Brenda - Part 3 M/F

Professor Theron turned to face Brenda. She was still in the corner, hands on her head, panties about her knees like he placed her. He half smiled. She looked so cute like that. Then his face went hard again. Cheating, lying, those were two things that really got his blood boiling. He spent twice as much time as other professors in office hours because he really cared for his students. There was every opportunity to ask for help. Many a time before he had arranged for extra tutoring or even had tutoring sessions himself to help a student particularly stumped with his material. So in his mind, there was no excuse for cheating.

And lying was a sin that he placed high on his list of sins. He always felt that integrity was not emphasized enough to todays younger. Well it looked like he would be doing a bit of his special "tutoring" today.

"Brenda, turn around," he said in a stern voice. She seemed smaller as she turned to face him. Maybe it was because she she was wearing socks and panties and the slimmest of blouses. That blouse had looked so cute in the morning but suddenly felt precariously about to float away. Brenda felt very weak. The ordeal of standing in the corner in plain sight of the other students had taken it's toll. There was no attempt at subterfuge, no scheming. She just wanted this to be over. But she also dreaded what was to come.


"Sir," she started out in a weak voice. "I'm very sorry for what I've done. Please, don't be too hard on me. I won't do it again." Brenda's face reddened as she was all too conscious of her situation. She tried to plead her way out of it. God what was he going to do?

The professor ignored her. He simply moved the side chair over to the middle of the office where there was more room. Brenda had never really noticed that chair before. It was one of those pieces of furniture that never fit in the office but was not remarkable for any other reason. It was quite a plain chair, wooden and sturdy, without arm rests. Now, more than ever, it seemed incongruous with the rest of the room. It's very sturdiness implied structure, conformity as a premonition to her fate. The professor pulled open the lower drawer of his desk and placed what he retrieved on top.

It was a brush. Such a simple item. About a foot long. Dark. Very dark, but not black. The bristles were short. It was probably a brush for coats, to remove lint or ice or whatnot. Actually kind of an old fashioned item. These days most people used those tape rolls for lint. Why keep a brush like that?

Brenda swallowed as she stared at the brush. Her eyes teared up as the self pity started welling up inside her. Why, why, why? Her eyes snapped back to the professor has he started to speak again.

"Brenda, I will not tolerate cheating in my classroom. Students have every opportunity to learn and cheating undermines everyones efforts." The professor continued on with his lecture as Brenda  half listened. She couldn't focus, couldn't think except for the picture of the brush in her head. The next thing she realized he had grabbed her arm. She automatically resisted, tried to pull back but his grip was firm. She was pulled forward as he sat in the chair and pulled her over his lap. She fell across his lap with a gasp. He controlled her so easily. She was unwilling to fully cooperate but somehow was unable to really resist. Maybe it was the panties about her knees that sapped her will,

Finding it hard to breath in that position Brenda was forced to place her hands on the ground. Her weight was on her arms and shoulders as the professor bounced her around his lap into a comfortable position. She felt utterly helpless. If she reached back to stop him she would have a hard time breathing. And with her feet off the ground there was no way she could do anything to protect her bare behind. Fear grew in her as she waited. She felt his weight shift, heard something slide a bit. Was he picking up the brush?

The answer was a painful smack to her left cheek. "Owww!" Another fell, then another. She cried out some more and struggled, as best she could. But that consisted of her twisting just a bit and kicking. she really couldn't do anything else. She vainly tried to fend off his blows with one arm. But then her other arm grew tired and she had to go back to holding up her body with both hands on the ground. Meanwhile, the smacks continued their painful assault on her ass. She cried out. She screamed. She sobbed. Nothing changed. The professor paused now and then to lecture her about cheating and integrity. Also to let her catch her breath. She thought each time he was through but a few more questions and then the smacks began anew. He first started asking her questions about her previous tests, if she had cheated. Did she do her homework herself. she answered truthfully each time. She had to. With the pain from the spanking she could barely think straight. And if she didn't answer he would spank her in the same place several times. The pain was unbearable. Occasionally so unbearable that she couldn't seem to breathe. She didn't cry out anymore. Instead she would just whimper and gasp. Then the questions turned to her behavior. Did she think lying was acceptable. Did she think she was better than others, did she deserve to be let off. Finally she couldn't even answer at all. She just lay there as he spanked and spanked and spanked. Her focus was simply maintaining her sanity as each spank exploded in hot pain on her rear. She thought she could hear the faint sounds of the students outsides but filed that away in her mind for later humiliation. Right now the only thing was the brush and the voice. No cheating, no lying it repeated over and over.

After awhile of crying she realized the spanking was over. She scrabbled at the floor to get up. Finally she dropped to the floor, both hands kneading her cheeks. She could feel the swollen flesh, rippled with bruises. She got up slowly, awkwardly. Embarrassed at her actions she couldn't look him in the face. Painfully she pulled up her panties and fetched her skirt. The professor meanwhile had calmy returned the brush to its place in the desk drawer and moved the chair back to the side. She slowly pulled the skirt on and stood there with her hands still rubbing her backside in a vain effort to quiet those fires. The intense pain had subsided but was replaced by a steady burn.

"Brenda," the professor began. "I hope you have learned your lesson. I don't want to have to repeat this." Brenda shook her head silently. Wordlessly she stepped up to the professor and he put his arms around her. she sobbed silently. Somehow, in spite of it all, she felt better as the professors strong arms held her.

After a bit, Brenda stepped back. "I'm sorry sir, this won't happen again," she said. Suddenly, she realized with embarrassment that she was aroused. Oh my god, she thought. What is going on? She looked at him to see if he noticed anything but couldn't tell. It was always hard to read behind his careful countenance. His eyes were mysterious as they looked down on her. She gathered her books and struggled to put on her shoes. It hurt to bend over for those things and she imagined the scene she must be making as she painfully moved about. she was almost walking like an old lady with a bad back except in her case it was her rear.

She opened the door and saw the cluster of students waiting outside. They were quietly staring at her with questioning eyes. No doubt they had heard it all. Some were quiet and sympathetic while others held giggles behind their hands. She painfully hobbled past with tiny steps. Time seemed to drag on as she slowly made her way back home, each step resolving to never cheat again or lie.

Copyright 2013