Jason got a full-time job as a research assistant at a museum while he worked on his master’s degree, which means he hardly slept. He was also a teaching assistant three days a week, which meant he was basically teaching a class.
Most of the time he seemed to be on autopilot. Go to work, do research, go to meetings. Go to school, prep for class, grade papers, go to meetings. So when he found the first page of a strange story stapled to the back of a paper on economic reform in post-soviet Russia, it was like someone pulled the rug out from under him.
He wasn’t sure if it was stapled to the paper by accident or if the story was for the professor teaching the class or even for him. Jason assumed the students knew that he was the one who really marked all the papers. Hell, he gave the lectures for the majority of the semester. Big-name professors don’t do very much. Teaching assistants do all the real work.
Still, the single page was like nothing Jason had ever seen in the context of Russian history or, more accurately, contemporary Russian economic history. This was a snippet of a dirty dream—a little fragment of someone’s fantasy.
Jason carefully opened the staple with his fingernail and pulled the single page from the rest of the paper, and then closed the staple back up.
The paper was by Violet Lee, and like most of Violet’s work, the work was a solid B. The story, on the other hand, was far more difficult to quantify.
I couldn’t see what he was doing because I was facing the open window. The red curtains were fluttering in the evening breeze. I was just far enough away that no one could see my naked body, I hoped. Maybe I didn’t hope that hard.
“Is this a come-on?” Jason pondered as he thought about the astute, if quiet, girl who had sat in the front row for every lecture that term. After two years of being a teaching assistant, the plethora of twenty-year-old faces became a blur, and she was indistinct.
She was short, well dressed, well-mannered, a decent but not outstanding student, shy, unremarkable. She wasn’t the sultry redhead who wore low-cut tops who studied Jason with smoldering eyes. She wasn’t the girl in the fourth row who licked her lips and crossed and uncrossed her legs. This was just Violet, a slightly neurotic girl with a penchant for long skirts, slightly old-fashioned sweaters, who adjusted her glasses and bit her bottom lip a lot.
When he came up behind me, I realized he was naked. His arms slipped around me, and the smoothness of his cock slipped across my ass, nestling between my cheeks neatly.
His rock-hard chest was hot against my back, and I shuddered as he kissed up my neck and then slowly traced my ear with his tongue.
“Will you do whatever I want?” he whispered.
I nodded my head quickly.
Nodding was one thing but saying it was torture. I felt my face go red. My hips pushed back against my will. I was moaning.
He pulled my hair, and I felt the stubble on his face rub against my earlobe. The words bubbled in my throat but got stuck there. He spun me around and-
“How are the papers coming?” Professor Hendricks said offhandedly as he walked into his office. Jason slipped the single page into his bag as he collected the papers.
“Just about done Frank,” Jason never quite felt comfortable calling the professor by his first name, but he insisted.
The professor nodded with a look that said that he couldn’t care less. Jason finished grading the last few papers in a cafe near his apartment. The single page of dirty words was folded in his messenger bag, zipped securely in an inner pocket.
That night at home, he was teased by a few more paragraphs, wherein the unnamed protagonist and her lover started getting far more interesting.
When he pushed me down, my hands on the windowsill and my back arched so that my ass was in the air, I knew what was coming. I’d been waiting all day for it. His fingers slipped up my spine and fitted in my hair, where his hand belonged. He pulled tight, and my scalp burned, and I was owned, owned by him.
Then came the first slap on my ass.
Before bed, Jason stared at the paper and then at his laptop. The email seemed to write itself. “Violet, I have some questions about your paper. Could you please stop by my office tomorrow before class?”
He woke up to her reply. “Of course, no problem. I’ll see you in the morning.”
In the office, Jason had practiced how to sit, looking serious, but he hoped sexy. He wore the blazer he had bought when he first got his assistantship; brown tweed with leather elbow patches.
He had placed the page of tasteful smut on his desk, facing out, in front of a chair. Then he sat and sweated and waited.
Violet was five minutes early. She wore a pretty robin’s egg blue dress, with a white belt fastened just under her breasts, and thick off-white knee socks. Her somewhat short hair was held back with a barrette, and she wore thick dark-rimmed glasses. She held her laptop to her chest as she walked in.
“Um, you wanted to see me?”
Jason swallowed. He straightened in his chair. He nodded. “Yes, come in, close the door and sit down,” he said with as much gravity in his voice as he could muster.
She looked nervous and shy, and she pulled the chair back and sat in it. As she did, the paper he had called her in about fell on the ground. She picked it up and put it back on the desk, though as she did, he saw her eyes grow wide with recognition.
There was a beat of silence in the tiny office.
“Did you write that?”
She looked at the paper again, confusion and realization battling in her eyes. She sat still and silent and scared, but she nodded in the affirmative.
In his mind, the meeting was going to be erotic. She would demurely acknowledge being the author, and some seduction would ensue. Instead, she looked scared and confused, and he suddenly felt protective of her.
“It was stapled to the back of your paper. Did you mean for me to find it?”
“Did you mean for the professor to find it?”
She looked up incredulously, torn from her silence by the implication. “Ew, no.”
Jason laughed, and their eyes met. They lingered. He thought he saw was some desire in her stare, though he wondered if he was imagining it.
She bit her lip and folded her hands in front of her, shoulder tilting in, as if she was trying to fold up into a ball so that she could hide from him.
“Well, you’re in big trouble,” he said, his voice wavering slightly, but strength starting to grow, somewhere inside of him.
“Oh,” she whispered, looking at her lap, biting her bottom lip.
In the silence that followed, she continued to shrink as he grew taller and bolder.
“I’m sorry,” she squeaked. “Sir,” she added in almost a whisper.
The sound that came from his lips was almost a spitting. He shook his head at the ridiculousness of her apology.
“Sorry? This is a university. People come here to learn. People pay thousands, hundreds of thousands of dollars to be here, and it’s a joke to you?”
She was shaking as he stood up. He walked around his desk and descending on her. She sat there, laptop held tightly like a shield.
“I can’t believe your nerve,” he said, now standing inches from her, looking down at her. “Pornography,” he spat the word out, shaking his head.
He turned around and walked a few steps away.
“Stand up and bend over to the desk, pull your skirt up and your undergarments down,” he said without looking at her.
There was silence, again, and he wondered if he had gone too far. Then he heard her shuffling feet and turned enough to see her standing in front of his desk, pushing her white underwear down to her knees and then leaning forward on his desk.
“And your skirt up,” he said sharply.
She pulled her dress up, and it lay on her back, her ass exposed. Her underwear fell to her ankles, and one of her knee socks had fallen slightly.
He walked to her slowly, glad she couldn’t see his smile.
Looking down at the roundness of her bottom, he wondered how far he could go. He wondered what she was expecting of him. He wondered where her fantasy and his lined up. As he pondered this, he slowly knelt down and took her errant sock, pulling it up so that it matched its twin. He lifted one of her legs up enough to retrieve the white panties.
He stood and dropped the panties next to her hand, which was laid palm down on the desk, fingers spread.
He put his hand on the naked small of her back. It was the first time he had ever touched her. Her skin was hot, startlingly so. She seemed to slither under his fingers. Her body was muscular, like a dancer, but her ass had a lovely fullness.
He held her to the desk with the hand on her back and spanked her once on the ass with his other hand. She flattened herself onto the desk and let out one slow, hissing breath.
It had been a while since he had spanked someone. There was a tinge of nostalgia and longing somewhere in his head. The girl he had loved and lost. He pushed the thoughts away as he spanked the girl in front of him.
He enjoyed a rhythm. He liked the symmetry of giving each cheek its due. He started slowly and somewhat lightly until it was almost like a massage. He watched her eyes close, and her body relax into his swift little swats, and then, when he felt she was ready, he hauled back and hit her once, twice, thrice, hard. The whole of his hand meeting the very bottom of her ass and striking up.
He visualized the vibrations, feeling them like little waves directed right at her pussy.
Her head went up on the third hard hit, and she glared back at him. What came next he had almost forgotten; the laugh. A bubbling gravelly chuckle that came to him when he got in the headspace to be mean. It was a little mocking and a little playful and seemed to put the person he was spanking in a very specific place very quickly.
Violet’s face was flushed, her eyes were a little glazed, and she pouted as he laughed at her.
“We’re not done,” he said, looking directly into her eyes.
“Face forward,” he said in a voice that was far deeper than it had been a moment before.
He wasn’t a spiritual man, he was a man of science, a man of research. Still, as he closed his eyes and his hand smoothed over the now hot skin of Violet’s ass, he imagined energies flowing from his hand to her body. He felt her tense, waiting for the next blow. He felt himself harden with want.
He hit her sixteen more times, he counted in his head. Two rounds of four slaps on each cheek, then he rested. She was panting. He felt her nearing the edge of comfort, when the pain would peak through pleasure and become something truly unpleasant. He wanted to keep her there, though; keep her in the cycle of transposing pleasure and pain.
His hand moved across her ass again, this time his fingernails dragging. Her back arched, and she hissed again.
The next four hits were heavy and solid, her whole body rocking and the desk moving slightly. He listened as she breathed deeply, processing the pain, trying to manage it.
“So, little writer, why don’t you tell me how the story ended,” he said with the mocking laugh still in his throat.
She looked back at him, confused.
“The story. The reason you’re getting spanked. The page you turned in with your paper,” he explained with a disapproving shake of his head.
She turned away again and let out a little sob.
“I don’t know,” she whispered.
He hit her twice, harder than before, so hard it hurt his palm.
“You don’t know?” he spat.
“Did you write the story?”
She mumbled something, and he leaned down and pulled her up by the hair.
“Speak clearly,” he said into her ear.
“Yes, I wrote it,” she said, her face wet with a little trickle of tears and her mouth unsure if it wanted to snarl or pout.
“Then you do know how it ended. So enlighten me. I was not given the whole story, just a dirty preview.”
She struggled against his hand in her hair, but he shook her by it once, and she stopped.
“I don’t-I mean, the guy, he spanks her and then, like, had sex with her,” she said between gasps of breath and little sobs.
He slowly pushed her back down against the desk.
“Did he force himself on her?”
“No,” she said just before Jason spanked her hard again.
“So she enjoyed being spanked?”
Jason let his fingers spread out over her ass once more, then moved his hand down to the back of her thighs. Her ass pushed out, and her body moved snake-like again as she let out tiny moans.
Her fingers moved up to the tops of her inner thighs, and she froze. He edged there, fingers feeling heat emanating from between her legs.
Her hands were spread out on his desk, her fingers tightening into fists and then stretching out as her breath got louder and more ragged.
“Have you learned your lesson yet?” he said in a kinder voice.
Her eyes were closed, and, seemingly without her control, her ass pushed back against his curious fingers.
When his fingers finally slipped across the wetness of her pussy he failed to hold in a long moan, just as she failed to stifle a single drawn-out “fuck.”
He let his wet fingers moved forward, edging across her feather-like, just grazing the hardness of her clit. He circled a few times. His head had passed the place where he could just spank her. The want had permeated every part of his brain, and so he stopped.
“If you have any other dirty stories you wish to share, please hand them to me personally, and don’t staple them to class assignments,” he said, pulling away from her and straightening his pants.
She didn’t move as he walked back around and sat at his desk. They were facing each other then, her body hungry for his hands and his hands shaking with need for her body.
Their eyes locked for a beat, then another.
“That will be all, Violet.”
She swallowed and stood up, her dress falling back around her red ass and wet thighs. She picked up her laptop and straightened herself.
“Thank you, sir,” she said, mouselike but clear.
They both looked down at her panties, a little ball of white on his desk, and then back at each other.
He cleared his throat and opened his laptop. She throbbed and wondered what to do. His look told her she was excused, and so she turned and walked to the door.
At the door, she turned and gathered her strength.
“Jason,” she said in a stronger voice, the voice he was used to hearing in class.
He looked up at her.
“Would you like to go out on a date sometime?” she asked, holding in the begging her body was demanding her to express.
“I think that would be very nice, but perhaps after this class ends next week.”
She smiled brightly. “Yes, that’s a good idea.”
He pictured kissing her and his body shivered with want.
“Why don’t you email me. We can plan something.”
She nodded and opened the door.