High Marks

The floors echoed with each one of my footsteps. Try as I might, the laminated flooring would not keep my arrival a secret.

As I slowed, I took a deep breath before knocking on my Professor's open door. I stood nervously, awaiting the invitation from the statuesque stone-faced teacher.

"Come in," he said in almost a bored voice.

As I entered his small office, I could see Professor Alcott was in the middle of marking papers. I noticed my history paper on the left side of his desk.

"Take a seat, Amanda," he commanded, gesturing to the hard wooden chair opposite his desk. I groaned internally. The Professor's hard wooden chairs were uncomfortable even in the best of circumstances. This was not the best of circumstances.

My mind harkened back to the last time Professor Alcott had criticized one of my assignments. It took almost a week before the painful bruises faded from my ass. And yet here I was, back for more. 

As I sat, I watched as his harsh red ink bled into my immaculate white pages. The black print of my words dancing in between his red corrections.

The hand that wasn't ripping my paper to shreds rested on the end of a battered desk, his wooden ruler peaking out from the stacks of marked papers. 

That ruler! When he first brought it out, I didn't think much of it. After all, it hardly looked imposing at a mere 12 inches in length. Boy, was I mistaken! Professor Alcott knew how to wield that instrument and provided me with an experience I never knew I longed for. 

He gave me a smack on the ass for each error I had made on my paper. As his ruler smarted against me, a mixture of pain, pleasure and sexual hunger had taken over my whole body. I often find myself daydreaming about that last session. 

But today, I try not to show my excitement for what was to come. Thus, I sat dutifully on this hard wooden chair, trying not to squirm as I squeezed my thighs together.

I was looking at my hands in my lap when I heard him put down his pen and let out a sigh.

"Miss Williams," he said as I looked up. "I found 17 errors in your paper."

I swallowed hard. My face flushed.

"That's four more errors than the last paper," he continued.

I felt my heart pounding as he stood, picking up his wooden ruler.

"I'm sorry," I said, looking Professor Alcott in his steel-grey eyes.

"Sorry isn't good enough, Amanda," he said, stepping out from behind his desk. He took a step towards me.

"These are your worst marks yet. You're starting to make me think I'm bad at my job."

Two more steps brought him even closer.

"Am I bad at my job?"

"No, Professor Alcott."

He moved until he stood directly in front of me-the ruler resting lazily in his hand.

As he towered above me, I took in his broad shoulders and well-muscled arms. Today he had the sleeves rolled up on his dress shirt to show them off. I have a sneaky suspicion he did that deliberately. 

"Now, Miss Williams, you wouldn't be purposefully making mistakes, would you?"

My breath caught in my throat.

I did love the delicious sting of his rule. It did something to me that was unlike anything I'd ever felt before. However, it was definitely not my intention to make him doubt himself!

"I would never do that, Professor. You are an excellent teacher. I just need some correction."

His face, although stern, was betrayed by a gleam in his eye.

"Stand up."

"Yes, Professor."

As I stood, he stepped aside and motioned me forward.

"Those jeans will have to go," he started.

Dutifully I took them off.

"Good, now bend over my desk."

"Yes, Professor," I said, eagerly awaiting my correction.

He pulled my underwear to the side, examining my ass.

"I see the bruises have healed nicely," he said, almost to himself.

I heard the thump of the ruler as he smacked it in his palm-another thump.

My whole body buzzed with excitement at what was to come!

"Seventeen errors is quite a lot, Miss Williams. Are you sure you're ready to receive your correction?" he asked.

"Yes, Professor."

"Let's begin."