Samantha stepped into her Macro social work class, sighing as she settled into a seat in the back, pulling her laptop out of her backpack. It was only the first day of classes, but she already had several pages of notes, since she had a feeling Elizabeth would be checking. She turned it on, and fought the urge to activate her wireless card. Even though class hadn’t started, it was just too tempting, and she didn’t want to earn a punishment on the first day of class. Especially since her bottom was still just a little sore from her most recent play date with Elizabeth. They’d taken to getting together a couple times a week, during which Elizabeth would spank her, though much more lightly than the punishment spanking had been. These were light, as was her mood, and brought her close to tears, or sometimes just to tears, but typically no more, unless Samantha requested it. Yesterday, she’d asked Elizabeth to use a ping pong paddle, and that thing had stung. She realized she was less likely to cry during a play spanking, just because of the emotional factors involved…a play spanking was fun…a punishment was not.
Samantha was thinking about Elizabeth, and for a moment thought this was the reason she saw her walk into the room, and set a brief case on the large table in the front, next to a podium. She stared, and Elizabeth turned to her, meeting her eyes without a hint of surprise, smiling, no doubt at the look on Samantha’s face. The class quieted, and Elizabeth spoke.
“Welcome to Macro practice. I’m Dr. Elizabeth Williams, an adjunct professor…” Samantha heard nothing else for about five minutes, her mind processing the idea that Elizabeth was her professor, and wondering if she was going to be mad that Samantha sat in the back.
* * * * *
Samantha hung back until everyone had left at the end of class, and Elizabeth was finishing putting extra handouts back in her briefcase when Samantha approached the table.
“You could have told me,” she mumbled. Elizabeth just smiled at her.
“And miss that reaction? You looked like you thought I might pull you up to the front and paddle your bottom in front of the class,” Elizabeth teased.
“I rather did,” Samantha acknowledged, blushing.
“Not likely. But from now on, you sit in the front. In all your classes,” Elizabeth instructed firmly, closing the brief case.
“Yes, Ma’am,” Samantha mumbled.
“Now run along,” Elizabeth said firmly. “You only have a few minutes before your next class.” Samantha turned automatically to obey, and the message Elizabeth had sent was loud and clear: I’m here; I’m watching…don’t you dare misbehave. Samantha didn’t intend to.
Samantha settled into a routine with Elizabeth, and her homework. She found herself getting more out of her classes than she’d ever done before, because she always had the reading done, and was familiar with the notes from the previous class. She loved her dates with Elizabeth, and the dominance of the older woman in her lifestyle. She knew slacking off was not an option, now, and she felt safe and secure in that knowledge, and thrived on the strokes and affirmation Elizabeth rewarded her with.
It really was for this reason that she ended up in so much trouble. She had scheduled a play date with Elizabeth one day before her policy class, but had failed the day before to do the reading scheduled. She knew the best idea was probably to cancel or at least shorten her play date with Elizabeth, but was enjoying herself so much, she somehow forgot all about the reading. She intended to tell Elizabeth the next day, when she remembered right before class, but then in class they had a quiz, which she failed. The professor had them grade the quizzes themselves, and Samantha passed forward her 53% very unhappily. She knew she was really in for it now, until it occurred to her that there was no reason Elizabeth had to know about the quiz. She didn’t know that Samantha had missed the reading, and so if Samantha said nothing about the quiz, she wouldn’t know anything. That would have probably worked out just fine, too, except that Elizabeth substituted for her policy professor the next week.
“Dr. Ryson mentioned that you’d graded these yourselves, so you should all already know what your scores are,” Elizabeth said, flipping through the stack of quizzes as she handed them back, calling each name. She got to Samantha’s and paused, her eyes narrowing.
“Samantha Rogers,” she called, and her eyes met Samantha’s as she handed her the failing quiz. Samantha wanted desperately to avoid that hard, calculating, and merciless look on Elizabeth’s face, but found herself unable to look away. It was Elizabeth who broke eye contact, returning to the stack of papers and calling the next name. She didn’t look at Samantha the rest of the class period, and by the end Samantha was a ball of nerves, her hands trembling as she struggled to focus and take notes, knowing the last thing she wanted was to be caught not paying attention. At the end of class she stayed behind again, fumbling with her bag until the others had left, and approaching Elizabeth hesitantly.
“Er, Dr. Williams?” she asked, since she knew Elizabeth preferred to be addressed properly at the school. Elizabeth looked up from the papers she was putting in her briefcase, and her eyes were hard and level when they met Samantha’s. “Elizabeth,” she amended, wanting to be clear what the topic was. Elizabeth’s lips tightened, and she shook her head.
“Stand in the corner after your last class. No clothes. Wait there for me without moving.” Her voice was soft, and cool. Samantha felt her eyes fill with tears and nodded.
“Y-Yes, Ma’am,” she whispered, and fled the room.
* * * * *
Arriving in her apartment after her last class, Samantha thought she might throw up. Her stomach seemed to be growing more and more anxious as the afternoon wore on, and she wanted nothing more than for this day to be over with. She walked into her room, and dropped her backpack on the floor. Hesitating for only a moment, she shucked off her jeans, tennis shoes, t-shirt, and finally her bra and underwear. She folded them neatly and set them in a pile on the bed, knowing Elizabeth was likely to check her room. Then, with a sigh of resignation she moved to the living room, and placed herself in a corner that would not be visible from the open door. As an afterthought, she placed her hands on top of her head, thinking Elizabeth might like the gesture of submission.
She probably wouldn’t have done that if she’d realized how long Elizabeth would be. After 15 minutes, her arms were aching, and she shifted anxiously from one foot to the other, feeling foolish and embarrassed. After half an hour, her arms burned, and she considered dropping them. But that was silly. She’d put them on her head as a gesture of submission, and either she was submitted, or she wasn’t. She continued shifting from foot to foot, leaning against the wall sometimes, and regretting heartily her decision not to tell Elizabeth about her failed quiz. She’d been in the corner for 45 minutes when she heard Elizabeth’s key turn in the lock, and she bit her lip, realizing that she could in fact feel more anxious than she had over the last several hours. Elizabeth closed the door, saying nothing, and Samantha heard it lock. She heard Elizabeth set something down behind her, probably her bag, and then move into the back, checking her room no doubt. Samantha was suddenly quite glad she’d folded her clothes so neatly. She heard Elizabeth return to the living room, and it seemed to take all of her will power to keep from turning around. She could picture Elizabeth standing behind her, arms folded, watching her coolly, and the image made her shiver.
“I’m going to tell you right now, Samantha Rose, that I am pretty damn angry with you.” Samantha flinched, unsure if it was Elizabeth’s use of her middle name or profanity that made her more uneasy. Neither was a good sign, she decided. “I suggest that if you don’t want today repeated every day for the next 2 weeks, that you demonstrate to me that you understand the seriousness of your mistake, and that you are committed and submitted to your punishment. Am I clear on that?”
“Y-Yes, Ma’am,” Samantha said, her voice trembling, and barely above a whisper.
“Good. Turn around, please,” Elizabeth instructed, and Samantha turned, not taking her hands down from her head, and feeling the familiar flush in her cheeks as she faced Elizabeth completely nude. Elizabeth’s eyes swept her body casually. “Have you had your hands on your head the entire time?” she asked.
“Yes, Ma’am,” Samantha said, keeping her eyes on the ground.
“Thank you,” Elizabeth said, her voice softening just a little. “I can see that you have the right attitude. You can put your arms down, now, they must be aching.” Samantha dropped her arms quickly, a movement that caused fresh pain, as they’d stiffened in their position. She winced, and pressed her hands to her sides, still staring at the floor. Elizabeth sat on the couch, and patted her lap. Biting her lip, Samantha obeyed, moving quickly to her, and laying herself over Elizabeth’s lap. Elizabeth arranged her, and began swatting immediately, which startled Samantha. She reminded herself to stay still, reminded herself that she deserved every swat, and buried her head in her arms. After a short time, just as the heat was starting to build, Elizabeth stopped.
“Now, tell me how this happened, Sam,” Elizabeth said. Ashamed, Samantha blurted the story, explaining how she’d missed the reading, and intended to tell Elizabeth, but had then failed the quiz also, and was scared to tell her she’d failed the quiz.
“What were you scared of, sweetie?” Elizabeth asked, her voice gentling. “A spanking?” Samantha shook her head.
“No, Ma’am…I mean, sort of…I just…I mean…You spank me all the time, Ma’am. I guess I knew it would be a hard spanking…a punishment. But it was more…I’d been enjoying our time together so much. I didn’t want to ruin it. I didn’t want to disappoint you.” Her voice was a whisper at this last, and she buried her head, realizing how foolish it sounded in light of her current position. Elizabeth patted her bottom.
“If you’d told me you didn’t do that reading, I’d have given you a hard paddling, and set you in the corner for a few minutes, and that would have been it. After all, this is exactly what you need help with. I don’t expect you to be perfect. Instead, what you’ve done is broken our trust. Now you’ve not only not done reading and failed a quiz, but you’ve lied to me. And if there is one thing I will not tolerate it is lying. And trust takes time to rebuild.” Samantha nodded miserably.
“Yes, Ma’am.” She turned to look at Elizabeth over her shoulder, even though she knew she wasn’t really supposed to. “I’m really sorry, Elizabeth,” she said, meeting Elizabeth’s eyes for the first time since that afternoon. “I really am. Honestly. I want…I want you t-to do whatever you have to…whatever you can t-to make it right…I-I don’t care if you have to whip me all night!” Elizabeth smiled, patting Samantha’s bottom again.
“Put your head down, Sam,” Elizabeth said, and Samantha obeyed. Elizabeth reached into the bag beside her, and picked a sturdy paddle. Samantha wasn’t nearly warmed up enough for the paddle; it would bruise pretty badly, which suited Elizabeth just fine. She raised it, and cracked it down hard on Samantha’s upturned bottom. The girl stiffened, gasping, and then relaxed. Elizabeth cracked it down again, and Samantha flinched again, before relaxing. Elizabeth kept this up, swinging hard, and waiting for Samantha to relax between strokes. After half a dozen, Samantha began to grunt softly with each stroke, but Elizabeth didn’t let up at all; she just continued, each stroke a deep thud of pain. After a dozen strokes, Elizabeth heard Samantha begin to cry softly, and was impressed that she hadn’t protested or pleaded at all, but she didn’t let up. She continued the slow, hard swats until she’d reached 40. By this time, Samantha was sobbing, hard, into her arms, her body shaking. Elizabeth set down the paddle, a little distastefully. She wondered if she’d let her anger get the best of her. Samantha’s bottom was bruising already, most of it a deep purplish color. Samantha continued to sob, near hysteria, almost choking as she tried to draw breath, and Elizabeth was surprised to find that the sound nearly tore her in half inside. She rubbed Samantha’s back gently, waiting for the girl to realize the paddling was over. Slowly, she did, and her sobs subsided gradually, until she lay across Elizabeth’s lap, hiccupping a little, still wiping tears. Her face was still wet when Elizabeth looked down, and saw that the girl had fallen asleep, the paddling and her sobbing draining her completely. Elizabeth smiled slightly, and nudged Samantha’s shoulder gently. Samantha’s eyes flew open, flicking nervously back to Elizabeth.
“I-I’m sorry!” she exclaimed.
“Hush, it’s fine,” Elizabeth said, patting her back. “Here, sit up.” Elizabeth took her arm, helping her up, and Samantha slid to her knees on the floor at Elizabeth’s feet, a position she’d taken to settling into when they were alone. Fresh tears slipped down her cheeks as the movement awoke her throbbing backside. She looked up at Elizabeth anxiously, and in her eyes was one question: Is it over? Elizabeth patted her head absently, setting the paddle back in the bag.
“You did wonderfully, Samantha. I’d like to explain the rest of your punishment to you now.” Samantha’s eyes widened, but she said nothing, nodding her understanding. “First off, you’ve got no privileges for the next week. That means no TV, no going out except to work and school, and no surfing the net. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Samantha said meekly, her dismay evident.
“Good. You’ll have another quiz in your policy class then, and your grade on that quiz will determine whether or not you’ll be allowed to have some privileges back. That should take care of your punishment for the reading and the quiz. As for lying to me…you will come to the play party as planned this weekend. But instead of it being a fun time for us, you’re going to seek out another Top, and request a punishment.” Samantha stared at Elizabeth, eyes wide with surprise.
“F-from another Dom?” she asked, her voice trembling.
“Yes,” Elizabeth answered firmly.
“Please, Elizabeth, don’t make me…I can’t stand someone else…” her voice trailed off as Elizabeth’s face hardened.
“You can, and you will. End of discussion.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Samantha whispered, lowering her head in submission. Elizabeth patted her head and stood.
“Well, I need to be going, and you have work to do. You can do your homework at the dining room table, tonight,” Elizabeth instructed. Samantha winced, knowing the hard chair would be extremely uncomfortable.
“Yes, Ma’am,” she answered. Elizabeth patted her head again, and left a moment later.