Red Notice Ch. 17

"Please can I-" I was going to ask if I could get dressed but, interrupting me, Ellsworth's hand came to my neck and gripped it so tightly that nothing could come out. Not words and barely even air. I spluttered and, with begging eyes, stared at her as my hands forgot all about modesty and left to vainly grip her wrist. She brought me closer to her face.

"You know that, deep down, you don't want to be merciful," she said." You want to be brutal. You want to do this. Don't you?" I didn't answer -- I couldn't have. I just stared at her with quivering eyes. She smiled and let go -- I coughed, rubbing my throat, fear and fury pounding all throughout me. "Bend over the desk. Five more and I think we'll be done."

"But..." I sniffed. "Yes, professor." I obeyed and bent over the desk, held up by my elbows, and took the last five swats with gritted teeth. Ellsworth ran her hand along my burning cheeks, provoking a new round of goosebumps which cartwheeled up my back, before slapping me once more by way of a 'well done.'

"Now then," said Ellsworth, walking to the door, as I stood and quickly grabbed my clothes. "I think that's a proper bit of training, don't you?"

"Yes, professor," I mumbled, legs shaking, feeling a humiliating wetness between my legs. She hadn't seen that had she? She couldn't have.

"Hopefully you'll be able to deal with future students in a rather more appropriate manner." She glanced at my computer monitor. "Ah, look at that, you already have a couple. I have some meetings, so I'll be back up here to supervise the one at twelve," she said. At once, I filled with dread. This would be a hard day. And, maybe, an exciting one. "And I'll expect you to do to her as I've done to you. Do I make myself quite clear?"

"Y... yes, Professor," I said, quietly, legs crossed tightly, holding my bundle of clothes to my chest.

"And as for this 'Zara,' I'll speak with her and make very clear that she'll be coming back to see you and you'll be finishing the job."

"Uh-huh," I said. "I have to do this every time?"

"Not every time, no, but at twelve, certainly." Without another word, nor even a glance to me, she left, leaving me stood naked and trembling and in quite a lot of pain. I dressed as quickly as I could, my butt still burning, and hurried to the computer screen. I was halfway to sitting before I stopped in my tracks.

The first name was somebody I didn't recognise, somebody called Jo Rankin, but it wasn't her I was concerned by. It was the other name. The one at twelve. I stared at it for quite some time. It read: "Cherry Cardington. Archaeology." I was wrong. It'd just be a hard day.