Doing My Homework

Students filtered out of the class, dropping off their assigned work into a pile until none but the two of them remained.

"Where is your homework?" The Professor asked Natalie.

"I..." She looked down to the commercial linoleum tiles that lined the floor. She didn't have it. Once again, she hadn't done it.

"Sit."

Natalie flopped down into a student desk by the wooden table at the front of the room. Though a small woman, the space between the attached chair and desk was constrained, with barely enough room to set down work. The shadow of her curvy fullness covered a stain of graffiti that portrayed a woman's intimate parts crudely scrawled onto the desk's surface. He sat down at a corner of his table, looming over her like a hawk, wearing a cheap corduroy dress jacket with leather elbow patches. A look of concern presented itself upon his chiseled and scruffy face.

"If this persists, Natalie, you will fail this class."

The realization overwhelmed her and her head bent down in shame. She wanted to speak but was unable. Golden locks of curly hair flowed down past her forehead, obscuring some of the view above. But for just a second she noticed his eyes panning across her chest and then locks upon that line of cleavage in between. It billowed out from her, only just barely contained by a pink cashmere sweater. A wry smile formed on her lips.

"Natalie?"

"Yes. I know. I just. Well, it's just. I've had problems this semester."

"In this class, you mean."

"No. Personal problems. My attention -"

"- I'm concerned with this class, Natalie."

"I'm sorry."

"My office hours are from 3pm to 5pm this afternoon. I have appointments scheduled all day. Meet me there at 5pm sharp if you would like help with your grade."

She agreed to be there on time, and then walked across campus back to her dorm room.

Natalie was not a good student. It wasn't due to a lack of intelligence. It wasn't because she hated school. In fact, she had always wanted to graduate and continue on to a Masters in Business program to find success in life. Long ago she had once dreamed of being admitted to the Harvard MBA program. But here she was, in this small city of a community college. She knew she could do better. Yet something always hindered her.

This semester it had been a crazy boyfriend who began stalking her after she dumped him. For weeks she'd see him standing across the street at opportune times, or the corner of a building nearby, and she swore she had seen him through the window outside her dorm-room at night. It unsettled her. She had been unable to work.

Before, it had been other interruptions in school-work. Other boys. Other parties. Other things. All distractions from that MBA she had once so badly wanted. How could she explain all this to that professor? He, who was trim, young, attractive, and - well, unfortunately bearded. She laughed to herself.

She climbed the stairs up to her room and entered. It was empty, her roommate off somewhere. Perhaps she was at the library studying. That would have been like Gertrude, frumpy, with unkempt hair sticking out, and overly large glasses. But she got good grades.

Natalie threw her books on to the bed, sighed, and went to the full length mirror. She ran her fingers through the curly locks of her hair with worry. What was she to do? Well, he is cute. And she had caught him glancing where he shouldn't. She wondered what was stuffed behind those jeans of his.

A finger lazily strolled down her throat, along exposed skin until reaching soft cashmere. Under the lace brassiere her nipple grew, embossing its image into the cashmere. Slowly her finger twirled around until an uncontrollable deep breath was sucked through her teeth and warmth spread down below. She knew what she would do. It was dangerous. What if he said no? What if he was offended? What if he failed her just because?

But Natalie is a creature prone to taking risks. She enjoyed not quite knowing what might happen when she embarked upon a new game with men. She understood their desires. Knew how a little flirtation could grow bit by bit into something more. And how generous were men who had been satisfied fully by a pliant and eager young woman. And this excited her.

The rest of the afternoon she did not do homework. Instead, she took off that sweater, her jeans, and underthings and tried on various elements of her wardrobe. She tried dresses. She mixed colors. She pulled out all her shoes and looked for just the right thing for her feet. In the end she chose a low cut red silk blouse that was just a little too tight. She didn't wear a bra. Underneath she had on a black cotton skirt just above her knees. She didn't wear a thong. Black leather high-heeled boots rode up her shins. She dabbed a bit of perfume on her neck, wrists, and nipples and applied a small dash of makeup. And then she put on a light evening jacket.

She picked up her math book, held it to her chest, and then left the dorm with a confidant click-clack-click-clack that rang from the heels of her boots.

Below, underneath that flowing skirt, she could feel air blow past between her legs, unsettling the small tuft of fur that undulated in the breeze. It made her lips quiver and she bit down. An expectation built within her. Waves of fear clenched her stomach like surf on a beach. Faster she walked. With each step the movement between her thighs grew more intense until by the time she reached his door she was panting from excitement. She tentatively knocked.

"Yes? Please enter."

She opened the door to find him sitting behind his desk, gazing out into her eyes across that gulf of wood like a panther. He smiled dangerously.

"Natalie. I'm glad you're here. Please sit."

She hung up the jacket on a coat hanger in the corner and sat in a small and uncomfortable office chair. It sank as she sat as if broken. It had no armrests. She placed the math book down on the desk in front of her and waited. He lay back in that plush seat of his and clasped his fingers together by his waist. They locked eyes saying nothing until she could not stand it any longer. She looked down at the book. It's disuse across the semester made it seem nearly brand new. She touched it and felt the shiny sheen of its cover.

They continued an uncomfortable silence until the noise of his chair moving brought her attention back to him. He got up and walked around the desk until he stood behind her. He bent down to her ear.

"You have not done any work this semester." He whispered. "What am I to make of that?"

Natalie fidgeted in the seat.

"You must have dreams for life after school. Goals. Do you not? What do you want to do?

"Business?" She said tentatively.

She felt a touch upon her neck right below the earlobe. He stroked her gently. She wanted to turn, to look at him with surprise as if to say he was violating her space. But she kept her eyes down upon the book. Its apparent newness taunted her. She bit her lip again.

"You're very smart. I know this. But you're also very lazy."

Indignant hurt pride welled within her. She started to turn her head to challenge him but mid-movement he grabbed her hair by the back of her head and pulled it down. She saw the ceiling and then him looking down into her eyes. She took a deep breath in shock, her chest heaving in and out. Cool silk rubbed against her nipples and she realized that they must be showing through the blouse hard and erect, which made her embarrassed. She blushed.

"You came here dressed like this, wearing cheap perfume and slutty clothes. What did you expect of me? Did you think I would trade something for a grade?"

"No!" She protested. "That's disgusting!"

"Bullshit." He let her hair go and placed his hands on the backrest of her chair.

"Please. I'm sorry. I didn't think-"

He bent down back to her ear, reached up under her hair and stroked the back of her neck.

"I can help you learn." He whispered. "In fact, that's my job. But you need discipline."

This was not going the way Natalie had expected. Usually she was in control. Usually, she would ply her flirtatious ways and men would find themselves wrapped around her little finger eager to do her bidding for a bit of the attention they crave. Usually, but not now. She wasn't sure what to do. Should she run out that door? Flee this man who held her future in his grade book? Or should she sit here and wait for what might happen? Her cheeks were flushed, her stomach nauseous, sweat beaded down under her arms.

"Stand up."

The little chair she sat upon was on wheels. He pulled it out from the desk easily, and she stood up without even realizing why. On the fabric of the chair there was a large oblong wet spot where she had sat. He grabbed her arm and turned her so that she faced it and golden locks of her hair twirled in an arc. A finger on his other hand pressed down into the seat fabric. He brought it up to his nose and took in a long whiff.

"That is so much more preferable to your perfume." Her eyes bulged at the sight. He looked deeply into her eyes and when her attention shifted from the seat back to him she saw in his face the recognition that he had gazed deeply through her tattered composure. She could stand it no longer and averted her eyes once again while the finger that had been under his nose then moved to her cheek. She could smell the mustiness of her own scent upon it. He stroked down along the ridge of her jaw until he reached her chin. Then he pulled her face toward his.

"Place your hands on the desk." He whispered.

She smelled his breath as he spoke. She gasped as he whirled her until she faced the edge of the desk and placed his hands upon her shoulders. But he did not push her down. Instead, he softly ran his hands down the silk that covered her until he reached the curve of her back and stroked. A fearful moan escaped her. The hands then spread out to her sides and he stepped closer in as he reached around to her stomach. With each foot he kicked her boots apart and her musky smell began to permeate the room.

His hands moved up her stomach, studying the tightness of her skin through that blouse and pressing into the side of her ribcage. In response her arms rose into the air and her head flopped back, her chest rose, and her hair flowed down his chest. His palms lightly moved up under the curve of her breasts and her nipples bent to the side from the pressure of his movement. She panted uncontrollably.

He slowly unbuttoned her blouse from the top until her skin was exposed, as she sucked a raspy breath through her teeth. He spread the blouse wide so that her breasts billowed out and very softly pinched and rubbed her exposed nipples between thumb and forefinger. A little moan escaped her lips.

"Place your hands on the desk." He insisted as he squeezed. She moaned again.

His hands moved from her front to her back once again. Her arms lowered to her sides and she looked back down at the desk below. He pulled out the silk tucked under her skirt and reached underneath to stroke the skin of her lower back. His fingers rose up underneath the silk to her bare shoulders as Natalie turned to gaze back with a whimper, her lips quivering in fear. He pushed her down to the desk and her hands splayed out across the wood to catch her fall.

His hands stroked down slowly across her back and he reached to the zipper by her skirt's side. She heard an unzipping and she felt its fabric flow down to her ankles. A finger began to stroke between her legs. Very slowly and very surely up and down she felt it caress her. Through hair flowing past her face she looked out past his chair to a spot on the wall and then closed her eyes and bent her head down as whimpers escaped her.

"Raise your head. I want to see the curve of your back."

She followed his instruction and felt her hair flow across her shoulders. His hand began to caress her bottom. All its curves, from the crease between buttocks and thighs then up to her lower back he explored. She felt a tension in the room that wound up ever tighter, like twirling a rubber band around until it might snap. There was a fear within her and uncertainty. Where was his cock? Why was it not already within her? Oh God, did she want that cock. The more she thought of it the more she wanted to whine and beg for it to fill her.

"Look down at that textbook."

That was not what she expected. The textbook? Now? She saw its disused newness and shame enveloped her.

"Repeat after me. Say, 'I will do my homework.'"

She was confused. What was this? Why would he-

"Say, 'I will do my homework.'" He insisted.

"I will do my homework." Natalie whispered.

And then, like a crash of cymbals, she felt a sting against her bottom. She let out a yelp and sucked in air.

"What!?!?"

She looked back at him in wonder, shock, fear, and indignation. A sense of terror filled her. What was this man doing? She thought of the door but her hands felt chained to that desk and she could not move. An unrequited instinct to flee built up within her.

"I will do my homework." He insisted again.

She didn't believe this was happening. She felt the need to protest. Her mouth dropped open intending to speak but nothing came out. It was all too much. It overwhelmed her. With nothing left to do she relented, turned back into position, lifted her head, and pushed out her buttocks toward him.

"I will do my homework." She said.

She felt another sting spread out from the flesh of her behind down to the back of her thighs. Her entire world became centered on that pain. She could think of nothing else. Her buttocks and leg muscles clenched. And as the sting subsided she noticed that a foot had risen up off the ground as if she had been in the embrace of a kiss. Her breath came in and went out fast and raspy.

"I will do my homework." She said again in acceptance, without needing any prodding to know what to say.

There was another sting and then another and another in quick succession. Her yelps and moans came uncontrollably as he spanked her again and again, the sensations building up to a crescendo of pain. Yet so too was it sensual. So too was it sexual. And then he stopped. A sudden end. She felt a tear flow down her cheek as she sobbed and whimpered. A hot flush burst down along the skin of her bottom as harsh stinging persisted.

She heard an unzipping. Something moved past cloth and then he probed her from behind until it reached just the spot where it is meant to go. She felt it enter and fill her, and she realized with surprise that throughout the spanking her excitement had not abated. He slid in with ease.

Unlike most other men she had been with he did not seem in a hurry. He slowly pulled out and let her feel the sensation of herself close. There was that wonderful and sensuous pushing and prodding until her point of entry would open up and let him within her. He did this again and again, each time a longing for him to push in deeply growing until it became overpowering.

He went in just a little deeper and deeper. Her chest heaved in gasps. She felt her tears drying on her cheeks as he suddenly pushed in as far as he could go, and pressed hard against her until she felt the edge of the desk on her thighs prevent any further movement forward.

A wondrous sensation of him deep within her was contrasted by a hard enflamed stinging in her rear. He slowly pulled out until but his tip was within her, did not exit, and then he pushed back in. The rhythm of a waltz formed. One-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three. Never had she felt such a thing. So many men just push in and flop around like dying fish on a boat until they attain their goal. Not this professor.

Her fingers clenched against the wood, nails biting into the grain until a small splinter pierced her. He grabbed her hair and pulled her up, grinding into her tender behind, and she ground back feeling every bit of pain mix with the glorious sensation of that cock within her. His fingers flowed up her underneath her blouse until his palms reached her breasts and he grasped them hard to pull her in even closer and once again her hands rose up over her head.

Then, like the blindness that follows lightning, a thunder came within her. She lost all sensation of self. There was nothing but hard movement and harsh breaths. She had reached that point of no return and inside her she clenched around his thrusting cock uncontrollably. It began as a tremble that grew to seizure. Her arms flopped down, her knees buckled, and a piercing moan escaped her throat that rang out through the building. She didn't even think to prevent it, for she had ceased to think at all. There was nothing but the sensation of ecstasy.

He held her up in his arms, slowing down that grinding which he did not stop, as she recovered. Panting and sweaty, her hair disheveled, her makeup a mess, and her lips and mouth dry from exertion, a tear of exultation formed. He grabbed her hair and pushed her head down toward the textbook.

"What do you say?"

"I will do my homework." She replied in between panting breaths.

"Tomorrow at 4pm, then. Bring the first two weeks' worth. And then I will grade you. Harshly, if you come unprepared. With this, you will learn the discipline necessary to achieve. I promise."

She looked back into his eyes and felt them turn soft. He slid out from inside her and she turned around to face him and for the first time they kissed - a long and deep and sensuous kiss with lips tenderly touching and tongues gently probing. When their embrace broke she stroked his bearded chin and felt something for him that she had never felt for a man before. Respect.

"Please teach me." She said. "I'm your student, ready and willing."

His hand gently swept a lock of hair from her eyes as he smiled and nodded.

It was 4pm the next day. Natalie stood at his office door unsure of what to do next. The strap of her backpack bit a crease into her favorite pink cashmere sweater, before perfectly steamed and pressed and now wrinkled. She wriggled her nose in disgust. She would have to get out the iron. She hated ironing.

In the morning Natalie hadn't had time to dress carefully as she had overslept. After noticing the clock she had jumped out of bed, tossed off her old clothes, yanked on a pair of tight jeans, quickly hooked a clean white-lace bra, and pulled over her trunk that pink cashmere garment which had seemingly started it all. Had she worn it again for a reason?

She bit her cheek in indecision. This was so weird. The guy had fucking spanked her! What the hell was she doing here standing in front of his door? Did she want more? Yet it had been hot, she couldn't deny that. The very thought of when he had first struck her - that moment first when she had been angry and defiant, yet unable to move; that moment next when her opposition relented and she had simply accepted what would continue happening - this had been replayed in her mind again and again like a porn video on her laptop. And then afterward, when he took her, and filled her... at the thought of that she clenched her stomach and in anticipation felt warmth spread between her legs once again.

She rolled her fingers into a fist in annoyance at herself and then found that her arm had mysteriously raised itself to the door as if she were about to knock. She pushed her hand away and shook the fist loose and sighed. What was she to do? That question kept repeating itself. And circling the kernel of that question was the excitement that flushed through her from thoughts and images that flashed across her mind every time it seemed she had decided to leave, stopping her feet in their tracks. She ran her fingers through her hair with nervous unease.

Those thoughts had distracted her the night before as well. It had made doing that homework he had assigned for this afternoon so difficult to start. It was preventing her from walking away right now. She pouted and turned away from the door. Then she changed her mind and reached out a finger to touch the faceplate that announced his name and position.