
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/10763208.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      The_100_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Bellamy_Blake/Clarke_Griffin
  Character:
      Bellamy_Blake, Clarke_Griffin
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_Modern_Setting, Teacher-Student_Relationship, Smut,
      Spanking, Kink_Meme, Non-Consensual_Touching, but_she_likes_it, because
      it's_a_kink_meme_fic, But_don't_say_I_didn't_warn_you
  Series:
      Part 3 of Kink_Meme
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-04-29 Words: 1985
****** take on me (take me on) ******
by Catja
Summary
     Prompt: Clarke gets sent to a boarding school where they use corporal
     punishment. Bellamy is her teacher/principal.
"Miss Griffin is here to see you, sir."
Bellamy glances up from the object he's holding to see his secretary standing
in his office doorway. He sets it down, out of sight, then stands. "Thank you,
Ms. Bragg, send her in."
The pomp and circumstance at Arkadia Academy is, frankly, ridiculous, but
Bellamy is well aware that he wouldn't be receiving this kind of paycheck from
a public high school, or even a normal private school, let alone the Title I
schools he'd dreamed of working in. Octavia's tuition and his mother's
addictions don't pay for themselves. Bellamy would far rather work as a
Residence Director, on top of his history classes, for free room and board than
drive a bus for an extra couple hours' pay a day. Even if the students are
worse here than his residents from his year as a university RA. Spoiled,
arrogant brats.
The secretary is definitely overkill, but at least she's hot, and a far less
inappropriate subject for his fantasies than the students: pretty polished
girls and boys who need to be broken a little before they try to take over the
world.
Speaking of-
"You wanted to see me, Mr. Blake?"
Clarke Griffin, queen of Phoenix Hall, his hall, junior class president, and
daughter of two school board members, stands in the doorway.
"Yes, come in. Sit down," Bellamy says, nodding toward the empty chair in front
of his oversized mahogany desk. "Thank you for being prompt."
"Of course." Clarke sits, setting her unmarred leather satchel by her feet and
smoothing her skirt neatly over her thighs, looking up at him expectantly.
Those fucking uniforms. It'd be easier to deal with the teenaged girls if they
weren't wearing those little plaid skirts, hiked up as high as they could get
away with, showing off their legs in their over-the-knee socks. It hardly even
mattered that their shirts came up to their throats, with vests or jackets over
that. Especially on Clarke Griffin: the blouse and jacket couldn't hide her
truly magnificent rack, and the tie just made him want to grab on and push her
around.
Of course, if his plan works out, she won't be wearing the uniform for much
longer. Bellamy's been wanting to take Arkadia's Princess down a peg or two,
and finally he's gotten the chance.
"Miss Griffin," Bellamy says, still standing behind his desk, towering over the
seventeen year old. "As you may have heard, there were surprise inspections of
the dormitories this morning."
She looks up at him, eyes steady, not worried yet. "Yes, I heard about that."
"A contraband object was found in your room, your single room."
"I don't have any cont-"
Clarke freezes when Bellamy lifts up the object he'd been given a few hours
earlier. It's a small, violently pink vibrator, just about the size of
Bellamy's smallest finger.
"Are you sure you don't, Miss Griffin?"
"I can explain."
"Please do."
Her eyes scan the room while she frantically tries to think of any excuse,
anything at all. "It isn't mine."
"You don't share a room."
Clarke's gone pink, with embarrassment or anger, from high in her cheeks down
her throat. Bellamy's looking forward to seeing how low that blush goes. "No, I
know, I bought it for a friend, she asked me to-."
"Try again, Miss Griffin." Bellamy lifts the vibrator to his nose and sniffs
dramatically. "You neglected to clean it, whenever you used it last. I can
smell your cunt on it."
Clarke slumps in her seat, defeated. "Ugh, fine. What's my punishment? Early
curfew, loss of town privileges?"
"No." Bellamy circles around his desk, leaning against it next to Clarke. "I
had something different in mind."
"Like what, Mr. Blake?" Clarke asks.
Bellamy crosses his arms and stares down at her. Ordinarily, he knows, he
doesn't have much of a height advantage over her. It's why he spends so much
time at the gym- so many of his students are taller than him, he needs at least
more bulk than they have.
"I'm going to give you a choice, Miss Griffin-"
"How kind," she says, dry.
Bellamy ignores her. "You may face the school board, and may I remind you, your
parents would not be allowed to sit on your hearing board due to conflicts of
interest. That may lead to suspension or even expulsion, depending, I imagine,
on how much they like your parents. At the very least, it will put a very dark
mark on your record, and it will certainly make it more difficult for you to
get recommendation letters."
"And Mrs. Caldwell and Ms. Sydney have been trying to get Mom off the board for
years and this will give them an excuse, and I won't be able to be senior class
president, or even junior class president, probably, and I'll lose my single
room, and be blacklisted from every extra-curricular. Yeah, I get it. Fine.
What's the other option?"
"Somehow," Bellamy says, slow, savoring each word, "permission to corporally
punish morally corrupt students is still granted by the school charter."
Clarke's jaw drops. "Corporally punish..."
Bellamy gives her a moment to consider it. It's almost like watching the stages
of grief play out over her face, from utter shock, to consideration and
preparation for an argument, then grim acceptance.
"You want to spank me?" Clarke asks finally, looking steadily up at him.
Bellamy thinks fuck yes I do, but manages to say, "I believe you would benefit
from such a punishment," instead. Both of them are fully aware that Bellamy
didn't answer her question. "I take it you've made your choice."
Clarke shrugs. "Like I really have a choice," she says, bitter. She stands.
"How to you want me?"
Bellamy chokes back a groan, struck by the image of her on her knees, mouth
open for him, then bouncing in his lap, tits in his face, then bent over his
desk, presenting her pretty cunt to him.
He can't say that, of course, so instead he steps away from his desk, nodding
toward the bare stretch of table, and reaches for the paddle, already sitting
on the desk. It's one of the many absolutely fucked up things about this
school: he has an official, branded school paddle, given to him his first day
on the job by Headmaster Kane.
Clarke's eyes widen when she sees the paddle. "You can't be serious," she says.
"Five with this," Bellamy says, rapping his knuckles against the solid maple,
"or fifteen with my hand."
"Your hand, then," Clarke says.
Bellamy can't help a half-smile; Clarke's making more predictable decisions
than he'd expected. "Very well," he says. "Take off your jacket. Hands on the
desk, feet apart, and count aloud, please."
Clarke complies.
After taking a few seconds to savor the view, Bellamy smacks her hard across
her ass.
Clarke squeals, covering her ass and jumping up. "That fucking hurt," she says,
glaring at him.
"Obviously." Bellamy reaches out for her tie, loosening it gently. "Since you
can't be trusted to keep your hands away..." he says, removing it entirely.
"Turn around, please, Miss Griffin."
She scoffs, crossing her arms and leaning away from him.
"Unless you'd prefer I report your moral corruption to the school board."
"No," she replies sullenly, turning her back to him.
Bellamy pulls her wrists behind her back and ties them snugly together, then
pushes her back into position. She's forced lower this time; without her hands
for support, her torso is flat on his desk. She's not quite tall enough for it
to be comfortable, has to rise up onto her toes. It does nice things for her
legs, Bellamy has to admit. He considers her for a moment, then flips her skirt
up over her waist. Clarke is hardly in a position to argue.
She is delicious, her round ass barely covered by a scrap of pale blue lace. It
would almost be virginal, if not for the wet spot between her legs. She's
breathing quite heavily; it's a shame Bellamy can't see her breasts. Ah, well.
Later.
"Don't forget to count," Bellamy says.
Smack!
"Two."
Bellamy tsks. "No, Miss Griffin." Her pale skin is already reddening from his
hand, just as he'd hoped. She's going to look so damn beautiful by the time
he's done.
Clarke gulps. "One?"
"Very good."
Two through eight come in quick succession, alternating sides. Clarke gasps out
each number, her voice getting weaker with every stroke.
Bellamy pauses, halfway through, to admire the sight. She's turned away from
him, trying to maintain some sort of dignity, but that hardly matters. Her legs
are straining to keep her balanced on the desk, hands clenched at the small of
her back, her blue and black striped tie binding them together, her panties
even wetter now than before he started.
He's surprised she's taking her punishment so well. In class, she's constantly
refusing to back down, even against him. Bellamy had expected that she'd be the
same now, but perhaps he should have realized Clarke would be like this, taking
what she deserved, what he wanted to give her.
"Such a good girl," he murmurs before spanking her again.
Clarke whimpers, but neglects to continue counting.
Bellamy even gives her a moment before the next swat, to see if she's just
late.
"I believe I told you to count, Miss Griffin," Bellamy says, voice soft. "You
have failed to do so, twice now. Either I start over again-"
"No, please, Mr. Blake."
"Or I remove these, and continue from where you stopped counting." Bellamy runs
his finger under the edge of her panties. Her skin is so smooth.
Clarke sniffs. "That one, please."
Bellamy smiles. "Good girl." It's completely unnecessary, but he uses both
hands: grips her hips for just a moment, just so he'll have the memory for
later, then slides her panties slowly down her legs, feeling every inch of
smooth, pale skin. He lifts each foot carefully, setting them down a little
further apart, spreading her legs just a little.
Clarke's panties are absolutely drenched. She smells so sweet.
Bellamy drops them next to her face. He's not going to give them back, of
course, but he wants her to know that he knows how much she's enjoying her
punishment.
"Nine."
Bellamy leaves his hand on her ass, his fingertips stretching toward her cunt.
They come away wet.
"Ten- eleven- twelve-"
Bellamy's beginning to wish he'd said twenty.
Without any warning, Bellamy thrusts two fingers into her pussy. She accepts
him easily. "Well, isn't this interesting," Bellamy says, fucking them in and
out, nice and slow. She's tight, but so wet it hardly matters. He twists his
fingers, searching for her g-spot.
Clarke lets out a whine when he finds it. "Please, Mr. Blake- thirteen!"
"Please, what?"
"Please don't stop," she begs, shifting her weight slightly. Bellamy guesses
she's trying to get to her clit. He obliges, rubbing tight circles around her
clit, slipping his thumb into her instead. It's not going to be enough, inside
her, but Bellamy wants to feel her clenching around something.
It's not long before Clarke's gasping, cunt squeezing around him. Bellamy
delivers the last two swats as she comes, making her arch off the desk,
keening. He keeps his hand on her as she comes, covering her whole cunt,
feeling her arousal drip from his fingers.
"Thank you, Mr. Blake," Clarke says, voice shaky.
Bellamy admires his handiwork. Her ass is gloriously red. She'll be feeling it
for a while.
"I hope you've learned your lesson, Miss Griffin," he says as he unties her
wrists.
She tidies herself quickly, eyeing her panties on the desk but not bothering to
ask for them back. "Mr Blake? What if I want my toy back?"
Bellamy lets a slow smile spread across his face. "Come see me after classes,
Miss Griffin, and we can discuss it."
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