College Discipline Read Online Free PDF Page B

it to be her that serviced him. She wanted to jump off the sofa and yell, "Please fuck me, Professor. Or spank me. Or whip me!" Anything. She wanted his undivided attention yet knew she would not be getting it. The Professor had not even looked at Heather the whole time Jenna was sucking his cock.  
    As he zipped his trousers he moved to his chair and said to Jenna, "Now come over here and place yourself over my knee for a spanking."
    "Yes, Professor," she replied while getting up from being on her knees.
    When she was positioned as required, the professor began to spank her. After only a few smacks he increased the temp and the force of each blow. Jenna did not make any sound nor any defensive moves. She just took it. Heather was surprised at how loud the spanking was and how hard the Professor was landing his blows.
    After nearly one hundred spanks the Professor told Jenna to stand. Her hands instinctively moved to her ass cheeks and she could feel the heat from them. They stung but it was not as painful as she thought it might be. From across the room Heather could clearly see two pink circles on her ass cheeks.
      "Thank you, Professor. Are we done?" asked Jenna.
    The Professor smiled and almost laughed. "That wasn't even a warm-up. I'd say we're a couple of hours from being done, Jenna."
    For the first time, Jenna began to wonder what she had gotten herself into. A couple of hours? Her teenaged whippings consisted of a dozen or so good licks with a belt. What could take two hours? Then she saw the Professor open a drawer and remove a red, leather strap. It was only about a foot long but it was very thick leather and had a black, wooden handle at one end. "Resume your position over my knee," the Professor told her. Jenna obeyed. She was only in position a second when the first stroke landed with a sharp snap.  
    The pain was much more than the Professor's bare hand. It was beyond a sting. Before Jenna could calculate what made it feel so much worse she had received several more applications of the leather. The Professor was alternating between each cheek and every stroke felt harder than the last. Jenna began to squirm on his knee only to be told to keep still or he would start over. He continued with a steady cadence until he administered fifty strokes and Jenna began to cry quietly. Without a moment's rest the Professor told Jenna to get on the floor on her knees and elbows.
    Jenna complied but mistakenly positioned herself on her hands and knees. "I said elbows," corrected the Professor. Jenna adjusted so that her forearms bore her weight instead of the palms of her hands. In that position her heavy breasts pulled downward so her nipples grazed the carpet of the Professor's living room.  
    The Professor looked at Heather, "Would you be a dear and fetch my number three paddle from the wall of the other room?" he asked her.
    Heather was shocked to hear him use the word dear but sprang up and trotted to the dungeon room. On one wall there hung a dozen paddles of different shapes, sizes and types of wood. Each was in its numbered place. She removed the paddle from the number three position and hurried back to the living room. When she handed it to him he gave her a sly smile as if he was secretly sharing his amusement with her. She could tell that he enjoyed her being there. Heather beamed.
    The Professor walked in front of Jenna and held the paddle in front of her. "Now you're going to get thirty with this before we move you into the dungeon and get serious. I want you to think about all the things you need to confess tonight."
    "Confess?" she asked.
    "That's right. I want you to be clear about what you feel guilty about doing and that means you need to confess it out loud. And then, of course, be punished for it. So start thinking about that right now," he told her.
    Before she could reply he swatted her across the ass with the heavy oak paddle. Jenna shrieked for the first time. The pain was deep and enduring. The