I have to.”

Miss Gonzales slipped off the desk, and picked up her cane. “Then do it.”

Ted liked a challenge, so got to his feet, unzipped his trousers, and took out a rather impressive half-erect penis. Miss Gonzales’ eyes widened as she looked at his hand grasp it, and begin to rub up and down the shaft.

“Strip off, Tedward, I want to see you naked.”

“I can’t, not with my hands full, can I?”

Miss Gonzales had a novel solution. She stepped in front of him, and cupped his testicles with her left hand, her French-cut fingernails tickling the soft skin. Her right hand peeled Ted’s fingers away from his manhood, and replaced them, gently moving up and down.

Ted shrugged, oblivious to the power she had, and began to unbutton his shirt, kicking off his shoes at the same time. She dug a thumbnail gently into the top of his cock, and the nails of her first and second fingers pushed into the underside. Ted gasped, and quickly unbuttoned his slacks, pushing them down as the pressure – and his firmness – increased.

“Okay,” he snapped when fully undressed. “I can take over now.”

“Hands on your head,” she said, with a firmness in her voice that he had never heard from her before. His hands duly snapped to the top of his head, interlacing the fingers.

“What now?” he asked.

She took her hands away from him, put her hands behind her own back, and kissed him tenderly on the chest, planting her lips on the rough shag-pile of chest-hair, before finding a nipple. Ted purred, his eyes closing, his cock now fully hard, the margaritas relaxing him.

And then she bit him.

“Yooooow!” he yelped, starting to step back before realizing she wasn’t going to let go. Her teeth clenched harder on his left nipple, she twisted her head to look up at him, and smiled malevolently. Only when his hands left his head did the smile stop.

“Ngeep nose nhands nere,” she snarled.

“Y-yes, ma’am,” replied Ted, putting his hands back on his head.

Satisfied she was fully in control – and more importantly, that Ted knew it too – she released her grip on him and stepped away from him. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, took a deep breath, and said quietly. “Keep your hands on your head. Place your cock on the desk.”

Ted bowed his head, and shuffled forwards. The desk was the perfect height for him, and there was no crouch or stretch as he placed his shaft flat on the desk. It curled up at the end, and he worried for a moment that this might be punished. He idly remembered the times that Miss Gonzales had placed her tender lips around the head, and wondered if this was the same woman before him now. He twitched at the memory.

WHACK!

“OWWWW!” grunted Ted, as he looked down in disbelief. Miss Gonzales had rapped the head of his cock hard with a two-foot ruler. “What was that for, you little cunt?”

WHACK!

“The first stroke,” explained Miss Gonzales, “was because your cock moved off the desk. The second was because this evening, I do not appreciate being called a ‘cunt’. And this…”

She brought the ruler down again, and Ted shuddered in anticipation… but the stroke did not hit him. Instead, it slapped the desk two inches in front of the sore head.

“… is because I’m an evil bitch. If you had a bigger cock, that would have hurt. Shame you got just a little tiddler, eh? But,” she sighed with a little disappointment in her voice, “you DID move your cock again.”

WHACK!

“NYAHHH!” yelped Ted.

“Take the pitcher of margaritas,” ordered Miss Gonzales, scraping her fingernails across Ted’s rear, “and pour us a glass each. Do not spill a drop, and keep your pathetic cock on the desk. Understand?”

“Yes,” gasped Ted.

THWACK!

Ted jerked forwards as he felt the full force of her cane hit him square on the buttocks. “AAAAAAGH!”

“Yes, what?” asked Miss Gonzales.

“Y-yes, MA’AM,” stressed Ted.

THWACK!

“No need to shout,” purred Miss Gonzales as a tear left the edge of Ted’s eye. She leaned forwards, licked it from his cheek, then stepped back and cocked her arm again. THWACK!

“P-please, no more,” Ted whimpered.

She picked up the ruler and whacked the tip of his cock again, pointing out that it moved again. It was harder and redder than Miss Gonzales had ever seen it.

“I-I… my cock always twitches when I want to cum,” explained Ted as he handed her a margarita, before downing his own.

“Then masturbate. But ask me when you want to cum.”

Ted nodded, and gingerly moved his left hand to grab his cock. He was tempted to reach out to Miss Gonzales, hovering well within stroking distance, but chose not to. It did not take long. “Please, ma’am, may I cum?”

“No. Hands on your head.”

His cock felt like it was about to burst, but she turned her back on him, and walked around to her desk.

“I NEED to cum,” he said, knowing she was out of reach.

“Hit yourself with the ruler,” she said.

“What?”

“I’m not walking around there. You definitely don’t want to get me angry. So hit your little cock with the ruler.”

Ted picked up the ruler, placed his cock back on the desk, and then WHAPPED himself as hard as he could. He knew it wasn’t hard enough, and didn’t even wait for Miss Gonzales to comment, before WHAM!

“Yooooow!” he yelped.

“Good. Now masturbate again. Do not cum.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

This went on for a few minutes, but Miss Gonzales kept herself busy. She talked to him, describing what she was doing.

“I don’t know where you got your information,” she began, “but ginger is not part of a margarita. I think you must have asked one of the girls about it. You should know never to trust a horny little slut. No, you may not cum. Hit yourself harder. [“Ooow!”] Don’t whimper, you weak-willed piece of shit. I suspect that the girls knew of something I quite like to do. What you do is carve a finger of ginger into the shape of a smooth plug. Make sure you leave a little handle at the bottom so you can pull it out. No, you may not cum. I’ve made two, because I love these little bastards.”

Miss Gonzales peeled down her PVC panties, ignoring Ted’s widening eyes as she pulled out a sturdy butt-plug. She took the smaller of the two sticks of ginger, and placed the head of it inside her, before pushing the rest of it in with the heel of her hand. She peeled up her panties again, and picked up the other stick, her eyes already widening with the rush as the ginger rubbed against her insides.

“Your turn,” she smiled, approaching Ted.

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Ted looked at the alarm clock. He had been trying to get back to sleep for two hours, but still couldn’t manage it. He had never had a hangover as bad as that, his whole body ached, but that was not what kept him awake. His mind raced with the thought of what he would do to her, next time he was in control.