The Professor's Babysitter

Kate double-checked her hair in the glass window of Professor Foster's front door. She wasn't sure why, but the 18-year-old wanted to look her best for her teacher. Probably because it was her first day on the job as his babysitter.

"Normally, I'm reluctant to do this during the semester," he'd said at the end of his last lecture, "but my wife and I are really in a bind. Our regular babysitter is moving out of town on short notice, and we could really use someone to look after our son Chris during the afternoon. If any of you are interested, or know someone who might be, please talk to me after class."

Kate had bounded up to him the moment the other students had left the room.

"Professor Foster?" she said, touching his arm gently to get his attention as he packed his things, "I'm available."

He looked up and smiled.

"Yes? Available for what?"

She couldn't help but feel that his double entendre was intentional. She had to admit, it would have been fun to flirt with him. After all, he was quite attractive, in shape, and not too old (Kate guessed mid-thirties). But he was married. And her teacher.

"Babysitting," she replied.

"Of course! Yes, great. Let me get your information," he said, scrambling for a pen, "Kate, wasn't it?"

She was impressed that he remembered her name.

"Yes."

He took down her phone number.

"Could you start tomorrow at 2pm?"

"Sure."

Now here she was, standing on his front doorstep, unsure of what to expect. He had an attractive, colonial-style house in a modestly-priced neighborhood near the large university where he taught and she attended classes. From what Kate could see through the window, he or his wife had excellent taste in wooden furniture.

"Kate!" he said, opening the door. He was holding the hand of an adorable toddler.

"You must be Chris!" she said, smiling at the boy as she stepped inside.

Professor Foster gave her instructions for taking care of Chris. It all seemed easy enough. Kate had plenty of babysitting experience, and loved taking care of kids Chris's age. And professor Foster was going to pay her almost twice what she made in high school!

"If you have any questions, this is my cell number," said Professor Foster, scrawling something on a piece of paper before kissing his son goodbye, "either I or my wife will be back around 6!"

"No problem professor Foster," said Kate, "you can count on me!"

"Please," he said, "you can call me Shane."

She blushed. It felt somehow wrong to call him by his first name.

"Ok professor Foster," she said, then laughed at her mistake, "I mean Shane. You can count on me."

"I hope so," he said, closing the door behind him. Just before the door fell shut, Kate could have sworn he'd given her a wink. It must have been her imagination.

When six o'clock came around, Kate heard the sound of keys in the door. She was a little disappointed to see an attractive woman in her early thirties carrying a large grocery sack. It had to be Mrs. Foster.

"Hi," she said, setting her load down on the counter, "you must be Kate."

Kate nodded and extended her hand, "nice to meet you."

"I'm Molly," said the woman, "how was everything?"

"Great!" said Kate, as Chris ran up to hug his mother, "he was perfectly behaved."

"Glad to hear it."

She rummaged through her purse with one hand while holding her son in the other.

"Sorry, could you just go by my husband's office tomorrow to get your money? I don't have any cash."

"Sure, no problem," said Kate, "see you tomorrow!"

"Thanks again. Bye!"

----

The next day after lecture, Kate couldn't wait to talk to professor Foster.

"Shane," she said, running up to him after class, "your wife said you would pay me today."

In her excitement, she'd ignored the fact that he was talking to another student.

"Excuse me young lady," he said, "I prefer it if you would refrain from using my first name. And I have office hours in 15 minutes. I'd be happy to talk to you then."

Kate blushed bright red in embarrassment. How could she have been so stupid as to think that she could act the same way around professor Foster as his student as she did as his babysitter?

Fifteen minutes later, she knocked timidly on his office door.

"Come in," he said.

"Kate," he said, smiling as she opened the door, "I was hoping it was you."

She stepped into his tiny office. He gestured for her to sit in the metal chair facing the desk where he was sitting.

Slowly, carefully, Kate sat, conscious of the way her skirt rode up her thighs as she did so. Why had she worn such a skimpy outfit today of all days? She knew she'd have to talk to professor Foster about the money. It really wasn't like her at all. She pressed her legs together and tried to smile.

"Kate," he said, "I've got your money."

He placed a stack of bills on the desk in front of her.

"Thanks," she said, picking them up and stuffing them into her purse.

"I need to talk to you about something," he continued. She could have sworn he'd stolen a glance at her cleavage.

"Yes?"

"You exercised poor judgement using my first name in front of the other students before," he said, "my job is one that requires that I maintain my authority. You understand that right?"

Kate blushed and looked down.

"Yes sir," she said.

"Good," said professor Foster, "but I'm afraid we have to find a way for this not to happen again, don't you agree?"

"I won't do it again, sir," she muttered, still looking down.

"I'm afraid that's not enough. If you want to continue working for me during the semester, you're going to have to agree to certain rules," he paused and pushed his chair back from the desk.

"You do want to continue to work for me, don't you?"

"Yes sir," she said, still unable to meet his gaze.

"Very well, Kate," he said, "then I suggest we reach an agreement here. We will deal with this and any of your future infractions in a very simple but effective way."

He paused, waiting for her to look at him. After a few moments, she met his eyes, looking at him questioningly.

"With a spanking."

He let the words linger in her ears for a moment.

As shocked as she was, Kate couldn't avert her gaze. Neither could she respond.

"If you don't agree to this rather mild form of discipline, I'm afraid I won't be able to employ you as my babysitter," he said.

She was paralyzed, unsure of how to react. Her good sense told her she should walk out and never speak to him again, but another part of her (a part located between her legs) found the idea of being spanked by professor Foster arousing, even exhilarating.

"Ok," she heard herself say.

"Great," he said, "I'm glad you agree. Now please stand, hike up your skirt, and place your palms on the desk."

He opened a drawer. Kate saw him remove a ruler before closing the drawer and standing.

"Go ahead, Kate."

Kate stood, then turned to look at the closed door behind her.

"You may leave of course," he said, coming around the desk.

She gulped as she felt his presence behind her.

"Hike up your skirt and place your palms on the desk," he repeated.

"I can't," she began.

"Relax, Kate," he said, "this is a quick, and, though certainly not painless, nevertheless efficient way to handle conflicts in our relationship."

She felt her heart leap at the word "relationship." Is that what this was? As humiliating as her position was, she couldn't help but feel even more attracted to him.

"Professional relationship, I mean," he corrected himself.

"I'm waiting, Kate."

She reached down and slowly pulled her skirt up until it rested across her back. Then she leaned forward, placing her palms on flat on the desk.

She was proud of her bottom, and was secretly a little bit pleased that professor Foster was getting such a good look at it now. What she hoped he didn't see, however, was the wet patch she could feel spreading in her panties.

"Kate," he said, "for this first infraction, I'm going to spank you five times. You're going to count after each one, and thank me. Is that clear?"

"Y- yes," she stammered, her whole body shaking in anticipation.

"Just one more thing," he said, "I find that spankings are most effective on a bare bottom. So I'm going to quickly pull down your panties."

She gulped. Her bottom twitched involuntarily as she felt him reach under the waistline of her cotton briefs and slide them down over her shapely ass.

The smell of her arousal filled the tiny room. There could be no mistaking it, and it was impossible for professor Foster not to be aware of it.

The room was dead silent for what seemed like a full minute.

Then she felt a whiff of air as professor Foster drew the ruler back.

WHACK!

The first blow surprised her with its intensity. She hadn't been expecting it to hurt that much.

"What do you say, Kate?"

"Th- thank you, professor Foster," she stammered.

"You forgot something, Kate. I'm afraid we're going to start again from one."

"One," she panted.

WHACK!

"No, that was one. Say it, Kate."

"One."

"Thank you professor Foster," she added quickly.

"Good girl," he said.

She blushed. She was proud of gaining his approval in spite of herself.

WHACK!

"Two," she said, trying to resist the urge to reach back and rub away the sting of the ruler.

"Thank you professor Foster."

WHACK!

This time, she cried out, emitting a soft moan.

"Three. Thank you professor Foster."

She yearned for him to call her a "good girl" once more. She could tell that her pussy was close to dripping by this point and was sure that he couldn't have failed to notice as well.

WHACK!

"Four," she moaned, wincing in pain even as her cunt continued to burn.

"Thank you professor Foster."

WHACK!

"Five," she sighed, choking back tears as the pain of the first few blows set in belatedly, "thank you professor Foster."

Her perfectly shaped bubble butt trembled in the cool air of the office. She could feel each distinct stripe that his blows had left across her rear. The pain had gone from a sharp stinging sensation to a dull throbbing.

Still, it was all she could do not to reach down and touch her clit. She secretly hoped that professor Foster would do it for her.

He did not.

"You're free to go, Kate," he said, "I'll see you this evening when you're finished watching Chris."

"Ok," she murmured, hastily pulling up her panties and smoothing down her skirt, unable to stop herself from rubbing her aching ass.

As she left his office, she passed another girl who she knew from his lecture waiting in the hall. Noting Kate's reddened, tear-stained face, the girl asked what was wrong.

"Bad grade," muttered Kate, shuffling away quickly.

---

She had just enough time to go back to her dorm and take a shower, then change her clothes into something a little more modest before she showed up to watch Chris.

"Hi Kate," said Molly, on her way out the door, "you won't see me again tonight, but Shane will be by at 6."

"Great," said Kate.

That afternoon, she kept returning to the spanking in her head. She knew what professor Foster had done was wildly inappropriate. She could have gotten him fired if she wanted to. Or maybe even arrested.

But then again she'd agreed to it all, hadn't she? She could have left at any time. And then there was the matter of her persistent arousal every time she thought back to the ruler coming down across her unprotected ass...

She put Chris down for his nap. In the hour or so that he would sleep, she had time to study. She pulled out her laptop and looked up the homework for that night in professor Foster's class.

She noted the reading assignment, then looked in her bag. Damn! She'd forgotten the textbook. There would be no way for her to do the reading before the next class.

Then she remembered that she was at professor Foster's house. Surely he'd have an extra textbook she could borrow!

She opened the door to the study and flipped on the light. The place was filled with books. She had no idea if she'd ever find the right one.

But as she moved from shelf to shelf, she became increasingly distracted from her original plan, instead becoming engrossed in several of the old novels she found there.

One of them was a collection of erotic stories. It seemed to be quite old, and was illustrated explicitly. Kate's heart pounded as she looked at the drawings of men and women entwined in various positions that she'd never imagined.

On one page, there was an image of a woman bent over a divan, offering her naked ass for a smiling man's whip. She couldn't help but think of professor Foster spanking her earlier that afternoon.

Just then, she heard a key turn in the door. She scrambled to put the book back where she'd found it, but ended up knocking over a pile of books and papers stacked precariously on the desk (how could anyone live with such clutter?), creating a huge crash just as professor Foster walked through the door.

He headed directly for the study of course.

"Hello Kate," he said, smiling at her as she frantically tried to restack the books, "doing some reading?"

"I was just, I was studying for your class and I," she stammered.

"Just leave those for now," he said, eying the book of erotic stories that lay alone on the floor near where she'd been reading it, "there's no reason for you to be in there at all, and you clearly can't understand my, err, system of organization."

"Sorry, professor Foster," she stammered.

"We're at home now, so you can call me Shane."

"Right, Shane," this back-and-forth with the names was flustering her a bit.

"So you're not mad?"

"No, Kate," he said, walking over and picking up the erotic book and flipping through it casually before closing it and returning it to its proper place on the shelf.

"But I am going to have to punish you for this, you know."

His eyes were a dark, dull blue. Kate jerked her gaze away from his. It seemed too much to bear.

"Yes," she said.

"Very good. You're a fast learner!"

Kate felt her bottom begin to throb involuntarily. She didn't know if she was going to be able to handle two spankings on the same day. Not because of the pain, but the sexual frustration!

He closed the door. The two of them were alone in the windowless study.

He sat in a comfortable armchair while she remained standing, her body tense with anticipation.

"Kate," he said, "I'm going to ask you a question, and I want you to answer me truthfully. Can you do that?"

She nodded.

"Good girl."

He paused for a moment, regarding her almost affectionately.

"How many cocks have you had in your mouth?"

She could feel the blood rush to her face as she burned with embarrassment.

"I -," she stuttered.

"Yes?"

"I don't know."

"Kate," he said sternly, "we both know that's a lie. For a woman of your age 'I don't know' either means you are entirely inexperienced or you are entirely too experienced. Now which is it? I have my own guess, of course."

"Two," she whispered.

"Two what, Kate?"

"Two cocks."

"In a complete sentence, please."

"I've had two cocks in my mouth, sir."

"That's better.

"Do you know why I asked you, Kate?"

"No sir," she murmured. Somehow she couldn't fight the hope rising inside her that this was his (albeit strange) way of coming on to her.

"Because while you don't look like a slut," he said, "but I'm beginning to think that you might really be one."

The word "slut" was a very powerful one for Kate. It held an erotic charge for her that she didn't understand. It stirred feelings within her of shame and desire, as if there were a force trapped inside her that bore that name and only had to be called on to be unleashed.

Part of her wanted to unleash that power, and thought that professor Foster was the man to help her do it.

The other, more conventional part of her said in no uncertain terms that she was a good girl, and that no amount of coaxing or coercion would convince her otherwise.

"I'm not a slut," she murmured.

"You don't sound so convinced," he said.

"I've only," here she turned even redder, "had sex with one man."

"But you've had two cocks in your mouth?"

She cringed at his straightforward language.

"Yes, one was a guy I met at a party. I was drunk. It was a mistake."

"And the other one belonged to your boyfriend?"

"Yes, my ex-boyfriend," she hastened to add, "Brad."

"And were you satisfied with Brad?"

"He was nice."

"I mean sexually."

"Sure."

"You don't sound convinced, Kate. And do you know why?"

"Why?" she was trembling again at the intimacy of their exchange, still wondering when and if he would punish her.

"Because you're submissive by nature," he replied, "do you know what that means?"

"I think so," she whispered.

"Good," he said, "then let's test that and see. Remove your shirt and your bra. It's time for your punishment."

"Right now?"

"Right now."

Kate trembled as she unbuttoned the first button on her white blouse.

"Do we have to do it now? I just --," she stammered.

"Kate," he said, "you're only earning yourself more punishment."

She hastily unbuttoned the rest of her blouse, then paused. She didn't know what he had in mind, and her heart raced as she considered the possibilities.

"Kate," he said, "remove your blouse entirely."

She slipped the blouse off wordlessly, letting it fall to the ground behind her. She stood before him now, dressed only in a bra and skirt.

"The bra as well, Kate. Hurry up."

Her fingers shook so much she almost couldn't undo the bra strap. Finally, however, she managed to unhook the clasp and slip the bra down off her shoulders.

He made a motion indicating that she should let the bra drop to the floor. She did so, then immediately crossed her arms across her chest.

"One more thing before we get started, Kate," he said, unbuckling his belt matter-of-factly, "I want you to give me your panties."

Terror shot through her body. If she took off her panties her arousal would be obvious.

"Not your skirt," he said, as if to assure her, "just the panties."

He had completely removed his belt and now held it coiled in his right hand. He extended his left hand, waiting.

"But --"

"Remember the agreement, Kate. You can stop working for me anytime you want."

She quickly reached under her skirt and slipped off her panties, a pink and white thong. They smell strongly of sex as she pressed them into professor Foster's palm without meeting his gaze.

"Good girl," he said.

She felt a wave of heat on her cunt even as it was cooled by the air of the room.

"Now get on your knees, Kate."

She looked at him for a moment questioningly, but then lowered herself gingerly to the carpeted floor. She held her arms defensively against her chest, looking up at him.

"Good girl. Now place your arms on the back of your head with your fingers locked."

She hesitated for a moment, then slowly lifted her arms to the back of her head, allowing her breasts to fall free. She was mortified to notice that her nipples were erect.

"Very good," he said, "just one more thing before I administer the punishment. Open your mouth."

She opened her mouth to ask what he had in mind, but before she could react he pushed her wadded panties into her mouth, truncating her cry of protest.

"Mpf," she moaned.

He let her kneel there for a few moments, studying her figure. Kate was an attractive young woman, and she knew it. She was proud of her body, but also extremely shy. What she was doing now -- exposing herself to an older man -- would have been unthinkable just a few months ago. It probably would still be unthinkable now if the man hadn't been professor Foster.

"Very good, Kate. I can't have you making too much noise."

He used the belt to tease one of her nipples, smiling as she tensed and began to breathe more quickly through her nose.