Bad Education (or The Lesson)

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I am a professor at a respectable English university, teaching literature to what are, for the most part, an appreciative and enthusiastic cohort of students. I have been at my job, in one place or another, for some years now, but it was not until very recently that I ever had someone express their appreciation of my talents in quite the same way as one student did last term. Let me tell you what happened.

I was giving a lecture on Anais Nin, and one of my girls, normally bright and intelligent, very beautiful, sitting near the front of the lecture hall, kept chattering away and giggling with her girlfriends intermittently. She kept looking at me deliberately whenever she did so, so that eventually I couldn’t help but call her to task.

‘Susanna,’ I said sternly, ‘This is a university not a secondary school, and it’s your own education you’re wasting. Now, if you really want me to discipline you, you should come to my office privately, but please don’t waste everyone else’s time.’ Reprimand administered, I carried on with the lecture.

During my office hours I received a knock at the door. Not having any appointments that day, I wondered who it could be. I opened the door and there, clutching a bundle of books coyly to her breast, was Susanna, the naughty young lady from the lecture.

‘Yes?’ I quizzed, as she squirmed her way past me into the office and shut the door behind her. I backed away behind the desk, mindful of how easily any little gesture can be deemed inappropriate these days. I glanced down at the papers on my desk evasively, trying to avoid staring at her magnificent young form.

She had a petit but voluptuous figure, full of ripeness and bounty, large, pert breasts, round bottom, pink, pouting lips and innocent green eyes, eyes that could just as easily turn to mischief, as she’d shown so many times in class; always ready with cheeky joke or facetious quip. She was wearing a stylish black wrap-around dress that showed off each breast by its steep v-neck, with two folds tied together casino siteleri at the side in a wide silken bow. She wore buff-coloured tights or stockings and heeled black shoes. With the books at her chest and hair done up, she looked just like she’d walked out of the fifties.

‘Professor Plimpton,’ she pouted, placing her books on my desk and sitting cross-legged on the chair in front, hands gracefully set atop one another on her knee and arms straight, ‘Professor Plimpton I know I was naughty in lesson earlier and I’ve come to be disciplined…’ Her voice tailed off slightly as she said this, and she averted her big round eyes downward. Then she brought them up again just enough to catch my gaze impishly. Her voice dropped to just above a whisper as she enunciated slowly, ‘I think I need to be spanked…’

She let the proposal hang for a second, as my jaw dropped to the desk top, before bringing her little finger to the corner of her mouth and nibbling absently on the finger nail. Then, before I could respond, she stood up sharply and pulled the string of her dress bow, letting the expensive garment (she was really quite posh) slip off her shoulders and flutter down the smooth skin of her back to the floor. She thrust her chest out a little and stood before me, decked in nothing but a fine-mesh floral pink bra, matching garter and panties, cut in the bikini style with white lace trim, stockings and heels. Slowly, she bent forward over the desk and looked me in the eye,

‘Well, Professor, aren’t you going to teach me a lesson? I have been a very naughty girl,’ She laughed teasingly and jiggled her cleavage at me.

Well, damn professional integrity, I wasn’t going to think too hard about this one! I got up purposefully, recovering my authority, and proclamated in my firmest diction that yes, she did need to be punished for her wanton behaviour, and to please bend over my desk that I might spank her accordingly. Still to my surprise, she obeyed my command demurely, and I reached for my old wooden canlı casino metre rule from the shelving unit. Slowly, deliberately, I walked round the desk and positioned myself behind her, enjoying her palpable anticipation as she followed the sound of my hard-soled shoes on the floor boards and my blurred figure from the periphery of her vision. Her excitement was reflected in a non-too-subtle wiggle and squirm of the hips. Lightly, I brought the ruler back, and then swung it forward to fall across her buttocks with a faint slap.

She writhed in pleasure.

‘Ooh! Thank you Professor Plimpton, may I have another?’

Again I brought the makeshift switch down onto her backside, harder this time. A pink mark in the shape of the ruler rose and fell instantly beneath the pale milky skin of her buttocks, visible even beneath the translucent material of her flowery knickers. Again she pouted,

‘Thank you sir, may I have another?’

So again I brought the stick down across her plump little derriere.

‘Ooh, Professor Plimpton!’ She flushed with exaggeration, reddening a little in both sets of cheeks, ‘I have been a naughty girl, spank me harder please!’

And with this I brought the bat down again and again on her backside, three more times. And with each blow she issued a delightful little yelp.

Then I stopped and walked all the way round the desk and then back round behind her, hands pressed together in the attitude of deep thought.

‘Now then Susanna,’ I told her, ‘I don’t think this punishment is really working too well. Pull down your panties and let me see if I can get my message home.’

Again she submitted obediently to my instruction, and slowly rolled her panties down to the tops of her thighs. Now she was lying over my desk, her breasts splaying generously out from underneath her, legs pressed tightly together, crossed at the ankles, with her firm ripe buttocks and little quim arching upward as if to beckon me. Underscoring and framing this delightful picture was the kaçak casino soft bunched line of her coiled lacy panties.

I manoeuvred myself behind her, pausing briefly to revel for a spell in her short breaths of anticipation, and then slipped my index finger deep into her pussy. She moaned appreciatively, and I could feel that she was already hot and wet from the work we’d done with the ruler. I began squirming my finger around in there, and gently patting her rump with my other hand, while she writhed and bucked against me.

‘Quiet!’ I told her sternly — she was moaning softly — ‘and keep your legs together you dirty little slut,’ She had begun to part them, as far as the panties would allow her. She quickly brought them back together at my behest and murmured,

‘Yes sir. Sorry sir. I’m very naughty sir, please discipline me,’ and continued to lie forward, enjoying the rigorous finger-fucking I was affording her.

Just as I felt she was about to orgasm, I swiftly pulled my fingers out and bade her turn round and kneel down in front of me. This she did with her usual obedience, her knees a little shaky from the pleasure as she lowered down to the floor and looked up at me with two big puppy-dog eyes, batting her long lashes coquettishly. Although my aching cock was positively straining in my trousers, I somehow resisted the temptation to flop it out and insert it directly into her warm, wet mouth, which she seemed to be expecting. Instead I proffered up the two fingers of my right hand that I had been using to pleasure her, and without me having to say anything she took them hungrily between her lips and began sucking and slurping on them as if they really were the biggest, candy-coated cock she had ever tasted.

After a minute or two of this I swiftly reclaimed my digits and told her to get up and get dressed. She did so and while she was straitening her hair I turned my back to her and gazed thoughtfully out of the window.

‘Now, Susanna,’ I told her, letting my voice drop to a milder, more caring tone, ‘I hope you’ve learned you lesson. Collect your things and go away and think about what we’ve done here. And don’t let me have to see you like this again.’

And with that I bade her exit the room.

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