She paused outside the door to his office, hand on the doorknob. She knew there was no way to avoid what was about to happen, and she really wasn't sure she even wanted to avoid it, but that didn't keep the butterflies in her stomach from making her pause a few seconds. Finally, swallowing hard, she turned the knob.
"You're late," he said, with an even mix of disapproval and authority. She flinched, and stopped just inside the door.
He was seated behind his desk, leaning back, his hands folded beneath his tie and an idle expression of condescension on his face. She wasn't able to meet his gaze for long, and when he didn't say anything else immediately, she began fiddling with the hem of her skirt. Somehow her normally chaste school uniform never seemed to fit well in his presence. In his class, when she felt his gaze on her body, suddenly her skirt felt too short, and her blouse too snug on her chest. She cursed silently that he had this effect on her; this was exactly why she kept getting into trouble.
"Do you know why you're here?" he asked, with obvious forced patience.
"I... because..." she muttered, not really sure.
"Because you cannot seem to resist flirting in class," he interjected as he rose and came around his broad desk. He took her upper arm in his hand and pulled her forward, towards his desk. It was a light touch, barely holding her, but she jumped nonetheless when he touched her skin.
He guided her forward until she was standing before his desk and released her arm. Her mind raced, simultaneously trying to guess what he was going to do, and to think of something to say in response.
"Um, well I wasn't meaning to flirt, I promise!" she finally responded. He was standing behind her and it was making her nervous, but she knew if she turned around without permission it would only make things worse.
"Lies. It would be one thing if you were flirting with another student, one might say only natural. But flirting with your instructor is a serious breach of conduct, young lady," he mused, still behind her. "More disappointing yet, this is not the first time you've done this, is it?" It was clearly rhetorical and she held her tongue. "Yes, it seems our last meeting didn't quite have the desired effect."
She remembered that all too well. Two weeks ago he had called her into his office after class. After a stern lecture about the proper behavior expected of a young woman, he had beckoned her over behind his desk. Without thinking, she had obeyed, and before she knew what was happening she was lying across his lap with her skirt flipped up and her panties exposed.
His hand had fallen so suddenly she was only able to squeak in protest at first. She had never been spanked before, and the surprise of it was almost as stunning as the sting of his hand striking her bottom. Of course immediately she began to struggle and fight him, but he had only calmly caught her wrist and pulled up to trap it behind her back. That proved to keep her infuriatingly helpless. He continued to land swats on her backside, and it didn't take much of this to reduce her rebellious attitude to desperate gasps and pleas for him to stop. He did not for some time.
Finally, when he felt like she'd been sufficiently chastised, he had stopped spanking her, and given her another stern lecture while keeping her bent over his lap. This had turned out to be the worst part yet. She could barely follow his words, and just did her best to contritely nod and whisper "yes" when she thought he expected it, because her attention had been stolen elsewhere. After he had stopped spanking her, he had rested his hand on her bottom. His palm was on her cheek where her panties ended, but his fingers were casually curled down somewhat lower, coming to rest right on the sensitive mound between her legs.
At first he did nothing but rest his hand there, which had been bad enough. Then, as he continued sternly with this very personal lesson, his hand began to move. It was so slight at first that she thought she might be imagining it, but soon she could feel his fingers moving softly, almost as if he was doing it absentmindedly, right against her the lips of her pussy, through her panties. She didn't know what to do, and settled for trying to pretend it wasn't happening. He was still holding her wrist behind her, so there was little else she could do.
Before long the stroking was insistent, and her breath was coming as fast as it had been when he was spanking her. She could tell her panties were soaking wet now, and blushed, realizing he must know exactly how aroused she had become. Then something else drew her attention almost completely: she felt something pressing against her from his lap. It was his cock, she thought with a gasp! She bit her lip as she imagined what was hidden in her instructor's pants right now, quickly growing harder beneath her. She stopped thinking of anything besides his fingertips playing across her panties and the pressure of his erection beneath her. She was embarrassed, but undeniably horny.
Eventually, he had let her up, and she left his office quickly. The need between her legs didn't go away all afternoon, and that night she had lied awake in bed desperately rubbing herself and thinking of her instructor. She had always thought he was distractingly attractive; that was why she had thought it would be fun to flirt a little with him in class, but now it was a desire she could neither resist nor even understand. Despite how aroused she was, she couldn't get herself off; she imagined kissing him, undressing him, but it wasn't working. Then she had a more wicked thought.
Quietly, trying not to think about how late it was, she went to the closet and put her school uniform back on. She felt quite silly, but too excited to care as she went back to the bed. Rather than getting in, she knelt down on the floor and laid herself over the edge of the bed face-down. She thought back to this afternoon and reached back, lifting her skirt up exactly as he had done to her earlier. Finally, she brought one arm behind her and imagined him catching her wrist. Then the memory of the afternoon came back in a rush, and instantly she felt herself tighten inside.
She imagined herself back on his lap, feeling his insistent touch, and desperately she addressed the burning need between her legs. She thought of his cock against her and began to touch herself softly over her panties just like he had, but she could only take it for a minute before her fingers found their way under her panties and she suddenly climaxed. She moaned into the sheets trying to stay quiet as she writhed in ecstasy. Afterwards, as she drifted off to sleep, she basked in the inner glow of pleasure and tried not to dwell on exactly why she had done that, or why being disciplined and then molested by her instructor had made her so unbelievably aroused.
The next day in class, she had been unable to look him in the eyes during class, and fidgeted each time he walked by her. He had acted like nothing had happened, though, and soon she relaxed a bit. Still, the mild attraction she had had for him before he had spanked her was nothing compared to the almost instant flush of desire she felt now in his presence. And that had been why she had made the mistake of flirting with him again. And now she was back in his office.
"I said, young lady, what will it take to make you behave properly in my class?" he demanded, the undercurrent of anger growing in his voice. She cursed herself for drifting off while he was talking, for now she was in more trouble.
"I... Please, I didn't mean to be disrespectful, sir. It's just..." she stammered, "it's just that you, uh... when you... well..." she trailed off, not daring to try to explain how she felt.
