Most students at the university just slip through the school without making a ripple. If they have problems or cause problems then the tutors tend to handle them. Still, we professors do have to have a certain amount of interaction with them. The ones that I tend to have to deal with fall into two categories, those brighter and dumber than average.
The brighter ones you tend to lean on to make them excel and they can generally cope with the pressure. The dumber ones you have to keep kicking in the butt to make then at least reach a standard where they will pass your course.
When one of the silent majority suddenly demands to be noticed it flags your interest. Sandra was one of these. After putting in a good year's work she suddenly wanted an appointment to speak to me. I had no idea why. The request came late on a Friday and there was no way I was able to see her that day. I let her know that she could come and see me the next week, on Wednesday. As she'd indicated the matter was reasonable urgent, from her point of view, I added that I'd be working on a project over the weekend and she could catch me in my office either day, not that I could really see a student giving up a weekend to come and visit a professor.
I did a quick check on her to see how she was going. It turned out that she was nineteen, quite bright, did extra-curricular activity, and was doing well in all the courses she was undertaking. She should pass the year quite easily. Even with my subject she had a quite reasonable result and would pass it. I failed to see what her problem was.
On Saturday I was putting some effort into my research project. I wanted to publish my results by the end of the year and still had a fair bit of work to do. Weekends are good for research, what with no students harassing you.
This Saturday I was harassed. Sandra turned up in the afternoon, wanting to speak to me. I reluctantly put my work to the side and did my best to present a look of intelligent interest in her problem. She beat about the bush a little, which was normal, and then admitted to being worried about her grades.
No worries. All I had to do was tell her she was doing great, pat her on the head, and chase her away, happy and contented.
"I can assure you, Sandra, that you seem to be doing well in all subjects," I told her. "I did a quick check on your scholastic progress and I can confidently say that you should have no problems passing all subjects."
"I know that," she said, dismissing the idea that she might be failing anything. "The trouble is I'm not doing well enough. I'm getting top marks in all subjects, except for yours. My father will be so disappointed in me if I don't get top marks in everything."
"I still don't see what the problem is," I admitted. "You're passing quite well. What more do you need?"
"Quite well isn't good enough," she stated flatly. "Daddy will expect excellence in everything I do. Isn't there something I can do to boost my marks? I don't mind working hard."
"Well, there's still time between now and the finals," I pointed out. "Studying hard may get you that little extra in the finals."
"That won't help," she said scornfully. "Even if I get top marks in the final exam my overall performance for the year will mean that I'll only have a good pass for the year. Not the excellence Daddy expects. I have to get that little extra to put me to the top."
"I don't really see what else you can do."
I was getting a little narked. She was going to pass with a good mark. What more did she want? What more did dear Daddy want?
"You're the professor. You award the marks. All you have to do is tell me what you want me to do to get those extra marks. I don't mind doing that little extra to gain them."
Geez, I'm slow at times. The blasted girl was propositioning me, sex for the extra marks.
"That almost sounds as though you're offering sexual favours to pass," I said carefully. "Not going to happen."
"I'm doing no such thing," she said indignantly. "You've already pointed out that I'm going to pass. I'm just trying to improve on my pass."
"By offering sexual favours?"
"By whatever means necessary."
"I don't deal with students that way," I said coldly. "We'll forget that this conversation happened."
"Of course, I could always go to the Human Resources department and complain that you made a pass at me, threatening to fail me if I didn't do what you wanted."
Rotten little bitch. Bribery doesn't work so she tries coercion.
"You are an amoral twit," I told her. "Do you know how to read?"
"What? Of course I can read."
"Then why don't you read that sign next to the door. It's in plain sight where any student who enters the office can see it."
She gave me a puzzled look and turned to read the notice. It was a pretty standard notice. Most of the professors had them these days. It simply advised that for security purposes, all conversations were recorded.
"Sit down," I told her when she had finished reading, and she did so, not looking at me.
Tell me," I said affably, "what you think the Dean's opinion will be when I play him the tape? Do you think he will dismiss any charge you might like to make, just mark you an automatic fail for my course, or expel you for conduct unbecoming?"
"You wouldn't tell him," she protested, sounding horrified. "I'd be in so much trouble."
"Sandra, you're already in so much trouble that you're drowning in it. It you'd left it at the sexual innuendo I could dismiss it as the efforts of a spoilt brat trying to get ahead. Your attempt at blackmail moved it to a criminal offence and one which I take exception to. Why should I be interested in keeping you out of trouble?"
"Look, I'm sorry," she said quickly. "I wouldn't really have made a complaint. I was just trying to get a slightly better mark. There's no harm in that. I wouldn't be cheating. I'm already passing. You said so yourself."
"You're sorry because you got caught. Now you think you can just say forget it? If I wanted to I could probably press criminal charges of attempted extortion. I don't want to just forget the whole thing now. I want to see you learn a lesson."
"I've learnt," she said quickly. "Really I have."
"But if I just say piss off and don't do it again, what will you have learnt? That all you have to do is apologise and you get away with it. Not good enough. I think some negative reinforcement is called for. Ah, that means some sort of punishment. I suppose I'll have to talk this over with the Dean. Pity. You had a good year educationally, up to this point."
"You can't tell the Dean," she whispered. "My dad will kill me. Can't you punish me somehow?"
"No. If it was left to me you'd go over my knee and wouldn't want to sit down for a week. We'll leave it to the Dean. I'll point out your excellent scholastic record and he probably won't expel you."
"No! Don't tell the Dean. I don't mind a spanking. That's what you want to do isn't it. Spank me, to teach me a lesson. I'll take that. You can't tell the Dean. He knows my father and he'll tell him all about it. Dad would kill me."
"Pleasant though the thought is, it's not considered de rigueur for professors to spank their students. I'll have to pass on that."
"No, no, no. You're not thinking it through. If you spank me I've been punished and that's the end of it. If you tell the Dean there could be a scandal. Questions will be raised about professors having sex with students. The university's reputation could suffer. A simple spanking will resolve all that. No-one will know anything untoward happened."
I glared at her but I had to admit she had a point. If someone wanted to they could blow the incident into a major scandal and the Dean would not thank me for it.
"Fuck it," I snarled somewhat inelegantly. "Close the door. I'm sure you don't want an interruption while you're bent over my knee with your bum shining in the light."
It was almost comical the eager way she shut and locked the door. First time I've known someone eager to be spanked. While she was doing that I got up and walked around the desk and sat on the chair she'd been using.
Sandra turned away from the door and started walking confidently towards me. I don't know what my face looked like but I could just see the confidence draining away. She finished up standing in front of, shuffling her feet nervously.
Looking at the way she was dressed it occurred to me that if she'd been a poor student desperate to get a pass I'd probably have guessed she would offer sexual favours. It's something that happens from time to time. What had thrown me off was the fact that Sandra was doing so well and didn't need to offer favours to pass. She was already doing that with her own abilities.
"Lift your skirt," I told her.
"Wh-what? Why?"
"I'm going to take down your panties," I said calmly. "For the spanking. If I'm going to spank you I'm going to do it properly."
"B-but if you pull my pants down you, ah, you'll, um, see me."
"Give me strength," I groaned. "You were implying that you were willing to ball me for a better mark. Now you're worried about me seeing your pussy?"
Her face was glowing red as she lifted her dress. She was wearing fuck-me panties, miniscule and lacy, designed to be pulled off by a man with licentious thoughts. I felt like laughing but nobly refrained. Laughing at her would probably be worse than the spanking.
I lowered her panties, taking my time, noting that she had lovely smooth curves. Her pussy was nicely shaven, with Sandra having put some effort to make sure that there wasn't even one stray hair to mar her silken perfection. Her mound was just waiting for a man to caress it in a loving manner.
Panties down around her ankles I eased her forward and over my knee. Oh, dear, more embarrassment for the poor little darling. With seduction in mind, or even just a peep show if I'd proved easy, Sandra had on a relatively loose top and no bra. With her firm young breasts a bra was an optional extra and she hadn't gone for the option. Standing up, her breast-line had been a delight. Bending over my knee her top had obligingly slipped down, revealing her breasts. She tried to push it back into place but finally gave up with a muffled groan, letting her breasts swing free.
"You know how you screwed up," I said, "so I'm not going to lecture you."
With that my hand came down firmly on her pretty white tush, leaving a nice red handprint. Another smack and her bottom had a pair of matched prints. I could tell she was gritting her teeth, determined not to make a sound. We'd see who won out. Her determination or her spanking.
A half dozen quick firm spanks and her bottom was developing a nice glow. That was about it for Sandra's stoicism.
"Enough," she gasped. "You've made your point."
