Sandra's Homework Solution

"Sir? I'm Sandra, Mz. Garwin sent me about my homework problems."

"Ah yes, take a seat. I'll be just one movement dear." She picked a straight chair, in front of the dean's desk and watched while he pored over and signed some documents. How was this man going to help her concentrate on homework?

After about ten minutes he got up and filed the folders in a cabinet behind him. Turning around again he stared at her with a slightly surprised expression. "Ah, I forgot you were here; you are a quiet one. Homework problems, wasn't it? Yes, yes your teacher called, your file is right here. What is the nature of these ... homework problems, ah ... let's see ... yes its Sandra, right?"

"Yes sir, I just can't seem to collect my thoughts. My mind drifts off when I'm supposed to study. You know ... day dreams." She shrugged, gesturing with both hands.

"Yes we all have them. What manner of enticing flights of fancy, does your day dreams take you on?" She reddened and stared at the carpet.

"I ... well ... lots of things." She shrugged, intertwining her fingers on her lap. You know ... about life and things."

"Sex is it?" Sandra's face flushed even more. "Or the lack thereof, perhaps?" He spoke with a quiet demeanor, just a kind fatherly face with beautiful engaging blue eyes peering at her over rimless glasses. For a moment, she was tempted to unleash a veritable flood of her frustrations.

She left it at, "I don't have a boyfriend sir, if that's what you mean?"

"You're a nice looking young girl; you're let's see ... eighteen. This is a girl's college but you do get out on weekends, and?"

"Yes but ... I'm ... afraid."

"Of sex?" He spoke softly; with no hint of any lurid innuendo or the ambiguity a young girl faced with many men when the subject turns to sex.

"Well no, ... maybe yes but also ... everything that goes with it. I'm ... not ready."

"For a commitment?" She shrugged again, while becoming more and more mesmerized by his eyes. They seemed to draw her somewhere warm and comfortable. "Did you have a good childhood, loving parents and so on?'

"Yes, no problems there."

"What happened when you were naughty?"

"Well some times I got spanked; when I was older house arrest."

"Do you resent that, the spankings I mean?"

"No, I don't think so. My parents loved me and punished me when I deserved it. I think corporal punishment is justified as long as its just a few whacks on your rear end."

"So how do you get punished now, when you don't measure up or make a mistake?" Those eyes again, something in them called her, but to where?

"I suppose life does or will. If I flunk my exams I won't graduate; or I guess have a meaningful career."

"So, you were sent to me for advice?" His eyes now seemed to penetrate and pry at her innermost secret thoughts. Suddenly an image in living color flashed in her mind, of the dean spanking her bare bottom. She closed her eyes and giggled out loud at her overactive imagination. She covered her mouth shaking her head in disbelief. He smiled, nodding knowingly.

"You had a flash, an vivid day dream, right?" She became flustered and bewildered by his discerning insight.

"Yes but, ... but, but it was nothing and really ridiculous. His eyes seemed to reach even deeper into her mind again. "I thought I ... saw; no ... it's too humiliating." Again, the blue dissolved her inhibitions, seemingly pushing buttons in her mind at will. She felt a strange symbiotic connection to him. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. He didn't speak and his eyes were just as innocently non-inquisitive, yet at the same time probing, when she opened hers again she heard herself talking. "I had this absurd vision of being spanked by, ... by you sir, ... b ... bare bottom spanked." She studied the design in the carpet again and then closed her eyes. The design was no longer there when she opened them; her mind was playing tricks on her.

"Do you think that would help?" She nearly toppled her chair backwards as the shock of his question stiffened her spine. She opened her mouth to reply but her jaw just fell. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath to regain her composure.

"I ... I ... didn't think ... you'd consider ... spanking me." She turned crimson.

"So you don't think disciplining you physically would solve the problem?"

"I... it's the ... twenty-first century. Would you? I ... I mean here... now?" The blue eyes twisted her arm again, taking her somewhere irresistible. To an oasis filled with love, no term papers ... and the dean there, smiling unobtrusively. She found it impossible to break eye contact. "Well ... maybe ... I," she couldn't believe the word maybe had came out of her mouth.

"I have a back office slash store room. It's after six o'clock." He reached down, fumbling noisily to get something out of a lower drawer. She stared apprehensively as he produced a leather strap. It had a round braided handle with a loop on one end. The business end narrowed down to a flat strap less that an inch wide and about the length of her forearm. She was breathing rapidly and perspiration appeared on her forehead.

"You mean you have it ... here? You, you ... you use it ... on students?" He smiled disarmingly.

"This is a museum piece, it was used many years ago, before my time; not in this school mind you. I keep it here for old time sakes, just a curiosity. Does it scare you?"

"Well yes, it's a barbarous looking thing!" She was helplessly captivated, she knew her face resembled a neon sign flashing, yes, yes. "But ... that will hurt a lot, won't it?" He raised his eyebrows with a noncommittal expression and then nodded imperceptibly.

"Your eyes are saying yes, yes but what does your better judgement tell you." He twirled the braided handle. "It's you decision; Sandra's the name, isn't it? Oh yes, its right here in your file."

"Yes sir, my name is Sandra." She was absolutely spellbound, his eyes, that barbaric yet enticing implement in his hands, dropping her panties in front of a stranger, the idea of submitting willingly to pain "Must it really be ... bare bottom, ... sir?"

"It was your apparition remember, not mine. The strap delivers only pain; exposing your naked rear end contributes submissive humiliation, which when the latter is added to the former could be the proverbial straw breaking the camels back."

He got up and walked to a door behind his desk, opening it. She followed in foggy dew, thinking about straw and then followed him into a small windowless storeroom. He closed the door, locking it. Her heart was pounding and her breathing became abrupt. He sat down holding the strap with both hands across his lap and nodded at a table in front of him. This was it then, she was to lift her skirt, pull down her panties and bend over. Her crotch would be fully exposed from where he was sitting. He smiled impassively and waited. She knew that he knew she would do it. She turned and lifted her skirt, then hesitated with her thumbs under the panty elastic.

"I don't think I can, sir." she glanced at him over her shoulder in desperation. He smiled patiently but remained silent for the moment. She turned her head back, breaking eye contact but the blue was still there floating in her mind.

"You know best, " he said, almost inaudibly.

She pulled them down gradually and carefully to just below her cheeks, hoping to limit his view. Bending over, she rested her elbows on the table and conscious of what he could see, squeezed her thighs together resulting in her panties slipping to the floor. He said nothing and didn't move for what seemed like hours. If he was trying to humiliate her, he was succeeding. Why didn't he get on with it? Her face remained flushed, or rather burning. Was he looking straight at it? Her vagina would certainly be on show now.

"Spread your feet dear." She obeyed mechanically, lifting one foot out of her panties. "Are you comfortable? His voice was quiet and soothing but hearing the man - who was probably looking directly at her now fully exposed crotch - speak, transmitted hot and cold shivers to her exposed lower body flesh.

"I'm nervous sir, why ... why are you not doing ... it?"

"Ah, the impatience of youth. You are worried more about what I can see, rather than the impending pain. What I see is a shaven vulva with thick bulbous outer labia, a fair sized clitoris framed by prominent protruding inner labia, the right side larger and more jagged then the left. Oh yes, and I see your anal orifice. How does your crotch feel now dear?"