Note: If offended by lesbian sex, discipline during sex scenes, people being worshiped as God/desses, intergenerational couplings, or professors having sex with their students, please do not read this story.
To my Goddess: Thank you for living and being so beautiful and amazing.
Janet is a good student. So good that it worried me that she started showing up to my American English class so late in the middle of the semester. She had taken another of my classes, and she was always such a good student. She was more well prepared and sharper than my other students, and more imaginative. She's also a really big dyke. Not butch, very femme, but she had told me who she was a month into the last semester. I guess she had sort of come to trust me. I would have figured it out anyway: it didn't surprise me because she kept staring at my breasts when she thought my attentions were elsewhere.
"Can you come to my office after class on Wednesday?" I asked her at the end of class after she came in Monday 20 mintues late. It was the third time she had been late in a row.
"Yes." And that was it. No questions as to what this was regarding, or why I should take up her time that she obviously spent studying....well...not so obvious in the past week. I know she'd most likely do anything I said without question, and knowing a woman would do that for me makes it hard not to let her. Not that I'm a lesbian. I hardly ever think about women. It's just that there's a usually a few boy crushes, but generally they don't act so worshipful. This young woman interests me, because she seems so enamored, and I am not used to that attention from women.
But I am her teacher. I have a responsibility to her: to hold her to the same standards as everyone else and to keep her crush from affecting my judgment.
She walks with me back to my office after class, always by my side, soaking up my words. "I'm a little concerned that you've been showing up to my class late," I tell her, "is something wrong?"
"I'm sorry," she answers. "Nothing's wrong, just that I am having trouble concentrating on school right now. It's just that I have to get it together. There are no excuses."
"I'm sorry," she repeats. "I won't show up to your class late again, I promise you." And she's so sincere, seeming to be full of actual regret, this young lady obviously wants to be 'good' according to a child's understanding of the concept, and she wants to be 'good' for me because she admires me so much. It contradicts her rebellious nature, traps her in tradition, she needs to soar free but she can't do that clinging to my side, and I want to let her go but if I just push her away she'll find another object to worship.
"I...I met someone. His name is Samuel and...I've been letting him distract me from my work, but I won't anymore."
I was willing to let her go before, but this is very bad for her. She can't see it right now, but if she gets serious about this guy it's not going to make her stop worshiping women. And she will be absolutely miserable pining away in her heart and wishing so much to actually, ever, have her fantasy fulfilled. I have to help her. I have to tell her she's bad, and help her be good for me, help her be good for herself.
"I want you to come to my place tonight at 8 O'clock. Can you do that?"
No questions, not one. Just "Yes." She probably would have said "Yes, Dr. Adler" if she didn't think it would sound too submissive.
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She showed up in a short skirt and low-cut blouse. I don't know if she did it on the off chance that I might want more from her but I didn't let her know anything.
"You've been late to class, and I suppose you think because you're such a good student you can make everything up, get the notes from others, and suffer no consequences?"
"I...was going to try to make it up that way, yes."
"Well, maybe there are no academic consequences, but you still need to be punished, because you are a very bad girl. No one ever punished you before, have they? You scream that you lack discipline everyday. Do you know that you do that?"
"No...I didn't know. No, I've never been punished before." Now she's malleable, so ashamed she'll do anything without much resistance. Now I can help her.
"You're going to be punished now." I tell her. "Do you know why?"
"Bbeccause I was llate to your class."
"No," I say, "Because you were late to my class, because you were seeing a boy."
"I'm so sorry!" She's pleading; not for pardon but for forgiveness. I know she means it. She's afraid of failing me, and that's kept her work above par so far. I leave her there and say nothing, going to my bedroom to retrieve a paddle I've used on so many lazy boys before her.
I come back into the parlor and sit down in my armchair. "Come over here and stand by my right side." She does as she's told, as usual. "Lift up your skirt and lay across my lap. And acknowledge my commands."
"Yes." She doesn't object to the bizarre nature of this command. She doesn't question me, though what I'm doing she knows she doesn't have to accept. She knows she can leave if she wants to but she just says "Yes." It sends a rush of excitement through my body. I think my nipples are hard. Too bad for Janet her head's down and she's not looking at them.
"Yes, Dr. Adler!"
"Yes, Dr. Adler." I've never seen it take so long to lift a skirt before, but her fingers fumble, she's trembling all over: from nerves and the shame I've now released to be dealt away with and never return. It's delicious, simply delicious the way she obeys despite her shame, and the way she tries to hide how happy she is that I'm making her actually demonstrate her submission.
