Red Notice

I hurried to my office, not even greeting the receptionist as I passed by, then going back to do it anyway and apologise for not doing so the first time, all the while sure I felt eyes on me. Every student seemed to glance at me as I went by but, the moment they were out of my sight, I wondered if they had ever been looking at all or if I was imagining it. The last thing I wanted, of course, was to run into Zara -- the odds, given the size of the student body, were against it, but there was a strange inevitability about it.

"Hi, miss," came a voice from behind, freezing me, as I reached the lift to the top floor and waited for the doors to open. Why was I waiting? The lift was usually ready -- nobody else went up there and I knew, thanks to Kam, that I had no red notices yet lined up. I turned to the voice's source and there, dressed in baggy jeans and an equally baggy hoodie, was Lily.

"Oh. Hello," I said quickly, looking away again, back to the lift doors, willing them to open.

"How you doing?"

"Fine." My eyes clenched shut at their own volition. "You?"

"Pretty good. Have a nice day, miss." I heard the smirk in her voice and her footsteps as she left. I dared not glance at her as she went -- but I did it anyway, and saw her looking over her shoulder back at me. I looked away as she grinned.

The lift, sweetly smelling of mint having been cleaned late the previous evening, took me upstairs and I went through the musty corridor to my office, already slipping off my backpack as I reached the door -- which, I was alarmed to find, was ajar.

Stepping inside, at once I found that Nadine was there -- she was sat in my office chair, contemplating the outside world through the window, and turned to me with an expression somewhere between irritation and scorn.

"Oh," I said, alarmed. "Hi, Nadine."

"Professor Ellsworth."

"Uh..." I felt a chill come over me. "Yes. Sorry." A quiet, harsh and uncomfortable, came over the room, as I looked around. "Is something wrong?"

"Yes, Kelly, something is," she replied, sternly, in a voice and with a face that made me tremble. "Why don't you take a seat?" She gestured to the sofa. Without question, which annoyed me at the time and still does, I dropped my backpack besides the desk and went to the sofa, where I sat, brushing my skirt underneath myself. I didn't like the way she was looking at me.

"So... what's the topic of discussion?" I smiled and she did not.

"Kelly," she said, leaning forward, "I've just been made aware of a very serious issue." So, this was it. She'd found out about my overkill with Zara and now I was done for. I'd gone too far and, just like in school, was in trouble. I should have seen it coming a mile off. "Have you been going easy on the girls sent to your office?" Oh.

"Uh..." I tried to think of an excuse. Nothing came. "Well, I don't think so."

"No?"

"No, I... I just let a couple of them off with warnings." Nadine -- I mean, Ellsworth -- bristled. "I just felt that-"

"Whatever it was that you felt, you felt wrong," Ellsworth interrupted. "It is not your responsibility to warn the students -- it is your job to punish them."

"Yes, I know, but-"

"But nothing," she snapped. "There's simply no reason not to do your job."

"There was an incident." She cocked her head, just barely, almost too little to perceive -- it was this tiny motion which was enough to tell me that there wasn't a heart of flint and cold stone in her chest. If I had a decent reason, she'd get it.

"What kind of incident?" I really hoped that this wouldn't just get me into more trouble -- somehow.

"There was this girl, Zara, she got a red notice. And..." I swallowed. "I went really far."

"What is 'really far,' in your book?"

"I spanked her, you know, bare."

"I see."

"I'd never done that before and I guess it freaked me out. The fact that I actually went for it, you know? I just needed a breather. The idea of doing that over and over... it became intimidating. It's different when they've still got clothes on. It's easier."

"Kelly," sighed Ellsworth, "I understand that this job can be intimidating. But it's still the job. And as I told you the day we met, these things are non-negotiable. This academy is a model of achievement -- every single student to attend since it became a university has graduated with honours. Ninety-seven percent have been in full time employment within six months. What do you think makes us different from all the other universities?" Being incredibly selective? Having the funds to lavish every student with tutoring? The nearest nightclub being a forty minute train ride away?

"I don't know, ma'am," I lied. I didn't want to be a smart-ass. It didn't feel like the time and I didn't feel like the person.

"It's our discipline policy. And if we don't stick to our discipline policy, the students start thinking they can get away with whatever they want, and then their performance goes down, and then their whole future is compromised. And we don't want that for them, do we?"

"No, ma'am. I understand."

"But I'm not sure you do. You know, I hired you above everyone else because I thought I saw something unique in you. But maybe I was wrong? Maybe I should call the Chancellor and tell him, hey, I don't think this one's cut out of it."

"No, don't do that," I said, quickly, then almost recoiled at my outburst. "I mean... please, don't. You said in my interview that you liked my vibe! My honesty!"

"I do. But I also like someone who's able to do the job."

"Right." I looked at my feet. "Well... I think I can do the job. I just need time to get used to it. I haven't been here long."

"The students don't have time," replied Nadine. "They need discipline now, not when you're ready." She leaned back, regarding me.

"Are you gonna sack me?" I hoped I didn't sound too pathetic -- but I probably did.

"I'm not sure. I think you just need a bit of encouragement. A little push away from the dock."

"What does that mean?" I watched her, unsure, as, in my mind, I saw a 'p' and an 'n' starting to drift between their compatriot letters in 'sack,' evicting the 'c' as they did, and my stomach tumbled.

"What do you think I mean?"

"I..." Oh, God, this was going to happen, wasn't it? "Are you gonna spank me?"

"I can't think of a better way to remind you of your job than to demonstrate it to you."

"But..." My mouth was running dry. "You can't give a red notice to staff, I thought-"

"This isn't a red notice," she said, coldly, standing suddenly. I stared up at her with big, nervous eyes. My stomach curdled. So this was how it felt. "It's a punishment. You can call it 'training,' if you like."

...

I was frozen to the sofa, staring up at the professor, a giddy helplessness overcoming me. My hands, unable to think of anything else to do, clutched each other. How would she do it, I asked myself? Over her lap, over the desk, against the wall? Did she have a cane?! And were any of my clothes about to come off? I shifted on the squeaking cushion uncomfortably.

Ellsworth stepped around the desk and stood in front of me, looking down, regarding me. I didn't feel like much of an authority figure right now.

"Stand up," she ordered and, slowly, I put my hands against the cushions and rose.

"I'm really sorry," I mumbled, like it'd do any good. Her glare only became more piercing, her pursed lips only tightened.

"Sorry doesn't cut it, now, does it?" With a bony finger, she pointed at my chest, then moving it up and down as if scanning my body. "Strip." My heart burst. My stomach fell out of my body. My eyes watered at once.

"Uh..." My throat was too dry to get anything else out.

"I can always find a way to make things even worse, Kelly," Ellsworth growled. I looked down at myself -- at my striped tan shirt, baggy and poorly ironed, and my jeans, and my trainers, then looked back at her with the same big eyes I'd seen plenty of times myself in this room.

"All of it?" I mumbled.

"All of it." Tears furiously pushed at my eyes, trying to break out, and I tried to blink them away. It only invited them out and, to my shame and fury, I felt the first one fall down my cheek, as my face burned. I was still fully dressed and already cooking in embarrassment -- how would I feel by the time this was all over?

"Can't you just give me another chance?" In reply, Ellsworth grabbed my wrist and painfully yanked me forwards -- I yelped, not resisting, as she pushed me towards the desk. Stumbling, I fell against it and felt her hand at the back of my neck, pushing it down -- obediently, though gritting my teeth, I put my forehead to the desk's hard wood just as I felt the first swats strike my butt. Just like me, Nadine alternated, switching from cheek to cheek, but my jeans insulated me from the worst of it. I almost tried to enjoy this part -- I might as well, before it got really bad. After a few swats, Ellsworth grabbed my hair and pulled me back upright -- I almost squealed at the pain splashing over my scalp, staring into her fierce eyes, feeling my hands shaking.

"Now, does that really feel like a proper punishment?" she asked, so close I could taste her breath -- I half-wanted to ask if she had any mints left, just be an absolute brat and really push her over the edge, but I didn't dare. I didn't want to know what worse was. Or did I?

"No, professor," I said, quietly, trying to keep still as her grip on my hair only tightened.

"So, take off your clothes, and don't make me tell you again." She let go of me -- relief came, if only for a second, before I realised there couldn't be any prevarication or dithering.

Nobody had ever seen me naked before, not since I was so young that people didn't bat an eyelid at your nudity -- during school swimming lessons, I'd hurry to be first into the leisure centre so I could be guaranteed of a private changing cubicle. Temptation had tried to guide me towards sharing with another girl, sure, but modesty always pulled me back again. Only once did I end up with someone else -- I was late, thanks to Mrs Hendrickson pulling me aside to tell me off for backing out of the end of term choir performance, and found myself in a cubicle with Mi-yeon, who'd shown up from Korea a few weeks earlier. She'd had pure black hair, skin so pale it couldn't have been healthy, and, living up to all the stereotypes, was doing A-Level maths at Year 9. The whole time, of course, I kept my back to her and she to me -- except for one moment when, daring to glance over my shoulder, I saw her stood completely bare, black hair flowing between sharp shoulder blades, her white butt plump and on display for me, as she stood untangling her swimming costume. I'd looked away as quickly as I'd looked -- but I always wondered if, at some point in that cubicle, she'd looked too, and I had after all been seen naked just once.

Now, I was really hoping she had looked because back in the real world, I was going to be seen undressed and bared for all the world to see, to my knowledge for the first time, and it would be my boss who saw me. This wasn't how it was meant to be. But it was happening. Ellsworth's eyes told me that even better than her voice could.

Timidly, with my feet, I pulled of my shoes, pink socks underneath, then reached down and peeled them off too. The floor was cold and hard on my pale feet.

"Fold up your clothes and put them on the desk," Ellsworth commanded, crossing her arms. I tried to find some satisfaction in her face, some indication that she was enjoying herself, but I couldn't find it -- for her, this really was a punishment and nothing more. She found no pleasure in it. And yet, I knew, it delighted her.

"Okay," I said, quickly, folding one sock over the other as if unpacking laundry, and putting it on the desk as ordered. What now? Shirt or jeans? Shirt or jeans? Shirt. I looked away from Ellsworth, towards the window, grateful for our high altitude, as I unclipped button after button, from top to bottom, and felt air on my bare body with each one. Awkwardly, I pulled my shirt off, tugging it down my arms, then realising I still needed to unbutton the cuffs and fiddling with those as Ellsworth watched. At last, I got free, and quickly folded the shirt and placed it on the desk. There I stood in black bra, shivering, bright sunbeams illuminating random parts of me, self-conscious of my tummy and how my jeans were tight enough that my pudge threatened to flow over the waistline. I looked back at Ellsworth, hoping this would be enough and knowing it wouldn't be, and my hands dawdled together before I finally willed them to my jeans.

Quick as I could -- which wasn't made easily by how my hands trembled -- I unbuttoned my jeans and navigated them down my thighs, which began pressing together in an involuntary effort to cover myself. My underwear wasn't anything special enough to be particularly embarrassing, just a white bikini in contrast to my bra, but still I didn't want it seen -- in school, I'd even always worn PE shorts under my skirt. That felt like a pretty redundant wish.

As my jeans came down to my knees, turning inside out, and I stepped out of them, the shivering only getting worse, Ellsworth suddenly moved away and walked behind me. I froze in place.

"What're you doing?"

"You clearly need a bit of help."

"But..." I whimpered, as I felt her fingers on my bra strap and, without even feeling them move, it unclipped and the cups became loose on my breasts. I winced -- but I didn't have time for anything more as Ellsworth busily unhooked the shoulder straps and, my hands involuntarily clutching at the cups, pulled my bra off me. My grip was loose enough to let them and, my bra tossed casually onto the desk where it landed with a muffled impact on my shirt, my hands now held my tits, keeping them covered, desperate not to let go.

"Do you need even more help?" Ellsworth muttered impatiently from behind, close to my ear, and I shoo my head.

"No... no, professor, I don't." My face burning hot, my hands reluctantly left my breasts, my nipples cold and hard in this air, and I tried to will them to soften as I finished stepping from my jeans. Hurriedly, I folded them, leg by leg, and put them on the desk, feeling Ellsworth's presence behind me the whole time. My arms formed an X, covering my tits again, tightly holding over my chest, feeling hot all over with myself on show, stood only in my tight underwear with Ellsworth now back in front of me with hands on her hips. Sweat gathered on my forehead and down my spine. I knew how pathetic I looked and I didn't much care -- I just didn't want to be naked in front of her.

"Don't you?" asked a voice.

"Your knickers, too, thank you," said Ellsworth, curtly, and I must have made quite a grimacing face because she followed up: "Unless you need help taking them off?"

"No..." I closed my eyes and, trembling, one hand left my chest, the other trying to take its place to keep my nipples covered and surely failing, to hook a thumb under the waistband at my hip. Awkwardly, it tugged my underwear down as my legs crossed, too, trying to keep my girlhood at least somewhat covered. I felt my underwear fall down my thighs to my knees, where it stayed for a moment, before falling again to my ankles. I bent over, deeply, glad of the passing moment where I could be sure my body hid what was between my legs, to step out of them and pick them up, leaving them on the desk.

I stood, now, contorted as I tried to cover both chest and girlhood, still waiting for some hint of satisfaction from Ellsworth and still not seeing it. She just looked my bare body up and down, unimpressed. Everything the cool air touched, she could see, and it was terrifying. And, I realised, as my mind began unpacking the fear and sensing something else buried deep within there, long dormant neurons warming up again, ones which hadn't fired since I lay in that sleeping bag with Ambriel, there also bubbled something else. Some electric excitement, so challenging and fierce that it felt like terror -- I have a fear of flying (of course I do) and yet, last time I flew, I laughed my way through turbulence as we passed over the Alps on our way to a dull Sardinian family holiday. The fear grew so deep, so primal, that my brain forced me to enjoy it.

"Alright," Ellsworth finally said. "Now then, bend over and touch your toes."

"I..." I swallowed. She couldn't be serious. "I can't touch my toes."

"Anyone under the age of forty-five is perfectly capable of touching her toes!" Ellsworth barked.

"But..." Hot tears grew in my eyes at the knowledge that my hands would be abandoning their precious role of covering me. "I really don't think-"

"Would you like me to fetch Kam?" She sneered. "Maybe they could help you."

"No!" I wailed. "I'll do it. I'm sorry. I'll do it." Slowly, my hands left my body, and for the first time ever I felt eyes on me. On my pink nipples, my not-perky-enough breasts, and the place which burned between my legs. It felt... not so bad.

With a couple of desperate lunges I managed, just, to hook my fingers under my toes, my spine creaking, pressing my thighs together to hide my girlhood and desperately hoping I was succeeding.

"Good," Ellsworth said, with none of the purr I might have hoped for, and I quivered, trying to keep my balance, as she stepped behind me and I knew she'd see my bared ass and probably mentally evaluate it. With my positioning, maybe my cheeks were even spread open, just enough to complete the humiliation. And this was what she wanted me to do to students?! And then...

"Oh, well would you look at this?" Horror and embarrassment flashed through me -- the marks Kam had left were still painted across me, and now Ellsworth was inspecting them, her fingers running along one of my cheeks. "What have you been up to?"

"Nothing, ma'am," I whimpered, shivering at her touch, my rear tensing.

"It doesn't look like nothing," she said, almost scolded, and I glanced up to stare at my pile of clothes with more longing than I'd ever felt before. "Someone's been practising on themselves." Good, I thought, she got the wrong end of the stick -- but that didn't make this any more fun.

The spanks came next, not another word emanating from Ellsworth, again alternating cheeks as I again tried to keep my balance and tried not to whimper too loudly at each hit, but even with lips sealed high-pitched whines still found their way out of me. Hot pain danced across my butt with each hit -- she was an expert, always hitting just right to elicit a loud slap, and I begged myself not to yelp as the pain of both body and mind grew more intense with each passing moment.

"You see," Ellsworth cooed, "this is how a naughty student ought to be treated, isn't it?"

"Yes, Professor," I whimpered, as another strike hit me. Don't cry, I kept telling myself. Whatever you do, don't cry. Had she planned this from the start? Hired someone she knew would back down just so she could enjoy this power? All sorts of thoughts ran through my mind as I stood there, bent over, naked and vulnerable and unable to move for fear of worse things, and the biggest one was the simplest one -- why was I doing this? I could have quit instead. Walked out the door. To hell with the salary I couldn't think to do anything with and the flat surrounded by people who despised me. Nobody else would think it worth this. So why did I?

After forty swats -- yes, I counted -- Ellsworth stopped.

"Are..." I nearly choked -- my mouth had run so dry. "Are we done?"

"I'm not sure." I heard a smile in her voice. "Stand up." I did so -- my hands instinctively went back to covering myself. My butt felt like it was on fire. I stared at Ellsworth who, finally, had a bit of enjoyment in her face. She seemed pleased with her work.