Making the Grade

Zachariah Baxter stood by the open window, not really feeling the coolness of the early autumn breeze as it drifted lazily up from the quad.

His thoughts were troubled, and fully occupied with the dilemma in which he now found himself to notice the small inconvenience of a chill breeze.

He knew that he should file the necessary report with the Dean's office, even in the full knowledge of the damaging consequences that would inevitably result.

However, it was the knowledge of those consequences that was causing his dilemma and the very real prospect of ruining a promising young woman's entire future life so severely was hard for him to take.

He knew all too well that for her, dismissal from college, and for such a reason, would close every door on her future prospects.

If he chose to submit his report and effectively disown her, she would be in for a tough time, and a large part of his dilemma was simply that he genuinely felt for the young woman in question.

Zachariah was by nature a quiet, thoughtful man, softly spoken, yet carrying with him an air of authority that made him the envy of most of his colleagues, he was well liked and respected by both students and fellow lecturers.

He did not make rash or hurried decisions; instead, he always considered every angle, weighing the consequences of any chosen course of action carefully, however once he had made his decision, he was implacable and determined.

Zachariah had always believed that if a person was old enough to ask a question, then that person was old enough for a truthful answer. He also believed strongly that if a person chose to do something they clearly knew was wrong, then they had also chosen and accepted the inevitable consequences.

Rhianwen Thomas had just left his office, red faced, in floods of tears after pleading, with genuine fear in her eyes. He was surprised when she had fallen to her knees, begging him to deal with this himself, to punish her, even beat her as he saw fit rather than alert the Dean's Office.

He had seen many a student in the past try to mitigate, try to charm, bribe and sometimes bully, using their family connections, themselves out of their self-imposed predicaments, but never had he seen one so genuinely wretched. He did have a great deal of sympathy for Rhianwen, she was very talented and very bright, but sadly from the wrong side of the class divide, a poor quarryman's daughter's from the Welsh Valleys and she did not fit in.

The student body drawn traditionally from the wealthy, the middle class prep schools combined with the Dean's grand experiment in placing students from state schools into the mix proved difficult for the individuals concerned. Normally shunned and ignored for the most part by the élite cliques, but when not being ignored, simply ridiculed.

Rhianwen was one such student, and although having the right qualifications; she had to live on the inadequate bursary the college provided, a bursary that did not provide her with accommodation. He knew she worked long hours at a less than reputable hotel to make ends meet and until recently had managed to keep within the top five percentile; this had slipped quite dramatically in recent months.

Rather sadly, this morning he had caught her red-handed helping herself to the small amount of money that was kept in the petty cash tin. After demanding an explanation from her, he now knew the reason why, and as a direct consequence why her grades were also slipping so drastically.

He had insisted that she explain herself, and at the time of asking, he was barely able to contain himself. That had rapidly changed when she broke down, telling him in her soft lilting welsh accent, how she was behind with her rent and the property owner was demanding a certain kind of favour or she would be thrown out onto the street.

He was aghast at how little money she had, how poor the wage from her job really was, how miserable the rest of the students were making her life, they had effectively ostracized her making it difficult for her to participate in the necessary study groups.

After hearing all of the details, he could grudgingly accept the imperativeness of her situation, and the reason why she did what she did, but that did not excuse her, she only had to come to him, tell him of her problems and he would have found some way of helping her.

She was due to return to his office at 5pm for his decision, so he settled back into his chair and thought.

~~0~~

Rhianwen Thomas had felt it, her breathing quickening, her body responding with an entirely new kind of excitement the first time she met her charismatic professor. His very presence somehow burned deep into her conscience, leaving her infatuated.

He was nothing but kindness and professional, with her and everyone else taking the degree, but there was an indefinable something that attracted her deeply. He possessed a certain kind of raw essence, and brilliance, she did not understand it, did not understand the feelings he evoked in her, or the way her body reacted whenever his beautiful grey eyes alighted on her.

She was in awe of him, fascinated, but afraid to engage with him properly, and yet, throughout the academic year, his insightful, complicated mind continued to enthral her.

Rhianwen was not late, at precisely 5pm she timidly knocked on his office door, she was terrified, she knew that what she had done was wrong, and she was painfully aware that her future now lay in the hands of her quietly spoken professor.

She was deeply troubled and fearful of the situation she had gotten herself into and she was so ashamed that, of all people, it had to be Zachariah Baxter that she had let down so badly.

"Enter." She heard him say, he sounded calm, which she hoped was a good sign, so swallowing her nerves, she pushed open the door and walked into his office. Sitting behind his desk stroking his pen across some papers, he looked troubled as she stood in front of him, her eyes downcast, and her whole body trembling.

"Please sit down Ms Thomas." He said quietly.

Rhianwen felt the deep heat of her flush, her cheeks burning, she could no longer control her limbs trembling, or the tight knot in her stomach that was giving her such terrible cramps, tears were threatening to overwhelm her.

"Ms Thomas" he started, his voice quiet, sounding almost regretful, "I have reached a decision regarding your future in this college, how you choose for me to proceed is entirely up to you. Please read the paper in front of you, read it carefully and if you agree unreservedly, and without hesitation with my conclusions then sign your name at the bottom." As he spoke, his eyes bore directly into her.

Rhianwen's hands were shaking hard as she picked up the neat hand written sheet of paper, and she had to push the back of her hand into her eyes to clear the tears that threaten to overwhelm her before she could read.

The first few paragraphs detailed what had occurred on discovery, this very morning, her hand in the petty cash tin. It also covered briefly the conversation that took place after he had caught her.

The penultimate paragraph however dealt with an agreement that the matter of referral upwards would remain strictly between the two of them if she acknowledged her guilt, and took responsibility for her actions. This also meant that she consented to undergo appropriate corporal punishment from him.

The final paragraph dealt with the nature of the proposed punishment.

Rhianwen had to once again wipe the tears from her eyes, reading the final paragraph three times, she was being given a lifeline, a second chance by this now rather sombre faced man who was watching her intently. The man she had come to respect and admire so much over the last year, and the man she had let down so badly.

Gently she placed the paper back onto the desk, her hand was shaking even harder as she bent slightly and picked up the pen, she had to try hard to still her hand enough to sign her name, when done she pushed the paper away, towards him.

He picked up the paper, "A wise choice Ms Thomas" he said as he quickly checked over her signature, then turning, placing the signed document into his desk draw, and locked it.

He stood, walking around his desk to stand behind the trembling girl. She did not turn to look at him, simply sat, visibly shaking, and her head bowed. He cleared his throat, "You understand that this punishment will hurt Ms Thomas, and that what you did will mean that your treatment will be harsh?"

"Yes, Sir, I know and I deserve it, I am so very sorry Sir, I let you down." She whispered.

"Be honest with me Ms Thomas, have you ever been punished by being spanked before?"

Rhianwen hesitated, and then whispered so quietly that he had to strain to hear, "Yes Sir, regularly by my father, he was very strict, he would spank me when he thought I was bad or even slacked off a little with my schoolwork."

He had read her personal file, knew that her Father had died in a quarrying accident two years ago, so his heart went out to her, and in a gentler tone he asked, "Tell me, Rhianwen, when was the last time you were spanked?"

Her answer was even quieter, "The day before my father died."

He lifted his hands, placing them gently on her shoulders in comfort; he could feel her trembling slightly, "I am sorry he was taken from you Rhianwen." He said as he instinctively reached for a tissue from the box on his desk, handing it to her, and allowing her the time to compose herself.

After five quiet, contemplative minutes, he cleared his throat and said. "Rhianwen Thomas, you have been caught stealing and for that transgression you shall receive a very through hand spanking. In addition, the matter is so grave, that you will then receive twelve strokes of the crop. I warn you now, Ms Thomas, that once I start, nothing you say or do will make me stop and it would be extremely foolish of you to hesitate or disobey any instruction that I give you. Do you fully understand, and agree?"

"Yes, Sir, I understand." She said.

"You will stand and remove your outer garments; the spanking will be administered with you in your undergarments over my knee." He said sternly.

"Sir?" Rhianwen gasped, hesitating, as this was unexpected.

He just stood there, his arms folded, looking formidable as he stared at her intently, "So Ms Thomas, you have chosen to question and disobey me before we even start, I take it from that you are not very serious about making amends for your actions."

Rhianwen immediately realised her mistake, he was being deadly serious, "Oh no, I am so sorry Sir," she said as she quickly stood and in one motion brought her hands up and began unbuttoning her dark blue blouse.

She worked quickly, pushing the blouse off her shoulders allowing it to fall to the floor. Then she started unzipping her knee length black skirt at the side, lowering it down her hips and legs, stepping out of it and leaving it in a heap on the floor.

Zachariah Baxter was more than a little surprised at the sight of Rhianwen; her white underwear was plain, cheap and had clearly seen much better days. She was trembling hard, her arms and hands trying to hide as much of her as she could manage.

Despite her poor underwear, her body was delightful, her pale skin, almost pure alabaster in colour, and contrasting nicely with her deep red hair. Her breasts where full and in proportion, obviously firm, as her cheap bra would not offer any support. Her waist, he noted, was perhaps a little too thin, but definitely emphasised her well-defined, shapely hips, her legs were long and supple.

He struggled not to look too long, instead hiding his admiration by moving over to the stiff high back chair that he had deliberately placed earlier.

"Ms Thomas, I am extremely disappointed with you right now and you need to understand how wrong I consider your actions to have been. You should also know how unhappy I am that you have allowed your work to slide and this is intolerable. Now get over my lap." His voice was hard, unforgiving, but she thought held a distinct undertone of caring, if that were indeed possible given the situation.

She stared down at her shoes, frozen to the spot where she stood.

"Ms Thomas, I will not come over there to get you, I will simply send you home, and then send my report to the Dean, the choice is yours."

Her legs were visibly shaking; tears were already leaking down her cheeks as she shuffled over to his right side, and allowed him to pull her down over his lap.

He adjusted her position so that his right thigh supported her hips and her body draped perfectly positioned over his lap.

Knowing that she could not see him, he smiled to himself, his eyes surveying the vulnerable young woman's beautifully shaped bottom; it was truly delightful, firm, and well proportioned. Then he spotted it, and immediately the sight of her bra strap, held together with a safety pin saddened him. It made him realise just how tough things truly were for her, and he immediately resolved to add one more thing to the list of help that he was prepared to extend to this vulnerable young woman.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself Ms Thomas?" he demanded.

"I am so ashamed Sir, and so sorry for letting you down Sir," she said, now accepting her fate.

Placing his left hand on the small of her back, he raised his right hand high, and brought it down sharply on her left bottom cheek, quickly followed by an equally smart smack to her right bottom cheek.

"Ouch!" Rhianwen cried, the strength in his hand surprising her.

Her hands flew up, trying to cover her bottom, but he was expecting this and catching her hands effortlessly in his left hand, he pinned them together against the small of her back.

A dozen slower, harder spanks landed on each of her bottom cheeks in turn, each one drawing a pained cry, he marvelled at how her flesh quivered, rippling away from his hand, the way her young lithe body, wriggled and squirmed on his lap.

"Please... please I'm sorry," she cried, pleading with him to stop as the intense spanking continued.

Her legs were kicking out, almost scissoring, his blows were methodical and precise, covering every inch of her thinly covered bottom as she kicked and cried out in protest. He heard each shoe fly off, skidding across the room with the violence of her kicking, he took no notice and continued his work.

Rhianwen lost count of the spanks, as hot salty tears where falling freely from her eyes and his blows moved down, catching the very top of her thighs were they joined with her cheeks.

Suddenly he stopped, and she fell limp over his lap, struggling not to cry too hard, but sniffling and panting. Then she felt his right hand slip under the waistband of her pants and begin to work them down her over her flaming cheeks. Deeply mortified and ashamed, the heat from her cheeks felt intense, she knew her bottom would now be fully exposed, but without thinking, without knowing why, or hesitating, she lifted up her hips a little to make it easier for him to slide the garment down her trembling thighs.

As soon as she settled back down, she felt the old garment drift down her calves and around her ankles, she gave a small kick and was free of them. Then she felt his hand gently stroking the heated, stinging flesh, he was tender, gentle, almost as if soothing her battered bottom, she drew in a deep breath, knowing that this was not over yet.

Without warning, his large, strong hand rose high, coming down fast and hard to smack against her bare bottom. He spanked faster, and harder, each stinging slap biting deep into the supple naked flesh of her bouncing cheeks, first one, and then the other cheek felt the full weight of his hand. His hand began moving down once more, working its way down to sting her tender upper thighs, her legs spreading widely as she sought to avoid the worst.

Her efforts to avoid the worse of his blows only served to give him a glimpse of the treasure between her legs. The kicking worked against her also, as whenever her legs spread he landed a stinging spank on the most tender, inner thighs.

She was biting her lips, working hard to hold on, desperate to see her punishment through to please him.

Each of his flat handed heavy blows were making her hips bounce against his thigh, and her gyrating and rocking hips ground her tender private parts against his trousers. Despite the pain, she began to feel something new, something overwhelming blossoming deep within her.

It was intoxicating, the heat of her bottom, the sharp pain was turning into amazing pleasure, and this combined with the gut wrenching deep feeling of humiliation and embarrassment at her nakedness was something new and exciting. Unfamiliar, delicious sensations flooded her senses, and without any conscious thought on her part, she began deliberately rubbing her sensitive girl parts against his leg.

She was rapidly losing all sense of modesty and it seemed her own body intentionally spread her legs, inviting even more stinging spanks to her most sensitive areas.

What she had not realised is that his spanks were now light, barely landing, but still she was unashamedly, grinding, and thrusting her now, very wet sex against him.

It was too much; the overwhelming feelings consumed her as her body exploded in pure sensations. The first wave hit her, she screamed, her body went taut, her mouth falling open wide as the overwhelming sense of a damn bursting ripped through her.

Zachariah Baxter stopped his final gentle spank in mid-air and smiled; he knew exactly what had just happened, he had recognised the heady scent of a girl in heat building, and the flow of her juices that soaked into his trouser leg as she lay moaning. Her body convulsed over his lap. Her toes curled and her body shaking.

He sat patiently, his hand gently brushing her hair as she calmed down. She relaxed, her muscles losing all of the tension as she sagged limply over his knee, and then she began softly crying.

He then noticed for the first time that the safety pin holding her bra strap had disappeared, and consequently her bra was slipping off her shoulders.

He realised that as soon as she stood, if she did not prevent her bra from falling, she would inevitably be completely naked, and the thought thrilled him.

Rhianwen Thomas cried freely, tears of pain, tears of remorse, but also tears of release and calm.

He held her, gently, tenderly over his lap as she cried; he stroked the young woman softly, his left hand travelling in lazy patterns over her shoulders, neck, and back.

"Let it all go Rhianwen, let it all go, there is no shame here." He whispered to her.

Once she was calm, Zachariah took her shoulders, lifting her slightly, "Stand up Rhianwen," he ordered.

It was a struggle, and he had to assist her until she was upright, her legs trembling, Zachariah took note that her bra was indeed missing, left on the floor where it fell and she did not try to cover her nakedness.

Rhianwen stood still, her emotions were conflicted, she felt so much shame and disgrace, at being naked in front of this man, her bottom flaming red and sore, and yet somewhere deep inside, she craved it, she relished it.

She did not understand the conflicting emotions coursing through her, she had never been able to give herself such an intense, all consuming release as she had just experienced. She knew with absolute clarity it was something she wanted more of, and this made her shiver uncontrollably.

Zachariah could not help but admire this stunningly beautiful creature in front of him, undoubtedly she was a natural submissive, her body knew instinctively how to stand, feet slightly apart, hands held, palms open at the side of her body, her head bowed. Her shaking body was perfect, even without a bra her breasts where firm and taut, standing proudly, her nipples were small, dark pink and still obviously hard.