Rachel walked quickly down the empty hallway. It was a little after six o'clock, and school had been out for a good three hours. Detention had let out two hours ago, and yet Rachel remained. She'd been in the auditorium for the last hour, after wandering around outside, trying to straighten out her thoughts.

Logically, Rachel knew it was wrong to have sent Sunshine to the crackhouse. Really, she did. She had just been protecting their family. Why didn't Finn understand that? Rachel huffed in determination as she passed the empty teacher's office. Well, she was protecting herself a little, too, but she was the leader of their family, wasn't she? If she wasn't in charge, glee would crumble under the pressures of outside life. She just knew it.

Once Rachel had sorted some thoughts out by the football field, she had gone to the auditorium for some soothing vocal practice. Looking at the events of the day honestly, she realized she had been feeling a little guilty, and singing always made life better.

It turns out that time alone had done the trick, and Rachel had figured out what needed to happen; if no one was going to readily forgive her, she would have to offset her bad behavior with some outside punishment.

Of course, her first thought was Mr. Schue. Really, he was always more than ready to reprimand her for the slightest transgression, and the lack of punishment had been a shock to her earlier. After singing a few more songs, Rachel made her decision and headed to Mr. Schue's office. Ever since his divorce he had been in there until pretty late at night. Since Rachel practiced on the stage pretty often, she always made a detour to his office before heading home late at night. She owed it to him to let him know the stage was open, really. Or, you know, she wanted to observe him for a moment before he knew.

Yes, she was over the silly crush of the previous year. It had been embarrassing, but he had been a gentleman and things had gone back to normal. However, it really hadn't been easy to stop noticing his curly hair, or his pained eyes, or his soft smile. And she'd tried, really she had, but it hadn't been working for her. In fact, the more she tried to think about Finn's short hair, and Finn's blank eyes, or Finn's dopey grin, she found herself drawn back to the hunky features of her favorite teacher.

Shaking it off, Rachel finished the trek down the hallway, coming to stop in front of his door. The lights were off, but there was a faint glow coming from the right corner of the room. Figuring his laptop had been left on as he ran an errand, Rachel opened the door, and flicked on the lights to wait for him to return.

But an empty office had not met Rachel as the lights flipped on. "Rachel! Jesus, don't you knock?" The brunette could only stand there, mouth open, palms starting to sweat at her sides, as Mr. Schue sat on the edge of his metal desk, pants around his knees, tie loose around his neck, and his cock in hand. He'd moved his hand away from himself as quickly as he had been able to, before jumping up and pulling his waistband back up.

She turned around quickly, feeling her cheeks start to warm in both embarrassment and arousal. Never, in a million years, had she ever expected to find Mr. Schue in that position. "I'm so sorry! I just wanted to ask…" She trailed off, her voice wavering in a highly non-Rachel Berry way.

"Ask what?" He practically barked it, and despite herself, Rachel felt a shiver make its way up her spine, giving her a momentary light-headedness.

"Nothing." She fiddled with her fingers before adding, "I just, need you to yell at me, Mr. Schue, punish me. For the crackhouse thing." She could swear she heard a groan somewhere during that sentence, but she couldn't be certain.

"Rachel, I think," he shifted by his desk, and the sudden movement caused Rachel to jump slightly, her hands twitching as her grip on her purse handle slackened. The clang of the buckle on the linoleum brought her back, and she reached down to get it. A definite groan, and as Rachel processed the feel of air on her bare thighs, she felt a hot hand grip her left hip.

"God, Rachel. Why can't you let anything go?" The question must have been rhetorical, because Rachel felt herself being pulled back until her thigh was pressed against the cold metal of Mr. Schue's desk. He turned her slowly, until they were face to face, her looking straight at his chest. She tried not to glance down, told herself she shouldn't be here, didn't deserve to look, had barged in on him.

Despite her protests, she felt her gaze shift downward, her eyelashes brushing the heated skin of her upper cheeks. The sight of Mr. Schue, in front of her, his pants unbuttoned, his fly open, and a big bulge beneath thin material caused a quick intake of breath as she gasped.

She felt herself swallowing deeply, overrun by the intense heat rushing through her veins before settling low in her belly. Her hand moved away from her side and gently cupped him through the material. "Fuck! Rachel…" he trailed off as his hand covered hers, pressing quickly before moving her hand away. His eyes were heavy and so dark. The brief jolt of panic did nothing but fuel the fire in her veins, and she bit her lip.

He growled unexpectedly as her hand pressed harder before he roughly pushed her back. "God damn it, Rachel! You can't just barge in here like it's your right. You can't just take what you want, without considering things, others! You want me to yell at you? Do you feel bad, now?" Rachel managed to shrink back a little, suddenly deciding she did not need him to yell at her.

Her brief nod was the only acknowledgement she made of his comments, but it appeared to be enough. "Bend over." Rachel's eyebrows knit together.

"Excuse me?"

"Bend over." Mr. Schue moved an inch closer to her. "You want to feel better? You want to be punished? Well, bad girls get spanked, Rachel." She paused for a moment before bending at the waist awkwardly. Her skirt hiked up to almost indecent, and then he set his hand on her lower back. He gently but firmly pushed her down to the table, until she was bent forward so much her panties were a little exposed.

Mr. Schue's fingertips trailed up the back of her right leg slowly, as she heard him exhale. His palm brushed her ass as his hand moved farther up, effectively flipping her skirt onto the small of her back. Rachel's legs shook slightly as Mr. Schue took his time, lightly caressing exposed parts of her body. Leaning down until his chest pushed against her back, he whispered in her ear, "You still think you need to relieve that guilt? Because I want to make this lesson stick."

His comment was a challenge, and Rachel never backed down from a challenge. "Yes, Mr. Schue. I'm really sorry." Her voice quaked a little, but she didn't think it was due to nerves. She knew he would never really hurt her. She felt him smile against her ear, his lips slowly brushing against the shell as his hand reached back down to her lower back.

Reaching between their bodies, he hooked his fingers against her lower back and pulled her purple lace panties down to her upper thighs. Mr. Schue pulled back, and she felt his hand caress her ass. For a moment there was no contact as she waited for the impact she was expecting.

Just as she assumed he had realized what a mistake this all was, a red hot sting flared across her backside. A garbled moan left her throat, and she looked back over her shoulder. The pain was intense, but there was something riding the edge of the pain, something good. "Do you know why I'm doing this, Rachel?"

She bit her lip and nodded, before facing forward again, the image of Mr. Schue behind her, pants open, cock hard and out in front of him burned in her mind. "Because I treated a potential teammate without respect."

A pause, and then a second smack against her already heated right butt cheek. The shock was still present with the second hit, and Rachel's hips shifted forward without her control. The burning was still intense, but that pleasant edge that had come with the first one was even stronger, and Rachel barely contained an accompanying moan.

"That's a little bit of it, Rachel. But you also don't treat me with respect. " A third hit, and this time Rachel's moan slipped out, to which Mr. Schue replied with a growl and both of his hands gripping her hips tightly. "You burst into my office without knocking, you act as though I created glee club solely for you, and even now you think only of what I'm doing to you."

"No! I really—" A fourth smack, this time to her left cheek. The burning was strong on the virgin flesh, but the edge of pleasure was still increasing. Rachel clenched her muscles, trying to relieve some of the pressure to no avail.

"I think it's only appropriate you call me 'sir,' Rachel." A fifth strike, again to her left side. This time her moan was loud, and her hips pushed backwards in an attempt to make contact with his hard body. He didn't meet her, and she whined in protest. There was no movement, no spanking for a full minute.

Rachel 's arms quivered under the weight of her body, and she stuttered, "P-please, Mr. Schue!"

Rachel heard rolling on the tile floor, and then, "Please?"

Rachel remembered his instructions, and leaned on her forearms. "Please, sir…I need—"

A sixth smack, across both cheeks. The contact was unexpected, and she was so lost in the feel of his skin on hers and the delicious tingling hum of her body that the pain felt better than ever. She could feel how wet she was, and knew Mr. Schue could see it, could probably smell how turned on she was.

"You need? I don't think you were listening to me, Rachel. Turn around." Rachel leaned off of her arms, tingling from lack of circulation, not pleasure. Her face was bright red, she knew, and it was awkward as she leaned up and her skirt fell against her irritated skin. The wetness she could feel before is starting to slide down the inside of her thigh, and Rachel wanted to pull up her panties, but she also wanted to pull them completely off and slide down onto Mr. Schue's hard cock.

He pushed his desk chair over to where she was, and he stood in front of it, his left hand stroking himself as his right hand reached up to her cheek. She watched as he rubbed his thumb over the head, collecting moisture before moving back down the shaft.

The hand on her cheek was soft and slightly shaking, her only indication that this was as intense for him as it was for her. His thumb brushed against her lips, and she opened her mouth, licking his fingerprint. "Fuck, Rachel…" His fingers tightened on the back of her neck, and he pulled her closer to him. She licked her lips, waiting for his kiss, but instead saw him walk backward before collapsing in the desk chair, his hand still gripping his erection tightly.

Rachel felt unsure suddenly, now that she had to look at him. But the desire in his eyes reassured her, and so she focused on the scratchy skirt against her bare ass. "Take off your shirt, Rachel." She did as she was told, even called him "sir" when she agreed. He nodded and loosened his tie more as she did. His hand moved quickly on his shaft while he watched her, before he pushed his pants quickly down his legs.

"Come here." She did as she was told, until she was standing right in front of him, her owl sweater discarded on his desk behind them. He reached up, past the lace of her panties to her core, where he slid two fingers against her outer lips. Her reaction was unexpected as she leaned her hand back against the desk, breath drawn in. "Christ, you're wet." His hand slid back to the heated flesh under her skirt. "You fucking enjoyed that, didn't you?"

She nodded, and his fingers returned to her opening, finally sliding into her. "Say it, Rachel."

"Yes! I enjoyed it, sir." Her eyes closed, and he let his thumb join, brushing against her clit.

"Have you learned your lesson yet?" She thought about saying yes, about finishing this, but suddenly that seemed like a bad idea, and those ideas sounded the best.

"No. No, sir, I don't think I have." The tender flesh of her backside wasn't quite as thrumming as she wanted it to be. He pulled her hip closer to him, and he leaned down, his face level with her pussy. Inhaling deeply as he flipped her skirt up and tucked it into the waistband, he looked up at her, before dipping forward and running his tongue along her slit.

"Oh, oh God, Mr. Schue!" Her hands clutched at his head wildly, until he abruptly pulled back.

"Come here, Rach." He unsnapped her bra quickly, sliding it off and throwing it toward the door she had fortunately thought to close when she came in. Mr. Schue gestured to his lap, and Rachel leaned over it without any more prompting.

Settled in, she could feel the heat of his cock against her side, and it sent a sick thrill through her. His hand rested on her calves for a bit before he pulled back and hovered. Rachel waited for the smack that was about to come, and then couldn't stop herself from practically screaming in release when it did.

She thanked God that she'd seen no one else in the hallways as she pressed her lips hard together to keep from making any more loud noises. Waiting for the next slap of his skin on hers, she dug her fingers around the arm of the chair and focused on the heavy breathing from Mr. Schue.

"It's always about you, Rachel. Do you even realize that?" Slap. "Your solos," slap, "your future," slap, "your punishment," slap.

She was practically grunting now, as Mr. Schue's hand came down on already welting flesh. The sting that had been present in the beginning was now lost in a sea of coiled tension, and Rachel couldn't keep her hips from rolling, trying to grind down on Mr. Schue's thigh to relieve the pressure.

Her movements were causing her side to rub against his cock in a steady rhythm, and soon his hips were shifting off of the chair in search of the same breaking wave she was. "Even now," he was gritting out the words, she could tell, he could barely focus anymore. "You're not listening, just trying to help yourself."

She knew what he was saying, she did, but the pressure was mounting, she was almost there, if only, "Please, Mr. Schue!" Her fingers had moved from the arm of the chair to Mr. Schue's thigh, by her bare breasts. She dug them in, adding, "I mean sir, please, I feel…"

Suddenly his hands were on her hips, stopping her movements and she wanted to scream again as pushed her off of his lap none too gently, and onto the floor in front of him. She knew her eyes were glassy as she looked up at him, her hands coming to rest on his knees automatically as she questioned why he'd stopped.

"You need to learn to think about others, Rachel. You need to realize that actions have consequences." He slid to the edge of the chair and she watched as his hand grabbed his cock, stroking himself like he had earlier, but faster, this time.

He wasn't telling her what to do, but she had a pretty good idea of what he meant, so she ventured, "Like that," she blushed, looking down a bit, "rubbing myself caused your, um…" She looked at his cock with hooded eyes, not wanting to verbalize her actions further.

"Yes, Rachel. Like that you grinding your pussy on my thigh made me so fucking hard." He was watching her more intensely than ever before, and the sudden thought that this was how to get his attention was both funny and unwelcome.

Suppressing her laughter, she sat up straighter, bringing her closer between his legs. "Do you want me to…sir?" He sucked his breath in suddenly and nodded, his right hand reaching for her hair as his left gripped his thigh tightly.

Rachel leaned forward, keeping eye contact awkwardly to see if she was about to make a mistake. When she reached the head of his cock, she shifted her attention to right in front of her, before taking a deep breath and sliding him slowly past her lips.

His groan was drawn out as she licked at the underside, her hand coming up to grip what wasn't in her mouth. She was inexperienced but not naïve, however she still wasn't quite sure what to do. "Fu—Rachel, 's good, now move your head."

She breathed through her nose, sliding more of him in her mouth as per his instruction, until she felt him nearing the back of her throat. Rachel could feel the saliva starting to pool in her mouth, so she tilted her head back slightly and swallowed, trying not to embarrass herself.

Mr. Schue's hips shot off of the chair, pushing more of his cock into her throat as he wound his fingers in her hair. "Jesus Rachel! Where did you, God—" anything else was cut off when she repeated her motions, this time her tongue caressing the underside as she pushed her nose to nestle at the base of his cock.

His eyes slowly opened, having shut after she'd swallowed him the first time, and she realized that they were darker than ever, even after the performance of "Push It," that had made him so upset with her. Rachel watched his eyes to make sure this was right, that this was what he wanted from her.

His response was his fingers in her hair, tugging ever so slightly toward him, helping guide her movements. Mr. Schue's other hand slid from his thigh to her neck, and he caressed the skin there, producing a gentle moan from Rachel. Again his eyes shut quickly, and she stilled her movements before pulling back and letting him slide from her mouth.

Trying to wipe discreetly at her mouth, she asked, "Mr. Schue? Did I do something wrong?"

"Sing something."

Rachel furrowed her brows. "What?"

"Sorry Seems to be the Hardest Word. Do you remember you wanted to sing that to me?"

"Yes," she paused before, "sir."

His hand went back to her neck, guiding her toward his lap again. "Sing it, hum it, Rachel."

She nodded, smiling slightly at the strange request. Taking him into her mouth again, Rachel started to hum the song he wouldn't let her sing a year ago.

Rachel could feel herself getting wetter as Mr. Schue's hips started moving off of the chair as she hummed. He was muttering, now, incoherently about tone and vibration, so Rachel sucked lightly as she bobbed her head in the rhythm Mr. Schue had taught her.

"I'm close, Rach. Your mouth feels so fucking good," she smiled around him, still humming and looking up at him. His eyes had fluttered closed again, but he opened them then, looking her in the eyes before tugging her hair back, pulling her off of him. "I'm gonna…honey stop," and when she was leaning back on her heels, she watched his hand go back to his shaft, pumping quickly until thick streams of milky fluid coated his hand.

She watched in awe at the spent man before her, never having seen a man coming or her Spanish teacher lose control like this. Mr. Schue's head dropped to the back of the chair, and Rachel could tell his eyes were closed. Suddenly shy and embarrassed, she stood up to grab her bra and shirt, figuring it was time for her to leave.

As she bent over to retrieve her bra from in front of the door, she felt the air hit her wet flesh the same time she heard his voice, like smoothed over gravel, "Where do you think you're going?"

She looked back at him, still in the chair, but now watching her with heavy eyes. She stood up and looked down at her bra before shifting uncomfortably. "I thought you were done with my punishment." The words sounded harsh to her own ears, and she didn't want Mr. Schue to misunderstand, think that she hadn't wanted that, so she looked at him through her lashes, with a small smile on her lips.

He didn't get up, but he jerked his head in his direction, and said, "Come 'ere." When she was in front of him, he rolled the chair forward, trapping her between his body and the desk. He pushed her back to the cool metal of the desk, and she felt goosebumps break on her flesh.

Mr. Schue's hands were firm but gentle as he gripped her hips, standing up so that he towered over her. His height advantage brought another streak of pleasure up her spine, and she realized, suddenly, how aroused she still was. "I'm done with your punishment. I think you learned your lesson." He brought his hand to her cheek, brushing his fingers through her hair and softly resting his hand on her cheek. "Now that you have, I think some positive reinforcement might be a good idea."

Now Rachel sucked in a breath at the idea, not quite sure what he meant, but knowing she was close, just needed something to bring her over the edge. "You did say you wanted to lesson to stick, sir." He stopped stroking her hair to pull her hips to his, so she could feel him against her aching core.

He ground their hips together for a moment before sitting back down in his chair. Rachel tilted her head, confused, until he slid closer to the desk, eying her still exposed pussy. "Oh," she gasped, as she realized what he intended to do.

With a glint in his eye, Mr. Schue ran his hands up Rachel's legs, past the knee-his to the smooth skin of her thighs. Looking her in the eye, he applied pressure to her inner thighs, and grunted, "Spread your legs."

She did as she was told, adding a playful, "Yes, sir," and smiling when it caused a spark behind his eyes.

"I think you understand now that actions have consequences, and that you need to rectify your mistakes." It was a statement, but he was waiting for an answer, so Rachel nodded her head.

"Rachel…"

"Yes, sir. I need to take responsibility for my actions, and also think of others." She'd never admit it, but his condescension was making her hotter, wetter, as she thought about what his mouth was going to be doing to her soon.

"Good girl, Rachel. And good girls get rewards." His voice was calm, but she could see that he was growing harder from his words, too. "Good girls get to cum." Her hips shifted then, and Mr. Schue rolled his chair closer, so there was almost no space between his shoulders and her legs. "Hook your knees over my shoulders."

She did as she was told, a brief moment of worry crossing her features. "I'm glad you learned your lesson, Rach, because I knew one taste of you would not be enough. It'd kill me if I couldn't bury my face in you."

His words were doing the trick, soothing her, and she shifted her hips up as he leaned forward, an inch above her pussy. Pausing a minute, Mr. Schue looked up at her, and she swallowed hard before, "Please, sir, your mouth," and he was on her, his lips were brushing her clit, sliding against her wetness.

Rachel could feel her thighs falling open even wider, as Mr. Schue ate her out, his arms hooking around the bottoms of her thighs, pressing on her lower back to bring her closer to him. She realized his desperation to taste her might be able to push her over the edge on its own, as his teeth scraped her clit.

She was moaning and babbling words like, "please," "fuck," "feels," "God," "sir," and "Mr. Schue," and she wasn't sure which ones were working but every once in a while he would growl into her slick flesh and double his efforts.

She was almost there, her hands tugging at his head to warn him she was close. He leaned back, not looking at her, but enough so she could hear, "I know baby, go ahead, cum for me," and when he put his lips back on her clit and nipped, she felt herself fall apart beneath him.

Rachel rode her orgasm as Mr. Schue licked at her inner thighs, and felt him nip her bikini line lightly, as he murmured, "Good girl."

She couldn't help the smile that crossed her face, as she leaned back on her arms and watched him kiss his way up her body. He pulled her panties up and flipped her skirt down, then kissed a line from her stomach to her neck, stopping to pay attention to both breasts.

He nuzzled into her collarbone as her hands reached for his shoulders and upper back. She realized, with disappointment, that his shirt never came off, and was shocked to find herself worrying that this wouldn't happen again.

Mr. Schue murmured, "Rachel," as his lips pressed wet kisses to her jaw. He leaned back a moment, to watch her as he leaned in more, about to kiss her mouth. She smiled and her eyes fluttered closed. She felt the soft press of his lips against hers, and parted her lips slightly, inviting him in.

As his tongue glided against hers, each sharing the taste of the other, she couldn't help but realize they did it backwards—kissing last. His lips opened more to hers as he made soft noises into her mouth, and she thought that maybe that's how they operated—needing to take giant steps to get to those smaller ones.

His fingers were in her hair again and she decided however they worked didn't matter, as long as they kept doing this. Pulling back, she felt the loss she saw on his face, but hurried on to ask, "We can do this again, right?"

She could tell his thoughts were already warring, that she probably broke the spell, but she needed to know this could happen again—they could happen again. His eyes softened as he brushed her bangs from her face, and he sighed, "I'm sure this wasn't your last diva moment."

And it wasn't.