Author's note: This is the second part to Educating Hannah. People liked the first so I thought I'd add a second, and if it's well received, I'll add a third. A bit of a departure for me as it's mostly a lesbian domination scene. Feedback is always encouraged, thank you for your votes.
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Hannah Klein found herself sitting in her desk chair in her apartment staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her well manicured hands gripped the hem of her skirt, and she tried to control her breathing and keep herself calm.
Just one day earlier, her professor had spanked her in the empty classroom, instructed her not to cum for the entire day, and then appeared at her door and used her mouth while getting her off to the best orgasm she had ever experienced in her 20 years.
She had still been recollecting her wits when her Professor dressed and headed for the door. Before leaving he said simply, "That was a good first day, Hannah, but there is so much more for you to learn. I will text you with next steps when I get home."
Sitting in her studio apartment now, she glanced again at the text that eventually arrived. "Be in front of your building at 1:00 pm tomorrow. Don't be late or there will be consequences." It was now 12:55.
Her heart pounded in her chest as she again closed her phone and slid it into her handbag. For the millionth time, Hannah chastised herself, "This is crazy. What am I doing? I don't even know where I'll be going." But in her head she imagined her erstwhile Professor to take her back to his place and make use of her in every way imaginable.
She shuddered at the thought, but then chased it away. However much she hoped Professor Devers might use her like that, she knew from his very controlled behavior the day before that it was unlikely to be that straightforward. No, Mark likely had something else planned, but what it was, she couldn't guess.
She looked at herself once more in the mirror. Conservative white blouse made of a thin poly cotton material, a short red flared skirt that came to her knee. She opted for black tights underneath for two reasons. First they looked very cute and even sexy with the skirt, accentuating her coltish legs and making her look more adult. Second was that it was a cold December day and she didn't know what Mark had planned.
Her three inch red pumps completed the look. It wasn't quite the look she imagined when she dressed, leaving her somewhere between member of a performing choir and cocktail waitress at an upscale hotel bar, but she didn't really have anything that said "newly committed submissive."
She knew that some Sirs gave instructions or had standing orders on how subs should dress but her professor hadn't said anything by way of a dress code.
Hannah wasn't even sure if she was his sub in any meaningful way. He had spanked her and then controlled her orgasm and used her mouth, but they hadn't signed any contract or gone over any limits or rules like in the movie she had seen. Maybe he was meeting with her just to call it off after a day. Maybe, her mind suddenly warned, he was disappointed in her performance the previous night and decided she wasn't good enough for him. A cold fear landed in the pit of her stomach at the torturous thought. Why did her brain do that to her?
She threw on her long grey overcoat and headed for the front of her building, touching up her lipstick and straightening her blonde pony tail one last time before she did. It was 12:58.
Meanwhile, Mark Devers, professor of English literature at a small liberal arts college, sat in his car outside his student's apartment building, the clock on the car stereo marking the time for him. He already knew from his interactions with Hannah that she would be on time unless something interrupted her. From day one, long before their accidental connection on the dating app, Mark had identified Hannah as an eager-to-please overachiever. Of course that doesn't always, or usually, equate with overt submissive tendencies, but when it does the result is a person who is heart broken to disappoint her Sir.
Sure enough, Hannah appeared in front of her building glancing left and right down the street expectantly. He smiled to see that despite the cold she had chosen an outfit with a short enough skirt that he couldn't see even a hint of it under her buttoned up coat that came to mid thigh.
Starting his car, Mark pulled up in front of the pavement where she stood waiting and reached across to pop the door open.
"Get in," he said simply, and Hannah, true to her obedient nature, didn't hesitate to slide into the warm car, her coat and short skirt riding up to reveal more of her thigh which attracted Mark's subtle attention.
Pulling away from the curb and heading down the street, they rode in silence for a few blocks, Hannah staring into her lap where her gloved hands were folded. She had so many questions, but she tried her best to keep quiet, believing that a sub shouldn't be the first one to speak even though Mark had said no such thing.
"I see you're wearing the red ribbon in your hair again," he said finally, glancing at the piece of cloth that was tied in a loose bow at the base of her pony tail. She nodded mutely in response.
"I prefer you speak when I address you," he said sternly, but not unkindly, "especially when I'm driving as I cannot always be looking at you."
"Okay," she answered.
"Yes, Sir," he corrected.
"um," she hesitated, taken aback by the sudden instruction, "Yes, Sir. Does that..." she stopped herself again, thinking she needed permission to speak her mind or ask questions.
"Does that what?" her professor asked her as they drove through the small college town and out to the highway.
"Does that mean that I'm," she paused, feeling dumb in what she was about to say, "that I'm your submissive?"
His smile was soft and kind, and he glanced at her briefly and saw her eyes wide and eager and full of fear and hope.
"Hannah," he addressed her with the patience that comes from an experienced teacher, "when you're with me, as long as you're with me, you'll treat me with the respect that a submissive gives her Sir. But," as he added this last word Hannah braced herself, feeling like he was going to let her down easy, "but you always belong to yourself, Hannah. That's how this works. If I have control over you, it's only because you want what I have to offer. Do you understand?"
"Yes Sir," she answered, though deep down she wasn't quite sure she did. In the end she couldn't be sure why she hadn't run from the room when he told her to bend over his desk, or why she had obeyed when he told her she wasn't allowed to cum. Of course she was turned on and had been turned on since meeting him in the coffee shop last week. Even now she could feel the slick arousal as she shifted herself in the car.
"A smart girl like you," her professor continued, "is asking herself, 'just what does he offer that I want?'" He angled the car to the off ramp and let the question hang in the air. Her anticipation built as did her arousal as she waited for him to answer his own question. He turned to her as they reached a stop light and said simply, "Experience."
