The Professor and the Student

Another erotic story from the FLOGMASTER!

Copyright 1985-2020 by the Flogmaster. All Rights Reserved. Free distribution via electronic medium (i.e. the internet or electronic BBS) is permitted as long as the text is _not_ modified and this copyright is included, but _no_ other form of publication is allowed without written permission. This document _may_ contain explicit material of an ADULT nature. ***READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!*** Anything offensive is your own problem. This story is for **entertainment** purposes only, and it does _not_ necessarily represent the viewpoint of the author or the electronic source where this was obtained. All characters are *fictional* -- any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental.

Purchase this story in print form!

Don't like reading on screen? This story is available in print form in Ultimate Archive: Volume 4 at the Flogmaster's Bookstore. Purchase your copy today to encourage the Flogmaster to write more cool stories.

The Professor and the Student

(****, M/F, Severe, caning, sex)

A college girl, in love with her professor, submits to his evil desires. (Approximately 2,428 words. Originally published 2004-01.)

She was wearing pink pajama bottoms, the thin material so light and gauzy it seemed like he could see through it. "Make me some tea," he'd ordered, and she was obeying him. The tiny thing had to stand on tiptoe to reach the tea tin on the first shelf, the action jutting out her bottom deliciously.

"And mark yourself down for another five," he added.

Dora came back to earth, the metal box of tea in her hand. "W-what? But Edward, that's not fair. I didn't do anything!"

"Of course you didn't, dear. It's just your bottom: it's lovely. I must paddle it."

"Oh please, Edward, I've been good. Really good. I try so hard for you. You don't have to spank me. I'm making your tea for you, see? Exactly the way you like it."

"In a cup and saucer, Dora. Mugs are reserved for hot chocolate."

"I'm sorry, Edward. I'll fix it."

"That's another five."

"Another! But Edward... oh please, my butt's already sore from Saturday. Please, can't we skip tonight's paddling?"

The professor clicked his tongue. "Tut tut, my dear. You are behaving like a child! What did I say would happen the next time you begged me to reduce your punishment?"

The girl dropped her head. "You said you'd cane me," she whispered.

"That's right. So plan for six-of-the-best after tonight's paddling. And if you beg or protest again tonight it will be twelve!"

"Oh God, no--" Dora started to say, then stopped and bowed her head. "Yes, Edward."

He cleared his throat noisily. "Isn't there something else you'd like to say, Dora?"

She grunted. "Thank you for being considerate enough to punish me," she added reluctantly.

"That's better. Put down another five and report to me the total."

Dora went to the white board hanging on the side of the fridge and added three 5's next to her name. "Th-that makes th-thirty-five," she breathed, her voice catching in fear.

"Not good enough, Dora. I want you to go to fifty. Fifty's a nice round number."

"Fifty! But Edward, I haven't done anything!"

"I'd say you just did: protesting, that's worth at least five. And I just told you that protesting would double your caning, so now that's up to twelve."

"Oh God," moaned the girl, her hands going back to massage her butt in fearful anticipation.

"We still need ten more with the paddle," inserted the professor. "Come on, be bad."

"I don't want to be bad. I want you to love me."

"I do love you. I love to paddle that pert little rear of yours. And I want to give you fifty tonight, so give me some excuse."

"Forty is plenty, Edward, really."

"That's another five," grinned the professor.

Dora looked outraged, but smiled and nodded. "Yes, Edward." She wrote another five on the whiteboard.

"My tea is late," growled Edward. "The hot water's probably cold by now. Another five."

"Yes, Edward," agreed Dora dutifully.

As he sipped his tea, which was fine, Dora fidgeted nervously. Finally she spoke: "Edward, could we get my paddling over with? You know how I hate waiting."

"It's only 8:30," he said. "You get paddled at bedtime, not before." After a pause he added, "Unless you'd prefer to get paddled at _both_ times?"

"No thank you!" cried Dora in horror.

"Good. Then you wait."

He watched her fidget and squirm while he read his novel. No doubt all she could think about was the upcoming fifty swats with the paddle and dozen with the cane. The most he'd ever given her before was forty or so with the paddle, and separately, eighteen with the cane, but he felt it was time to up the ante. After all, she was in college now. A big girl.

He smiled at the irony of that last statement, for Dora was tiny. Barely over five feet, she was a little pixie, a nymphette. From afar she looked like a voluptuous fourteen-year-old. Thinking things like that got Edward going, after a few more minutes of failed attempts to get back into his reading, he finally slammed the book closed. It was only 9:30, but he couldn't wait any longer.

"Dora, let's go to bed."

The girl gulped in fear and excitement, and nodded quickly. "Yes, Edward!"

In the bedroom, she found the paddle and brought it to him. She started to undress when he stopped her.

"Hold on -- I'll give you the first ten over your pajama bottoms."

She nodded gratefully. "What position do you want me in?"

"Against the wall, reaching up. Legs at shoulder-width, butt out."

Dora licked her lips nervously and got into the indicated position. Edward licked his lips in lustful anticipation. God she was gorgeous! That plump little ass just looked huge on her tiny frame, yet the blade of the frat paddle would cover her whole butt.

Using just one hand, he brought the paddle hard across those cheeks. There was a dull pop and Dora gave a light gasp. The first few were always the worst. Slowly, he gave her nine more. He loved watching her squirm after each whack: it made her buns dance delightfully.

"Okay, that's enough in that position," he finally said. "Let's get you over my lap."

Once she was across his lap on the bed he began to slide the pajama bottoms down. This was always his favorite moment, for on her slender body with the wide hips, pants always looked deliciously droppable. Especially thin pajama bottoms: they came down so easily, only the thin band of elastic holding them above her hips.

His penis grew hard as the soft curves of her buttocks were exposed. The twin mounds were gorgeously ruddy from the paddling, a deeper pink than the pale pink of her pajama bottoms. The slender crack between the cheeks was fantastic, as always, the deep chasm bringing forth an intense, primitive lust hidden within him.

He slid the pants down to her knees as she lifted her hips to assist him. God her ass was fantastic! he thought again, drooling at the luscious mounds offered him. Such sleek, smooth curves, so delicate, yet firm like only an eighteen-year-old college coed's can be.

Lust burned like dull anger in him and he raised the paddle and brought it down hard on Dora's butt. She grunted, then whimpered as he paddled her again.

"I hope you're counting, because I'm not," he said, smacking her butt and watching the plump flesh jiggle violently.

"That's sixteen," gasped Dora. "Seventeen -- ooooh, oh God -- eighteen, nineteen, ah! Twenty..." She sucked in her breath sharply between clenched teeth. "Twenty-one. Please! Oh, twenty-two, three, four. Oh God! Twenty-five!"

The paddling was hard and fast and brutal. This was discipline, and the professor didn't want to go easy on the girl. She rocked and writhed on his lap, occasionally roughly pressing against his erect cock, which inspired him to paddle her harder.

She was crying now, a gentle sob, barely more than a whimper, and the sound made his heart swell with passionate sympathy. The poor dear was suffering, he thought. Well, he'd show her suffering: this was just the beginning.

The paddle slammed down. Dora moaned: "Owwww... th-thirty-th-three."

At forty, he stopped. Dora's buttocks were steaming. The cheeks were deep red, the color of rust. The smooth skin was growing rough with tiny pebble-like welts. He gripped her right cheek with one paw and the sensation was so wonderful he almost creamed his pants. He patted her buns and told to her rise, resisting the temptation to take her immediately. He wasn't finished yet, it wasn't quite the time.

"Strip," he commanded, his voice coarse with arousal. She obeyed without a word, shucking off her clothes rapidly and eagerly. Naked, she looked even smaller, a sexy little wood nymph.

"How does your bottom feel?"

"It hurts," groaned the girl. "It burns deep. I can tell I'm going to be sore tomorrow."

"But you must be a bit numb by now -- the paddle doesn't hurt that much, right?"

Dora nodded reluctantly. "Yes, it feels kinda good, at least the first few seconds. Then it hurts as the sting penetrates, then it feels good again as it cools."

Edward nodded. "Well, get against the wall. I'm doing your final ten two-handed, so these will hurt a lot."

Dora's pretty face went a touch paler, but she got in position at the wall. She stretched her arms upward until she was almost on tiptoe. Edward poked her with the paddle until her legs were the correct distance apart and her butt was jutting out appropriately.

WHAM! BAM! THUD! The paddle was loud and horrible. Dora cringed and writhed. She kept her feet and hands in position, but her body danced uncontrollably. She waggled her tush violently from side to side, then bounced it up and down. Her body's quest for relief from the pain was in vain, for the paddle just slammed into her buns again and again.

Finally it was over, the tenth explosion nearly knocking her off her feet. Her buttocks were on fire, a blue heat. "Ohhh," she groaned. "Please, may I touch, Edward?"

He nodded, panting a bit. He needed a rest himself. He was already drooling at the thought of a caning to administer. Dora had probably forgotten about that. She had cupped her asscheeks with her hands and was alternately squeezing and releasing the steaming mounds of flesh. She sighed frequently, the occasional tear dripping down her pretty face.

"Think you'll remember that?"

"God yes," grunted Dora. "That was the hardest you've ever paddled me. You're a brute."

"And you love me for it," he laughed. "Are you ready for your caning?"

The girl froze. For several seconds she didn't move a muscle. Then she turned. "Edward, please, you can't be serious."

"Are you begging?" he asked coldly.

Dora licked her lips. She was watching him carefully. "No."

"Good. Then get the cane."

For a moment he wondered if she was going to disobey, but she didn't. She went to the closet and retrieved it from the top shelf. She brought it to him humbly, her eyes downward. When he ordered her to bend over she did so, her flexible body easily completing the move, her hands grasping her slender ankles.

Edward studied the round ball of an ass presented to him. It was badly reddened, perhaps bruised, but the glorious shape of the buttocks was intact. Even in this position the cheeks projected impudently out, just begging to be smacked.

The long cane whistled and fell across the uppermost slope of the buttocks. Dora gave a little cry of pain and began crying, her body shuddering slightly, but she remained in position. As a reward for her obedience, he gave her another cut, this one slightly below the first.

"Are you counting?" he asked sharply.

"Yes, Edward," breathed Dora with difficulty. "That was two. AHHH! OH! Ow. Th-th-three!"

He gave her another cut, this one almost at the center of her bottom. Dora cringed, writhed a bit, and announced the number four. Five was a bit lower, as was six. Six was delivered with extra force, and it was at the base of her bottom, just above the crease between thigh and buttock. Dora squealed and it took her a few seconds to count that stroke.

Seven was right in the crease, a most sensitive place, and the weal left by the cane would be felt for the next week every time Dora tried to sit down. Eight was a hair below that, at the peak of the upper thigh. The stroke caused Dora to scream and writhe frantically, howling and sobbing loudly. Edward gave her a minute's rest, enjoying the show she was giving him.

The only bad thing about Dora having such a petite ass, he thought, was that it was impossible to get more than eight cane strokes in without overlapping. He'd caned a few bigger girls, including one statuesque blond with a huge butt who could take nineteen strokes with no overlap. But Dora more than made up for quantity with quality: every square millimeter of her butt was prime cut. He just loved the shape of her hips and ass. She was ridiculously feminine.

"Are you ready for the rest?" he finally asked.

"Yes, Edward," sighed Dora with a slight whimper.

He didn't need to tell her the final four were going to hurt. If he'd been planning on striking her with a feather she'd have known that would hurt, let alone more strokes of the fiery cane.

The first one he laid on at a slight angle right across the middle of her butt. Dora gasped and writhed, throwing her head around a bit. It took her thirty seconds to deliver the count. That was fine, as Edward wanted to go slow: he wanted to enjoy this.

The second cut was again across the middle, the angle the other direction, with the tip down, the two cuts forming a nice "X" across Dora's ass.

"Rise up," he announced, when Dora was done with her wiggling show.

"Are-are we done?" she gasped, astonished.

"No. I want your over the end of the bed for the final two."

"Oh." Her face fell, but Dora obeyed, stretched out over the end of the bed. Her lovely butt jutted out prettily, her tiny body arched to give her lover a premium target.

She screamed into the bedcovers at each of the last strokes. Her dancing bottom had Edward's penis drooling with arousal and he was frantic when he tossed the cane aside and dropped his pants. He leaped onto Dora from behind, taking her as she lay across the end of the bed. Her ass, blazing hot from her punishment, pressed against Edward's belly as he fucked her ruthlessly.

Dora spread her legs as wide as she could and arched her back to give him easier access. Tears still dribbled down her face but her mouth was stretched into a monstrous smile as she got the fucking of her life.

She was still grinning an hour later after three intense fucks and ointment had been lovingly spread across her buttocks. Her bottom ached but she couldn't stop smiling. Edward snored quietly beside her and she petted his hair.

"Thank you, Edward," she whispered. She kissed his forehead and stretched out on her belly and closed her eyes. A deep sigh came from her, and then, exhausted, she slept.

The End