College Discipline

College Discipline

College Discipline

The Mysterious Professor

Heather absentmindedly turned the pages of the campus newspaper. She couldn't concentrate on what she was reading due to her worry about flunking two classes in the semester and driving her GPA below the level where she qualified for her scholarships and financial aid. She could feel desperation seize her as she tried to think of some way to get her hands around the problem and boost her grades on her exams later that month.

That's when her eyes caught an unusual classified advertisement in the back pages of the newspaper:

 
"Bad Grades? Do you lack the motivation and discipline to study hard and improve your grades? Strict corporal discipline could be the answer for you."

The ad contained an e-mail address and the name "The Professor." Heather read the ad three times before she set down the paper, gulped the remainder of her orange juice and hurried off to her day of classes. What was waiting for her was not pleasant. Her world history professor had just posted grades online for the test she wrote the week before. It was bad.
 

Her afternoon class in medical biology brought more grim news; another low grade that threatened her financial aid. By the time her school day was over Heather was in tears. When she got back to her dorm room she studied the ad in the paper for a few minutes, reading it again and again. She sent an e-mail to the address explaining her situation and was surprised to receive an answer with five minutes.

The email said;

It's possible that I can help you. Come to this address this evening at 8PM sharp.
 

 
The address was an upscale condo building bordering the campus, an easy ten minute walk from Heather's dorm. She figured she'd go talk to the guy and determine whether he could help. She worried about what sort of discipline he had in mind and how she would pay for his service. In fact, she worried about everything related to the whole idea, but mostly she worried about flunking two credits and having to quit college altogether. That's what impelled her to keep her appointment.

 
She knocked on the door promptly at eight o'clock and it was answered by a well dressed, very handsome man in his late thirties who appeared trim and fit. His wire-rim glasses and corduroy jacket gave him the classic look of person who spent his life in the academic world.

"I assume you are Heather. Please take a seat in the living room. I'll be with you in a moment," he said.

Heather was impressed with the decor. Of course, she'd become used to her friend's dorms and apartment's which were invariably filled with crappy hand me downs and mismatched discarded furniture. This home was sumptuously decorated with dark, polished mahogany bookshelves and leather furniture. She took a seat on the end of a sofa, crossed her legs and did her best to not look nervous.

Her host returned to the room and took a seat directly across from her. Before he said a word he looked her up and down slowly then began to ask her several questions, "What is your major? What classes are you failing? How many hours do you devote to study? Do you have a boyfriend? Do you party often with friends?"

Heather stammered answers to his onslaught of questions. His skill as an interrogator enabled him to swiftly identify her problem. "Heather, you know how to study properly and you know where to get answers to the areas for which you require more explanation. In short, you have the means and opportunity to remediate the issue with your low grades, however you spend entirely too much of your time avoiding study and wasting time with social activities."

Heather wanted to display her willingness to admit her mistakes, "I agree," she offered.

He was terse. "I'm not interested in whether you agree with my observations and assessments. Do you understand?"

Heather was taken aback, "Yes, fine. Mister...what shall I call you?" she asked respectfully.

"You may call me Professor," he said, then continued, "Your problem is you lack any self-discipline. In such cases, you must acquire discipline from an outside source. That is my function. I will see to it that you study properly and that your grades improve. I am not part of the college faculty, I operate independently. My methods are simple but well proven. You will visit me at the frequency I require and during our visits you will you will be spanked. Is that clear to you, Heather?"

She didn't know what to say. His ad said corporal discipline and she assumed it would mean something physical but she somehow hoped it would be easy. "I guess it's clear. So, like, you would spank me on my jeans, or what?" she asked, trying to sound businesslike and not frightened.

"No, not on your jeans, Heather. It will be on your bare behind. And it won't always be with my hand. It might be a paddle or leather belt or another implement I deem necessary," he informed her.

Heather wasn't sure he was serious. His proposal sounded so bold it took her by surprise. "So, you would see my bare ass and spank it with your hand or a belt? Are you serious? That's how this works?"

The Professor sighed audibly, "First of all, how this works, to use your phrase, is that you will become both disciplined and motivated to improve your grades. That really is the only matter with which you need be concerned, as it is the objective you seek. Secondly, in order for it to work you must have a sense of dread in the alternative to improving yourself. In this case, you will dread our discipline sessions. To ensure that you dread them they need to be, shall we say, uncomfortable to you. And they need to be both physically uncomfortable and emotionally uncomfortable.
 
Do you follow that so far?"

"Yes, Professor," she answered.

"Fine. Then you will understand that to make you emotionally uncomfortable you will not only expose your bottom to view, you will be completely naked during your discipline. The more that embarrasses you, the better. To ensure you are physically uncomfortable you will be spanked or strapped quite hard. You can expect to have temporary marks on your behind and to be quite sore, I assure you. Is that clear to you, Heather?"

"Yes, Professor, it is. I just didn't expect this to be exactly how you would help me," she said.

"If you want drastic changes in the outcome of your grades you have to make drastic changes in what you do to achieve those grades. Partying and socializing haven't helped you and they remain unlikely to help you. Strict discipline is obviously what you need." The Professor paused to let his words sink in, then informed her of something she didn't consider. "You haven't asked me what this service will cost," he said.

Heather responded out of common reflex, "Honestly, I'm broke. I barely have money for food these days and if I lose my tuition assistance I'm sunk. I really have no way to pay you."

"You will pay me with your mouth." The room went totally silent.

"W...what? How?" stammered Heather.

"You heard me. It told you I was not affiliated with the college. I am also not doing this for the good of my health. I offer students in your position an important and valuable service and I am paid for it. You will pay me with your mouth. You will perform oral sex on me when I ask you to. You may make use of my services for as much or as little time as you choose but you will always pay for my time and attention by satisfying me with fellatio."

Heather blushed and continued to stammer, "I...I don't. I don't know if I can do that."

"I'm sure you've had several boyfriends by this point in your life, correct?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered.

"And you've performed oral sex on all or most of them, correct?" he asked in a matter of fact tone.

"Well, I suppose so," she equivocated.

"Then the task is nothing new to you. It's a form of payment you can make and can afford."

Heather was very nervous about making the commitment. "I don't know. It seems like I shouldn't be doing this. And it's like I get a whipping, which is going to hurt and then I have to do something to give you pleasure. You get everything and I don't get anything."

"That's not correct. You are going to get improved grades. Tell me, what happens if you fail this semester?" he asked.

"Well, I will lose my financial aid package, and...I guess I'd have to drop out of college," said Heather.

"And then where would you live?" he asked.

"I suppose I'd move back home with my parents," she replied.

"So, your alternative to my offer of assistance is to fail your semester, drop out of college, move back in with your parents at the age of twenty, try to find a job in this bad economy and start paying back your student loans right away? Is that it? Is that what you'd sooner do than receive regular discipline that costs you zero money and ensures your grades will improve and that you can graduate college with your financial aid in effect?"
 

The Professor's logic was impeccable and when he put the entire matter in that context Heather was at a loss to find a solid reason to refuse his deal. She knew if she refused and then had to drop out she would always kick herself for not taking a little short-term pain to get long term gain. She clenched her fists with determination and blurted out, "I'll do it!"

"Very well," said the Professor and he handed her a single sheet of paper that contained her written agreement to the arrangement. She scanned the page then asked, "Why do you need my phone number and my login and password to the campus computer system?"

"I need the latter so I can check the college computer to see your grades, and the former so I can contact you to schedule your sessions. You don't expect me to take your word for your academic performance do you?" he asked.

Heather signed the form and handed it back to him. The Professor folded it neatly and put it in his desk drawer. He then gave her instructions about how he wanted her to study for three hours every night and then set her alarm clock one hour earlier than usual and study again for one hour before going to classes. He asked her many questions about each subject with which she struggled. He was very familiar with all her classes and knew what stage she was at and what was coming next in her courses. He made her repeat back all of his instructions. Heather grew more nervous as he was winding down his instructions because she knew what was coming next.
 

 
"Are you clear on what I expect you to do insofar as study habits are concerned, Heather?" he confirmed.

"Yes, Professor," she replied.

"Very well. Now remove all of your clothes for your spanking," he said calmly.

A wave of lightheadedness hit Heather. She could feel herself breathing. She unbuttoned her pants and let them fall to the floor exposing her pink thong underwear. "Where should I stand?" she asked in a nervous voice.

"You won't be standing. You will go over my knee. However, I believe I already informed you that you will be completely naked. You will remove every stitch of your clothing before you go over my knee."

A lump formed in her throat. Her body was tense as she slowly removed her shirt. Heather was medium height with a curvy but athletic body and long blonde hair. She deliberately fumbled with the clasp of her bra to delay exposing her breasts to his view. When she released them she saw his eyes lock onto her ample, swaying flesh. She bent low to remove her socks and knew his eyes would be on her shaven pussy. She'd been naked in front of guys plenty of times but it was always mutual and always a prelude to sex. Never had she experienced the embarrassment of being stark naked in front of an older man who was fully dressed and waiting to administer a spanking. When she was finished undressing she looked everywhere in the room except at the Professor. She tried to act like holding her hands in front of her bare pussy was a natural pose. The Professor was amused.