Revolutionary (closed)

Scuttle Buttin'

Demons at bay
Joined
Apr 27, 2003
Posts
15,881
Teaching Early American History at a small liberal arts college was not quite how he saw his life unfolding. The only son of an anthropologist and a biologist, a life in the sciences had been envisioned for him since before he was even conceived, and for much of his life he had even bought into it, even going so far as to declare physics his major during his first year of college. The most he learned about physics that first year was that gravity pulled you to the earth upon losing your balance just as well when you were drunk as it did when you were sober, and much to the chagrin of both parents he changed his major before he could repeat the mistake his Sophomore year.

Decades of being shoehorned into a field he had no true passion or aptitude for left him without direction, and much like a sailboat without a sail, he drifted where the currents took him. A girl he was sleeping with was a history major, with an eye towards teaching, and so he went along happily, changing his major to fit with hers. In truth, he was far more interested in the place where he thighs met than the place where Grant and Lee met to end the Civil War. Still, it was a direction, and the disapproval of his parents felt somehow freeing, so even after he and the girl were no longer sharing a bed four nights a week, he stuck with it.

Graduate school followed, and it was there that he met the woman that would become his wife. They were married just after he received his teaching certificate, and within the year he had a position at UC Davis, though only as an adjunct professor. His parents, both with tenure at UC Berkley, visited often, and even they could sense the building strain in the relationship as that first year of teaching progressed. The pair were divorced within two years of marrying, and he fled to the east coast, happy to escape the disapproving looks of his parents and the chance that he might run into her and the guy she had been fucking for the last three months of their relationship.

It was then, at last, that life settled into something resembling normalcy. He found a position with a small but quality school not far from the coast, and with no wife to worry about, he threw himself completely into his work. In time, he was teaching a full load of classes, and working his way toward being a tenured professor and having a real sense of security. It wasn't quite his passion, but it was the closest he'd found, and he was, at least, happy.

This spring semester found him with a late class on Tuesday and Thursday, a long session that was scheduled to end at 5:45 but that he suspected would be done by 5:30 at the latest most days. The students weren't the only ones anxious to get out and soak up some of the sun that had abandoned them for so long, and the lengthening days and warming weather offered the perfect opportunity to do just that.

It was for this reason that he stood before the assembled class as sunlight filtered in through the windows, the clock barely stretching towards twenty minutes after five, and surprised them all by announcing that that was all he had for them for the day. He was dressed casually, as much as he allowed himself to, tan slacks and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms and a light blue tie that he'd loosened hours earlier, and while there was still a bit of chill in the air, he was ready to go. A glass of wine and a stack of tests from an earlier class were waiting for him, the exciting life of a university professor.

"Look over what you missed on the test and study up on it, because it almost certainly will be on the final," he said, folding his laptop closed. "And you can catch me after class, or my office hours, if you have any questions about any of it. See you next week, everyone."

And with a nod, Damien Collins strode to his desk in the corner to begin collecting his own things.
 
Anna Cassidy had always been a well rounded student. She excelled at almost every topic she'd taken classes on, always specifically picking things that interested her when she could. And when she had arrived at college two years ago she had planned to keep things that way. College wasn't the same as high school, though. She'd never had to study during grade school, rarely took more than an hour to complete her homework, and always had time for extra curricular activities. Here, she had no parents to keep her in check and freedom she'd never had back home.

Anna's parents were both lawyers. Her father was a Federal defense attorney and always brought home interesting stories about his idiotic clients. He'd been a prosecutor, too, and had made a few firsts for the Attorney General's office during his time there. Her mother was a municipal lawyer, a profession that Anna had always found extremely boring. But her mother was one of about fifteen in the state, and with an intelligence than Anna could only hope to match one day, she was highly sought after. It was mostly her that had always made Anna care about school. While her mother had the less interesting job of the two, she was also easily the most intelligent person Anna had ever known. While that wasn't the recipe for the best mother, it gave Anna something to strive for. Impressing her mother had always been a driving force in Anna's daily life. As had avoiding the punishment she received when she did poorly in class.

But with her mother now in a different state, her influence on Anna had declined. Now, Anna was her own motivator. She kept her grades up, mostly earning As and Bs, though she'd been a straight A student in high school. Anything below a B was unacceptable to the twenty year old.

Which is why she dreaded every Tuesday and Thursday of her current semester. History had always been the one subject Anna couldn't seem to get interested in and as a result, she didn't do as well in it as in other subjects. She hadn't realized upon selecting her college that history was a core curriculum requirement and she'd put off taking any history classes until her junior year when she realized she couldn't afford to wait any longer. Even the attractiveness of the professor couldn't help spark any interest in history for Anna.

Class had begun that day like every other class, that was, until Professor Collins told them they'd be getting their tests back that day. She'd forgotten about that horrible test. She sunk lower in her chair slipped her hand into the bushy red mess her hair was that day, lowering her gaze and staring at the carpeted floor below her.

Just as she'd expected, Anna had done poorly on the test. 73. Barely a C. Shit. She flipped through it with a long sigh, trying to figure out what she was going to do. This class was going to kill her GPA. She looked around the room, trying to decipher the faces of her classmates in order to get an estimate of the mean. It didn't help her much. She turned back to her own test, scrunching up her pale freckled face.

As class was dismissed and the students around her rushed out of the room, her friend came to her desk, motioning toward the door with her head. "Come on. Let's go. We'll eat ice cream and bitch about the test," her friend flashed her a smile as she spoke, something Anna knew was meant to be sympathy, but there was pity on her face instead.

"What did you get?" she asked.

"It's not really important," her friend responded.

"Shit, May, you did well?"

May sighed. "I got a 91," she admitted.

Anna nodded. She'd figured as much. "Go on ahead," she said, forcing a smile of her own. "I'll catch up."

May sighed again and left the room, making Anna the only student left in the room. She stood up, test clutched to her chest, and walked over to Professor Collins' desk. She cleared her throat nervously. She'd never had to do this before and she didn't really know how to begin.

"Um," she said quietly, red painted nails digging into the paper pressed against her. "Professor Collins? I, uh, wanted to talk to you about my grades. I seem to be doing poorly in your class..."
 
Once a class was dismissed, unless someone approached him with a problem, he generally went on his way, packing things up and heading out after it became clear that no students were hanging around to speak with him. This time, the refiling of a couple of tests he'd had to hang on to due to absences, as well as a few more materials than normal that had to be gathered up, kept him busier a bit longer than he normally may've been. Consequently, he paid little attention to people as they left, and found himself a little surprised when a voice spoke up to get his attention.

Lifting his eyes, he found the pale-faced girl named Anna looking at him, test clutched to her chest and a bit of apprehension in her eyes. It was a look he was not unfamiliar with, a piece of luggage he'd carried around a time or two himself until he'd found some direction in his life, and one he saw at least a few times a semester. American History was not a subject terribly thrilling to most, and he knew that the majority of his classes would be virtually abandoned if the classes weren't requirements. He was far from the only professor on campus to have students that didn't want to be there, and she was far from the only student who saw that reluctance show up in their grades.

"Anna," he said, his eyes flickering over her shoulder to watch as the door closed behind the last student, leaving them alone, before they returned to her freckled face. "I did notice you didn't do too well on that test. You received a C, I think it was?"

The question was virtually rhetorical, he was almost certain it was the letter he'd scrawled on her paper and circled in red ink, as if branding her paper with a scarlet mark that said 'You barely passed this one.' His eyes moved from her again, this time to look down as he retrieved his laptop from the bag he'd slid it into a moment before and flip it open. Lowering himself into the chair behind the desk, he slid his finger over the touchpad, eyes focused on the screen.

"Let's see here," he said absently, his voice trailing off as he scanned the lists of names and grades until he found the one he was looking for. A couple of taps on the keyboard narrowed the search down until only her information was displayed, and he reached out to hook a couple fingers behind the screen of the laptop and turn it a few inches so she could look if she came around the desk.

"It looks like you've mostly been B's and... well. Some B's, but mostly C's," he said, eyes scanning through the history of grades she'd received for the semester before leaving the screen to look up into her face.

"So why do you think you're having trouble, Anna? How can I help?"
 
Anna's eyes widened slightly when he said her name. She hasn't expected him to have any idea who she was. She never spoke up in class and say near the middle completely inconspicuous.

Since the first day she'd walked into the class room and looked at the professor standing in the front, Anna had found herself drawn to him. She wasn't quite sure why. He was obviously intelligent an attractive, but there was more to it than that. Anna had spent a far amount of the semester staring at him and trying to figure out what it was instead of listening to the words that came out of his mouth. It hasn't helped with already poor grasp of history. But she'd noticed things as she watched him. She knew that he was far from in love with either his job or the topic he taught. The way he would very occasionally fiddle with his left ring finger suggested to her he'd used to wear a ring on it. He also rarely lingered after class, which Anna figured either meant he was desperate to get home to something, or someone, or he was desperate to get away from school.

But that was all Anna knew of him. And none of that she knew for sure. Just bits and pieces in the mind of a criminology major. He shared little of his personal life with the class like some professors did. The fact that she knew so little about him made it so much harder for her to approach him. And talking to him was even more difficult.

She nodded. She did receive a C. She also blushed, her face beginning to match her hair. She watched as he scrolled through his laptop, her eyes scanning him for something, anything to put her at ease.

Finally, she spoke. She took a deep breath before she did.

"I have been getting mostly C's," she confirmed. As if she needed to. He clearly had that information right in front of him. "But sir, I don't usually, no, I don't ever get C's. This is..." She paused, trying to find the right words and put them in the right order. "This is new to me. Having to talk to a teacher about fixing my grades. I, well, I've never had to do it before." She realized she was babbling and that absolutely nothing she's said answered his question of "how can I help?"

She tried again.

"I have never been good with history. Especially American history. Sir, when I used to slip up back when I lived at home, there were consequences. My mother punished me in one way or another. But here, at college, there's no such system. Your only consequence is a low grade." She chewed on the inside of her lip before continuing. "I was wondering if there was, I don't know..." She paused again, her eye looking off to the side and them down at the ground. This was going extremely poorly. "If there was some way to institute some sort of punishment system..."

This time she trailed off and didn't pick back up again. Her eyes scanned his face, searching again for something to comfort her. She barely even knew what she was asking for. A punishment system? What possible punishment could he offer her? She looked down at the ground as she realized how stupid she'd sounded. She took a deep breath and forced herself to bring her eyes back up to his.

"Or at least, maybe, some help going over my assignments and figuring out why an where I made mistakes?"
 
"Sure," he began, then paused to glance from the screen of his laptop to her face, his speech interrupted like a car going over a speed bump before his eyes flickered back and he continued, "I know history isn't a favorite subject for most, but you're a smart girl and I'm sure you can get this."

He glanced at her, quickly, and then kept his eyes on the screen, staring hard while trying not to make it obvious that he was keeping his eyes from her. Twice she'd thrown that word out, punishment, and it threw an image up on the screen in his mind that he wanted no part of while still within the walls of this school. The university was small, it would never be mistaken for a party school, and while he would end up with the occasional short skirt or low cut top in his class, it was not much of an issue here. Still, the girls that passed through his classes seemed to have all drank deeply from the fountain of youthful sexuality, and whatever their clothing choice, it could hardly be hidden.

But, still, he had a job, and a career to worry about. In the privacy of his mind he'd let things play out, a little, certain girls crawling under his desk after class, other, more irritating ones bent over their own, firm backsides kissed with his belt until they cried. But never, not ever, would he allow himself to ponder on those things, those non-possibilities, while in class. If he let his guard down there, it could lead him down a dangerous path that ended with his name in the paper and his career ruined, and it wasn't worth it.

It was for this reason that he focused so intently for the moment on his computer, banishing the image of the awkward, babbling redhead in front of him from his mind. It would return, probably with a vengeance, later, but later was okay. Now...

Focus on helping, on grades. Not on punishment.

Clearing his throat, he looked back up to her, and with a smile he nodded at her, once.

"I'm sure we can work something out, Anna."

He paused, then corrected:

"Miss Cassidy.

"You're not new to being a student, presumably, so I'm sure you know what helps you learn best. So what, specifically, can we do to help you here?"
 
Anna watched his eyes. The eyes that she'd stared at while day dreaming when class lost her attention. She felt her heart racing and it jumped every time he looked at her. This felt off. This wasn't something she was used to. Somehow in that moment, talking to him, Anna felt like she wasn't the one in control. The words that left his mouth suggested she was and yet something about his manner told another story. Or maybe it was all in her head. After all, going to teaches to ask for help, reward or reprimand, had never been something she'd needed to do.

She took a deep breath and chewed on her bottom lip. It was a nervous habit, of which she had many. Her eyes left his face and moved to the desk, her head now bent, as she spoke.

"That's where I'm drawing a blank," she said. She took a deep breath before continuing. "My mother and I obviously had a different dynamic. There were things she could take away."

Or she could hit my with that fucking ruler she loved so much.

"She had some rather... old school beliefs. But that's not really an option here," she continued. Her eyes moved from the wood of the desk to the back of his computer screen. They rested there before she forced herself to look back to his face.

For a moment she considered voicing her previous thought about the ruler but she shook that from her head. She needed to say something. She needed to stop blabbering and actually get somewhere. But what could he do to her? Her mind raced with possibilities, none of which could really be considered punishments.

And still her mind went back to that ruler. The most effective tool in her mother's arsenal.

"My mother always believed that Catholic school had the right idea and that when they banned physical punishment they were diminishing productivity." Her eyes left his face once more. Her right hand came up and cupped around the right side of her neck, resting there. Her fingers pressed into the back of her neck, rolling in a circular motion as they did. She wanted to keep looking at him, see his reaction. She chewed her lip again, took a deep breath, and forced her eyes back to his face.

Her eyes traced his jawline and moved upward from there, taking in the face she'd sat and stared at from afar for so long.
 
The air was shifting in the room, becoming more dense somehow, as he watched her from his seat. His chest tightened as she spoke, the pace of his heart increasing when her eyes lifted to his face. There seemed to be a trickle of sweat running down the center of his chest, following the path of his tie, and he was acutely aware of the emptiness of the room. He wanted to wonder what someone would think if they walked in and saw them talking, wanted to be able to reassure himself that it would look entirely innocent, but he couldn't quite force himself too. Something about it just didn't feel quite so innocent anymore.

But maybe it was all in his head. Maybe he was speaking with an attractive girl who had said just the wrong thing at just the wrong time, and he let his mind run down a track he know he shouldn't. Maybe the increase in his heart rate, her nervous posture, the bit of sweat he felt, maybe it was all misinterpreted. Signs that were completely mundane, and just being read wrong.

Then she looked at him, at his face, her gaze slowly rising to his eyes, and he he wasn't wrong.

Which then left the matter of what she seemed to be asking for. Physical punishment. The only sound in the room, the soft whir of the fan on his laptop, was drowned out by the rushing of blood in his ears, the sound of his heart thudding in his chest. His resolve slipped, just a little, and he allowed himself a moment to picture it. Bending her forward over his desk. Flipping her skirt up onto her back. Hooked fingers pulling the thin panties down, just to her thighs. The slight sting in his hand as it met her flesh. The tensing of her body, the sound of pain in her voice.

He blinked once, pushing the image from the forefront of his mind, and found himself still staring at the freckled girl. He was aware suddenly that he was growing hard, and he slid forward in his chair a little, trying to hide anything noticeable from her view. Blinking again, Damien cleared his throat and nodded slightly, once, though he didn't break his gaze from hers.

"Of course, yes. I'm afraid there is not much I can take away from you save your ability to advance fully to your degree. For most, I suppose, that is enough, but it doesn't appear to be for you. But..."

His voice trailed off, and he realized he was stalling. His gaze pulled from hers at last, his eyes glancing down to the screen, though he didn't see anything contained within it. With a slight shift of his head, he looked back up to her, and continued.

"I do agree, though, that physical punishment can help to increase productivity. But as you said, they banned that sort of practice. And this isn't a Catholic school to begin with, too..."

He paused, shifting slightly in his seat, his voice lowering as if he may be overheard.

"Plus, if a professor was ever caught physically punishing one of his students, his career would be over. Something like that... it would have to be kept completely secret. Known by no one else but them."

His toes were at the edge of the cliff, and he thought she was standing next to him. He thought she wanted to go over it, was almost certain she did, but almost was not good enough. Almost was still too much of a risk. And so, she would have to be the one to make the leap. To actually voice what he suspected they were both thinking. Without realizing it, he was holding his breath as he watched her.
 
When she was able to force her eyes to his face, Anna detected a similar caution in him to what she felt. Similar, but not quite the same. His caution, as he explained in not so many words, was related to the trouble he could get into: losing his job, his tenure (if he had it), and probably any chance at a job at another college. Hers had little to do with risk off loss but rather of pushing things too far and going down that rabbit hole from which there would be no return.

A similar image to the one in his head was forming in her own, although, from a different perspective. She allowed it to linger, only for a moment. The thought of a hand on her was all too familiar, but her reaction to the thought of him doing the punishing wasn't quite what she was used to, and her heart rate quickened as her thighs clenched together ever so slightly.

And then she forced the thought from her mind and nodded in understanding, swallowing hard as she did, hoping the movement of her head would hide the tension in her body.

He was interested, that much she could tell. Had she known when she approached his desk that this was where the conversation would lead, she wasn't sure whether she would have been brave enough to do it. But there she was, standing there with her attractive professor clearly waiting for her to take the next step, and she had no choice but to be brave.

"I'm not a child anymore," she said finally. "Nor a minor. Legality is no longer an issue." She paused, somehow managing to keep her blue eyes trained on his.

Her hands were clasped together in front of her stomach, thumbs rubbing together nervously, and she noticed her right foot bouncing slightly, causing her leg to shake. Her hands separated and one moved to rest on the thigh, trying somehow to calm it before he could notice the movement.

"Sir," she finally said, with one last deep breath and a glance at the door before she spoke, "What if we could take away the risk of being caught? If I could promise you my secrecy and compliance with whatever physical punishment you saw fit? Would you be willing to be my incentive to do better?"

She realized suddenly just how formal her speech was and wanted to laugh. She was standing there asking her teacher to spank her and yet the words were as is they were having a normal student/teacher conversation.

Now it was her turn to hold her breath. She wasn't sure she could breath then even if she tried. The words that had just left her mouth weren't words that should leave a student's mouth. Not in a conversation with a professor.
 
And there it was.

He had invited her up to the cliff, stepped with her right to the edge, and at the end of what had been a mundane Thursday, in the middle of what was an unremarkable semester of classes, she had jumped off and into the abyss. And she wanted him to jump with her.

In his head, the decision was made in an instant. Before then, even. Like a chemical reaction, all the potential was there and waiting, and her words were just the enzyme needed to put it all in motion. Actually saying it, though, actually coming out and saying it, was a different matter entirely. Instead, he sat back to reach for one of the small drawers on the desk, pulling a pad of paper from within.

Closing the lid of the laptop, he pushed it aside, then took up a pen and wrote his address quickly on the paper. Tearing the sheet free, he folded it in half, then held it out to her.

"I assume you are free tonight, Anna?"

His eyes met hers freely and directly now, and there was no attempt to lessen the intensity of his gaze.

"I'll see you at 7:30," he said, and his grip tightened on the paper as she reached to take it, forcing her to hold it with him as he added, "And not a second later, Anna."

With that, he released the paper to her, and freed her of his gaze. The laptop was lifted and he began repacking his things to leave, all but acting as if she was no longer in the room until, without looking up, he added, "Leave the quiz. It'll give me a chance to review your deficiencies before this evening."


---​

The tie was gone, and he'd quickly consumed two glasses of wine while looking over her recent work. It was true, she was not doing well and needed the help, but as the time for her to arrive drew near, he found it increasingly harder to focus on that aspect. The image of her bent over the desk, the firm flesh of her ass exposed to his hands, had solidified in his mind, as had the motivation to banish it.

Keeping himself under control during this would be paramount. It was a short distance between spanking and fucking, achingly short, but crossing from one to the other would change this even more. This was about encouraging her studies, punishing her for doing wrong, and he would have to fight with every ounce of himself to make sure it remained that way.

A knock on the door pulled him suddenly from his thoughts. The remains of his glass was drained, the empty glass set in the center of the desk in his office, and he stood from his chair. His cock stirred, began to harden as he made his way around the desk, and the fight to keep himself under control had begun.

Just before he reached the door, he glanced down at his watch to check the time, and smiled to himself. Pulling the door open, he looked her up and down, once, and then stepped free of the doorway.

"Come in, Anna. My office is just down the hall, on the right."
 
Anna nodded at his question, finally allowing herself to breathe. Something in the way he looked at her made a shiver run up her spine but she forced herself to maintain eye contact. She reached out to take the paper, felt resistance, and paused. When he released it, she nodded silently, and stood there, unsure of what to do.

When he began packing his things, she turned to leave but turned back when he instructed her to leave her quiz. With a nod, she placed it on his desk and left the room, forcing herself to walk at a normal pace. One foot in front of the other. Breathe in. Breathe out.

As soon as she was out of the room, her pace quickened and she practically ran back to her dorm room. She paused outside of her door, knowing her roommate would be inside. She forced herself to calm down. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breathe, she opened the door and entered as if she hadn't just been invited to her hot professor's house to be reprimanded.

"How'd it go?" her roommate asked her.

"Fine. Could have done better but Professor Collins gave me the name of a tutor, so I think it'll work out." It wasn't the truth, but she couldn't exactly tell her what was really going on. "I'm going to see him tonight."

"Awesome. Guess what James did today?"

----------

Six o'clock hit and Anna found herself standing naked and staring wide eyed at her bed which was currently covered in almost every article of clothing that she owned. She felt like she was preparing for a date. Silly, she knew, but she wanted to look good for tonight. As if it mattered.

Her roommate had gone to study with her boyfriend, luckily for Anna. Explaining why she was putting so much effort into an effort to see a tutor she'd never met before would have been difficult.

It took another 30 minutes, but eventually Anna decided on a black skirt that reached the middle of her thighs, a light blue tank top that she felt showed just the right amount of cleavage, and a matching set of black bra and underwear. She stared at herself in the mirror. Simple. Didn't look like she'd tried too hard. But the outfit still looked good on her. She took a deep breath. What on earth was she doing? She braided her hair into a braid that hung in front of her right shoulder and then sat down on her bed, staring at the clock. She fidgeted for a few minutes, knowing it was too early to leave. Eventually, it was too much. She grabbed her keys and her backpack, unsure of what she'd need, and headed out the door.

She arrived at his place half an hour later. 7:10. Crap. The car was turned off, the key removed, and her eyes moved to stare at his house. Then they closed as she tried to calm her heart rate. Breathe in. Hold. Breathe out. Hold. Repeat. When she opened them, only five minutes had passed. She grabbed her phone and ran through Facebook. 7:25. And then she just sat and stared at the clock. At 7:28 she got out of the car and made her way to his door. She stared at her phone for the next two minutes and then finally knocked on the door.

She swallowed hard and fidgeted with her hands, staring down at them until she heard the door open. She looked up and stared. Eyes scanned him for anything she could read off of his body language. They noticed the missing tie, but that was all that had changed from when she last saw him. They saw his eyes travel over her and she chewed on her lip.

When he spoke, she entered, following his directions. With one foot set purposefully in front of the other, she walked to his office. Was there any way to make this less intense? She turned into his office and stood out of the way of the door, unsure of whether to sit or not.

She'd never been this nervous around a teacher before.

Then again, she'd never asked a teacher to spank her before, either.

This was completely new territory for her. Her only consolation was her belief that it was new territory for him as well.
 
She looked good, too good really, and he wished she didn't. His gaze didn't follow her as she moved past him, instead his weight leaning just past the doorway, his eyes taking a quick survey of the street outside as if someone may be waiting, watching for him to invite a student into his house. No one was, of course no one was, and he allowed himself to exhale a little and close the door, leaving them truly alone for the first time.

Turning from the door, he found her moving down the hall as he'd said, and the bit of tension that had left him returned with a vengeance. His eyes were glued to her shape as she made her way towards his office, the sway of her hips, the little bob in the hem of her skirt with each step, the phantom shape of her bottom under the fabric, the lines of her thighs. He swiped the back of a hand across his mouth, pulled in a steadying breath, and then moved away from the door to follow her.

She turned then, disappearing into the open door of his office, disappearing from his view, and he found himself surprised at the slight uptick in his pace, wanting her in his proximity again. In his sight again, was the truth of it. She had stepped aside to allow him in, and he hesitated for a moment in the doorway, his eyes on her again, blinking quickly as his gaze descended - cleavage, the swell of her hips, the lines of her thighs - and he nodded slightly, though whether to her or himself, he couldn't say.

Dragging his eyes away from her, he moved around behind the desk, taking the too-short break to steady his nerves and regain some control. He had to keep control, because it would be far too easy for them to tumble headlong over the cliff that ended with his every last inch inside her as she bent over his desk. Squeezing his eyes closed tight, he banished the idea from his mind as best he could and opened them again, small starbursts popping up in his vision, then fading like fireworks in the night sky. He turned to face her then, and hesitated before lowering himself into his chair before he extended a hand towards the seat on her side of the desk.

"Have a seat, Anna," he said, sitting himself and moving forward under the desk a bit. Her quiz sat in the center of his desk, one of the few things on the top of it after he'd cleared most of the rest of it off in preparation for the night, and he lifted it now in both hands, letting silence settle uneasily in the room as his eyes scanned it. In truth, it was a stall, giving himself a moment to gather himself, to make sure he was focused on the task at hand and not on where it could end up if he wasn't careful. Spanking a student was bad enough, but fucking one...

He lowered the paper as his eyes lifted so he could look at her, and then he set the paper down entirely, laying his hands flat across it.

"I think, Anna, that we need a few ground rules before this begins," he said, and under the desk his knee had begun to bounce a little, a nervous expenditure of energy he was happy was mostly hidden from her view. "First, you only come here after class so we can go over your work. It goes without saying that you are not to give out my address to anyone else, or tell anyone else about you coming here, but I'm going to say it anyway. Second, I want you to address me as 'Sir' while you are here, but only while here. I think it's good to... separate this, some, from when we are in class together."

He paused, watching her for her reaction to those for a moment before he pressed on.

"Next, I'll decide how much punishment is appropriate for you. It's going to be unpleasant for you, but it's punishment. It's supposed to be. Lastly, either one of us can pull the plug on this at any point, without the need to give a reason, and it's over."

He traveled his way into another pause, but this one was for his benefit. His toe was over the line now, but he was about to step boldly over it and start striding forward. He shouldn't, he knew. It was a mistake. It was wrong. It was the biggest risk of his life. Everything in his intellect told him to turn back. And yet.

And yet, and yet.

"If you can agree to those," he said, then paused again, swallowed, and pushed his chair back from the desk until a fair bit of room existed between the two.

"...then come around the desk. And bend over my lap."
 
Anna did as she was told, but not before a slight hesitation. She lowered herself slowly and carefully to the chair, her eyes never leaving him. Her breaths were even but forced. Somehow, she kept herself in control and kept her outer self calm despite the chaos that was going on inside of her.

She watched him lift her quiz and she bit her lip nervously for just a moment before releasing it. When the silence filled the room, she felt as though it were palpable and her breath finally caught in her throat until she heard him speak.

Rules. Of course. She nodded at the first. Made sense. There was no other reason for her to show up at his house. This was purely to get her grades up. Right?

She had to keep herself from smiling as he continued. He was right, of course, that rule did go without saying. But if it hadn't, she would have already broken them. It seemed like something that should have been mentioned earlier. She nodded anyway. And then the next. Only sir while in his house. That she'd have to work on. She'd found herself calling him sir in class a time or two but then it hadn't mattered, in fact, she doubt he'd even noticed. But now he would. Now if she slipped up, she'd pay for it afterward. And a very small part of her in the back of her mind wondered how he'd react in class if she did slip. And that small part of her wanted to smile at the thought. She nodded once more, no hint of the smile on her face.

And then on to the topic at hand. The punishment. The next two seemed both as obvious and necessary as their predecessors. Things that needed to be said without needing to be said. And she nodded for each in its turn. For a moment she wondered whether one of them would call it off, and if so, when. How far down the rabbit hole would they go before they tried to escape? What if it were too late?

Which each pause she found herself holding her breath. And each time he resumed talking she remembered again to breathe. And then his final words left his mouth, and she froze.

Just for a moment, though, before she nodded, said, "yes sir," and stood. She wasn't sure her legs would move, but they did. With one foot in front of the other, she made her way around the barrier between them and to his side. Her body lowered itself onto his lap as he'd instructed, as if her brain hadn't even told it to do so.

The build up to this moment had caused her to crave it. She knew it was a punishment. She knew it wasn't something to enjoy. Yet part of her found herself yearning for it.

An image flashed through her mind. An image of this night going further than it should, of the two of them getting carried away until they were both exhausted and unable to continue.

And she waited to see how he would do this. Whether she'd feel his hand on her without reason, or whether he'd tell her all the things she'd done wrong before each punishment.

She wondered if he could feel her heart pounding in her chest. She hoped he couldn't. She didn't want him to know just how wound up she felt.
 
Time slowed to an impossible crawl when she stood on the other side of the desk, and he was suddenly hyperaware of everything happening in the room: the tick of some distant clock, the sound her clothing made as she moved, the slight creak of the chair under him at the small involuntary movement of his hips, the weight and touch of his own clothes on his body.

Her shoes on the hardwood of the floor as she moved around his desk.

His eyes struggled to remain on her face, failed almost instantly, and quickly traversed the shape of her body, his gaze snagging for a moment on the display of her cleavage. He exhaled quietly, willed his eyes onward, over the curve of her hips, the lines of her thighs, all the way down to where her shoes stopped next to his chair. A quick blink later and his eyes were turned up to look into her face. Even the slow progress of time seemed to grind to a halt then, and for what felt like their own tiny eternity, he watched her standing next to him.

What had once been a wide focus narrowed to an intense tunnel vision, and suddenly the room, and the desk, the noisy wood of the floor under her feet, all were gone, forgotten about entirely. There was only her, standing beside him, and him there waiting, feet flat, knees parallel, ready to support her weight. His arms were at his side, hands gripping the seat under him, giving her room to lay herself across his lap.

Her every movement was followed as she lowered herself across him, the swell of her breasts suddenly felt against his leg as her weight moved onto him. Another slow exhale was released, and he tried hard to keep his mind from focusing on the softness of her body against him, from using that to fuel the hardening of his cock under her. Instead, he tried to focus on the task at hand. Reaching with both hands, he pinched the hem of her skirt between both thumbs and forefingers, lifting it free of her and folding it up into the small of her back, exposing the black panties she'd worn.

Worn for tonight? he wondered, and the idea struck him as far less than absurd. They had not, he realized then, discussed how he would be spanking her - through her clothes, on her naked ass, with panties on - and while he had always been certain of how he'd do it, perhaps she had not been. He bought himself a moment to glance up at her face, see if there was a sign there that things had taken a turn she had not wanted, as his hands smoothed the skirt against her back. Seeing no such sign, he pressed on.

The backs of his thumbs pressed against her, just above her hips, and slid down until they were beneath the waistband of her panties. He hesitated then, only a moment, and then pushed with both hands under the panties were pushed down to her thighs. His eyes were drawn immediately between them, to the exposed shape of her pussy peeking out, and under her his hips shifted involuntarily again. Dragging his eyes away, with some considerable effort, he turned his head in the other direction, so he was looking towards her own head. His hands moved up her body, again working together as her hair was gathered up into the grip of one. A twist of his wrist increased his leverage in her hair, and then he pulled so her head was back, and her back arched on him. The movement of her breasts on his leg was unmistakable, but he gave himself no pause to focus on it.

Damien's attention shifted back once she was arched and held in place, and his hand raised up. A slight pause was taken, his eyes focused only on the smooth, unblemished flesh exposed to him, and then he brought his hand down onto her.

The sound was sudden and sharp, the sting in his hand warming it in a delightful way he hadn't felt in far too long, and quickly he was welcoming it back into his palm as he struck her again. A rhythm was quickly found, his hand switching each time from one side to the other, and he watched with a perverse kind of glee as she grew redder beneath his hand, each time warmer to his touch. He knew by the reaction in her body that it hurt - he wanted it to hurt, too - but he had suspected too that may be expecting him to go easy on her this first time, just a couple quick swats on her ass and they'd be done. He aimed to shatter those expectations. He wanted it to hurt, well and truly hurt, and for her to be sitting gingerly for the rest of the evening. He went, spanking her quickly and firmly, until his own hand hurt, until he knew that he had pushed her... until his desire to throw her over the desk and take her was nearly at a boiling point.

And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped. One last smack, one last shattering of the too-brief silence in the room, and then he was done. Her skin glowed a bright red - an improvement, in his silent estimation - and it was over this flesh that he returned her panties to the position he'd found them in, with the same slow, methodical pace that they'd been drawn down. Her skirt was next, moved down in much the same manner as it was pulled up, then smoothed against her, pressed into the warm, assaulted shape of her ass.

With a quiet exhale, and the sudden realization that he'd grown more than a little hard during that brief time, he sat back in the chair, his arms moving back to his side, hands gripping the seat.

"I think that is enough for tonight... you can return to your seat, Anna."
 
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