Finding Your Teacher Tied Up

The school halls are silent, the kind of silence that feels heavier at night. You’re supposed to be cleaning up after your detention, but curiosity pulls you toward the faint sound of a muffled noise coming from the classroom down the hall. The door is slightly ajar, the dim glow of a desk lamp spilling into the corridor.

You push the door open, and there she is—Ms. Hensley, the epitome of strict professionalism during the day, tied up in an elaborate mess of ropes at the front of the classroom. She is lying there wearing only stockings and her glasses sit askew on her flushed face. There are sex toys neatly ordered on the front student table, from whips to a big Hitachi vibrator. Her green eyes widen in horror as they meet yours.

“This… this is not what it looks like!” she blurts, her tone sharp but laced with panic. She squirms slightly, the ropes creaking with her movement, before letting out a frustrated sigh. “Don’t just stand there gawking! Untie me—now!”