A tear splashed against the metallic gray of his hood. It was followed by another as she silently cried out her remorse. The tears that came so rarely, weren’t for herself, but for the pain she had caused her husband. After considerable time had passed, he stopped pacing and veered off to the storage shelves against the wall. So mired in her guilt, Lanie didn’t attempt to see what he carried upon his return.
His voice was gruff when he issued his decree of punishment. “Six strokes, Lanie. You will count every one and say, “I love you, Ethan, and because I do, I promise never to be so careless with my safety again.”
Immediately, she accepted the punishment as her due. “Yes, Ethan.”
A whistling noise and a crisp thwap preceded an explosion of fire across both cheeks. She sucked in a shuddering gulp of air and exhaled on a whimper.
“Lanie? Are you forgetting something?”
“One, sir. I love you, Ethan, and because I do, I promise never to be so careless with my safety again.”
Another whistle split the air and a second stripe of fire flared along her skin.
“Two, sir.” This time her words followed a squeal. Her hands fisted on the unrelenting metal. There was nothing to grab onto, nothing to sink her fingers into as a bolster against the fiery blows.
“Lanie. If I have to remind you of your assignment again, you will earn another stroke.”
“I love you, Ethan,” she managed, in a shaky voice, “and because I do, I promise never to be so careless with my safety again.”
Stroke number three and four followed swiftly and she didn’t forget. But number five, landed across the very top of her thighs and burned like blue blazes. She managed to call out, “Five, sir. I love you, Ethan, and because I do, I promise never to be so careless with my safety again.” However, after she said it, she couldn’t keep still and popped upright, hands flying to her very remorseful behind. Tears were rolling down her cheeks as she danced on her toes, rubbing at the inferno Ethan had ignited on her poor butt.
His hands came to her shoulders and steadied her. It was then she saw the evil instrument he had chosen. It was one of the orange flags they used to mark their driveway when it snowed. The thin plastic stick was about two feet long, similar to a tilt wand from mini-blinds. It was lightweight and flexible, which explained the whistling noise. On many occasions, as she’d closed the blinds in her kitchen, she’d wondered what it would feel like. Now she knew. Similar to a cane, it hurt like hell.
“One more, Lanie, and your punishment is through.”
“I’m on fire, Ethan.”
“As is expected. Get back in position so we can finish up and put this nightmare behind us.”
The word nightmare hit home with her. His earlier graphic descriptions of what could have happened had surely run through his mind. Seeing the mangled car had been a shock to her and she’d been inside it. Remembering his stricken expression when he first saw the car, she knew his jolt had been much worse. Certainly six strokes was justified after putting him through that horror. She nodded and her hands once again found the hood. One more whistle, a stripe of fire, and the flag hit the floor. He didn’t wait for her to count the final stroke before she was in his arms
“Never, Lanie, not ever, do I want to go through that again. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, Ethan,” she cried against his neck. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but I truly am sorry that my negligence caused you such pain.”
“I love you, Lanie, and I couldn’t bear to lose you.”
“I love you too, Ethan. Please, say you forgive me.”
“Of course, you’re forgiven, baby. That goes without saying.”
“Make love, please. Right here. I need to be as close to you as I can.”
Without pause, he lifted her and eased her down on the hood. Her behind, connecting with the cool metal was both pleasure and pure agony. Taking a second to release himself from his trousers, he cupped her sore bottom and lifted her. They cried out as he plunged deep the next instant. After that it was intense, fast and furious, a hedonistic joining, right there on Ethan’s prized BMW. He didn’t seem to care as he drove deep inside her. She didn’t take notice of the six stripes of fire on her ass as she eagerly received him, her heels on his ass, telling him wordlessly to go deeper and harder, which he did. Soon they came together, their shouts of mutual satisfaction echoing throughout the garage as they both found their joy, transforming near tragedy into a beautiful sensual moment.
The turn signal blinking rapidly on the car ahead of her snapped her out of her reverie. She blinked as she saw she was at the turn off to Ethan’s building on campus. A moment later, she pulled into the parking space beside his car. For a moment, she merely sat and stared, trying to grasp how it was possible to have driven almost ten miles while lost in a vivid memory and make it in one piece. Autopilot she supposed—dang that was scary.
She shifted into park and leaned back, taking a deep breath to collect herself. All of this daydreaming about sex, spanking, and her gorgeous husband had left her panties wet and had her squirming in her seat. The leather and suede, 8-way adjustable, state of the art bucket seat of her new dove gray 370Z sport coupe to be specific. As she glanced around the sleek interior, she smiled. If a car could be sexy, her Z had it going on. Realizing her car was still in idle, she listened to it purr a moment before shutting off the engine with the push of a button. Although she missed her midnight blue baby, the first car she’d ever bought on her own, she loved her new car even more, so things had actually turned out okay.
She’d already been through her first oil change. Ethan, true to his word, had taken charge of the process. He’d advised her of her appointment, reminded her several times and called her five minutes ahead to make sure she was available for the attendant. Taking no chances, he’d arranged for service through the dealership’s white glove service. They picked up her car, left a loaner, and returned it after service was completed, fully washed and detailed. It cost a little more, but it was that crucial to him, gave him peace of mind so she accepted it. Not to mention, all Lanie had to do was be there to hand over her key fob—simple as that. Once again, her take-charge husband had solved a problem and they’d moved on.
Chapter Nine
The parking lot was near empty, not surprising for late on a Friday evening prior to a holiday weekend. Most of Ethan’s colleagues and students had probably cut out early in order to get a head start on their plans for the unofficial last weekend of summer. That should have been the case for them as well, but with him working late and her traffic headaches, here they were, still stuck in town. Hoping the delays weren’t a bad omen for their upcoming trip, she rushed up the steps and down the corridor toward his office.
Glad that she had changed into jeans, a tee, and her sneakers at home, she regretted not grabbing a dry pair of panties from her suitcase. As always, her memories of her time with Ethan, including the punishments, had left her uncomfortably damp. Eager to see him, however, she didn’t go back. The corridor to his office was quiet, the occasional squeak of her rubber soled shoes on the shiny tile floor the only sound. As she approached his office, she noticed the door was ajar, allowing her to walk right in. Immediately, her gaze landed on a large white box tied prettily with a huge red bow. Sitting front and center on his desk, it was impossible to miss. Hands trembling with anticipation, she reached for the small envelope that was tucked under the ribbon. The name on the front, written in Ethan’s familiar bold script, was a surprise. She paused briefly, considering what it could mean, but didn’t have a clue. Thoroughly intrigued, she unfolded it and read the note
Miss Langston,
Your outfit for our appointment this evening is in the box. Put it on, then meet me down the hall in room 112. Do not dawdle or there will be additional consequences.
Professor Fischer
A quiver that started in her belly at the use of her maiden name and the formal address. It changed into a full-fledged flutter at the men
tion of additional consequences. Dying to know what her naughty professor was up to, she quickly set the note aside and with eager fingers tore into the box. The bright red ribbon was nothing to her eager fingers and in a single tear, it was gone and she pulled off the lid. As she took in the contents, her breath hitched sharply and a wave of excitement zipped through her. Folded neatly in white tissue paper lay a traditional schoolgirl uniform. Consisting of a white blouse with a Peter Pan collar and a pleated red plaid skirt, also included was a pair of anklet socks and a not-so-traditional black Mary Jane shoes with a four-inch stacked heel. The shoes were incongruent with the outfit, but made it sexy—big girl sexy. It all seemed deliciously taboo.
“Professor Fischer is being a very wicked boy,” she whispered to the empty room as she closed and locked the door to change. As she slipped on the white blouse, she noted the sheer fabric and decided to lose her bra. The skirt came next, what there was of it. It was so short it barely covered her panties, in fact, if she bent over her entire backside would be on display. Socks and shoes followed. Feeling deliciously naughty, she giggled as she fastened the little gold buckles.
Once dressed, she was putting her discarded clothes in the box, when she noticed two hair ties. After quickly fashioning two long pigtails, she searched for a mirror. Spying the coat closet, she was pleased to find a full length mirror on the back of the door. The image staring back at her could pass for a barely legal freshman—okay, maybe in the dark, and at twenty paces. She looked cute. With a wrinkled nose, she turned from side to side, taking it all in. The skirt was short and showed a whole lot of leg, but to her critical eye, the look was still a tad too innocent. Wanting to drive him insane with lust, she unbuttoned several buttons at her collar to reveal at least three inches of sexy cleavage. At the bottom, she opened enough buttons to tie the tails together in a knot. Folding the waistband of the skirt over twice set it lower on her hips and exposed her flat belly. She added a swipe of red lipstick, popped in a stick of gum and reassessed herself in the mirror, this time with a decidedly naughty grin. Not so innocent college co-ed versus sexy professor—round one—coming up.
Peeking out the door, she was relieved to find the corridor empty and quickly set out in search of room 112. Taking a left out of Ethan’s office, the ascending numbers quickly told her she was heading the wrong way. Of course, although she had a fifty-fifty shot, she’d chosen wrong. Spinning around, she retraced her steps, dashing past his office toward the other end of the corridor. Determined not to be discovered in her slutty school girl costume, she scurried as fast as womanly possible in high heels, the whole while scanning room numbers until at last found the designated room at the far end of the hallway. Without knocking, she darted inside, closing and locking the door behind her. Leaning her forehead against it, she paused for a moment to catch her breath and calm her nerves. The risk of getting caught in the inappropriate outfit by one of Ethan’s colleagues or worse, a student had left her a little frazzled.
A throat cleared behind her. Ethan. She’d assumed he was here, locking herself in without checking. What if it was someone else? Horrified, she whirled around, searching the sunken large room with auditorium seating. She found Ethan below her, seated at a desk in the front of the classroom, waiting and watching her. With a relieved sigh, her tension eased. Lips tipping upward, she moved forward.
“Wait right there, Miss Langston.” His voice rumbled in the near empty room stopped her. “Did you follow the instructions I left you?”
“Yes, Professor Fischer.” On his cue, she fell instantly into character, as if they were really teacher and student.
“Show me. Lift your skirt.”
Her eyes swept the room looking for windows. Seeing none, she relaxed.
“Dawdling? Not starting off well, are we? Lift your skirt and show me your panties.”
She did, glad she had worn her newest lacy white ones.
“Very pretty. Were those in the box that I left you?”
Crap. Removing them hadn’t crossed her mind. “No, sir.”
“Pull them down.”
Her thumbs went to the waistband. Knowing she had his full attention, she teasingly peeled the lace down her thighs, letting them go at the knee so that they slid down her calves. As she shifted to step out of them, his next order stopped her.
“I said down, not off. I want them just above your knees.”
Warmth flooded her face as she pulled the damp material back up. She had to spread her legs far apart to keep them in place.
“Since you’re having a hard time following directions, I’ll expect you to keep them there as part of your punishment.” Quiet and controlled, his velvety smooth voice made her already simmering blood ignite. Ethan knew how strongly she reacted to his voice, his frank words and the orders he gave her. He used it to his advantage, which made her legs weak and rubbery.
“Hold that skirt up high, young lady. I want to see you.”
It had fallen back in place as she fussed with her panties. Gathering it in both hands, she held it at her waist. Goosebumps popped out on her skin as his eyes homed in on her bare skin, settling on the smoothly denuded lips of her pussy presented as if a gift for him between her widespread thighs.
His eyes shifted upward, grazing her belly and breasts before meeting her gaze. “Very good, Miss Langston. It appears you can follow the rules if you put your mind to it, can’t you?”
“Yes, sir.” The breathiness of her voice gave away her excitement. Somehow, having to hold her panties in place at his command, seemed naughtier than having removed them completely.
“Tuck the hem of your skirt into your waist band and then unbutton your blouse. I want to see if you’re wearing a bra against my instructions.”
“I’m not, sir.”
“Prove it. Do as you’re told.”
Damn. Was that a growl or a purr? She couldn’t tell, but either way, her pussy spasmed in response, liking what she heard. Obediently, she unfastened the three remaining buttons and allowed the sides of her blouse to fall open, baring the inner curves of her breasts.
“Lovely. Knot it like you had it. No buttons. Then come down here. The panties are to stay in place.”
As he spoke, he rose from behind the large wooden desk and moved out in front. Leaning his backside against it, he crossed his arms and waited. Incredibly sexy in a tailored suit, Lanie found him even sexier when dressed down in jeans, appreciating the way the denim clung to his muscular thighs. He wore a fitted button down shirt in a dark hunter green. Untucked, the long lines of the shirt against the dark denim, made him appear taller. He’d rolled up the cuffs, which exposed his defined forearms. Ethan was fit. He worked out daily, playing basketball or racquetball with friends several days a week, and it showed. Mouth watering, she gobbled him up with her eyes.
“Miss Langston?”
She blinked. Pulling her attention away from his arms, she looked up, noting his brow quirked in question. Had he asked a question?
Unfolding his arms, he crooked a finger at her in a come here motion. “You keep piling on the demerits. You’ve got ten seconds or the punishment you’ve already earned will be doubled.”
Hurriedly, she re-tied her blouse, coming down the broad steps as gracefully as could while hobbled at the knees with a pair of panties. It wasn’t easy keeping them in place and not taking a header onto the hard tile, but at last, she made it, coming to a stop in front of him.
“I’m sorry for being so distracted, sir. And for the panties.”
“What else have you done wrong, Miss Langston?”
Fully engrossed in his role, his face was stern as he taught his lesson. Despite his firm demeanor, she could see the warmth and affection in his eyes. Without it, she would find it difficult to maintain her composure. Still, she scrambled for an answer. “Well… I disobeyed your instructions and um, dawdled, several times.”
“All minor offenses. What is the most egregious transgression that must be addressed, and severely.”
“Uh…” She replayed everything since she’d walked in the room, but was stumped.
“Think hard. You’re a bright girl. What did I say we’d discuss when you got here?”
“Texting and driving? But I was stuck in traffic.”
“You were at a dead stop then?”
Shit. She hadn’t been, but they weren’t going more than two or three miles per hour at most. Still, technically, she’d broken the rule. She suddenly found her hands very interesting as she shook her head to say no.
“I didn’t think so. Bumper to bumper traffic can stop on a dime which means you have to be more vigilant.” He lifted her chin with a crooked finger until she was looking at him. “What was your promise to me about driving?”
“Follow the speed limit, always wear my seatbelt, only hands free talk on the phone if necessary, and absolutely no texting while driving.”
“Perfect. Obviously this wasn’t a case of not understanding the rules.” He stood up, grasping her hips to keep her in place, and while staring into her eyes, he stepped into the crotch of her panties. In one firm motion, the strained material was down her ankles and crushed beneath the sole of his shoe. Holy crap, that was hot. The bold as brass cowboy type move, was practically her undoing and she whimpered helplessly.
“Step out, clasp your hands behind your head and spread your legs nice and wide for me.”
Everything about this scene aroused her. The empty classroom, the cool air against her skin, his orders given in that sultry, evocative voice—that alone made her pussy quiver with need. But nothing compared to the long, gentle fingers that found the ache between her thighs and began stroking her slowly.
Lanie's Lessons Page 8