Teaching Tara (An Age Play Story) (2 page)

Alone.

It seemed too good to be true.

“That’s how it looks,” Jessie said, pinching her eyes as she examined more of the fine print. “You know, this isn’t one of those dinky contracts teachers write up and stable to their syllabi. This thing looks pretty serious.”

“He’s a serious guy,” said Tara with a shrug while her friend went back to reading through the complicated legal jargon.

As Jessie read, Tara rested her cheek on one hand and let herself drift. She wondered how it would be to spend time with Professor Emerson. A glut of nervous excitement started to swirl through her chest as different images played out in her head. Like maybe they would be talking about writing or literature, and it would get late, so he would have to give her a ride home, and she might lean in to kiss him, and he would pause, but then he wouldn’t be able to hold back.

It was a stupid fantasy, but Tara didn’t care. She kept thinking of other things they might do together. They could go to the movies or a play or even just watch TV together. She didn’t care as long as they spent more time together.

Wow, she sounded silly. Tara got it, but she couldn’t bring herself to get genuinely annoyed. He was smart, kind, funny. She wanted to get to know him better. And sure, there was something of an age difference, but she didn’t mind.

Whenever she looked around at the frat guys who populated her classes, they always seemed way too immature. She didn’t want someone who spent his hours contemplating the fastest way to get drunk. She wanted someone smart, someone who could read.

Jessie looked puzzled for a moment, “This is actually really serious.” She started to go over the text again, almost as though she couldn’t entirely believe what she had read, “If you sign this, then you have to do what he says. He’ll have complete control over your grade, and it sounds like a lot more.”

“What else?”

“Like he could force you to complete whatever assignments he gives you. You would be legally bound to do what he tells you.” She grimaced for a moment, “To be honest, I don’t think you should sign it.”

“But if I don’t, I’ll fail the class.”

“So you retake it,” Jessie said with a shrug. “It’s not the end of the world.” Of course, Tara’s roommate didn’t know about the scholarship or what would happen if her GPA took another hit.

Tara swallowed and tried to seem happy. She smiled, but it didn’t feel terribly convincing, so after another moment, she said, “Thanks for your help, but I really want to do well. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen?”

Tara called Professor Emerson and told him she had read the contract, signed it, and wanted to know what she had to do then. He gave her an address and asked her to meet him there. They were going to work on her essays, so she should bring her laptop and research materials.

Deciding that Jessie had just been paranoid, Tara gathered her things and drove over. The house she found was nestled into a nice neighborhood with big yards and fences. Trees shaded the narrow roads and it seemed like the sort of place where kids would ride their bikes or play baseball in the park she passed.

Once she found the right house, a small Tudor with a big oak in the front yard, Tara gathered up her things, checked the contract again, and got out. She rang the doorbell and waited, shifting her weight from side to side as a cloud of nervousness gathered in her chest.

She didn’t know what could go wrong, but then she thought of spending some time alone with Professor Emerson and her heart sped up. “Okay,” she told herself again and again, “It’s okay. You’ve got a little crush on him, but this is going to be professional. You’re just going to study.”

But what if something else happened? The tiny voice at the back of her head kept whispering about all of the naughty things they could do together. Without meaning too, she visualized him standing behind her, pulling the curtain of her hair back so he could nuzzle, then kiss the nape of her neck. A shiver of pleasure danced down her spine and made her hop once.

Right then, the door opened. Tara felt a blast of heat run through her skin as she blushed, probably from her toes to her hair.

He looked just a gorgeous with his strong jaw, dark eyes, and when he smiled at her, Tara felt herself melt a little. The imagined sensation of his breath on her neck made her shiver a bit while he held out his hand.

“Yes, Professor.” She really did sound like an energized schoolgirl, but Tara couldn’t help herself. She didn’t know how to get her stomach to quit roiling.

“Alright then. Come inside.”

He led her down a wood floored hallway and into the kitchen. Further back was the living room. It was larger than Tara would have expected from the outside. A white couch sat on the plush carpeting. There was a flat screen set against the wall. She figured he had an office space somewhere else in the house.

“You live alone?” she asked, hoping to make small talk while learning more about her teacher. He never mentioned having a girlfriend, so she always hoped he was single, not that she could ever know for certain.

As he stood over her, Tara thought he seemed even stronger, even more powerful. All at once, she wanted to shrink down and curl up on his lap. He made her feel small yet in a good way she couldn’t quite name.

Tara kept her eyes on her hands as he double checked her signature. Once satisfied, he walked to the seat beside her, sat down, and leveled his gaze upon her. Again, she felt small before him. He had done so much and had so many accomplishments while she was barely a year a half through college.

“This is very serious. I want you to understand that I have never done anything like this before. If a student doesn’t do her work, I don’t give second chances.”

Tara gave a solemn nod but couldn’t keep herself from asking, “Why am I any different?” She couldn’t be the only one who begged him for another chance. There were plenty of other girls—prettier girls—who sat off to the sides or the back of the class and spent the whole class meeting on their phones.

“Because I think you have potential.”

In a small voice, she said, “Thank you.”

“There is one thing you must absolutely understand, and if after hearing this you decide you would prefer to take the grade you’ve earned, I would understand.”

“Okay…”

“Tara, as I teach you and work with you, there is only one thing I will expect and demand above all else, and that is obedience. If you are going to get extra time and attention, it will be because you do what I say, when I say it. And if you defy me or resist, then I will discipline you. Sometimes, I may ask you do to things you consider to be bizarre or silly, but those are my conditions. This is your last chance to back out. Do you understand?”

She didn’t, not really. Discipline seemed like such a harsh term, the kind of word soldiers might say as they talked about how they managed to hide in the desert for years. Despite any reservations she may have had, Tara took a breath and said, “I understand.”

“If you agree now, there is no backing out.”

“I understand,” she said again. He was serious, but she was too and had no intention of letting an opportunity like this slip by.

“Good,” he told her, turned around, and headed back to the living room. He sat down on the couch and slapped his lap. “Come here. Now.”

Tara followed his trail, not certain what he expected from her. She came into the living room and hesitated before him, not sure what he expected. Then, before she could react, he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her down across his lap.

Disbelief registered through her head before anything else. No one touched her like, not since she was a little girl anyway. “You’ve been a very bad girl,” he told her without a hint of sarcasm or irony. In fact, her teacher sounded completely serious as well as disappointed in her.

“What?” she gasped as she struggled to catch up.

“You’ve been very bad, and it’s important you understand there are consequences. Simply because you’re a pretty girl, you don’t get to avoid paying for your mistakes.”

“Pay?” her thoughts reeled as she tried to comprehend exactly what Professor Emerson meant. On one level, it was completely obvious, and yet she refused to accept it as a possibility.

She was a college student, after all, an adult. He couldn’t spank her! It seemed ludicrous, completely insane, and yet she was strewn across his lap like a naughty child. Breathing hard, she pushed against the carpet and tried to roll off of his lap. Her teacher quickly braced one hand against the small of her back and shoved her back down.

“We’re not done yet,” he said. “Because yes, you have to pay for what you’ve done. I’ll help you with your papers and we’ll see if you can pass, but you need to be punished first. Isn’t that right?”

“What? No! I signed the contract, isn’t that enough?”

“No,” he said simply and slapped her ass. She had a pair of black dress pants. They were tight and clung to the curve of her ass, yet the layer of fabric along with her panties provided virtually no protection.

In the span of another heartbeat, she realized something else. It hurt. When she first imagined the possibility of getting spanked, she thought it would be to humiliate her. And yes, she felt demeaned and debased, but this was something else. His first blow landed and sent a spasm of pain through her body. Her eyes watered at once, almost as though she might cry.

“Tell me, should you be punished?”

She didn’t want to say it. Something inside her head made her want to deny this even happened, and yet his hand came down two more times. Each strike of his palm on her butt rocked her body with another shock of pain and humiliation. She couldn’t believe this was really happening.

Her teacher was spanking her. Tara tried to deny it until he did it again and repeated his question. She barely remembered what he asked, but dove in with a response anyway, “Yes! I deserve it! Please, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t pay attention in class. I’ll be good, I promise, I’ll be good.” She babbled on, nearly incoherent, but the spanking ceased.

At least for the moment.

“You’re a quick learner,” he told her and reached over to pet her head. His fingertips slipped from the top of her skull and down through her hair to the back of her neck. At once, Tara forgot about the spanking as she relaxed into his touch. Tender and sweet, each stroke of his fingertips made her melt a little more.

With his free hand, he stroked her butt. When she realized how intimately he touched her, Tara started to shiver, torn between excitement and humiliation. No man had ever touched her like this. He took charge and command of her as though she were nothing but a subordinate. And sure, she was his student and he did have power over her, but this much?

Against any objections, she might have voiced, Tara remained quiet. Rather than resist or struggle or swear she would sue him for sexual harassment, the sophomore girl relaxed as an older man fondled and petted her in equal measure.

The petting seemed to go on for a long time until he stopped, took a length of her hair in hand, and pulled her head forward. The roots of her hair stung at once as she grunted.

His hand struck her ass again. She grunted with pain and fought to keep her eyes from watering. Being on his lap made her feel like a little girl, yet Tara was not going to prove her immaturity by crying in front of him.

“How many times should I spank you?” he asked again, repeating himself like a teacher with a slow-witted student. Despite her position on his lap, Tara bristled at the implications. She was smart. She only did badly in his class because his good looks and commanding demeanor kept her distracted.

“Such a smart girl,” he said in the sort of tone which made her blush even more furiously. The heat radiated off of her cheeks as she bit her lower lip to keep herself from saying something she might regret. He already intended to spank her, and it could get so much worse if she provoked him further.

James struck her once, twice, thrice, and he counted each one. But then he paused, waiting several moments as he massaged her ass. He wanted her flesh to remain perfectly sensitive. He struck again and this time he paused to give her an instruction, “I counted out the first five. Now it’s your turn, Tara. Can you handle that? Can you count the last five?”

If she said no, Tara would have only played into his game and given him reason to punish her further. Knowing she didn’t really have a choice, she inhaled and said, “Yes. I can count the last five.”

“Well said.”

His palm came down again and clapped against her bottom. The pain jolted through her and made her flinch, but she shut her eyes and forced out what he wanted to hear. “Six.”

He petted her again, and even though she knew he did it to make her butt more vulnerable to his brand of discipline, Tara soaked in the moment. His touch was strong and potent. It sent pulsations of pleasure through her body, echoes of delight she could neither deny nor ignore.

Professor Emerson struck her again, and as humiliating as it was, she did as he ordered, “Seven.” Then she said, “Eight. Nine. Ten.” She exhaled with relief once they finished the last number. She tried to get up again, but he kept her braced on his lap, trapped even as he reached over and scratched behind her ear as though she were his house cat.