The Sitter Gets Caught At School

Note: This story is a sequel to "The Sitter Gets Caught -- And Taught" and "The Sitter Gets Caught Again." Reading the earlier parts will help introduce the characters and the setting.

This story involves elements of reluctance and punishment. If those aren't your kinks, this might not be the right story for you.

Amber's full breasts were mashed almost painfully against the cool wood of the desk. Her teeth grazed the skin of her professor's cock as she struggled to fit his immense girth in her mouth. She felt the sharp hand of another, younger man spanking her backside as his own cock teased her pussy. This is not how she had thought office hours would go with her stats professor.

----

Amber walked across the sunny quad toward Hennepin Hall for her meeting with Dr. Mattis. Her recent adventures in babysitting for the Newsom family had added some much-needed cash in her pocket, but the nights spent captive to their abuse of her body had left her feeling detached from the students around her. She felt distant from them now, caught between the disbelief that any of her carefree classmates could imagine the dark depths to which she had been pushed and the paranoia that behind every smile or glance was the full knowledge of her depravity. She would catch the eye of a female classmate and imagine that the other girl could smell the semen that had covered her breasts the night before. Or, she would glance at a boy, and an unbidden image of his cock in her ass would spin through her imagination. In an elevator the day before, she had felt a bump against her ass, and her mind immediately flashed to Wade Newsom's hand spanking her. She yelped audibly, drawing the stares of the other passengers, and hurriedly exited the elevator two floors too early. The bump had been nothing more than another student's backpack inadvertently knocking into her.

The distractions had not been unnoticed by her teachers. In stats, Dr. Mattis had called her out for daydreaming when she was supposed to be taking a quiz. He must have thought she was looking for answers on other students' papers. In reality, she had glimpsed the sunburned shoulder of the girl in front of her, and the angry red skin had reminded of her of the way her ass looked when she surveyed it in her dorm room mirror after the last night babysitting for the Newsoms.

Embarrassed, Amber tried to hide in the crowd as the class shuffled out of the room, but Dr. Mattis quickly called her back.

"Do you mind explaining where your head is at today?" he asked.

"I'm sorry," Amber replied. "I just got distracted for a minute. I really wasn't trying to cheat."

"I don't think you were cheating," he said. "If you were a cheater, perhaps your performance in this class might actually surpass the mediocrity you have demonstrated so far."

Amber was stung. His dark eyes, set deep in his ebony face, bored into her. He was tall and broad-chested. His hair had just a touch of grey, and his skin was the color of strong coffee. He cut an imposing figure.

"I've been trying," she said. "Math has never been my strong suit, and I'm really struggling."

"I can see that. Perhaps at least trying might better your chances." He rested his elbows on the desk and steepled his long, dark fingers. "You do realize that without a passing grade in this class, you will be back here for a summer session."

"Yes, sir."

"And I don't think either of us wants to see you here again, hmm?"

"Yes, sir."

"I have office hours later today. You will come by at 3." It wasn't a question. Amber nodded and stood awkwardly before the intimidating professor. The silence hung between them. Finally, Dr. Mattis pointed to the door, dismissing her, and Amber fled from the room.

---

A deep, stern voice called, "Come in" as Amber knocked on the office door. Hennepin Hall, where the office was located, was one of the older buildings on campus. The professors here enjoyed the larger offices of yesteryear, while their junior colleagues were pinned in tiny but efficient modern rooms in the newer buildings. Dr. Mattis' office was immense and lined with bookcases. A Persian rug covered most of the expansive wood floor between the door and his heavy oak desk. A set of windows behind him looked out over the quad from the fourth floor. A worn leather couch bordered one side of the rug, turned perpendicular to the desk and covered with papers and books. The edges of the shelves held knickknacks and ornaments, small totems from Dr. Mattis' travels. One shelf contained at least a dozen fertility figures -- carved women with immense breasts and protruding pudenda and carefully crafted small men with erect penises jutting from their wooden bodies. Amber blushed and looked away quickly as she made her way to the chair in front of Dr. Mattis' desk.

She settled in to the soft leather as he watched her, his fingers steepled in the same pose he had held in the classroom. His face was stern, and he examined her over the top of his gold-rimmed spectacles. She started to speak, but he held out his hand to silence her.

"There's no need for explanations," he said. "We both know why you are here. Your work on a good day is subpar. Now, you seem to have developed a deficit in attention to match your deficit in effort. I'm beginning to wonder if the root of the issue might be a deficit in intelligence, as well."

Amber was aghast. She knew Dr. Mattis had a reputation for being hard on students, but this was ridiculous. "Sir, that's not fair. I have been trying hard. I was passing -- "

" -- barely -- "

" -- before these last few weeks." She continued despite his interjection, "I've had a lot going on, though, and I'm trying to keep everything together."

"I'm not interested in your excuses, Miss Smith. What I want to know is how you are going to correct it." He pointed to his computer. "Do you know how many emails I have from students who want, who need to take this course?"

"No."

"More than you can analyze statistically, I would say. There is a waitlist a mile long of students who are eager,

eager

Miss Smith, to be in the seat you now occupy. What I want to know is, how are you going to prove that you deserve to be where they so want to be?"

Amber knew the conversation wouldn't be easy, but this was taking a turn she had not expected. How could he be so angry with her? She had been pulling a C. Okay, "barely" passing, as Dr. Mattis had said, but still! The way he was talking to her was so demeaning. A bead of sweat had started to form on her forehead. Would he really kick her out of the class and give her seat to another student? Could he even do that? Without stats this term, she would need to take it in the summer. And worse, she wouldn't be able to take the other courses in her major that required it for a prerequisite.

"Dr. Mattis, I am so sorry," she whined. "I can do better. I will do better. Just give me another chance. I'll get back on track and re-focus." She was practically pleading with the stoic professor.

"Do you know what concerns me most, Miss Smith?" He took off his spectacles and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "You sit here, pleading with me. Yet, meanwhile, you are unable to take responsibility for your own shortcomings. Instead, unbelievably, you seem to blame me!"

Amber was aghast. "No, I don't! You've done so much," she lied. She had detested Dr. Mattis' teaching methods since the first week of the semester. " I know this is my fault, and I am working to fix it."

"Again with the lies," he said. "Are you really going to sit there and tell me that you didn't call me 'awful' and complain that this course is too much work?"

Amber struggled to remember which of her friends she had said that to. Certainly, they all complained about their professors, especially the hard-asses like Mattis. But how could he possibly know that?

"Think long and hard," Dr. Mattis said, with a gleam in his eye. "You students seem to have the mistaken impression that we professors merely sit in our offices all day and night, without interacting with anyone off campus. But the truth is we have friends, too, friends who often employ students as waitresses in their restaurants, clerks in their stores, or even babysitters in their homes."

Amber fidgeted nervously in her chair. Suddenly, she remembered whom she had described Mattis to.

"The Newsoms are old family friends, Amber. Wade and I grew up together. And Kate? Well, we go way back, too. We have dinner together about once a month. Last Friday, you can't imagine how stimulating the conversation was." Amber's face fell. She imagined the Newsoms telling Dr. Mattis everything about the last night at their house and felt humiliated. "I'm glad to hear that they have been working with you. You know, you're not the first student I have recommended to them."

His last statement hit Amber like a jolt. "Wh-what?" she asked in confusion.

"Oh yes, I recommended they reach out to you. Despite your complaints, I do care about my students and pay attention to them. So when I saw you post the babysitting ad on the school's job app, I just knew you would be perfect to watch over their little Tracy. And I knew they would be perfect to watch over you."

Dr. Mattis paused to let reality sink in. The entire thing had been planned. She wondered what conversations had passed between Mattis and the Newsoms. How had he known? And seriously, she "wasn't the first"? How long had this been going on? The whole time, she had thought that the Newsoms' punishment was for her indiscretions that first night. Now, she realized that everything had been planned. She had been chosen to be their new pet. She had played right into their hands. And now, because of her complaints to Kate, right into Dr. Mattis' hands, too. She bit her lower lip nervously. Where was this going to go next?

"Go to that shelf, Miss Smith," Dr. Mattis ordered, indicating the bookshelf immediately to her right. It was lined with books, and in front of them were more of the carefully arranged statues. Amber gripped her bag more tightly and headed to the case. The shelf was at eye-level, and the books were thick, dusty hardcovers with obscure titles. Most were in languages she couldn't read. Placed near the edge of the shelf were four small carved statuettes. The first was only about 4 inches tall, a wooden carving of a woman. Her head was tilted back, and her eyes were closed. Her hair flowed down with exquisite detail. She was kneeling with her arms behind her back. The detail of some sort of rope around her wrists was worn with time. Her posture splayed her legs and a thin cut had been made in the wood to represent her sex. The next two were slightly larger. Each depicted a woman sitting cross-legged, with her head bowed. A carefully carved rope twined around the bodies, pulling the figures' necks toward their laps. The last statuette was made of stone. Age had worn it, but Amber slowly noted the details -- a woman laying over some sort of bench, her stone breasts pointing toward the floor, her smooth ass with its deep cleft pointing toward the sky.

A bead of sweat formed on her forehead as she felt Dr. Mattis draw near behind her. He was taller than her, well over 6 feet, with shoulders so broad he almost cast a shadow over the bookcase. She felt his steady breathing and smelled a whiff of his musky, masculine cologne.

"Statistics are just a tool to help us understand the history and the present," he said softly. His quiet tone, new to their conversation, accentuated his deep voice. "As you know, I teach this class as a social scientist. My passion is cultural history and anthropology. Each of these figures represents a culture we can learn from, though their peoples have changed much." He reached past her, his arm brushing her shoulder and pointed at the first statue. "This first one represents a traditional binding from the Pacific Islands. This type of binding would have been used for a woman who overstepped her bounds. You can see her breasts and pubis on display." Amber shifted uncomfortably. Her breath quickened. "The binding would have been humiliating, to degrade her so that she would be more docile. These two," he indicated the middle two statuettes, "are examples of the Japanese art of shibari, from the 18

th

century. It's sometimes called a shrimp tie. It was used for many things but especially for punishment, up until the 20

th

century, that is, when it became more closely associated with, shall we say, other entanglements."

He dropped his arm and moved to Amber's right side, his back slightly turned toward the shelf. He stared down at her hard. Amber felt her knees weakening. Her forehead was glistening with sweat now.

"And this one," Dr. Mattis carefully picked up the last statuette of the woman bent over the bench. "depicts a discipline bench." He held it between them and turned it to show Amber each side. "A woman who had misbehaved would have been placed over this bench, with or without padding and with or without clothes. Do you see the ties that hold her arms and legs in place? This would have kept her still while a man, often a magistrate or her husband, would have used a paddle on her."

He carefully replaced the statuette and reached to the higher shelf above to take down a small framed picture. Now in front of her, Amber could see that it was a woodcut. The human figures in it were almost comical, with their large noses exaggerated expressions. The woodcut showed a woman laying facedown across a man's lap. Her full skirts billowed out behind her. Her face was carved in an expression of surprise, with her lips forming a large "o," a wisp of hair escaping a bonnet. The man's mouth formed a large grin, but his eyes were tilted inward, so that he looked almost menacing. His overly large hand was poised just above the woman's backside, as if ready to slam down.

"Here is another example," Dr. Mattis continued. "Central Europe, early 17

th

century. The inscription indicates that this was a comedic teaching tool for husbands -- and we can guess, wives." He sneered as he put the woodcut back on the shelf. He glared down at her now, his imposing body uncomfortably close to hers. She nearly jumped as he placed his large, dark hand on her small shoulder.

"I know that you want to do better, and from the Newsoms, I know now that you are capable of being molded. What you need is training to keep you disciplined and on the right track." He cupped her chin and tilted her face up to his. He moved it side to side slowly, as if examining her. Finally, he moved away and returned to the desk. Amber's eyes followed him. He shrugged off his sportcoat and began unbuttoning and rolling up his sleeves. The bright white shirt contrasted strongly with his deep, dark skin.

"Come here," he ordered. Amber meekly approached him. "Put down your bag." She set the bag down and fidgeted, unsure what to do with her empty hands. Dr. Mattis walked around behind her. When she tried to follow, he firmly held her shoulder in place, forcing her to stand facing the desk as he inspected her. She felt his hands occasionally brush or grip her as he moved. He touched first her shoulder, feeling her bones and muscle. Then her side. Then her arms. His touch was not gentle. It was clear he was appraising her, as one might appraise an animal at a fair. Finally, he cupped her ass, and Amber's breath caught.

He gripped her waist with his right hand and put his left in the center of her back, between her shoulder blades, forcing her to bend at a right angle, her torso laying on his wooden desk. Amber knew it was coming, but she still squealed in surprise when his thick hand spanked her ass for the first time, her thin leggings offering no protection.

"You will be quiet," he commanded. "Silence is a sign of discipline and control -- your control over yourself and the control you are yielding to me. You only talk when I say you can talk. Do you understand?"

"Y-y-yes," she stammered.

He spanked her again, and Amber clenched her teeth to keep from crying out. He paused between each swat, just long enough for the tingles to travel through the skin of her ass before spanking her again. He delivered ten hard, even swats to each of her cheeks. She felt his fingertips graze the exposed skin at her waist before gripping the leggings and pulling them down to her ankles. He pushed her legs apart, peeled the thong from the crack of her ass and let it fall to the ground. Amber trembled at the cool air on her naked ass. Her hands held onto the far edge of the desk tightly.

She could feel him moving behind her, feel his eyes on her, again inspecting her. The air on her damp pussy let her know that he could see it between her narrow thighs. She stayed in position as he walked away. She could hear him moving across the room, but she didn't dare turn. Apparently, the small amount of training she had received from the Newsoms had sunk in.

When he returned, Dr. Mattis brought with him a large leather paddle and a length of rope. He gripped each of her hands and expertly wound the rope around her wrists before securing them to the drawer handles on the far side of the desk. Amber tugged at them only to find that the ropes held her tightly. Returning to her backside, he did the same with her legs, securing each ankle to a leg of the desk. The effect left her spread wide, vulnerable across the desk. He slammed the paddle against her bare ass, the sharp crack echoing through the room. Amber held back a yelp as the hard paddle hit her, over and over again. Her ass was stinging with pain, even as she felt her nipples harden in her thin bra. She felt the rope dig into her skin as she pulled it tightly.

"Here is my offer, Miss Smith," Dr. Mattis said, bringing the paddle down again. His tone was measured and business-like. "If you want to stay in my class, you will come to my office every Wednesday at 3pm for training." He paddled her again. "You will enter this office," SMACK! "set down your bags, and assume the position you are currently in." SMACK! "You will not speak. You will approach the desk, remove your pants or lift your skirt, bend over, and receive your training." SMACK! "Is that clear?"

"Yes," she replied.

"Yes, 'sir'" he ordered, paddling her so hard the desk shook with the force.

"Yes, sir!" she replied. She could feel the welts forming on her backside. The pain coursed through her lower body. She tried to will away the pleasure that greeted each stroke of the paddle, to no avail. She was sure he could see the droplets of moisture on her thighs. He paddled her again, first one cheek, then the other, until her ass was a bright red. After her times with the Newsoms, Amber expected him to insert his finger or his cock. She even desired it. At any time now, she thought, he will put the paddle down and fill her eager, waiting pussy. She wanted it so much, she needed it, needed to be filled and allowed to climax, to release the pressure building inside her. But nothing came. Her pussy throbbed with desire, but he never touched it. Instead, after one last hard hit, he moved around the desk, set the paddle down and sat in his chair. Amber looked up. He was sitting only a foot from her now, staring into her eyes as her hair fell in front of her face. He reached down and released the bindings holding her wrists. He stared hard at her for several minutes before moving to her legs and releasing her ankles.

"We are through here," he said harshly. "Get up, and pull up your pants. You can leave."

Amber brushed a lock of hair from her face and stood awkwardly, showing her small tuft of pubic hair to her professor. She quickly pulled up her pants and grabbed her bag.

"We will continue this next Wednesday, Miss Smith. Do not be late," he said as she fled the office. In the elevator, she tried to fix her disheveled hair. Her ass was on fire, and each step stung. She rubbed the sore marks on her wrists. Frustrated at herself, she could feel the moisture already soaking her panties and hoped it wouldn't show through her leggings before she got back to her dorm.