Spanking After Class

Reader Advisory: These stories are for mature audiences only and feature intensely erotic situations, dominant women and submissive men, taboo teacher/student relations, discipline, spanking, and humiliation. All characters are 18 or older.

Jackson doesn’t know why he started the rumor about Professor Eliza Richardson, his young and beautiful economics professor. Maybe it was a plea for attention or maybe it was just a way of making a long-hidden fantasy become slightly real. But whatever the reason, the rumors have made their way to the Dean of Student Affairs Ms. Clay herself, and when Jackson is called down to the office on a Friday afternoon, he finds out the dean’s heard a lot more.

Once past the initial mortification, he can admit he’s probably earned the spanking she’ll give him, but did Ms. Clay really have to tell Professor Richardson about the whole thing, too? Surely the professor will find her own ways to settle accounts, and all Jackson can do is wait and see which method will leave him more sore.


The ensuing silence was awful. After daring the initial glance towards Professor Richardson my eyes had stayed locked on a spot on the floor near the leg of the desk. I could feel her considering me.

“Won’t you say something, Professor?” I finally blurted.

“I’m trying to understand you, Jackson.”

“What’s to understand? I shouldn’t have said – I just made a mistake.”

“What did you want?”

I struggled with the question. “I guess I just sort of liked the idea of it, to tell the truth,” I said finally in a very quiet voice. “I’m just so incredibly embarrassed, Professor.”

She blinked in surprise. Then she started to laugh. “Is that what it was?” she said. “I thought I saw something in the way you looked at me, and it made the lie all the harder to understand.” She closed the door of the office and stepped into the room. “But then again, if you knew the headache … what a stupid thing.”

“I’m sorry.”

She billowed the top of her blouse with a hand and ran frustrated fingers through her lustrous, dark hair. Even though it was wildly inappropriate given the situation, I couldn’t help but find her even more alluring when angry than when she was calm and collected. She seemed simultaneously capable of anything and yet in control. I got the sudden and very strange insight that she had probably been the type to get into a lot of trouble when she was younger.

She turned back to look at me and caught me staring. Her eyes locked to mine, freezing me in place, and I watched a faintly appraising look come into her face. Her full lips pursed thoughtfully.

“Well what are we going to do about this?” she asked.

The question sounded rhetorical, so I watched her without answering.

“Tell me,” she said, walking over to lean against the desk only a couple feet from me. “What is it exactly you told people I did?”

Notice: This title includes themes and passages that have been adapted from Jessica Whitethread’s Naughty Rumors with full consent of the original author.

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