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 The Professor's Odd Lesson

   Charlotte stepped into his office with a lump in her throat.  Charlotte
loved exhilaration.  But this is not what had brought her to sign up for
the college course on the history of English hierarchies - not directly
anyway.  She had looked into the adult education course catalogue just
because she was bored.  Her husband Jack, off doing his own thing so much
of the time, could no longer be counted on for stimulation of any kind.

   Perusing the catalogue, it was the photograph that caught her eye.  The
professor was teaching a course she never would have taken another look at,
but he just wasn't the dowdy type she'd imagine in any humanities
department.  He looked athletic, lithe, and had an aggressive glint in his
eye.  The look somehow conveyed that he was at once calm as a cat, at the
same time lively and unpredictable.

   So she took the course and found two immediate benefits.  First, the
subject was surprisingly interesting.  He lectured on hierarchies of all
kinds.  She'd particularly enjoyed his talking about social power
differences and how men with any status had held sway over women with any
less status.  She didn't really believe in these ancient values, but
stirred at the thought of being at the lower end anyway.  The second
benefit was in the professor.  Dr.  Hoke, or Ben as the students called
him. He was every bit as alluring as his photograph, and his look exuded
some kind of primal, tender-but-predatory sexiness whenever they made eye
contact.

   She made sure there was plenty of eye contact.  She sat in the front
row, and with each session grew bolder about attracting his attention.  She
asked questions, more than she should have.  She began fidgeting more than
she should have.  She cleared her throat loudly, eliciting a glare she just
couldn't get enough of.  She knew she was going too far, even before he
asked her settle down.  She wanted to provoke some more, and so began
diddling with her cell phone.  So it was as she was leaving at the end of a
session, he placed a hand on her arm

   "Charlotte, is it?"

   "Yes."

   "I don't mind having you in my class, Charlotte, in fact I was enjoying
your thoughtful questions for awhile.  But I want to tell you, you've
become disruptive and obnoxious.  I think you know what I'm talking about".

   She felt herself blushing.  Exhilaration.  The heat went down her face.
And straight to her cunt.  She didn't get why this caught her up.  It was
very odd, a little frightening, and delicious.  But embarrassing.  She
thought she would calm him with her smooth-talking abilities.

   "Uh...  No.  Yes.  I mean, of course...  I..." Delivered with
breathlessness.

   "Well Charlotte, you know I have asked you to stop this before.  You
have willfully persisted.  You will meet me in my office tomorrow at nine
A.M.  sharp, or you will leave my class.  Do you understand?"

   Did she detect some breathiness on his part?  Was that a blush?  "Yes
professo- I mean, Ben.  I will see you in your office".  It wasn't like her
to be quite so compliant but then, nothing in this interaction was like
anything she was used to.

   She had debated going then.  She had a suspicion he wanted to make her
regret her mischief.  She told herself she was just too dignified, too
adult.  And she admitted to herself she wanted to go more than anything.

   So the next morning she put on heels, sheer panties, stockings, a plaid
skirt and a blouse, and went to him.  She stepped in, and found him sitting
on his desk.

   "Yes, Charlotte.  Shut the door." No good morning, no please. 
"Charlotte, my policy us unlike that of the rest of the staff here.  It is
this: I will not be crossed by a student, and if I am, the student will be
disciplined, by my own methods."
There.  There was the heat again.  Exhilaration.  She wanted more.  "Yes

sir." Sir?  How did that come out?  He took little notice.

   "I want to assure your that you may drop my course, and that will be the
end of the discipline.  You can walk out now.  If you choose to stay, I
will have you present yourself to be spanked."

   Jesus.  He's a nut.  And she was burning up.  She knew she should leave,
but stood rooted.  "Yes sir...  I will stay".  The heat coming from his
threat seemed also to give warmth, a feeling of safety, of reassurance. 
All of it was irresistible.

   "Very well.  We'll begin.  Turn to the side, please.  Now I want you to
raise your skirt, Charlotte".

   Oh, her heart.  She made herself do it.  She raised her skirt slowly to
her waist.  She looked at him and they locked eyes.  Fire.  She didn't need
the next instruction.  She bent down, keeping her knees strait, presenting
her bottom.  She had always kept in good shape and was proud of her bottom.
It was not flabby, but certainly not boyish.  She made an effort to pooch
it out, knowing he could see right through the taught panties.  She
thought, knowing the idea was ridiculous, that the offering might appease
him.  She waited.

   Whack!  So that was what it was like.  To be spanked as an adult.  A
sharp, not too-intense pain, and the heat went up.  The sting in her butt
spread through her whole body.

   Whack.  Whack.  He delivered several more, began resting his hand on her
buns between each slap, giving a light, reassuring stroke.  She was
disappointed when he stopped.  Then he moved to a chair and sat.  Again,
she need no instruction.  She went to him and lay over his lap.

   "Charlotte, not quite yet.  I want your panties down first."

   She thought she had never blushed like this in her life.  She stood,
paused, lowered her panties and went down again, her bare ass at his mercy.


   He started spanking again, and again caressed her between strokes.  He
never hit too hard, and the heat stoked higher.  She felt his hard-on
beneath her.  She knew her pussy was dripping by now.  It seemed natural to
check, and she put her hand there.  He didn't seem to mind, but when the
spanking immediately stopped her embarrassment grew yet again and she took
her hand away.

   She stayed there.  Her backside burned and she knew it was bright pink,
and probably open enough to show a peek of her saturated cunt.

   "Charlotte, you've been brave, and your correction is almost finished. I
have some salve now which will ease your discomfort.  I want you to stand,
and bend over my desk."

   One more pose, both humiliating and thrilling.  She looked back and she
saw him open a jar of ointment and he began spreading the balm on her buns.
Again, a fine feeling.  She did not want it to stop and she pooched her
butt out some more, spreading her legs.  His strokes began drifting in the
crack.  This was yet another new feeling for her.  Oh, yes.  She was
shocked when he began rubbing right over her asshole - shocked at how such
a raw gesture could be so fucking stimulating.  No one had done this
before. She groaned.

   He dipped more ointment.  His dry had went to her front.  Yes.  His
lubed hand went back to her ass and his fingers gently tickled the hole. 
She had never liked anything like this before, but this was different. 
When one finger began touching her clit, another went gently into her ass.
She cried out in shock and joy.  She began humping forward on one hand,
back on the other.

   He stopped, and wordlessly dropped his pants she watched the sight of
him spreading ointment on his cock.  She wanted that thing in her now.  He
got behind her and as she hoped, put his cock at her anus.  He began gently
poking there while she took over with a hand at her clit.  Suddenly he
pushed right in.  OUCH.  More smarting and more of that weird paradoxical
pleasure.  He stayed there, perfectly still, while both panted.  Slowly she
began humping and he pushed back.  They fucked like this until both came,
in a sweating, overheated tandem.

   *** At the next class session, Charlotte began conspicuously brushing
her hair.