Brittany double checked the address on the paper before turning off her car. She'd circled the neighborhood twice, unable to find Mr. Hughes' house. On the third go-round she had spied the small number plate in the shadows of one of the well-manicured hedges that lined the street, but now she was running late - her car's clock read 8:04. She got out and walked up the driveway, feeling grateful for the large hedges that shielded her as she approached the door - she was close enough to campus that she could potentially run into someone she knew, and that would be the end of her college career for sure.
She looked up at the house; it was large, stone - very respectable. The kind of place you'd expect a professor like Mr. Hughes to live. Reaching the door, Britt hesitated before knocking. She could turn back now, and just go home... she'd fail calc, sure, but she wouldn't have to... Her mind flashed back to that afternoon, when he'd bent her so easily over his desk. She shivered.
Britt was disgusted with herself. She'd barely agreed to... whatever she'd agreed to do to save her grade, but a quick grope in a classroom between bells seemed a lot less debasing than showing up on Mr. Hughes' doorstep. She'd spent the evening going back and forth in her mind, deciding to show, deciding to skip, but she finally decided she had no other choice. She needed the scholarship, she needed the grade, and thus she needed to show up at Mr. Hughes' house at 8 PM. So, here she was.
She took a deep breath and knocked on the door. While she waited, she fidgeted with the hem of her short, pleated skirt; she hadn't changed her outfit since the afternoon, although she had needed to change her sopping wet panties when she got back to her dorm room. "I'll get in, make some flirty small talk, blow him, and once he's shot his load I'll get my grade and be done with it," she thought to herself. Should be done by 9.
After a few more seconds she heard footsteps approaching, and Mr. Hughes opened the door. Like Britt, he was wearing the same outfit that he'd had on earlier: slacks, a sport coat, and a button down shirt. His belly pushed against the shirt fabric, drawing it tight. "Ah, Miss Coleston!" he said. "You're a bit late. Please, come in. My office is just down the hall." Britt didn't really know what to say so she simply followed him as he mentioned something about the weather and she nodded along. As uncertain as she was, she couldn't help but notice that Mr. Hughes had great taste. Everything was antique and eclectic, stylish without being over the top. He ushered her into his office, which was in much the same style - something you'd expect in a dean's office, with a large desk facing into the rest of the room. He offered her a chair, and leaned back on the edge of the desk closest to her.
"Thank you for coming, Miss Coleston. I'm glad you are dedicated to improving your grade in my class." Britt couldn't help but smile a little - it was laughable to pretend that he was invested in her GPA. "Is something amusing to you, Miss Coleston?" he asked sharply.
"No, sir," she mumbled, looking at the ground.
"Very well," replied Mr. Hughes. "Miss Coleston, can you tell me why you were late this evening?" Britt looked up, startled. "Mr. Hughes, it's only, like, 8:05!" she exclaimed. She was hardly ever that on time to class!
"Miss Coleston, your tardiness may be tolerated in my class, but this is not class. It is my own personal time and I expect you to be prompt. Do you understand me?"
She scowled. "Yes."
"'Yes, sir,'" he corrected.
"Yes, sir," Britt repeated, seething. Being talked to like she was an idiot was NOT on her list of favorite things.
"You are here to make up your grade to me, but before we get started you must first make up for your lateness," Mr. Hughes said. He walked around to his desk and sat in the chair behind it. "Miss Coleston, please come up to my desk."
Britt stood and walked over to him. What was she going to have to do, some kind of strip tease or something? Gross. She wanted this over with ASAP. Mr. Hughes watched her as she approached. Once she stood next to his chair, he motioned to his lap.
"Lie across my knees, Miss Coleston."
"What?!" she exclaimed. "No way!" She wasn't a naughty kid!
"Miss Coleston," Mr. Hughes said sharply, "You are here of your own volition. You approached me about your grade of your own volition. You may leave at any time. But if you would like the grade that you so dearly need, then you will lie across my knees and accept the punishment you have earned. Do I make myself clear?"
Britt's mind was reeling. She half turned to leave, disgusted, but stopped. He was right, dammit. She needed the grade and he knew it. She turned back to him. Slowly, hating herself, Britt laid across Mr. Hughes lap. He shifted her until her ass was the highest point on her body, her arms and legs touching the floor on either side of the chair. He laid his left arm over the small of her back, holding her in place. "That's more like it, Miss Coleston," he said softly.
Mr. Hughes slowly slid his right hand up Britt's thighs, giving her goosebumps. When he reached the bottom hem of her skirt, barely covering her ass in this position, he kept going. His hand pushed her skirt up as he went, revealing blue lace panties.
