“Megan!” he scolded me.
“I’ll try to be a good girl from now on, sir!”
“I suppose you need further reminding of what happens to misbehaving housemaids.”
“Oh, please, sir!” I whined.
But, I resigned myself to further discipline by bracing my arms against the floor and moving forward a bit, presenting my bottom’s most sensitive sit spot and the backs of my upper thighs.
Professor Brooks pat me twice and then resumed my sound spanking. Now all his burning swats were directed right at that most sensitive area, getting the centre of both cheeks at once and often a bit of my thighs. Due to the moment he took to rub me and settle me down, it took a good ten spanks before I was back to feeling the full sting of my punishment. I began to cry out again as the lowest part of my bottom and the highest part of my thighs were reddened until the professor felt I had all I could take.
He allowed me to stand, and surreptitiously covered his lap with his own arms. “Your punishment isn’t over, Megan.”
“No, sir?” I asked, my burning cheeks helping me manage to withhold my delighted grin.
“I want you to stand with your red bottom on full display in the corner for the next twenty minutes while I work. The shame will do you well.”
This happened very often in the book as well, so it shouldn’t have been as surprising as it was. But I thought for sure he’d want to kiss me. Take me right then and there. He didn’t. I was made to wait in the corner in a position he’d chosen, with my skirt tucked all the way up, my panties down around my ankles, and my hands folded behind my back.
The shame of it engulfed me, and equally thrilled me. He worked – I heard papers shuffling and sometimes drawers opening. And I had to stand there on display, knowing his eyes would be checking me, taking in my near nakedness, seeing the work he’d done on my spanked bottom. After half the prescribed time, the sting in my bottom had settled into a warm glow, and between my legs I now ached for attention. I wanted him to force my legs far apart, run his hands up my thigh, and then feel me there, too. I wanted him to go on exploring until I helplessly lost control of myself and screamed as my pleasure peaked against his fingers. The thought made me squirm, shifting from leg to leg.
“Megan… ” he warned me.
“Sorry, sir,” I said, keeping still.
So he was indeed watching me. Like a hawk, it seemed. I sighed and fell back into my role as the professor’s maid, his servant, undergoing her punishment. It still filled me desire, but I managed better with my submissive role. I was not to beg for his pleasure – I was to take whatever was or wasn’t given to me. Right now, my order was to stand in shame against this wall, and so I did, because it was the professor’s command.
The final ten minutes passed slowly. My imagination filled the time with fantasies of being stripped fully naked and bent over that large, old desk and filled with his cock. But all he did when the time was up was allow me to dress and call me to his side.
I stood beside him almost exactly as I stood right before he spanked me. “Is there anything you’d like to tell me, Megan?”
He was so smart to put it this way. By wording it this way, he was allowing me to say if I didn’t actually enjoy any part of what happened. But if I had no complaints, I could let the roleplay continue exactly as before. I began to wonder if I was the only woman he’d ever spanked or dominated before, in fact. He wasn’t ever married, no, but that didn’t mean he’d never had any fun at all in his life.
“I’m sorry again for my error, sir,” was all I said, because I had no complaints.
“Very good. Well then. I suspect you’ll behave in the future. But, maybe you’d benefit from a strong reminder once a week, like Beth in the book.”
“Yes, sir,” I agreed a bit too quickly. It made him chuckle softly.
“Let’s say every Friday evening, Megan. You come knock on this door at around five-thirty, and I’ll take you over my knee and remind you to behave with a sound spanking a lot like that one.”
I almost thanked him aloud, and changed my mind. I made sure my eyes and a slight smile thanked him, though. “Yes, sir. Every Friday at five-thirty.”
***I thought that Professor Brooks would have taken me, at least by that night, but he never came knocking on my door. Instead, he only began playing along with the game I started. With a much more active and fully understanding participant in this protracted roleplay, my days became more exciting than I’d ever dreamed.
Every morning he now took me aside to inspect, checking over my uniform if only to run his hands over me and make me shiver with desire. I felt like a new, living artifact in his collection. Not quite a true Victorian-era housemaid, but a modern and deliriously amorous version. His warm hands slid just down the sides of my apron, rubbing the very outer sides of my breasts. How I wanted to grab his wrists and put his palms front and centre. I’d tilt back my head and-
“Good girl, Megan. Your uniform is correctly arranged. Please make eggs for breakfast today.”
I almost whimpered when he walked away to finish getting ready for work in the master bedroom.
All my needs during this time in our game had to be dealt with by myself alone. I was no stranger to this, and even had an assortment of little toys I’d brought along with me. A couple of rechargeable vibrators, a small plug, and a dildo. These served me well while I served the professor, and I had no doubt he was caring for his own needs as well. More than once I saw his need for me begin to tent his pants before he suddenly turned to leave the room. Did he view his own lust as a weakness? I don’t know. For now, he and I both seemed more enamoured with the strict roleplay than anything else. So we were patient.
The whole first week of my open submission to him, I was so good. Too good. When he beckoned me, I came trotting up to his side like his loyal lapdog. He’d ask little things, but important ones, letting me prove my servitude to him. These were always little pleasures, quick as they were. I’d have to fetch him a drink or a book or answer innocuous questions as respectfully as I could. Then on Friday I could hardly wait until five-thirty, and knocked on the study door ten minutes early. The professor pretended he didn’t notice, but I saw his amused grin just before he walked me back over the chair that I’d begun to call ‘the spanking chair’ in my head.
He made me announce again with some blushing shame how I was to take my maintenance spanking bare-bottomed and over his lap. And then he bent me over his knees, pulled my skirt up and my panties down, and commenced just about the same as the time before.
The professor reddened my bottom as though some hidden audience might be judging his authenticity as a disciplinarian. I was kicking and crying out helplessly over his lap during the long, hard spanking. The burning pain of the second time made me feel as if it would never be easy for me to submit to his punishments, and maybe that was the entire thrill of it – how deeply I had to submit in order to allow such a stinging, sound spanking to continue uninterrupted.
By the time he’d stopped, I had gone into a strange new state. I sunk even deeper into my role, until I felt like I was nothing and no one. Ethereal. A peace had settled over me and held me still. The whole ten minutes in the corner (a maintenance spanking came with less corner time) I didn’t squirm or whine. I just stood on display for him, and enjoyed the complete serenity of the moment.
“Are you alright?” he checked the moment my time in the corner had ended. I had barely squirmed this time.
“Yes, sir,” I said, my voice still a little faraway and dreamy.
The moment I’d fixed my uniform back into place, I suddenly hugged him. It made him chuckle with affection and I think he understood then that I really was alright. Better than alright. I was a girl who was getting exactly what she’d always needed.
***It was in my second week when I’d earned myself a real punishment. My very first, as we both knew the first time the professor took me over his lap, it was more of an experiment than a punishment.
Things were picking back up for him at work now. The new batch of undergrads would arrive soon, and Professor Brooks busied himself polishing up his syllabus and assignments. I missed having him almost all to myself, and it was distracting and frustrating at times being a servant all alone in the big old house without my master watching over me.
On Tuesday the professor asked me to clean the bookshelves in the study, and by the time he’d left, I’d completely forgotten. I went about my daily routine and only remembered the shelves the moment he returned from work and asked me if I’d had enough time to finish all the extra dusting.
My eyes must have given me away, going as big as tea saucers. “Oh! Oh, wait. Oh no. I’ve forgotten, sir!”
I wasn’t any more trained an actor than he was, so he could surely tell it was a genuine mistake. But he was not one to let an opportunity slip away. The professor narrowed his eyes at me and lowered his voice into its more strict tone. “Megan, are you saying you disobeyed me this morning?”
“I’d just forgotten, sir. I’ll dust the shelves tomorrow, I promise!”
“I’m sure you will,” he said. “But you were asked to do it today. Do you know what that means?”
“Yes, sir,” I sighed. “You’re going to punish me.”
He nodded and sighed just as I had, as though we were both put out by this whole thing.
I was genuinely anxious as I was marched into the study for my punishment. It was so real and so swift and I had no time to contemplate or prepare or get lustfully worked up over it. The professor had my hand and was guiding me right to that spanking chair, three days early. He scolded me, for something I really did do wrong, and I bowed my head in some embarrassment and listened.
“I’m surprised at you, Megan! I do hope you were honest that it was a slip of the mind and not willful disobedience.”
“I’m sorry, sir! I really did forget.”
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