by LSF Publications
by Clifford Dorset
Punctuality had always been a byword in the university administration since Professor Meiklejohn had become Vice-Chancellor. Everything ran smoothly as a result, although deep down I firmly believed that this efficiency was just as much to do with the fact that the administrative team was wholly female. Not that Professor Meiklejohn under-rated or underpaid his team. Apart from two relatively junior staff who did the simple, routine tasks required, we were all, like me, well qualified academically, although as the Vice-Chancellor's Personal Assistant I was the only one with a doctorate. My thesis was in the application of science to archaeology, and Professor Meiklejohn gave me ample scope to stay active in my field.
Punctuality, of course, depended on being aware of the time, and the corridor of our venerable old institution was graced with a highly visible electronic reminder of the inexorable passing of that commodity. As I arrived at Professor Meiklejohn's door, the red digits of the display blinked as they changed to read 14:59. He'd be in his office by now, and he'd be awaiting my prompt arrival. I posed self-critically before the full-length mirror that hung outside the office door. My hair looked fairly tidy. My new suit looked as perfect as it had in the shop. It looked really elegant... made of raw silk, in a lovely dark shade of dusky rose. Its jacket fitted perfectly around my breasts, uplifted as they were beneath my cream blouse, and it also emphasised my neat waist in a highly flattering way.
The skirt, too, looked good; it settled snugly over my rather prominent rear end, tautly enclosing its neat curves without unsightly bulges. The just-visible traces of suspender clips didn't really count, did they? The hem was just long enough to cover the down-looping welts of my sheer nylons, as long as I avoided bending over for any reason! I smiled at the thought, and rolled my hips, trying to imagine what his reaction would be when he saw me. I was pleasantly surprised by the way the skirt's smooth silk lining caressed those bare patches of sensitive thigh that lay between my silk, wide-legged knickers and my stockings.
I swivelled sideways, looking behind myself to check my seams... perfect. And these shoes matched the suit so well. Their heels were just high enough to thrust my rounded buttocks outwards and backwards. I gave them a sexy wiggle. Not bad for thirty-eight. I felt good!
A profound silence pervaded the corridor. The time my boss usually chose for my appointments was deliberately selected so that the other members of the team would be hard at work behind their solidly made Victorian doors, but there was always a chance I would be seen waiting at his door. Everyone knew that from my adjacent office I had internal access to him, and they would therefore know that my appearance at his outer door indicated a certain formality, whose significance would probably be guessed. At any moment, one of their doors might open, and I always felt a thrill as I stood waiting.
The digits of the clock blinked again and now said 15:00. I reached sideways to knock on the door.
"Come!"
I could swear that I could feel his eyes on my back as I turned away from him to close the door, but when I turned again to walk towards his desk he had his head down again. He was reading my report. Looking around the room I noticed that he'd moved both of the leather chairs that were normally in front of the desk; one of them was now over by the wall, beside a bookcase, and the other stood isolated, half way to the outer door. So he wanted me to stand, did he? I hesitated, waiting until he chose to acknowledge my presence.
The second chair looked a bit out of place in the middle of the room, and my insides shivered as I looked at it. Looking past the chair I saw the red glow of little light over the outer door as it repeated the message of the larger red light that now glowed above his door in the outside corridor, so that intending visitors would know that the Vice-Chancellor was 'Not to be disturbed'.
I looked back towards him, but he still didn't look up. A few silent seconds passed before I decided that I should move to stand in front of his uncluttered desk. Perhaps that was what he had been waiting for. He looked up at me.
"Thank you for coming, Miss Tempest... and thank you for your report on the University's marketing opportunities." He glanced briefly down at it.
I didn't acknowledge his thanks. I had worked with him long enough to know that such a formal expression of thanks usually preceded some sort of criticism.
"Of course, Miss Tempest, it would have been rather nice to have received this report first thing this morning, as I had requested; but in spite of its tardiness I think I've managed to get the gist of it."
"I'm sorry, Professor Meiklejohn." He was still fixing me with the cold stare that was all too familiar to me.
"I believe that I'll need to take some action regarding its lateness, don't you think?" His expression was steady and unchanging.
"Yes, Professor Meiklejohn."
He looked me up and down with a well-practised eye. "You're looking quite charming today, Miss Tempest."
"Thank you, Professor Meiklejohn."
He looked back down to the report. "I must say that I agree with you, that the improvement in our Far Eastern prospects looks very promising."
"Yes, Professor Meiklejohn."
"But I note that we're still losing a lot of business to our United States competitors."
"Yes, Professor Meiklejohn."
"I'd rather hoped that your initiatives there might have been more successful, Miss Tempest."
He paused and I waited silently; it was like waiting for the dropping of a second heavy boot.
"I'm inclined to believe that you need some form of encouragement. The fact that this report was late this morning rather supports this view. I'm reluctant to accuse you of slacking, Miss Tempest... but I see no alternative. I feel that some firm action is needed on my part to spur you to greater efforts. Do you accept this?" His eyes bored powerfully into mine.
"Certainly, Professor Meiklejohn. May I assume that the action you have in mind is that with which we are both familiar?"
"You assume correctly, Miss Tempest." He closed the report and sat back in his chair. His eyes held mine firmly as he put his elbows on the chair's arms and made a steeple of his fingers, in front of his chest. "I'm so glad we agree. It makes things so much simpler, I find. Perhaps you would be good enough to remove your jacket and skirt, Miss Tempest."
His eyes remained calm as he watched me unbutton my new jacket. I folded it neatly and carried it to the chair that he had placed near the bookcase. Again, I felt his keen gaze on me as I bent forward to place it carefully on the seat; once again, I was certain that he was watching my bottom. Cool air wafted across my thighs as my skirt slid past the tops of my stockings.
I remained standing in front of the chair, facing away from him, as I unzipped my skirt and eased it downwards. It was necessary to wriggle my hips to facilitate its whispering descent over my knickers and my plump thighs. My knickers were of a rather brighter red than my suit, and they matched my elegantly shiny suspender belt. I stepped out of my skirt and bent double, knees braced, to pick it up. Although he remained silent I could feel the intensity of his gaze deepening. Once my outer clothing was neatly arranged on the chair I returned to my position, facing him across his polished desk. I became aware of a certain dampness between my thighs.
"Thank you. And now the strap, if you please, Miss Tempest."
I knew where it was. Over to the right of his desk there was an antique oak map cabinet, only one of whose broad shallow drawers was equipped with a key; a small, very shiny brass key. I went around the desk, and I heard his chair swivel as his gaze followed me. Bending low again, I turned the key and opened the drawer, withdrawing the thick leather strap that lay there. It was eighteen-inches long, weighty and with a wooden handle. I picked it up by its handle, using my left hand to support the drooping, pliant leather, and pushed the drawer closed as I returned to the desk and offered the instrument of chastisement to him with both hands. The strap itself was nearly three inches wide, and its top side was dark and shiny with use. Its substantial thickness, more than a quarter of an inch, showed its darkly compressed density.
He made me wait a few palm-tingling moments before he stood up and took the strap from my hands. His right hand briefly brushed against my fingers as he took hold of the handle, and my innermost core tingled. The way he held it, almost steadily but allowing it to swing to and fro, made the supple leather assume a smoothly menacing catenary of implicit pain. My buttocks clenched involuntarily, no stranger to its keen sting.
My eyes rose from the wicked-looking leather, and they quickly encountered his, which seemed to peer intensely into my vulnerable soul. "The action I propose to take, Miss Tempest, involves the application of this instrument a total of twelve times on your naked person, namely on your unclothed bottom. Do you support my intention, Miss Tempest?"
"Yes, Professor Meiklejohn."
"I intend to give your backside such a leathering, Miss Tempest, that, by the time I am finished, it will be at least as red as your particularly charming knickers."
I swallowed, hard. "I understand, Professor Meiklejohn."
"Good. Then if you would be so good as to stand behind the chair, Miss Tempest? As close as you can, if you please." His nod indicated the chair placed half-way to the outside door, and facing that door. It was now clear to me that the chair had been positioned this way to allow an unhindered swing of the heavy leather strap towards it, and if a plump bottom like mine happened to be bent tightly over its top, presented for chastisement, that bottom would be ideally placed as an apprehensive target.
I walked slowly, my buttocks already tingling, and I knew that my labia were already shamelessly engorged, thoroughly awash with my slippery emissions. Despite the presence of my bushy camouflage it was inevitable that their condition would soon become known to the man who followed me, two paces distant. I reached the chair and we both stopped.
"You will now remove your knickers, Miss Tempest."
He was definitely close enough behind me to smell my arousal as I bent to push the flimsy red silk garment down over the swell of my bottom. I allowed it to fall to my shoes before I bent fully to pick it up. I suspect that at that stage I might have blushed as I exposed my most feminine of places to his keenly interested gaze.
"I will take charge of those, Miss Tempest," he said quietly, holding out his left hand. I obliged, and watched my red knickers disappear into his trouser pocket. "I expect that by the time I have finished with your bottom, Miss Tempest, that you will not feel much in need of undergarments for the rest of the day."
"No, Professor Meiklejohn."
"You will now bend over and grip the seat of the chair." I obeyed. "Feet further forward!" I obeyed again. "Put your feet either side of the chair legs!"
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