The Assignment

(This is a new story which I will also share elsewhere. I hope you enjoy it.)

It was a bright spring morning. Anne nervously hastened through the streets, troubled by a deep feeling of foreboding. Professor Whitworth had telephoned earlier and asked to see her urgently. He didn't sound pleased either. She'd been caught short too far from the nearest public loo and her panties were soaking wet, partly as a consequence of her nervousness and partly because she'd left her flat without using the toilet when doing so was clearly necessary. At least her skirt was dry and she hoped the professor wouldn't notice she'd had an accident, her first since turning 18. Rushing past St Mary's, she heard the clock strike quarter past and knew that already she was late as the professor has asked her to attend his quarters at eleven.

Presently she found herself at Professor Whitworth's front door and knocked. A sprightly old don, he opened it quickly and cast her a severe look.

"Come in Anne. You're twenty minutes late!"

Anne gave him a panic-stricken look.

"I'm sorry sir, but..."

Before she could say any more, he cut her short.

"Don't waste any more of my time with excuses, young lady. I want you through here, in my study now. You can sit down there."

The professor motioned to a chair, before seating himself behind a mahogany writing desk.

"Right Anne, I'm going to get down to business right away. In case you're wondering, I've called you in to discuss your latest assignment, or rather what passes for it."

Anne cast the professor a pleading look.

"What's wrong with it, sir?"

Professor Whitworth exhaled.

"What's wrong with it? I've read through the thing and am struggling to find anything right with it. You clearly haven't read around the subject, there are far too many elementary spelling and grammatical errors, the referencing is a mess and, as for a bibliography, I can't even see one."

A tear ran down Anne's left cheek.

"I'm sorry sir, but I find the referencing confusing."

Professor Whitworth opened a draw in his desk and pulled out a booklet.

"Anne, it's standard academic referencing. All very simple and straightforward. Here's a copy the referencing guide if you've lost the one you were given last term. It's only fourteen pages. Frankly I don't know why I'm wasting my time over you. Your latest assignment must easily be the shoddiest piece of work I've seen in thirty-four years of teaching here. I've half a mind to recommend that you're sent down as you're really not going to make it through the university with work like this."

Another tear ran down Anne's cheek.

"Please sir, I beg you. My mum would go crazy if you did that."

Professor Whitworth removed his spectacles and wiped them.

"Oh really, Anne? Your mother's dining out on her daughter scraping into Cambridge? A bit of a social climber, I imagine."

Anne cast him an earnest look.

"She's proud of me, yes. About the assignment, I don't understand though. I wrote a piece like it at school once and got three house marks."

Professor Whitworth replaced his spectacles and stared sternly at his pupil.

"Anne, I think that says it all. This is not a secondary modern school, it's a university and we expect serious, level four academic work from students. Also, we don't give house marks, as well you should know without anything further needing to be said. Either you get a pass mark for an assignment, and that means at least forty percent, or you're failed. Your assignment, had it been marked, wouldn't touch the forty percent required for a pass mark. Each assignment is meant to be worth twenty credits but I can't see enough there to justify ten. If you can't cut it, there really is little point in you being here."

Barely looking up, Anne sobbed quietly.

"I'm sorry sir."

Professor Whitworth reached into another drawer and pulled out a box of tissues. His tone, though still stern, sounded slightly more sympathetic.

"Here, Anne. Take some of these and dry your eyes. Give that nose a good blow whilst you're at it. Look, I'm not going to have you sent down and I'm not going to write to your mother. However, I am going to have to punish you for wasting my time with such an abysmal piece of work and for keeping me waiting."

There was a look of terror in Anne's eyes.

"Punish me? But I've said 'sorry' sir."

"I know, but actions have consequences and you must be made to understand that, young lady. If I let you go unpunished, I've got to do that for all my students - which wouldn't be fair. Are you used to corporal punishment?"

A further spurt of pee escaped from Anne's urethra into her sodden panties.

"I was caned on the hands once when I was younger. It hurt too. I didn't know it happened at university though."

Professor Whitworth gave her a half smile.

"It doesn't Anne. Not officially at any rate. I don't know what else to do with you though. I haven't got a cane but I do think you deserve a nicely spanked bottom, don't you agree?"

"Yes sir."

"Well come over here."

Professor Whitworth turned his chair so that it was at right angles to the desk placed Anne over his lap.

"Hold on to the desk. There's a good girl."

Lifting Anne's skirt, the professor pulled her sodden panties down to expose her bare bottom.

"Hmm. I see you've wet yourself. Obviously, the rumours about some of this year's cohort not being toilet trained are true."

"I'm sorry, sir."

"Well don't be. Just accept your punishment like a good girl."

With that, Professor Whitworth set about his work, administering twelve steady, firm slaps, six administered to each buttock alternately.

"Slap, splap, splap, slap, slap, slap, slap, slap, slap, slap, slap, slap."

Anne winced and fought the urge to scream, although she couldn't repress an "Ouch" or two.

As the clock of St Mary's struck noon, Professor Whitworth decided that his work was done. Twelve firm slaps on those young, pale buttock cheeks were quite enough.

"You can get up now, Anne."

As she got off his knee and straightened herself, Professor Whitworth opened another draw and took out a tube.

"Here's some Savlon. I'll leave it to you to apply it as you wish. Oh, and before you go, here's your assignment. I've done you the great favour of not submitting it for marking. I want you to redo it as a resit and produce a piece of work of which we both can be proud. When you've squared yourself up, go back to your digs, have a shower and put some clean clothes on. When you've had something decent to eat, get yourself down to the library and do some work. Here's twenty pounds. I know all about the student habit of surviving off baked beans and yoghurt but it's not enough to nourish the brain properly."

Anne looked up at him.

"Thank you, sir."

Professor Whitworth smiled.

"I'm sorry I had to punish you Anne, but it was necessary. You're a bright girl and I like you, even if you're bone idle. Now on your way!"

"Thank you again, sir."

"Not at all."

Anne made her way into the bright lunchtime sunlight of the city. Professor Whitworth wasn't a bad old sort but she really must try harder.

THE END