Whatever You Want!

by Sandy

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Reluctant, Heterosexual, Spanking, Light Bond, Oral Sex, School, .

Desc: Erotica Sex Story: When Sonia turns to her Professor for help, she gets what she needs, at a price... This story has something for most readers I believe, I hope you enjoy it.

Sonia hovered nervously outside his room, trying to muster the courage to knock on the door. She knew she was going to be in trouble and that did not detach from the even greater problem that loomed on the horizon. Okay, so she had been foolish, she should have attended the lessons and kept up with her course work — too late now! She took a deep breath, smoothed her skirt down her thighs and knocked on his door.

"Come in!" Professor Watson looked up from his large desk where he sat reviewing his students' latest submissions. The heavy door swung open to reveal a rather apprehensive young student. He peered over his glasses as she stepped inside, closing the door behind her before approaching his desk.

She seemed vaguely familiar and he tried to place her as he stared at the striking young woman with dark hair swept back off her head to form a ponytail. She was slim, with a good figure, although not too generous in the bust-line. A popular girl he imagined.

"Yes?" He spoke rather brusquely as though irritated by her intrusion.

"It's about the coming exams..." She began nervously, "I'm afraid I've rather fallen behind on some of my course work and I was wondering if there was anyway I could catch-up?" She grimaced, sucking air in between her clenched teeth.

He sighed, sitting back in his chair as he appraised her more fully. Why did these students do this? Every year there were one or two students who seemed to think that they could cruise through the year doing next to nothing and then right at the last minute expect him to drop everything to help them get through. "Name?"

"Sonia Thompson." Sonia twisted her fingers together apprehensively.

"Sonia Thompson," He repeated to himself, opening a filing cabinet beside his desk and scanning the folders. He found one with her name on it and pulled it out. He studied the contents briefly. Little wonder he barely recognised her, she had attended less than a third of his lectures and worse still, half of her assignments were outstanding. He took a deep breath, emphasising his disappoint. "Why do you do it?"

"Do what sir?" Sonia answered, feigning innocence.

"Mess about with your education — waste your parent's hard earned money. You party away the academic year..." He waved her into silence as she started to protest, "Let me guess. You've been ill, absent due to some obscure illness that has prevented you from attending lectures, but not late night discos. The hard drive on your personal computer has died, causing you to lose everything. Perhaps there has been a death in the family, or maybe it was a car accident... or any one of the other hundred odd excuses you students manage to dream up at this time of year." He calmed down, his voice steadying as he continued. "Go on, tell me your feeble excuse — let's see how original it is?"

Sonia bowed her head miserably. It was true, every word of it. All of the excuses had raced through her head at some point, right down to the failed computer excuse.

"Well... ?" He pressed.

"I don't have an excuse." She replied weakly.

"At least you are honest enough to admit it."

"Will you help me, please?" Sonia whispered timidly.

"I spend the year preparing lectures, making up assignment briefs, marking papers, dedicating hours of time and effort to have students like you turn your nose up at it all. Other students appreciate the work that is involved and in turn do the work themselves. How fair do you think it is to them that I then shift my time from the dedicated students to one who couldn't be bothered?"

"It isn't."

"You're right it isn't. And if you were my daughter I'd put you across my knee!" He abruptly snapped.

"My parents will kill me if they find out." Tears filled her eyes and threatened to spill. "If I fail I'll have to start again, do the whole first year over or drop out of University altogether — my parents will go mad."

"And so they should young lady."

"Would you help me?" Sonia persisted, wiping her cheek where a tear had fallen. "Please?"

"No! And why should I?"

"Please... I'm begging you." Sonia sobbed, tears flowing down her cheek. "I'll do anything to get through this."

"Anything?" Watson cocked his head curiously, his eyes enquiring. "That's like writing a blank cheque?"

"I don't have much money." Sonia stammered, uncertain of where this was heading, but well aware of the implication her suggestion had offered.

"You said anything — do you mean that?"

"Well... I'm not sure... I mean... what exactly did you have in mind?" Her tears stayed as she looked at him nervously.

"Nothing." He rested his elbows on the armrest and folded his hands together before himself thoughtfully. "I am merely trying to ascertain what you mean by anything?"

"I... err... don't know. What would I need to do?"

He looked at her thoughtfully. Young, slim, knee length skirt, trim waist, pretty face and sensuous lips. Shaking his head, he pulled himself together and inched his chair toward his desk. "Forget it. Now if you don't mind I have work to be getting on with." He turned his attention back to the papers before him.

"Pleaseee..." Sonia whispered.

"Look!" He put his pen back on the desk before him forcefully. "In my opinion you need to be taught a lesson. I've told you what I would do if I were in your father's shoes..."

"Do it then?" Sonia cut him short.


"I said do it — smack me if it satisfies your sense of justice. Just don't let me fail."

"Now listen here young lady." He was getting angry. "Don't think you can come in here and start playing games with me."

"I'm not." Sonia continued in a low steady voice. "I deserve it — you said so yourself. Whether my father tans my backside or you do, it makes little difference. If I am to be punished and you do it I still have a chance with my exams. If my father does it will be after my chances are gone!"

Professor Watson sat back in his chair flabbergasted. He had never heard anything so incredible in his life. He removed his glasses and wiped the lens as endless possibilities whirled around in his mind. "You want me to punish you?"

"If that's what it will take?" Her manner was becoming more confident and he didn't care for what he considered was the insolence creeping into her tone. "No. That's not what it will take and lose that attitude right now."

"Yes sir." Her eyes fell downward. "Sorry sir."

He hesitated for a moment, letting his eyes slowly roll up from her toes. She was pretty, exquisitely so. His thoughts drifted into sordid territory and he let those thoughts run as his eyes continued to roll slowly up toward her face. Oh Yes! How he'd just love to teach her a thing or two! There was danger here and he knew it all too well. One word from her and he would be in serious trouble. Yet, she needed to be taught a lesson and who else could do this better? The alarm-bells were clanging away in his head, urging extreme caution, but the words that came from his mouth showed no such caution, "Go and lock the door."

Her eyes peered apprehensively up at him briefly as her face bowed down. She turned silently, nervously picking her way across the room to turn the key. Sonia faced him, her eyes not daring to meet his. He liked it, her whole demeanour made him start to stiffen in his trousers.

"Come here." He forced the air of command in his voice. She timidly approached his desk to stand opposite him. He wouldn't do it, not really — would he? Surly he was only trying to scare her into thinking he would. But what if he did — what if he actually smacked her behind?

"Come around here." He waved her round his desk as he pushed his seat back, shuffling himself forward to perch himself on the edge of the chair.

Sonia stood beside him; face slightly flushed as she stared down at his dark grey clad knees. Not really? Her eyes shot nervous glances to his face as he looked up at her. Oh my God, he was! "Lift your skirt and bend over my knee."

Lift her skirt! She hesitated for a moment, swallowing hard before leaning down and clasping the hem of her skirt. She raised the back of her skirt, bunching it together and holding it to the small of her back as she used her free hand to guide herself down over his knees. Getting over his knee one handed was a cumbersome affair, but at last it was done with as much dignity as she could manage, if indeed there was any dignity to be had from such an act.

He would have much preferred it if she had raised the whole of her skirt, his eyes followed the front of her hemline as it raised halfway up her thighs, but it wasn't to be and caution erred against insistence. He felt her small firm breasts press against the outside of his thigh as she settled across his lap. Her stomach bowed downward, she wasn't high enough. He took the knotted skirt from her hand and pushed her further across his lap, his eyes drinking in the sight of her pale blue underwear tightly cladding her two firm globes.

As she rode over his lap, her buttocks became taut. The fabric stretched. His mouth felt dry as he stared at the flimsy pale blue cloth, the shallow dip as it bridged the valley between her buttocks. The stitching along the elastic stretched around the base of her buttocks, curling in and downward, a two inch strip of pale blue covering the mound of her purse bulging out between her thighs. He took it all in, every detail, scanned and stored.

.... There is more of this story ...

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