Paradiizee
07-02-2013, 08:09 PM
By: Marci
Emma Watson paused with her fingers over the keyboard as she stifled a yawn, her essay still only half completed. Looking up at the clock she thought ‘Damm, two thirty and I’m still no where near finished. The ‘Profs’ going to kill me if I don’t hand it in on time.’
Nearing the end of her first term at university, Emma was a straight ‘A’ student in the Liberal Arts and one of the subjects on the curriculum was history, and at the moment she was struggling with an essay on the origins of the American Revolution. Normally this wouldn’t have been a problem; she loved history and liked nothing better than to immerse herself in books for hours on end researching a subject.
Unfortunately she was ill prepared for this assignment however, because at the suggestion of her producer of the forth coming film, “Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows”, she had agreed to
appear on the David Letterman show to promote the film, and she had spent most of the late afternoon and evening at the studio, leaving her little time for research.
As she contemplated the sparsely worded essay before her, she cursed herself for agreeing to do the show, but realised it was too late now. She’d just have to make the most of it, and recommenced typing, her hands flying over the keyboard as she raced against time to complete the work for submission to Professor Schlumberger that morning, cursing both her producer and herself for the position she found herself in.
At four O’clock she finally printed out a copy and shut the computer down with a sense of relief, hoping she’d done enough to maintain her ‘A’ rating. Climbing into bed, she set the alarm clock for eight thirty, deciding a half an hours extra sleep was more important than breakfast, silently vowing that she’d give no more interviews during term time.
Waking up the next morning to the incessant ringing of the clock, Emma groaned in dismay and hauled herself out of bed, groping her way to the shower so that its’ powerful jets could start the process of waking her. Fifteen minutes later she was towelled, dressed and walking over the campus to her first lecture, feeling slightly more human than she had done a little earlier, the essay inside her brief case ready to be handed in to Professor Schlumberger.
Emma left the lecture hall one hour later in the company of her friend Jennifer Warner, a nineteen year old freshman from the mid west who Emma had taken an instant liking to. Not only was she fun to be around, but she treated Emma as a normal girl next door, not as famous child star protégé as some of the other students did. They’d both joined the field hockey team and were playing in the first eleven, Jennifer at centre half and Emma on the wing. This was a further reason for the growing bond between them, but more importantly they felt they could confide their troubles to each other.
Sitting in the refectory drinking coffee, Jennifer looked across at her friend and asked “Is everything alright? You don’t seem your usual self today.”
Emma looked up. “I’m sorry, is it that obvious?”
“Well, you haven’t said much all morning, and you seemed a bit subdued as we left Professor Schlumberger’s lecture.”
“It’s just ….. well I was on the Davis Letterman show last night.” said Emma.
“I know; I saw you and you looked really cool in that little black dress. But I must admit I was a little surprised, as I thought you’d told your producer you’d do no interviews during term time.”
“I had, but he can be quite persuasive when he wants to be.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“It’s the essay I’ve just handed in.” answered Emma miserably. “You know I want to concentrate on my studies, which is why I didn’t want any distractions like last night. Up to now I’ve managed straight “A’s”, but because of that dammed interview I found myself short of time and ended up working until four this morning finishing the essay. Unfortunately I don’t think the ‘Prof’ is going to be too impressed with it.”
“Look, it’s not the end of the world.” said Jennifer, giving Emma what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “You might be pleasantly surprised; after all, the ‘Prof’ seems to like you and under the circumstances will probably make an allowance.”
“I hope so; it’s really important to me that I keep my marks up. I managed to do it in school while filming, and I don’t want to let myself down now, but at the moment that’s exactly how I feel.”
“Well there’s nothing you can do about it now, so you’ll just have to wait until next week to find out what he thinks. In the meantime, we’ve a match this Saturday and Megan’s called an extra practice session for this afternoon.”
“I know; she’s determined to maintain our unbeaten record this season, and Yale have traditionally been our bogey team so she’s taking no chances this year. Let’s hope we can turn the tables on them.” said Emma, brightening at the prospect of the weekend match.
The following Monday the whole campus was still basking in the ladies historic three one victory over their traditional adversaries, none more so than Emma who had provided the cross for the last goal. Her mood soon changed however as she opened the essay handed back to her by Professor Schlumberger. In bright red letters at the bottom was scrawled a ‘B’ with a terse message: ‘See me in my office at 4 O’clock.’
Emma felt a flutter of apprehension as she read the message; not only had her worst fears regarding the grade come true, but she now had the decidedly unpleasant prospect of an interview with the formidable professor, an event she was certainly not looking forward to. For the next hour she had difficulty in concentrating as Professor Schlumberger lectured them on expansion of the nation westward and the effect this had on the indigenous Indians.
Over lunch she confided in Jennifer. “You know I was worried about my essay last week. Well it turns out I was right. I got a ‘B’.” Emma said with a glum expression.
“Oh dear.” replied Jennifer, not sure what she could say to cheer up her friend. “It could have been worse.” she ventured.
Emma looked up from her plate of pasta she’d been stirring absently around. “I’m afraid it is worse; not only did he give me a ‘B’, but he’s asked to see me at four this afternoon.”
“What are you going to tell him?”
“I think it’s more a case of what he’s going to tell me, don’t you?” replied Emma, sighing. “What a mess; I was doing so well and now this. I suppose I’ll just have to face the music.”
“It may not be as bad as you imagine.” said Jennifer, trying to lift her spirits. “After all he isn’t an ogre or something like that.”
“I know, but when he fixes me with his eye and calls me ‘Miss Watson’ I feel like a little girl. Why can’t he call me Emma, like he calls some other girls by their Christian name?”
“I don’t know. He never calls me Jennifer, but I’ve noticed he calls both Sarah and Teri by theirs. I don’t suppose it’s that important, so I wouldn’t let it worry you.” Looking at her watch Jennifer scrambled up from the table. “Sorry, I’ve got to fly or I’ll be late for my art lecture. Just remember, he doesn’t bite.”
“Thanks, I’ll try and remember that.” replied Emma with a wan smile.
Two hours later Emma approached Professor Schlumberger’s office with a certain trepidation. Stealing herself, she knocked on the closed door. On hearing a muffled “Enter” she closed her hand on the door handle, and entered his office, careful to close the door behind her as her nostrils were assailed by the sweet smell of tobacco.
“Ah, Miss Watson, I’m glad to see you are punctual. Please take a seat.” said Professor Schlumberger, seated behind his desk that was strewn with papers, surrounded by a cloud of smoke emanating from his pipe
Emma walked to the chair in front of his desk and sat down, fidgeting her hands as the professor fixed her with a steely gaze over the tops of his half moon glasses. After what seemed an eternity he slowly removed the pipe and cleared his throat.
“Do you know why I have asked to see you?” he asked.
“”I … I think I can guess.” stammered Emma.
“Guess Miss Watson, you are not at this university to guess.” said Professor Schlumberger with slow, measured words. “You are here to learn, to make reasoned judgments based on factual evidence. So, based on this new found insight as to why you are attending this distinguished centre of learning, perhaps you can tell me why I have asked to see you.”
Feeling slightly in awe under the withering gaze, Emma gulped. “I’m sorry Professor. W ..what I meant to say was I know why you’ve asked to see me. It’s the ‘B’ you gave me for last weeks’ essay”
The professor smiled for the first time since Emma had entered his office. “That’s quite alright my dear, I accept your apology. Now, what happened with this essay? You’ve been a model student up to now and I’ve been very impressed with your work. Not only are your essays well researched, but you marshal the salient points and write with a style that covers the subject matter succinctly, leaving me in no doubt that you understand the topic clearly. It is for this reason that I’ve always awarded an ‘A’ for your work. So tell me, what happened last week?”
“It’s my fault really.” replied Emma, looking up and holding his gaze. She decided to tell him everything, hoping he’d understand. “When I joined the university I’d resolved to devote all my time to studies during the term time, and told my producer I wouldn’t be available for any promotional work for “Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows” during this time, you know, the film I’d just completed before coming here.”
“I’m well aware of your success as an actress; we all are, and were very proud when you decided to join us here as a student. Go on please.”
“Well last week I received a call from my producer to tell me that Daniel, one of my co-stars, was due to appear on the David letterman show that night, but he’d gone down with the flu, and would I step in at the last minute. Foolishly I agreed, with the result that I left myself very little time to research the essay and only finished it at four in the morning before your lecture.” Emma paused before concluding. “I know it’s no excuse and I take full responsibility; I’m sorry.”
Professor Schlumberger stared intently at Emma, trying to discern if there was any insincerity in her words. Finding none he smiled. “I did wonder when I saw you on that show ….”
“You watch David Letterman?” blurted out Emma, unable to contain her shock.
“Of course; we don’t all live in ivory towers. I quite enjoy the variety of guests he has on his show, and if I may say so I thought you were quite good.”
“Oh, thanks.” said Emma, blushing at the compliment.
“Unfortunately that still leaves us with your essay that in all conscience didn’t merit more than a ‘B’. I am quite aware that this mark will count against your final grades this year, but you must remember I have a responsibility to this university, as well as your fellow students to ensure that every grade awarded is a true reflection of the work submitted.”
“I know professor.” replied Emma dejectedly.
As if he had not heard her, the professor continued. “That being said, I am aware that sometime there are exceptional circumstances that need to be taken into account, and that some students ought to be allowed a second chance.”
From the depth of her despair, Emma looked up with a glimmer of hope. “You mean …”
Professor Schlumberger held up his hand. “Wait my dear; you haven’t heard what I’m going to say yet.”
Emma felt her hopes beginning to subside, but looked at the ‘Prof’ intently as he continued.
“Students come here to learn not only their chosen subject, but also about life. We help to train their minds, to question accepted thesis, to broaden their outlook on and of life. We also teach them to take responsibility for their actions, their conduct, their interaction with their fellow students and the faculty. Do you understand what I am saying?”
“I think so.” replied Emma, although not quite sure where this was leading.
“Do you? I wonder.” said Professor Schlumberger. “Tell me, why do you think I’m disappointed with your essay?”
“Because it wasn’t up to the standard both you and I expect of me.” replied Emma automatically.
Professor Schlumberger shook his head slowly. “That’s only part of the reason. You’re correct in thinking I do not think your essay was not up to your usual standard; your research was patchy, not even mentioning the Sugar Act of 1764 nor the effect the Currency Act of 1763 had on trade in the colonies, and as a result your conclusion missed many relevant factors in the causes of the revolution. That being said however, it is not the main reason why I am disappointed.”
Emma looked confused and asked “But why …. I mean what ….”
“I’m disappointed that you didn’t think. You had planned to research and write the essay, then received a call to conduct a television interview, returned to college and worked until four in the morning and submitted, what for you was, a substandard piece of work. What you should have done, if you had thought about it, was to come to me, explained the situation, and asked for a short extension of time to complete the essay properly. As it is, you now leave me with a dilemma.”
“I’m sorry.” said Emma. “I didn’t think to ask you. I mean, you’re my professor; I didn’t think I could ask for an extension of time.”
“Obviously, but now to my dilemma; I have a straight ‘A’ student who stupidly, and I use that word advisedly, who stupidly submits an essay that is not up to scratch, thereby jeopardising her final grades, and leaves me with the question of what to do about it. Fortunately I have encountered this little problem before, and have found a solution that corrects both the grade and the problem.”
Emma looked at the ‘Prof’ expectantly. “What d’you mean?”
“What I mean is I am going discard the essay you submitted and give you the chance to re-write it. I am sure you will research it more thoroughly and present me with a paper that merits an ‘A’, something I think you’ll agree we would both like.”
Emma let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you professor, you don’t know what this means to me.”
“Oh I think I do,” replied the professor, “but before you thank me I think you should know that there is a price to pay.”
“A price ….?” asked Emma, frowning uncertainly. “What d’you mean?”
“I mean I expect students, especially ones with a very high degree of intelligence like yourself to take a mature and responsible attitude for their decisions. As I just explained you didn’t think things through properly and as a result made the wrong decision, a decision that needs correcting.”
“Correcting? But it will be when I’ve rewritten the essay.” said Emma.
“Quite so my dear, but you also need to pay a price for this second chance, and as such it is not only the essay that needs correcting; it is also you.”
“Me ….. what d’you mean me? I don’t understand.”
“It’s really quite simple; I like to call it negative therapy, whereby I do something you will not enjoy, and in turn you will modify your behaviour as a result. In your case meaning you will think things through and make considered decisions.”
“I … I don’t understand.” stammered Emma, not seeing at all what the professor was driving at.
The professor opened a draw in his desk and extracted a leather paddle, placing it on the desk in front of Emma. “D’you know what one of these is?” he asked.
Emma stared at the paddle, her eyes widening in horror as she began to understand where the professor was leading her. Unable to reply she merely nodded her head.
“And I presume you know what it’s used for?”
Emma gulped. She’d never been spanked before, but she knew exactly what the paddles purpose was and became uncomfortably conscious of her own backside as she replied hesitantly. “Y. yes …… it’s ….. it’s used for s … spanking.”
“Excellent. Well, that’s the price I expect you to pay. I know it’s not a very pleasant prospect, but I do find it a most effective method of reinforcing the lesson I’m trying to teach.”
Emma continued to gaze at the paddle as she churned her dilemma over in her mind. A spanking at her age was certainly not something she’d either imagined or contemplated, and the prospect of an embarrassing and painful punishment was mortifying. On the other hand, she realised she had messed up, and the ‘Prof’ was offering her the chance of correcting her mistake and maintain her ‘A’ grade status.
Acutely aware that the professor was silently watching her, waiting for her decision, Emma looked up. “I …. I don’t know what to say …. that is I do know what to say, but …. but ….. oh god ….. I’m so embarrassed ….”
“I know Emma, it’s not easy to admit ones mistakes, less still to accept guidance and correction from another, but I think you know it’s both deserved and necessary, and a small price to pay for keeping your studies on track.”
Emma stared at the professor, taken aback that he’d used her christian name for the very first time. She remembered her comment to Jennifer earlier that day and then thought of Sarah and Teri. The implication slowly dawned upon her that she wasn’t the first girl to be offered this solution!
Emma reluctantly nodded her head in agreement. “You’re right professor; it’s not easy for me to agree, but I do deserve it if I’m going to get a second chance, and I do want a second chance; so if it’s the price I’ve got to pay I’ll take the spanking, however embarrassing it’s going to be.”
“Very well.” said the professor as he stood up and walked around his desk, Emma automatically rising from her chair in response. Pushing the paddle to the left side of the desk, the professor turned Emma’s chair around and sat down, starting to roll up his right shirt sleeve as he did so.
Standing to his right, Emma watched with butterflies in her stomach as the professor completed his preparations, wishing the ground would open up and swallow her. What followed was even worse and made her blush.
“You’d better take those down,” said the professor, indicating her Calvin Klein jeans.
With fumbling fingers Emma unbuckled her Louis Vuitton belt and popped the button of her jeans before lowering the zip. Struggling to slip her jeans down due to their tightness, Emma paused to hitch her knickers back up as they threatened to follow her jeans southward, before stooping down to push her jeans around her ankles. Standing back up, she was thankful she was wearing a white blouse that covered both the front and back of her knickers, affording her at least a modicum of modesty.
Unsure what to do next, the decision was taken out of her hands as the professor took hold of he arm, and with an “over you go” she found herself drawn smoothly down and over his knee, finding her nose barely six inches from the carpet as blood rushed to her head, acutely conscious that her bottom now prominently displayed would soon be the centre of the professors undivided attention.
Emma blushed even more as she felt the tail of her blouse being pushed up, exposing her pink boyshort briefs, the waistband and legs edged with white elastic trim, thoroughly embarrassed as the professor ran his hand over the soft cotton stretched taut over her buttocks like a drum skin.
Feeling very much like a naughty schoolgirl, Emma took an intake of breath as she felt the professor take a firmer hold around her waist, sensing her punishment was about to commence. A moment later she felt his palm smack her left cheek, a warm stinging sensation left in its’ wake, followed closely by a similar sensation on her other cheek.
The entrée was brief as the professor spanked Emma’s panty clad derriere, methodically applying his palm left and right, left again, bringing a warm tingling sensation to her twin moons that left Emma feeling as if her bottom had been lightly sautéed, but as with all entrées they must come to an end, a prelude to the main course whose preparation she was as yet mercifully unaware of.
Emma’s innocent naivety was soon rudely interrupted as she felt the professor slip his fingers inside the waistband of her knickers, causing her to look back with a startled expression.
“Professor, what ever are your doing? You can’t be serious …. Please …. I mean … nooo …. you can’t take my knickers down …..”
“My dear, I’m afraid I’m entirely serious. I’m of the opinion that if a jobs worth doing, it’s worth doing well, and for a spanking to be totally effective it must be administered to the bare bottom. It therefore follows with an inevitable logic that you will understand that I am indeed going to take your panties down.”
Emma groaned in resignation as, suiting action to his words, the professor proceeded to slip her pink panties down, leaving them hanging around her knees like a scrap of flotsam. The descent of her knickers caused Emma to blush furiously, her embarrassment surging tenfold now that her bare bottom was on display.
These thoughts were short lived however, as the professor set about teaching her an exemplary lesson, his hand rising and falling in a steady rhythm as he roamed all over her derriere, her rosy cheeks beginning to take on a scarlet hue as the spanking continued.
Emma started to gasp in discomfort as the heat began to rise in her upturned cheeks, gradually increasing until it felt as if she was roasting back there. She began to drum her feet on the floor ineffectually, hobbled as she was by her jeans that acted like manacles around her ankles, all to no avail as the professor’s punishing palm unerringly continued to baste her burning derriere.
It was with relief therefore, that a minute later she felt him rest his hand on her burning cheeks, giving her a brief respite from the decidedly unpleasant punishment she was enduring; brief, because she was uncomfortably aware that the professor had not used the paddle yet.
As if sensing her thoughts, the professor reached back and lifted the paddle off the desk. “I’m afraid we’re not quite finished yet.” said the professor as he rested the cool leather on her bottom. “For full contrition to be achieved I need to see tears, and while my hand would take too long to achieve this aim, I find this can accomplish the mission more expeditiously.”
Before Emma even knew what was happening a searing pain suffused her right cheek, causing her to screw her eyes up as she screeched in pain, the excruciating sensation intensified due to her already well tanned backside, and it wasn’t long before the floodgates opened as Emma was unable to resist the inevitable any longer. Tears began to stream down her face as her derriere was flambéed by the wicked paddle, each scorching stroke adding to the inferno that was by now blazing uncontrollably all over her flame red cheeks. With a wail of despair she slumped over the professors’ knee, sobbing loudly as all her senses concentrated on her derriere glowing like a brazier.
Seeing Emma’s capitulation, Professor Schlumberger put down the paddle and waited a moment for his contrite student to regain her breath before gently helping her up from his knee, amused to see her hands flying back to assuage her sore bottom. Waiting a little longer for her tears to subside, he took her by the arm and guided her to a corner, Emma’s fallen jeans causing her to shuffle her feet.
“Emma, I think five minutes in the corner while you contemplate the reasons you’re sporting a sore red bottom will complete your punishment; and you may rub your bottom if it helps.”
The five minutes seemed like an eternity as Emma gingerly massaged her assaulted derriere, the burning sensation gradually cooling to a warm glow. She couldn’t believe a simple spanking could be so embarrassing or painful, but ruefully acknowledged that it was certainly effective; as a result, she vowed to herself she would make every effort to maintain her ‘A’ grades whatever it took, having no wish to find herself over the ‘Profs’ knee for a second time.
Emma turned her head as the professor cleared his throat. “Ok Emma, you can pull your jeans and panties up know, and I hope you’ve learnt a valuable lesson.”
As Emma retrieved her knickers from around her knees, wincing as she eased them up over her sore cheeks, she replied with feeling “Yes professor, I certainly have and I definitely don’t want a repeat performance, so you can rest assured I’ll be a model student from now on!”
Stooping to pull up her jeans she heard the professor chuckle. “I’m sure you mean it Emma, but I know what you students are like, and if I were you I wouldn’t be too surprised if you find yourself over my knee again sometime in the next couple of years.”
Buckling her belt, Emma looked across at the Professor Schlumberger. “Not if I can help it!”
“We’ll see won’t we?” replied the professor. “Now I want to see your revised essay by the end of the week, and make sure your other work doesn’t suffer as a result. Is that clear?”
“Yes sir.” replied Emma, heading for the door.
“Oh, and Emma.”
“Yes.”
“I’m proud you accepted the consequences, really proud, and I’m sure I’m not mistaken when I say I have every confidence you’re going to be one of my top students.”
“Thank you; I’ll try not to let you down.” replied Emma, leaving his office not only with a warm glow beneath the seat of her jeans, but also a warm glow in her heart.
Deciding what had happened to her was so private and personal that she couldn’t tell even Jennifer, for the next week or so she kept evading all her friends questions about her visit to the ‘Profs’ office, especially when she was asked why Professor Schlumberger was now calling her Emma.
Two weeks later however, Emma was sitting with Jennifer drinking coffee, her friend apparently none to comfortably.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” asked Jennifer, all too conscious of the heat radiating from her derriere.
Emma smiled. “Well it’s not everyday a girl finds herself over her professors’ knee having her bottom spanked, and it’s certainly not something she wants to discuss, even with her best friend, is it?”
“I suppose not.” replied Jennifer with a sigh.
“Besides, you now know why he calls me Emma, and from now on he’ll be calling you Jennifer.”
“God, it was so embarrassing when he took my panties down.”
“Yes, I know what you mean.” replied Emma. “But the worst of it was when he took the paddle to my already sore derriere. Boy did it sting; he had me wailing like a banshee in no time at all.”
“Quite.” agreed Jennifer. “By the time he’d finished spanking me I was vowing never to put myself in that position again.”
“I did exactly the same.” said Emma, a slight wrinkle forming across her forehead. “The trouble is I have a nasty suspicion it won’t be the last time we find ourselves over his knee.”
“I hope not!” replied Jennifer.
“Well I’m afraid it’s a distinct possibility.” said Emma, nervously wondering if she could avoid the professors’ paddle over the next two years.
Off my official blog (http://www.savannanicoleofficial.com/2013/07/emma-pays-price.html)
Emma Watson paused with her fingers over the keyboard as she stifled a yawn, her essay still only half completed. Looking up at the clock she thought ‘Damm, two thirty and I’m still no where near finished. The ‘Profs’ going to kill me if I don’t hand it in on time.’
Nearing the end of her first term at university, Emma was a straight ‘A’ student in the Liberal Arts and one of the subjects on the curriculum was history, and at the moment she was struggling with an essay on the origins of the American Revolution. Normally this wouldn’t have been a problem; she loved history and liked nothing better than to immerse herself in books for hours on end researching a subject.
Unfortunately she was ill prepared for this assignment however, because at the suggestion of her producer of the forth coming film, “Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows”, she had agreed to
appear on the David Letterman show to promote the film, and she had spent most of the late afternoon and evening at the studio, leaving her little time for research.
As she contemplated the sparsely worded essay before her, she cursed herself for agreeing to do the show, but realised it was too late now. She’d just have to make the most of it, and recommenced typing, her hands flying over the keyboard as she raced against time to complete the work for submission to Professor Schlumberger that morning, cursing both her producer and herself for the position she found herself in.
At four O’clock she finally printed out a copy and shut the computer down with a sense of relief, hoping she’d done enough to maintain her ‘A’ rating. Climbing into bed, she set the alarm clock for eight thirty, deciding a half an hours extra sleep was more important than breakfast, silently vowing that she’d give no more interviews during term time.
Waking up the next morning to the incessant ringing of the clock, Emma groaned in dismay and hauled herself out of bed, groping her way to the shower so that its’ powerful jets could start the process of waking her. Fifteen minutes later she was towelled, dressed and walking over the campus to her first lecture, feeling slightly more human than she had done a little earlier, the essay inside her brief case ready to be handed in to Professor Schlumberger.
Emma left the lecture hall one hour later in the company of her friend Jennifer Warner, a nineteen year old freshman from the mid west who Emma had taken an instant liking to. Not only was she fun to be around, but she treated Emma as a normal girl next door, not as famous child star protégé as some of the other students did. They’d both joined the field hockey team and were playing in the first eleven, Jennifer at centre half and Emma on the wing. This was a further reason for the growing bond between them, but more importantly they felt they could confide their troubles to each other.
Sitting in the refectory drinking coffee, Jennifer looked across at her friend and asked “Is everything alright? You don’t seem your usual self today.”
Emma looked up. “I’m sorry, is it that obvious?”
“Well, you haven’t said much all morning, and you seemed a bit subdued as we left Professor Schlumberger’s lecture.”
“It’s just ….. well I was on the Davis Letterman show last night.” said Emma.
“I know; I saw you and you looked really cool in that little black dress. But I must admit I was a little surprised, as I thought you’d told your producer you’d do no interviews during term time.”
“I had, but he can be quite persuasive when he wants to be.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“It’s the essay I’ve just handed in.” answered Emma miserably. “You know I want to concentrate on my studies, which is why I didn’t want any distractions like last night. Up to now I’ve managed straight “A’s”, but because of that dammed interview I found myself short of time and ended up working until four this morning finishing the essay. Unfortunately I don’t think the ‘Prof’ is going to be too impressed with it.”
“Look, it’s not the end of the world.” said Jennifer, giving Emma what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “You might be pleasantly surprised; after all, the ‘Prof’ seems to like you and under the circumstances will probably make an allowance.”
“I hope so; it’s really important to me that I keep my marks up. I managed to do it in school while filming, and I don’t want to let myself down now, but at the moment that’s exactly how I feel.”
“Well there’s nothing you can do about it now, so you’ll just have to wait until next week to find out what he thinks. In the meantime, we’ve a match this Saturday and Megan’s called an extra practice session for this afternoon.”
“I know; she’s determined to maintain our unbeaten record this season, and Yale have traditionally been our bogey team so she’s taking no chances this year. Let’s hope we can turn the tables on them.” said Emma, brightening at the prospect of the weekend match.
The following Monday the whole campus was still basking in the ladies historic three one victory over their traditional adversaries, none more so than Emma who had provided the cross for the last goal. Her mood soon changed however as she opened the essay handed back to her by Professor Schlumberger. In bright red letters at the bottom was scrawled a ‘B’ with a terse message: ‘See me in my office at 4 O’clock.’
Emma felt a flutter of apprehension as she read the message; not only had her worst fears regarding the grade come true, but she now had the decidedly unpleasant prospect of an interview with the formidable professor, an event she was certainly not looking forward to. For the next hour she had difficulty in concentrating as Professor Schlumberger lectured them on expansion of the nation westward and the effect this had on the indigenous Indians.
Over lunch she confided in Jennifer. “You know I was worried about my essay last week. Well it turns out I was right. I got a ‘B’.” Emma said with a glum expression.
“Oh dear.” replied Jennifer, not sure what she could say to cheer up her friend. “It could have been worse.” she ventured.
Emma looked up from her plate of pasta she’d been stirring absently around. “I’m afraid it is worse; not only did he give me a ‘B’, but he’s asked to see me at four this afternoon.”
“What are you going to tell him?”
“I think it’s more a case of what he’s going to tell me, don’t you?” replied Emma, sighing. “What a mess; I was doing so well and now this. I suppose I’ll just have to face the music.”
“It may not be as bad as you imagine.” said Jennifer, trying to lift her spirits. “After all he isn’t an ogre or something like that.”
“I know, but when he fixes me with his eye and calls me ‘Miss Watson’ I feel like a little girl. Why can’t he call me Emma, like he calls some other girls by their Christian name?”
“I don’t know. He never calls me Jennifer, but I’ve noticed he calls both Sarah and Teri by theirs. I don’t suppose it’s that important, so I wouldn’t let it worry you.” Looking at her watch Jennifer scrambled up from the table. “Sorry, I’ve got to fly or I’ll be late for my art lecture. Just remember, he doesn’t bite.”
“Thanks, I’ll try and remember that.” replied Emma with a wan smile.
Two hours later Emma approached Professor Schlumberger’s office with a certain trepidation. Stealing herself, she knocked on the closed door. On hearing a muffled “Enter” she closed her hand on the door handle, and entered his office, careful to close the door behind her as her nostrils were assailed by the sweet smell of tobacco.
“Ah, Miss Watson, I’m glad to see you are punctual. Please take a seat.” said Professor Schlumberger, seated behind his desk that was strewn with papers, surrounded by a cloud of smoke emanating from his pipe
Emma walked to the chair in front of his desk and sat down, fidgeting her hands as the professor fixed her with a steely gaze over the tops of his half moon glasses. After what seemed an eternity he slowly removed the pipe and cleared his throat.
“Do you know why I have asked to see you?” he asked.
“”I … I think I can guess.” stammered Emma.
“Guess Miss Watson, you are not at this university to guess.” said Professor Schlumberger with slow, measured words. “You are here to learn, to make reasoned judgments based on factual evidence. So, based on this new found insight as to why you are attending this distinguished centre of learning, perhaps you can tell me why I have asked to see you.”
Feeling slightly in awe under the withering gaze, Emma gulped. “I’m sorry Professor. W ..what I meant to say was I know why you’ve asked to see me. It’s the ‘B’ you gave me for last weeks’ essay”
The professor smiled for the first time since Emma had entered his office. “That’s quite alright my dear, I accept your apology. Now, what happened with this essay? You’ve been a model student up to now and I’ve been very impressed with your work. Not only are your essays well researched, but you marshal the salient points and write with a style that covers the subject matter succinctly, leaving me in no doubt that you understand the topic clearly. It is for this reason that I’ve always awarded an ‘A’ for your work. So tell me, what happened last week?”
“It’s my fault really.” replied Emma, looking up and holding his gaze. She decided to tell him everything, hoping he’d understand. “When I joined the university I’d resolved to devote all my time to studies during the term time, and told my producer I wouldn’t be available for any promotional work for “Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows” during this time, you know, the film I’d just completed before coming here.”
“I’m well aware of your success as an actress; we all are, and were very proud when you decided to join us here as a student. Go on please.”
“Well last week I received a call from my producer to tell me that Daniel, one of my co-stars, was due to appear on the David letterman show that night, but he’d gone down with the flu, and would I step in at the last minute. Foolishly I agreed, with the result that I left myself very little time to research the essay and only finished it at four in the morning before your lecture.” Emma paused before concluding. “I know it’s no excuse and I take full responsibility; I’m sorry.”
Professor Schlumberger stared intently at Emma, trying to discern if there was any insincerity in her words. Finding none he smiled. “I did wonder when I saw you on that show ….”
“You watch David Letterman?” blurted out Emma, unable to contain her shock.
“Of course; we don’t all live in ivory towers. I quite enjoy the variety of guests he has on his show, and if I may say so I thought you were quite good.”
“Oh, thanks.” said Emma, blushing at the compliment.
“Unfortunately that still leaves us with your essay that in all conscience didn’t merit more than a ‘B’. I am quite aware that this mark will count against your final grades this year, but you must remember I have a responsibility to this university, as well as your fellow students to ensure that every grade awarded is a true reflection of the work submitted.”
“I know professor.” replied Emma dejectedly.
As if he had not heard her, the professor continued. “That being said, I am aware that sometime there are exceptional circumstances that need to be taken into account, and that some students ought to be allowed a second chance.”
From the depth of her despair, Emma looked up with a glimmer of hope. “You mean …”
Professor Schlumberger held up his hand. “Wait my dear; you haven’t heard what I’m going to say yet.”
Emma felt her hopes beginning to subside, but looked at the ‘Prof’ intently as he continued.
“Students come here to learn not only their chosen subject, but also about life. We help to train their minds, to question accepted thesis, to broaden their outlook on and of life. We also teach them to take responsibility for their actions, their conduct, their interaction with their fellow students and the faculty. Do you understand what I am saying?”
“I think so.” replied Emma, although not quite sure where this was leading.
“Do you? I wonder.” said Professor Schlumberger. “Tell me, why do you think I’m disappointed with your essay?”
“Because it wasn’t up to the standard both you and I expect of me.” replied Emma automatically.
Professor Schlumberger shook his head slowly. “That’s only part of the reason. You’re correct in thinking I do not think your essay was not up to your usual standard; your research was patchy, not even mentioning the Sugar Act of 1764 nor the effect the Currency Act of 1763 had on trade in the colonies, and as a result your conclusion missed many relevant factors in the causes of the revolution. That being said however, it is not the main reason why I am disappointed.”
Emma looked confused and asked “But why …. I mean what ….”
“I’m disappointed that you didn’t think. You had planned to research and write the essay, then received a call to conduct a television interview, returned to college and worked until four in the morning and submitted, what for you was, a substandard piece of work. What you should have done, if you had thought about it, was to come to me, explained the situation, and asked for a short extension of time to complete the essay properly. As it is, you now leave me with a dilemma.”
“I’m sorry.” said Emma. “I didn’t think to ask you. I mean, you’re my professor; I didn’t think I could ask for an extension of time.”
“Obviously, but now to my dilemma; I have a straight ‘A’ student who stupidly, and I use that word advisedly, who stupidly submits an essay that is not up to scratch, thereby jeopardising her final grades, and leaves me with the question of what to do about it. Fortunately I have encountered this little problem before, and have found a solution that corrects both the grade and the problem.”
Emma looked at the ‘Prof’ expectantly. “What d’you mean?”
“What I mean is I am going discard the essay you submitted and give you the chance to re-write it. I am sure you will research it more thoroughly and present me with a paper that merits an ‘A’, something I think you’ll agree we would both like.”
Emma let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you professor, you don’t know what this means to me.”
“Oh I think I do,” replied the professor, “but before you thank me I think you should know that there is a price to pay.”
“A price ….?” asked Emma, frowning uncertainly. “What d’you mean?”
“I mean I expect students, especially ones with a very high degree of intelligence like yourself to take a mature and responsible attitude for their decisions. As I just explained you didn’t think things through properly and as a result made the wrong decision, a decision that needs correcting.”
“Correcting? But it will be when I’ve rewritten the essay.” said Emma.
“Quite so my dear, but you also need to pay a price for this second chance, and as such it is not only the essay that needs correcting; it is also you.”
“Me ….. what d’you mean me? I don’t understand.”
“It’s really quite simple; I like to call it negative therapy, whereby I do something you will not enjoy, and in turn you will modify your behaviour as a result. In your case meaning you will think things through and make considered decisions.”
“I … I don’t understand.” stammered Emma, not seeing at all what the professor was driving at.
The professor opened a draw in his desk and extracted a leather paddle, placing it on the desk in front of Emma. “D’you know what one of these is?” he asked.
Emma stared at the paddle, her eyes widening in horror as she began to understand where the professor was leading her. Unable to reply she merely nodded her head.
“And I presume you know what it’s used for?”
Emma gulped. She’d never been spanked before, but she knew exactly what the paddles purpose was and became uncomfortably conscious of her own backside as she replied hesitantly. “Y. yes …… it’s ….. it’s used for s … spanking.”
“Excellent. Well, that’s the price I expect you to pay. I know it’s not a very pleasant prospect, but I do find it a most effective method of reinforcing the lesson I’m trying to teach.”
Emma continued to gaze at the paddle as she churned her dilemma over in her mind. A spanking at her age was certainly not something she’d either imagined or contemplated, and the prospect of an embarrassing and painful punishment was mortifying. On the other hand, she realised she had messed up, and the ‘Prof’ was offering her the chance of correcting her mistake and maintain her ‘A’ grade status.
Acutely aware that the professor was silently watching her, waiting for her decision, Emma looked up. “I …. I don’t know what to say …. that is I do know what to say, but …. but ….. oh god ….. I’m so embarrassed ….”
“I know Emma, it’s not easy to admit ones mistakes, less still to accept guidance and correction from another, but I think you know it’s both deserved and necessary, and a small price to pay for keeping your studies on track.”
Emma stared at the professor, taken aback that he’d used her christian name for the very first time. She remembered her comment to Jennifer earlier that day and then thought of Sarah and Teri. The implication slowly dawned upon her that she wasn’t the first girl to be offered this solution!
Emma reluctantly nodded her head in agreement. “You’re right professor; it’s not easy for me to agree, but I do deserve it if I’m going to get a second chance, and I do want a second chance; so if it’s the price I’ve got to pay I’ll take the spanking, however embarrassing it’s going to be.”
“Very well.” said the professor as he stood up and walked around his desk, Emma automatically rising from her chair in response. Pushing the paddle to the left side of the desk, the professor turned Emma’s chair around and sat down, starting to roll up his right shirt sleeve as he did so.
Standing to his right, Emma watched with butterflies in her stomach as the professor completed his preparations, wishing the ground would open up and swallow her. What followed was even worse and made her blush.
“You’d better take those down,” said the professor, indicating her Calvin Klein jeans.
With fumbling fingers Emma unbuckled her Louis Vuitton belt and popped the button of her jeans before lowering the zip. Struggling to slip her jeans down due to their tightness, Emma paused to hitch her knickers back up as they threatened to follow her jeans southward, before stooping down to push her jeans around her ankles. Standing back up, she was thankful she was wearing a white blouse that covered both the front and back of her knickers, affording her at least a modicum of modesty.
Unsure what to do next, the decision was taken out of her hands as the professor took hold of he arm, and with an “over you go” she found herself drawn smoothly down and over his knee, finding her nose barely six inches from the carpet as blood rushed to her head, acutely conscious that her bottom now prominently displayed would soon be the centre of the professors undivided attention.
Emma blushed even more as she felt the tail of her blouse being pushed up, exposing her pink boyshort briefs, the waistband and legs edged with white elastic trim, thoroughly embarrassed as the professor ran his hand over the soft cotton stretched taut over her buttocks like a drum skin.
Feeling very much like a naughty schoolgirl, Emma took an intake of breath as she felt the professor take a firmer hold around her waist, sensing her punishment was about to commence. A moment later she felt his palm smack her left cheek, a warm stinging sensation left in its’ wake, followed closely by a similar sensation on her other cheek.
The entrée was brief as the professor spanked Emma’s panty clad derriere, methodically applying his palm left and right, left again, bringing a warm tingling sensation to her twin moons that left Emma feeling as if her bottom had been lightly sautéed, but as with all entrées they must come to an end, a prelude to the main course whose preparation she was as yet mercifully unaware of.
Emma’s innocent naivety was soon rudely interrupted as she felt the professor slip his fingers inside the waistband of her knickers, causing her to look back with a startled expression.
“Professor, what ever are your doing? You can’t be serious …. Please …. I mean … nooo …. you can’t take my knickers down …..”
“My dear, I’m afraid I’m entirely serious. I’m of the opinion that if a jobs worth doing, it’s worth doing well, and for a spanking to be totally effective it must be administered to the bare bottom. It therefore follows with an inevitable logic that you will understand that I am indeed going to take your panties down.”
Emma groaned in resignation as, suiting action to his words, the professor proceeded to slip her pink panties down, leaving them hanging around her knees like a scrap of flotsam. The descent of her knickers caused Emma to blush furiously, her embarrassment surging tenfold now that her bare bottom was on display.
These thoughts were short lived however, as the professor set about teaching her an exemplary lesson, his hand rising and falling in a steady rhythm as he roamed all over her derriere, her rosy cheeks beginning to take on a scarlet hue as the spanking continued.
Emma started to gasp in discomfort as the heat began to rise in her upturned cheeks, gradually increasing until it felt as if she was roasting back there. She began to drum her feet on the floor ineffectually, hobbled as she was by her jeans that acted like manacles around her ankles, all to no avail as the professor’s punishing palm unerringly continued to baste her burning derriere.
It was with relief therefore, that a minute later she felt him rest his hand on her burning cheeks, giving her a brief respite from the decidedly unpleasant punishment she was enduring; brief, because she was uncomfortably aware that the professor had not used the paddle yet.
As if sensing her thoughts, the professor reached back and lifted the paddle off the desk. “I’m afraid we’re not quite finished yet.” said the professor as he rested the cool leather on her bottom. “For full contrition to be achieved I need to see tears, and while my hand would take too long to achieve this aim, I find this can accomplish the mission more expeditiously.”
Before Emma even knew what was happening a searing pain suffused her right cheek, causing her to screw her eyes up as she screeched in pain, the excruciating sensation intensified due to her already well tanned backside, and it wasn’t long before the floodgates opened as Emma was unable to resist the inevitable any longer. Tears began to stream down her face as her derriere was flambéed by the wicked paddle, each scorching stroke adding to the inferno that was by now blazing uncontrollably all over her flame red cheeks. With a wail of despair she slumped over the professors’ knee, sobbing loudly as all her senses concentrated on her derriere glowing like a brazier.
Seeing Emma’s capitulation, Professor Schlumberger put down the paddle and waited a moment for his contrite student to regain her breath before gently helping her up from his knee, amused to see her hands flying back to assuage her sore bottom. Waiting a little longer for her tears to subside, he took her by the arm and guided her to a corner, Emma’s fallen jeans causing her to shuffle her feet.
“Emma, I think five minutes in the corner while you contemplate the reasons you’re sporting a sore red bottom will complete your punishment; and you may rub your bottom if it helps.”
The five minutes seemed like an eternity as Emma gingerly massaged her assaulted derriere, the burning sensation gradually cooling to a warm glow. She couldn’t believe a simple spanking could be so embarrassing or painful, but ruefully acknowledged that it was certainly effective; as a result, she vowed to herself she would make every effort to maintain her ‘A’ grades whatever it took, having no wish to find herself over the ‘Profs’ knee for a second time.
Emma turned her head as the professor cleared his throat. “Ok Emma, you can pull your jeans and panties up know, and I hope you’ve learnt a valuable lesson.”
As Emma retrieved her knickers from around her knees, wincing as she eased them up over her sore cheeks, she replied with feeling “Yes professor, I certainly have and I definitely don’t want a repeat performance, so you can rest assured I’ll be a model student from now on!”
Stooping to pull up her jeans she heard the professor chuckle. “I’m sure you mean it Emma, but I know what you students are like, and if I were you I wouldn’t be too surprised if you find yourself over my knee again sometime in the next couple of years.”
Buckling her belt, Emma looked across at the Professor Schlumberger. “Not if I can help it!”
“We’ll see won’t we?” replied the professor. “Now I want to see your revised essay by the end of the week, and make sure your other work doesn’t suffer as a result. Is that clear?”
“Yes sir.” replied Emma, heading for the door.
“Oh, and Emma.”
“Yes.”
“I’m proud you accepted the consequences, really proud, and I’m sure I’m not mistaken when I say I have every confidence you’re going to be one of my top students.”
“Thank you; I’ll try not to let you down.” replied Emma, leaving his office not only with a warm glow beneath the seat of her jeans, but also a warm glow in her heart.
Deciding what had happened to her was so private and personal that she couldn’t tell even Jennifer, for the next week or so she kept evading all her friends questions about her visit to the ‘Profs’ office, especially when she was asked why Professor Schlumberger was now calling her Emma.
Two weeks later however, Emma was sitting with Jennifer drinking coffee, her friend apparently none to comfortably.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” asked Jennifer, all too conscious of the heat radiating from her derriere.
Emma smiled. “Well it’s not everyday a girl finds herself over her professors’ knee having her bottom spanked, and it’s certainly not something she wants to discuss, even with her best friend, is it?”
“I suppose not.” replied Jennifer with a sigh.
“Besides, you now know why he calls me Emma, and from now on he’ll be calling you Jennifer.”
“God, it was so embarrassing when he took my panties down.”
“Yes, I know what you mean.” replied Emma. “But the worst of it was when he took the paddle to my already sore derriere. Boy did it sting; he had me wailing like a banshee in no time at all.”
“Quite.” agreed Jennifer. “By the time he’d finished spanking me I was vowing never to put myself in that position again.”
“I did exactly the same.” said Emma, a slight wrinkle forming across her forehead. “The trouble is I have a nasty suspicion it won’t be the last time we find ourselves over his knee.”
“I hope not!” replied Jennifer.
“Well I’m afraid it’s a distinct possibility.” said Emma, nervously wondering if she could avoid the professors’ paddle over the next two years.
Off my official blog (http://www.savannanicoleofficial.com/2013/07/emma-pays-price.html)