A/N: Good evening, my dear readers. I am so glad you could make it. I had originally intended to introduce myself to you through a dark, poetic, sensual piece that would reveal to you the depths of my corrupted soul; and then I was all, "Nah, fuck it, let's write some PWP instead." I introduce you to my collection of saucy little femmeslash drabbles. I've never written a drabble before, so I can't promise that these will be any good, but if you're still here by the time our characters are satisfied and fulfilled feel free to leave me a flaming review constructed solely of spite and gall. I look forward to it. Once again: If you're searching for vanilla Het, look elsewhere, because I can promise you won't find either of those things here. All kink, all girls; let the fun begin. All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

I hate Chemistry. It's the only thing worse than PE in my mind.

I'm terrible at it, for one thing; I don't understand any of it. I'm pulling straight As in my sciences by luck alone, which is pretty shocking because luck, historically, tends not to work in my favour.

I suppose, of course, that I might not be so bad at Chem if I paid more attention in class. Every word that was said just seemed to drift past me, and I never took enough notes to complete my homework without the assistance of the internet. I wasn't texting underneath the table like the other girls, or passing notes, or even talking to the girl next to me; my lack of attention to the subject was based entirely on the attention I gave to the teacher.

Miss Brandon teaches the higher-grade Senior Chemistry class I devote four hours a week to. She has some pretty impressive qualifications, it has to be said, but her academic success isn't what distracts me.

It's her own fault, really, though. She doesn't have to wear those high heels, or those sheer stockings, or those tight pencil skirts with the slits up the thigh. I can't be blamed for not paying attention when she wears translucent white blouses with the outline of her bra visible beneath them.

And I certainly cannot be faulted for being distracted when she insists on wearing those thick-rimmed black glasses. I'm not even sure she needs them.

"Isabella Swan?"

My head snapped to face her. Today, I had noticed, she wore a black lace bra beneath her shirt.

"Y-" My throat was dry and I swallowed quickly. "Yes, Miss?"

"Perhaps you would care to explain to the class what I have just been talking about."

I froze. "Yes, mi- No, miss."

"Why ever not?" She feigned shock, looking at me with indigo eyes over those unnecessary glasses.

"I- I wasn't listening, Miss."

"Well, Isabella, perhaps you would do well to listen in future." She pursed her crimson lips and turned away, back to the whiteboard, pen still in hand. Then, almost as an afterthought, she added, "I'll see you in detention this evening."

Detention? For not listening in class? Jesus, this woman was insane!

Then again, I reasoned, an extra hour with Miss Brandon.

Alone.

I shuddered slightly with anticipation, realising only a moment later that I had yet to verbally acknowledge my understanding.

"Yes, Miss."

When the bell rang half an hour later, signalling the end of the day, I remained in my seat as the twenty-six other girls in the class scrabbled for their bags and leapt to their feet, racing for the door. When the crowd had cleared, I looked toward the front of the classroom.

Miss Brandon was sitting at her desk, her exposed pale elbows contrasting with the dark wood where she rested them, leaning forward with her chin on her hands. A strand of shining black hair hung over her face.

"So, Isabella," she began, and I noticed that her tone was lower than it had been as she addressed the class. It was silky and reminded me of honey. "You were not paying attention?" She raised a perfectly shaped dark eyebrow. I gulped.

"No, Miss," I managed breathlessly, overwhelmed with lust.

She hummed, rising out of her chair and coming to my desk. When she leaned forward her face was barely two centimetres from mine and, even more distractingly, her cleavage was in my line of sight.

She hooked the leg of the chair opposite me with her heel and pulled it behind her, settling in it but not leaning backward. "Did you know, Isabella," she asked conversationally, looking at her blood red nails, "where I went to High School, on the other side of the country to us now, it was legal to corporally punish a student for misbehaviour?"

After a few seconds I realised that she expected an answer. I shook my head. She mistook my silence and no doubt gaping mouth for an expression of disbelief.

"Oh, it was," she assured me. "Many times, when I was your age, I felt the sting of a ruler against my hand. But then again," and the corner of her mouth turned up at this, "I did go to Catholic school."

Suddenly her expression once again hardened, and the sultry tone returned to her voice. "Now, Isabella, don't you think that not paying attention in class constitutes misbehaviour?"

I shivered at what she was implying. She wouldn't - couldn't really do that, could she?

Nothing is illegal if you don't get caught. Besides, it would hardly be assault, now, would it?

"Yes, Miss," I replied finally, hanging my head submissively.

"What do you think happens to naughty girls who don't listen in class?" She stood once again, and I felt her presence above me.

"I- I think they are punished, Miss."

"That's right," she purred. "And you were ever such a naughty girl, now, weren't you, Isabella?"

"Yes Miss," I whispered. "I was a very naughty girl."

"Then you should really be punished." This time she didn't expect a response. I heard the click of her heels on the linoleum, growing slightly fainter as she approached her desk. "Come here."

I stood shakily, incredibly aroused and also slightly nervous. I made my way to the desk very slowly.

"Remove your blazer, Isabella," she commanded. I did as she asked and place it, folded, on the desktop. "Good girl. Now bend over the desk."

I squeezed my eyes shut as I obeyed, gripping the edge of the desk tightly. I rested my cheek against the rough material of my blazer. My pleated school skirt suddenly felt very short, and I was sure Miss Brandon could see my white cotton panties and had noticed that they were slightly damp.

I felt cool fingertips brushing my thighs as she firmly grasped the material of my skirt and lifted it, tucking the back into the waistband so that it would not fall back down. I fought a shudder at the thought that my incredibly attractive teacher could see my ass.

When her fingers traced a line across my buttocks I released the shudder, and scarcely a moment later it was followed by a muffled cry as the palm of her hand landed on the curve of my backside with a sharp, satisfying, stinging smack.

I was sure I heard Miss Brandon hum in satisfaction, and almost positive I felt her rub the area she had spanked with her fingertips, but another two smacks landed so swiftly I later wondered if I had imagined her tenderness. The sting of the three swats was not unbearable, and it was far more arousing than I had imagined. I knew then that my slickness was definitely visible, but I couldn't be sure that she had even looked directly at me there, so I didn't know if she had noticed.

The fourth and fifth swats cleared all of this from my head when they came, both in the exact same spot where my ass met my right thigh. I winced, feeling the places she had struck beginning to warm.

The sixth strike was on my left thigh, and I was more prepared for that one, as well as the seventh, for they came in the same pattern as the two that preceded them. The eighth, however, landed higher and closer to my hip, and the ninth flat on my left buttock. The tenth I was totally unprepared for, as it came in the very centre of my ass. I gasped when this one came.

For a moment she did not touch my abused backside, and I felt the sting fading into a mild burn that served only to fuel my desire. I squirmed slightly against the table.

Quite suddenly her cool fingers were at the waistband of my panties. Instead of pulling my skirt down, however, she untucked it from my underwear and proceeded to slide my panties down my hips. I yelped in shock when she settled them at my knees and patted my backside once.

"You didn't think your punishment was over, now, did you?" She tutted. "Really Isabella!"

I went to respond but found myself quite unable to do anything more than cry out hoarsely when her hand connected sharply with the undercurve of my now bare ass. The collision of her flesh on mine was different to being spanked through my panties; both the sting and the eroticism of each swat increased tenfold.

This time, as she spanked me, she lectured. "You've been a very naughty girl, Isabella," she purred, not pausing. "You shouldn't misbehave like that."

"No, Miss," I whispered, shaking my head. Her swats came lower, and I became very worried that she might notice my arousal on her fingertips. It was only a matter of time.

I couldn't keep count this time with the building sting, but I think it was around the thirtieth swat that it changed.

"Are you going to be a good girl from now on?" She asked, giving me three hard swats.

"Yes!" I cried, squeezing my thighs together. She pried them apart.

"Yes what?" Four more swats came down just above where I craved her touch.

"Yes, Miss Brandon! I'll be a good girl!"

"That's what I like to hear," she smirked, her hand coming down to cup my pussy. I nearly shrieked at the abruptness of the contact as she slipped a single finger between my lips and caressed my swollen clitoris with it.

"You're going to listen in class from now on, aren't you, Isabella?" She purred. When I didn't respond she gave my ass another swat. "Aren't you?"

"Yes, Miss," I moaned, circling my hips.

"And give in all your homework on time?" Her finger sped up its pace, combining with the lingering sting to further increase my frenzy, bringing me closer to the edge.

"Yes, Miss!" I cried.

Her tongue flicked against the shell of my ear and she rubbed my clitoris harshly. I shuddered with overwhelming pleasure as my orgasm hit, my thighs clamping around her wrist.

"Good girl," she purred, giving my ass a final slap.

A/N: So, there you go. I thought I'd be gentle with you since it's the first drabble. Just a bit of light spanking and Teacher!Kink.

I'll allow you to choose which of the following you want as your next chapter, but after that every chapter is a request.

- Jane/Female character of your choice (not Bella). Both vampires. Pain play using Jane's power.

- Maria/Female character of your choice (not Bella). Both vampires. Blood play.

-Rosalie/Female character of your choice/female character of your choice. Light bondage and D/S. Domme Rosalie and Domme character of your choice (not Bella). Toys, and lots of them. Anal sex and strap-on sucking. Seriously. I'm not even joking.