"So what exactly are you saying, Mr. S?" I asked, annoyed. First, my math teacher said I had to meet him after school, then the man made wait an hour before he decided to show up. Everyone had gone home, and I was stuck in school having a chat with this middle-aged tightass.

At this rate I was going to be late to Maegan's party.

Mr. Matthew Steele pushed up his glasses and flipped through my exam paper. "What I'm saying, Ms. Halliwell," he said, looking up at me. "Is that I'm going to have to give you a C on your test. Unfortunately, that will bring your grade this semester down to a B+."

"You can't be serious," I said. "I've never had anything lower than an A on anything."

"Unfortunately, there is a first time for everything and -"

"That's bull," I said.

He frowned. "I beg your pardon?"

I rolled my eyes. "The whole 'there's a first time for everything' is silly, don't you think? I mean, how many people do you know have run the bulls in Pamplona in their lifetime? Gone to war? Knitted a sweater?"

Mr. Steele sighed. "That's just an expression, Ms. Halliwell."

"Fine. Whatever. Just tell me how I can make it up."

"You can't."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"That was the final test. There aren't any other exams you can take to get your grade back to an A."

"That is unacceptable." I got up from my seat and put my hands on top of his desk, facing him with the most outraged expression I could muster. "My father never accepted failure in his life, and neither will I."

"That's enough of the histrionics, Ms. Halliwell," he said, leaning back on his chair. His eyes gravitated involuntarily to my cleavage before he realized what he was doing and looked away.

I smirked inwardly. My outfit today had a pretty low neckline, I admit. I've been getting filthy stares from every boy I ran into all day. Even old Mr. Evers from Chemistry class nearly scorched his shirt sleeve on the bunsen burner, so engrossed with ogling my chest. All things considered, getting ogled by Matthew Steele wasn't so bad. The man was forty, but still hot. Maegan said he goes to her nanny's gym. I could imagine him being pretty ripped under those ugly tweed suits he wears.

However, hot or not, there was no way he was getting away with giving me a B in Calculus.

"Oh, so if I'm a boy, I'm outraged, and if I'm a girl, it's histrionics? You're pretty sexist, Mr. S."

"I beg your pardon?" He leaned forward, hands on his desk. He looked angry.

"You heard me. I'm reporting you for sexist behavior towards me."

Mr. Steele stood up, fuming. "Go ahead! You spoiled Manhattan girls think you can get anything you want, don't you?"

"See?" I said. "You tell boys not to let anything get in the way of getting what they want, but when a girl does the same thing, she's spoiled? You're totally sexist. Admit it!"

"Men don't throw a fit when they don't get what you want," he said. "You're nothing but a spoiled brat who needs a good spanking."

"So what if I am?" I said, leaning forward. That's right, get a good look at my tits, you perv, I thought as I saw him glance at my cleavage again. "It's not like you have the balls to do anything about it." I smiled at him mockingly.

"Don't test me, Taylor," Mr. Steele said in a low voice. He was breathing heavily, and sweat had started to form his forehead.

"Or what? You'll hit me?" I laughed and rolled my eyes. My family had been donating a ton of money to Haliston Academy for years - ever since I was in pre-school. Its library was named after my Grandfather. I could get away with anything in this school.

He didn't speak for a long time, and I just stood there, leaning on his desk. My eyes dared him to do something he'd regret.

Then he took his jacket off. I could see his biceps bulge under the tight shirt he was wearing under it. His chest looked pretty good too.

"I warned you," he growled. To my surprise, he grabbed both my wrists and dragged me towards him over his desk.

"Hey!" I cried out, more shocked than hurt. My chest slammed down hard on his desk, but before I could react, he'd yanked my arms behind me and pinned my wrists down against my back with one hand.

"Get off me you freak!" I screamed, struggling as hard as I could.

Mr. Steele said nothing.

I felt the skirt of dress roughly pulled up above my waist. His hand rested on my ass for a moment, his palm rubbing against my butt cheeks. Then he hooked his finger on the waistband of my thong and slowly pulled my underwear down my thighs.

"Stop it!" I yelled. "I'll have you arrested for this, you sick fuck!"

Whack. His hand came down hard on my ass.

It hurt like hell.

"No!" Tears of anger welled in my eyes. He can't do this to me, I thought. I'm Taylor Halliwell. No one hits-

Whack.

I felt my ass explode with red hot pain. I chocked back a sob.

"Now will you promise to behave?" Mr. Steele said, his voice cold.

"Fuck you," I snarled.

"Is that another challenge, Taylor?"

My eyes grew wide when I realized what he meant.

"No!" I screamed.

Like I was nothing more than a limp doll, he turned me around and pulled me toward the edge of his desk until my legs dangled over it.

I struggled harder against his grip, but he twisted my arms until I screamed in pain.

"I'm going to let go of your arms now, Taylor," he said calmly. "But if you move from that position, I'll make sure to break something next time. Do you understand?"

I bit my lip, trying not to cry.

He grabbed my hair and yanked it back hard. "Yes! Yes!" I screamed. "I understand!"

He let go of my hair, and soon, he let go of my wrists as well, positioning them to lay on the desk above my head.

I tried not to move as I stood there bent over his desk, my naked ass in the air. Even when I heard him unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants, I kept still, afraid of what he would do to me if I disobeyed him.

"Do you like Gilbert and Sullivan, Ms. Halliwell?"

"Yes," I whispered.

"Then you've heard that song they wrote about letting the punishment fit the crime, haven't you?"

I gulped. "Yes, sir."

"You, my dear, have not been properly punished for your bad behavior," he said. "As your teacher, I would be remiss in my duty if I did not discipline you." He rubbed my naked behind languidly with both his hands. "Do you agree?"

"But Mr. S- Ahhh!" I yelped as he inserted two fingers into my pussy.

"I said: Do you agree?" He stroked my insides with his fingers so hard I had to bite back a moan.

"Yessir!"

"Good... good..." he murmured. "If you accept your punishment without complaints, perhaps I'll go easy on you."

"T-t-thank you, sir."

Whack.

His leather belt connected with my butt with a sharp sound. It hurt so much, I screamed louder than ever before.

"Shhhh," he whispered. "I really don't enjoy hurting you, Taylor. I don't. But you have to be taught a lesson. So I'll give you a choice." He rubbed my ass cheeks tenderly.

"Y-y-yes?"

"Pleasure or pain?"

"I don't understand," I whimpered.

"It's simple, my dear." He thumbed my clit roughly. "I'm giving you the simple choice to either let me fuck you or let me spank you."

My Uncle was checking me out.

It felt weird. Actually, no. It felt weird that it didn't feel weird. It felt nice. If he weren't married to my Aunt, and he was just some random guy at a party checking me out, I'd be totally into it.

I was totally into it now.

I wondered how long he'd been staring at my legs. If he was still looking now. If he had been checking out any other part of me while I was busy thinking up things to say.

What happened next I attribute mostly to a sudden flash of naughtiness, and also because I had been thinking of doing something really bad to Rita and for some reason, this opportunity fell on my lap, so to speak.

I dropped my fork.

When I bent over to pick it up (slowly), I was fully aware of the hem of my short skirt rising up to just below my butt.

Oliver caught his breath.

Inwardly, I smirked. I had him.

I straightened up, looked him in the eye and and said, "Oops."

He swallowed. Hard.

I gave my fork to a passing catering staff, who gave me a fresh one. It was time to finish my lovely cake.

Slowly, I forked bits of mousse into my mouth, taking great care to lick the tines of my fork each time. I ran my tongue over my lips much, much more than I needed to.

In the corner of my eye, I could see Oliver just standing there, motionless. Watching me.

I could hear his heavy breathing.

Great. Now what?

At that moment, Aunt Rita finally looked up from chatting with her group of fawning minions to notice her husband was standing on a corner next to her niece. "Oliver, darling," she called out. "Come say hi to my friends."

I glanced at him, and gave him a little smile. He nodded at me before going over to sit with Aunt Rita.

Mom came over with a glass of soda for me. "Are you having fun, dear?" she asked.

"Mom, this is Aunt Rita's best party yet," I said. "I'm so glad we came."

"That's great, sweetie. Did you say hi to your Uncle Oliver?"

"Oh yes, Mom. We had a lovely chat."

I spent the next few minutes trying to figure out what my game plan was.

Seducing my Uncle Oliver wasn't something I'd actually thought about. Sure, I had fantasized him a few time. Okay, I'd fantasized about him a lot. But I'd never really thought I'd do anything close to what I'd just done a while back. And now I was dying to know if there was any way in hell I'd actually pull off what was basically the most terrible thing a niece could do to her aunt.

An aunt who hated her. A really vile human being who humiliated her and her mother any chance she got.

I made my decision.

I went over to my Mom, who was talking to a young couple on the other side of the room. As I walked over, I swear I could feel Oliver's eyes on me. So I glanced his way. He was sitting next to Aunt Rita, not paying any attention to the conversation around him.

Our eyes met.

I held his gaze for a while. I had to make sure he knew what I was knew. What I was thinking.

Then I looked away, a secret smile playing on my lips.

"Mom, do you mind if I stay in the den for a bit?" I asked. "Jenny was home sick today, I promised her I'd go over today's Physics lecture with her over Skype."

"Of course, dear. Did you leave your backpack in the den?"

I nodded. "We're not leaving anytime soon, are we?"

"Maybe in a couple of hours," she said. "Around ten, maybe?"

"I'll be back in an hour."

I made sure I walked past Oliver again on my way to the hall. I glanced at him briefly and found him looking at me again.

When I got to the door that went out into the hallway, I paused and glanced back at him again. Our eyes met, and I held his gaze for several seconds before I turned and left.

I hadn't spent that much time in my Aunt Rita's house, for obvious reasons. It was a large house, with around ten bedrooms. I didn't know my way around so well, but I did remember that there was a library on the second floor. Whenever I couldn't stand being around my Aunt, I'd go there to hide. I liked books, so I was never bored there. It was my sanctuary.

I was going there now.

As I was halfway up the grand staircase, I looked down to see if Oliver had gotten the hint.

He was at the base of the stairs looking up at me.

I could feel, rather than see Oliver following me the rest of the way to the library. He kept his distance, keeping a good ten feet between us. It was a long walk to the library, as it was at the very end of the hallway.

I was half afraid he could hear my heartbeat hammering through my chest. At first I thought I was simply nervous, then I realized that wasn't why my pulse was racing.

I was excited.

I'd never been more excited in my whole life.

I should have been afraid. Or scared. But I wasn't, not one bit. I knew I wanted to do this. I desperately wanted to do this.

When I opened the library door, I felt like I was opening a Christmas present. I went inside and shut the door.

A minute after, Oliver came.

I was sitting on top of a desk that was facing the door, watching him as he came inside.

He didn't say a word as he closed the door.

I heard a lock click.

"What are you doing here, Kaylie?" he asked.

"I got bored," I said.

He didn't make a move towards me.

"What about you?" I asked him.

"I came to see what you were up to. Do you mind that I followed you?"

"Well, it's you're house," I said. "You can do whatever you want." I put as much meaning as I could in those last words.

You can do whatever you want.

Oliver began to fiddle with his cufflinks. "I suppose you're right," he said, not looking at me. "You know, Kaylie, that desk isn't for sitting."

"I'm sorry. Will you help me down, Uncle Oliver?"

He looked up from his cufflinks in time to see me spread my legs apart, and rest my hands on the table, between my thighs.

He walked toward me slowly. As I expected, he seemed nervous, but the way he was breathing heavily told me he was excited too.

As I was.

Oliver laid his hands gently on my thighs, pushing up my skirt a little.

"Do you always show such little respect for furniture, Kaylie?" he asked, his voice thick. His hands started moving slowly up and down my thighs.

God his hands felt so good. They were big and strong, and I could feel their strength and power as he stroked my thighs. "Sometimes," I said, trying to keep my voice from trembling the unbearable need I was feeling. "Is it so wrong?"

Oliver moved his mouth close to my ear. "Yes," he whispered. "So wrong. Very wrong." His hands had moved higher up my thighs. I could feel his thumbs slip under my panties with every upward stroke.

I lifted my hands to give him more room to touch me. I put my arms behind me, my hands resting on the desk for support.

"Will you punish me, Uncle Olie?" I asked, breathing heavily. I wanted to beg him to touch me ... more. I wanted his fingers deeper inside my panties.

"Stop it. Stop making me ... do this."

For a brief moment, I almost pitied the poor man. Very few men could refuse the young, nubile flesh I was offering up to him.

But I was so horny, I couldn't have stopped even if I wanted to.

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Please vote for this story if you like it! I'll post the next part very soon. Thank you. - Iliada T.

"I've advised Betty against putting Kaylie in Bronson High years ago. Other than the obvious problem of that school being simply too expensive for them to afford, that uniform is not very flattering on Kaylie."

That was my Aunt Rita talking, of course. Despite the fact - or maybe because - I was standing a few feet away from where she was sitting on the sofa holding court in front of her party guests, she was once again rudely voicing her opinions of me and my family.

Her friends all turned to me, not even bothering to do it discretely, so they could look me over and nod in agreement. I hated my Aunt's friends almost as much as my Aunt herself. While she was an evil, judgmental bitch, her friends were all kiss-ass sycophants who did nothing but flatter my Aunt so there could keep getting invited to her lavish parties. Of which there were a lot.

Embarrassed and angry, I turned my eyes down and stared at my cake. If I didn't already feel like such a dork in my school uniform surrounded by all these well-dressed older women, I felt even more miserable now. I wasn't really fat, was I? No one but my Aunt Rita even implied that I was. And who the hell looked bad in this outfit? It was the standard uniform for most private schools - short plaid skirt, white collared shirt and blazer. It was, in fact, an outfit that showed up a lot in adult films.

Or so I heard.

Thankfully, my mom was too far away to hear. You'd think that being the older sister of eight years , my Mom would refuse to take shit from Rita. (I sure as hell wouldn't. I didn't take shit from anybody.) But no. My Mom was the kind of person who'd always see only the best in people even when they were being blatantly rude to her. And while my Aunt Rita was never a really nice person to begin with, she got even nastier when she married Uncle Oliver, who was this millionaire heir to a real estate empire in California. Suddenly, Rita started acting like she was better than everyone, including my Mom. Even though my Mom practically raised her when my grandparents passed away when Mom was 20. My parents even took out a second mortgage just so they could send my aunt to a decent college.

"I'm sure she means well," Mom said when I complained about how Rita was being mean to me. "She doesn't have children of her own, it's only natural she'd be concerned about you."

I rolled my eyes at that. If "being concerned" meant constantly telling me how fat I was and how I was never as smart as she or my Mom was, then I didn't need her concern, thank you very much.

Of course I couldn't say as much to Mom. She really loved that bitch of a sister of hers. She made me promise never to talk back to Rita or act rudely towards her, no matter what. I loved my Mom, and I knew it mattered a lot to her that I acted respectfully towards her sister.

So that was why I could only bite my tongue and smile in situations like this.

The cake was really good, though. It was some kind of fancy chocolate mousse, which I liked. If I had to suffer through Rita's parties, I could at least be assured the food would be fantastic. I took another forkful, closed my eyes, and sighed contentedly. My diet was ruined. But this was damn good cake. I could never be really skinny like the cheerleaders at school; I had so little self control. I suppose this is why Rita would always have something to say about my looks and my weight.

"Looks like you're enjoying yourself," someone beside me said.

I turned to see a tall, strikingly gorgeous, dark-haired man in his mid-thirties.

"Oh... Hi, Uncle Oliver," I said. I hesitated, not sure whether I should give him a hug.

He stood beside me, both of us now with our backs to the wall, facing the the roomful of party guests. Me holding my cake, he holding a glass of wine. I figured he wasn't really expecting a hug then.

My uncle wasn't a hugging kind of guy after all. He was nice, I guess, but he wasn't warm or affectionate like my parents. And he was kind of a snob, like most rich people I knew. He and Aunt Rita were kind of a good fit that way. Even if he didn't really deserve to be married to such a horrible person, Aunt Rita was less awful when he was around. I was actually glad she was such a two-faced bitch, because that meant that I got a reprieve so long as I was around her husband.

It wasn't too unpleasant being around Uncle Oliver either. I mean , he was pretty old (about 35), but he was nevertheless ... well, hot. He had the most amazing cheekbones and really gorgeous hazel eyes. Plus I've seen him by their swimming pool a bunch of times, and the guy was in really great shape. Like, ripped abs and everything.

We weren't close. I think he just barely tolerated me and my parents because we were his wife's family. Even now, I was struggling with something to say to him to end the silence between us that was getting increasingly awkward.

"So, Uncle Olie. What are you getting me for my birthday?"

"Birthday?"

"Yeah, you know. Birthday. The day you were born. Everyone gets one once a year. There's cake. Usually."

"Oh. Of course. It's your birthday soon?"

"Last Wednesday, actually." I grinned. "I was hoping you'd have a present for your favorite niece."

"You're my only niece."

"Exactly."

I was kidding, of course. I didn't really expect Oliver to give me a present. He'd never once given me a present my whole life.

"Well, I suppose I could set you up with something. What are you now - fifteen? Sixteen?"

I laughed. Of course he had no idea how old I was. "I'm eighteen, Uncle Olie."

He turned to look at me for a few moments, his expression unreadable. "Oh. Of course. Well, happy birthday."

"Thank you."

He turned back to look at the crowd, and took a sip of his wine.

I took that opportunity to observe his profile. Damn, Uncle Olie was hot. I may have in fact had one or two fantasies about him since I turned fifteen. Except in my lust-filled imagination, Oliver wasn't terribly snooty. And he smiled a lot more. Also, he bought me a car. A Tesla.

Okay, so that may have also been a fantasy about owning a really nice car.

I turned back to watch the crowd as per my role of the official wallflower of my Aunt's party. However, I couldn't help but be aware of the man standing next to me. Not just in the sense that I knew he was there. I was conscious of his legs right next to mine. And his torso, with those amazing abs underneath that dark suit. His hand holding his wine glass, his mouth drinking from that glass.

What was Oliver even doing there? Was he as bored as I was?

Without moving my head, I turned my eyes to glance at him. And found him staring downwards. Looking at my legs.

I looked away quickly before he noticed.

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Thanks for reading! Please vote for this chapter if you liked it! - Iliada T.

Kaylie is sooooo sick of her Aunt Rita's constant barrage of thinly-veiled insults. The older woman never misses a chance to put down her niece or her mother, and this time Kaylie wasn't going to take any more of it.

She was going to get her revenge. And she was going to get it the only way how - through her Aunt Rita's hot, younger husband.

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This story is gonna get really hot and steamy, so I advise anyone younger than 16 to skip it. To everyone else - enjoy!

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Kaylie's Revenge is part of the three-story collection in Emilia's Revenge and Other Erotic Stories. Please find the link on my profile. Available on iTunes/iBooks, Smashwords, and Barnes & Noble. 

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EXCERPT:

"Your tongue felt so good ...," I whispered. "But you wanted to give me more."

Oliver sucked harder. I could feel his tongue flicking my nipple hungrily, desperately. What started as a hesitant tasting of my body turned into a ravenous feasting on my flesh.

Weak with desire, I was helpless to do anything but bite my lip to keep from moaning out loud as his mouth ravished every inch of my breast. I wanted to beg him to take me at that very moment. To thrust his manhood inside me, to fill me up with every inch of his sex until this aching need I felt was gone.

He pulled his hands from under my skirt to grab my waist and pull me closer to him. Then he tugged on my blouse, ripping my last two buttons, and pulled down the straps of my bra. He pushed me down to lie on the desk, and positioned himself between my parted legs. I didn't struggle, but he put his hands on my shoulder blades, pinning me down.

He looked down on me, his heavy breathing the only sound in the room. I realized I had been holding my own breath.

"How much more, Kaylie?" he said.

"Everything," I said. "You wanted to give me every ... inch of you."

"You'll regret this," he said.

"Maybe." I sat up slowly, and reached down to grab his belt. As I unbuckled it, I looked up at him. "Will you make me regret this, Uncle Olie? I want to regret this a lot."