by DJ Black
Roland Archer checked his watch again. Everyone was late, and he could not abide tardiness.
"Have you any idea why your mother is so late, Karen?" Roland asked his young student as she stood in the corner.
"No sir," Karen replied crisply, slightly apprehensive that he might in some way hold her responsible.
"I have another student at three. Or at least I was supposed to have had," Roland explained. "It is a quarter past now."
Tell me about it, thought Karen. She had been standing in the corner of Professor Archer's study since two o'clock when he had finally finished metering out her straightener for the week. Mother was particular about that. Even when Karen hadn't dropped her grades or been late, the arrangement with Professor Archer, her tutor, required a firm dozen across the bare once a week. But mother was supposed to have come to collect her at 2.45.
The doorbell rang and Karen heaved a sigh of relief. At 18, standing with your bottom on display in front of your middle-aged tutor was definitely not the high point of the week.
Roland went to the door, but instead of Karen's mother, it was his new student Melanie Crow and her older sister Anita, another former student of his.
"Professor Archer, I am so sorry," Anita said breathlessly. "We were hopelessly delayed by an awful accident on the main road."
"I see," Roland said tartly. "You never were a good time keeper, but presumably it wasn't your fault this time. Not that I usually accept excuses as you know."
Twenty-six-year-old Anita blushed to her ears; she could well remember the consequences of any tardiness with Professor Archer.
"You remember Melanie, my sister?" Anita said to deflect any further embarrassing comments on the professor's part. "She has been slipping in English and History."
"Ah yes." Roland smiled reassuringly at the girl. "A sophomore. Your major is in History, isn't it?"
"Yes sir," Melanie replied shyly.
"Your sister has informed you of my methods?"
"Yes sir." Melanie blushed.
"We run a tight ship at the Crow household, don't we Mel?" Anita interjected.
Melanie nodded and blushed even more.
"Ah yes, I seem to remember you had rather a strict upbringing." Roland nodded sagely. "Am I to take it that you are acting in loco parentis?"
"It's certainly loco at our house. I mean, yes professor, that pretty much sums it up." Anita tried to rein in the flippancy in the presence of her old mentor then failed. "I have full custody of the family hairbrush."
"I see. And your old sorority paddle, no doubt," Roland said tartly.
"Oh yes. But Mel has one of her own now." Anita grinned.
Melanie blushed, suddenly wondering if this conversation wasn't veering into dangerous oath-breaking territory.
"A sorority girl? Well good for you," Roland said pleasantly. "Well, come in to my study. I have been rather delayed myself by the late arrival of one of my parents."
As they entered the study, Anita smiled at the familiar sight of a penitent student standing bare-bottomed in the corner and bearing the vivid marks of recent correction. The old man must be slipping, she thought, as she counted no more than a dozen stripes on the girl's comely derrière.
"Karen here has been a good girl lately. She is just here to be reminded to remain so," Roland explained as if reading Anita's mind.
It was not thoughts of leniency that preoccupied Melanie as she stood open-mouthed, staring at firsthand evidence of her new tutor's methods.
"I think little Mel here is going to be a very good girl from now on." Anita smirked, seeing her sister's face.
"Oh gosh yes." Melanie nodded earnestly.
Just then, the doorbell rang again. Roland excused himself and went to answer.
"I am terribly sorry, Professor Archer," Karen's mother said, flustered. "What ever must you think of me? There was an accident."
"Yes, so I gather, Mrs. Garland. Do come in." Roland ushered the woman in. "This is Miss Crow and her sister Melanie, my new student."
"Hello girls." Mrs Garland shook their hands vigorously. "I hope you are going to be a better student than my Karen. Speaking of which, Karen, do up your things; we are going now."
Karen didn't need telling twice and hastened to repair her dress.
After they had left, Anita also made her farewells.
"Don't spare the rod with this one. Us Crows are tough cookies," Anita gushed, punching her rather nervous looking sister on the arm.
"I seem to remember that you are, Anita." Roland smiled. "The paddle and the cane on nine straight visits during one spring alone, and not so long ago I believe."
Anita's mouth hung open in horror at the revelation in front of her sister. "Quite," she said, her face a colour that must have resembled her bottom after one of the sessions with Professor Archer.
But Melanie took no comfort from her sister's embarrassment; her thoughts were still preoccupied with the image of Karen who had so recently occupied the corner of her new tutor's study.
"Try and get the most from these sessions, kid," Anita whispered to Melanie as she left.
"Now that we are alone I think I should go over the ground rules," Roland said mildly.
"Yes sir." Melanie blinked nervously.
"You are never late. An excuse such as today's is unacceptable. Are we clear?"
"But," Melanie began, then seeing the look on his face said, "yes sir."
"Your essays are to be handed in on time. If you have a dog I suggest you shoot it."
"Sir?"
"I don't want to hear that the dog ate your homework."
"No sir." Melanie laughed.
Roland smiled and indicated the chair.
"I am not so bad, Melanie. I won't eat you."
"No sir." Melanie smiled. "Oh I prefer Mel, sir."
"Mel." Roland smiled warmly. "Shall we begin?"
The weeks that followed were far from a trial to Mel. Professor Archer explained things in a way that made it all come clear. His set essays were not too arduous, and once she was used to the extra work, she even came to enjoy them.
The only thing that disconcerted her about visits to Roland Archer's house was his other visitors. On numerous occasions she arrived to find another student either in floods of tears as she departed or ensconced in the corner of the hall or study with a very bare and very sore bottom well displayed.
Most were her own age like Karen, whose bottom must have constantly carried marks from Professor Archer's cane. But sometimes there were older girls, young women, seniors and on at least one occasion a woman whom Mel could have sworn was on the college faculty.
Nor were they always in the corner. One time she came a little early to be confronted with a red-headed girl bent over the back of a chair in the study. Professor Archer made no attempt to spare either of the girls' blushes, and Mel was treated to the sight of the last few heavy swats of a paddle placed across the moist-eyed woman's already very tender tail.
When the shame-faced girl was allowed to rise and step back into her slacks, Melanie realised that it was a girl from one of her classes.
"Oh my god," the weeping girl gasped on seeing who was watching.
"Oh don't worry about Mel," Roland said easily. "It's not as if she is not subject to the same discipline, is it?"
Mel and the girl exchanged uncomfortable glances and then the redhead mumbled her goodbyes, and with an awkward gait made for the door.
"She really does need to learn to listen more," Roland sighed after she had gone. "Now how did you get on with your essay?" he said brightly, rubbing his hands in expectation.
It had been almost a month since Mel had become a student of Roland. Whilst home life had been much the same - Anita had spanked her twice - she had yet to suffer at the hands of her tutor, and she was beginning to wonder when it might happen.
Then, as these things invariably do, it happened when she least expected it. One afternoon the bus hadn't come. No explanation, just a non-arrival. This didn't concern Mel over much, as she had plenty of time. So she decided to walk. Whilst crossing the park to Roland Archer's house she bumped into a friend who wanted to return a book to her, only she didn't have it on her.
"It won't take long to drop by my apartment," her friend had said.
Eventually, Mel had arrived at her tutor's less than 10 minutes late.
"Sorry Professor, I had to get a book," Mel said cheerfully as she entered the study.
Her eyes swept the room for any miscreants secreted in corners, but today there were none.
"I see," Roland said darkly. "Then there are two things for us to discuss."
"Two things," Mel said blandly, not really paying attention.
"Your last essay was a thoroughly half-hearted affair, was it not? Had better things to do, did we?" Roland said, placing a leather pouf in the middle of the room. "As for being late, I am surprised that you take it so lightly."
Mel's mouth was suddenly dry. Roland was holding a thin mahogany paddle, which he stressed between his hands.
"If you would be so kind as to lower your denims; in fact, why not step out of them altogether. The panties too," Roland said casually.
"My panties?" Mel swallowed to get some moisture into her mouth.
She had never been spanked on the bare by a man before. In fact, she had never even been seen naked by a man before. But after the last month's parade of sore bottoms, why was she surprised? Her sister had warned her, after all.
"I am waiting, Miss Crow," Roland said sternly.
Mel's thumbs would not cooperate as she tugged at the button on her jeans. But all too soon the fastener gave way and she turned her back as she blushingly lowered her clothing.
She paused for a moment before removing her underwear, thinking her ears might melt as she prayed frantically for some reprieve.
"Miss Crow," Roland snapped.
"Yes sir," Mel wailed as she hastily stepped out of her panties.
"Now if you would be so kind as to kneel on the floor and present your impudent behind across the pouf."
By pouf, she assumed he meant the padded leather stool-like thing in the middle of the floor. She eyed it nervously, and then awkwardly lowered herself to the humiliating position as Professor Archer had directed.
The stuffed leather was a little lower than her belly, and she had to steady herself with her hands flat on the floor. This had the affect of pushing her bottom up and backwards.
"Miss Crow, you are a natural," Roland observed.
"Thank you, sir," Mel said with a sigh.
The splat of the paddle took her by surprise. She was still mid-startle at the sound when the sting took hold.
"Jesus Christ," she gasped. Her sorority sisters could get her attention, but never like this.
"Please don't take the Lord's name in vain, Miss Crow," Roland suggested as he took another swing.
"Ahh!" Mel yelped. "Please sir, how many?"
"As many as it takes, Miss Crow. As many as it takes."
The light springy paddle fell slowly and hard. Each spank across her exposed bottom drove her hard across the pouf. Each impact extracted a heartfelt yell.
"Why did they pour tea into Boston Harbour, Miss Crow?" Professor Archer asked. "In the name of freedom, was it?"
This was a reference to something in her essay.
"Yes, sir." Mel sniffed and gritted her teeth as she received another.
"Yes, sir?" he said tersely as he lay on another. "This is History we are studying, not Hollywood-ised mythology or political platitudes."
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