Teaching Tara (An Age Play Story) (3 page)

Tara had never blushed his much in her life. Then had another reason for regret because she let out a little moan of pleasure. No one had ever scratched her like this. Waves of contented glee roamed through her nerves as he worked her skin.

Another smack clapped against her butt. “Hey!” she cried out, indignant all of a sudden. “You said ten!”

“I did, but you have such a spankable little ass.”

Tara didn’t know how to answer. He spanked her two, then three more times. Without being prompted, she counted each time. Yes, she sounded defeated and morose, but she obeyed all the way up to fifteen.

Finally, he gave her a little nudge. Tara rolled off his lap and landed on the carpet. Lips tightened into an adorable pout, she got onto her knees and was about to stand when he reached out, placed his hands on her shoulders, and held her down. Again, she suffered through the sensation of being a little girl.

“Smart girl,” he said and stroked her chin, sliding his fingers further down her neck. Another blush rushed over her features as he moved lower, lower, almost all the way down to the curve of her chest. “Now here’s another lesson. Do you think you can handle it?”

“Good girl. Now, you’ve been acting like a spoiled girl, so there’s one more thing we have to do before we get to work on your essays.” James then held out his hand. Tara reached up, tentatively, and felt a surprising amount of reassurance when his fingers wrapped around hers.

James got up and led her back down the hall, only this time he opened up one of the side doors. It led to another hallway, this one carpeted. There were also several art prints along the walls. Tara felt her feet press down against the carpet as she followed.

He led her to a door. “A spare room of sorts,” explained her teacher.

Tara didn’t know if she was supposed to respond or not, so she decided to be safe and said, “Yes, Sir.” He paused for a moment and smirked back at her, almost as though he had just won something from her.

Tara swallowed apprehensively as he opened the door for her. Once it was open, he motioned for her to enter. She took a few small steps and marveled at what she found.

As she first suspected, it was a bedroom, but not one for an adult. At least, she didn’t think it had been set up for a grownup. Instead of a bed, there was a big crib. It looked large enough to fit an adult. There was a swing and a changing table as well. And those…they looked large enough for an adult too. Tara couldn’t believe it. She drank in the sight of her surroundings and couldn’t quite comprehend what she faced.

“Will you remember to behave from now on?”

“Yes, I will,” she said, not sure why he brought her but strangely enticed by what she saw. The walls were a bright shade of pink. Posters with pastel hued unicorns, fairies, and smiling cartoon princesses looked down at her. This was a room for a little girl, all ruffled and pretty.

Tara hadn’t stepped into a room like this for a long time, and all at once, she realized some part of her actually missed it. But then she reminded herself that she was an adult. She shouldn’t be attracted to these things. Girls her age focused on looking hot and sexy, not cute and adorable.

She didn’t realize it, but James stood by her and gauged her reactions. He searched her expression for some sign of disgust. Surprisingly, he didn’t find any. Perhaps she would be more perfect for his project than he could have possibly anticipated.

“You’re wrong.”

“What?” she turned to him, nervous to hear those two words come from her teacher’s mouth. She had tried to behave and hadn’t asked for anything new.

James reached over and grabbed her wrist. She didn’t resist when he pulled her across the room and bent her over the changing table. It all happened so fast. Tara couldn’t really process what he had done until her chest and chin hit the padded surface. The scent of powder and wipes filled her nostrils until her thoughts reeled because his hand came down on her butt again.

She gasped with another shock of pain. He was spanking her again. Right before she managed an indignant order for him to stop because she had been good, she remembered his last instruction.

“I’m sorry, Sir! I’m sorry I didn’t use the right words, Sir!” She said it again and again and waited, her eyes shut as she waited for his hand to come down again.

Tara realized something. It sent a deeper shade of red dancing along her cheeks. She was turned on. She was really turned on by having herself bent across the table and knowing Professor James Emerson had done it to her. A soft heat gathered between her legs, one she didn’t want to admit. Getting spanked struck her as utterly shameful. Admitting it turned her on? That went beyond shameful.

“Nothing, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir.” Her volume dropped to barely more than a whisper.

He didn’t admonish her. Rather, he helped her back up and then nudged her onto the changing table. It was a bit taller than her, so she had to hop to sit on it, which made her feel like a little girl seeing the doctor.

“It’s okay, Tara,” he told her. Somehow, hearing him say her name made her feel even more submissive. She wanted to obey and please this man. He was her teacher, but he felt like more. If anything, being inside his house drove her further into his power and influence.

“Thank you, Sir. I want to be good.”

He reached up and touched her chin, stroking her chin with the flat of his thumb. His fingers extended beneath her chin. She had no idea how sensitive that patch of skin was, and she found her eyes sliding closed to relax into his touch again.

“No, Sir.” She didn’t like where this was going. Her surroundings screamed out predictions of her future and what her teacher had planned for her, yet Tara saw no way out.

“But you keep acting like one?”

“I’ve been very bad, Sir,” she said, keeping her eyes down and hoping if she said the right words now, he wouldn’t do this. “But I’ll be good from now on. Okay? I’ll do everything you say.”

“I believe you,” said her professor, but before she could sigh with relief, he continued, “You clearly want to behave, but a desire to be good is only the beginning. Good intentions aside, I’m pretty sure you’d regress back to your misbehavior, so we’re going to give you a little reminder.”

“Sir, please, I said I would be good.” She scrambled for the right tone, the right way to convince him. But when she met his eyes again, she knew it wouldn’t work. His lips hardened into a thin line and suddenly she shrank back and obeyed without another word.

Tara gulped again and wondered if this would be worth it until numbers started to flash through her head. She thought of her tuition and how much she owed the school and how impossible a real education would be without her scholarships. Tens of thousands of dollars and if she failed his class, then she would lose her funding, so she had to do this.

She unclipped the latch at her waist along with the two buttons hidden by the fabric flap. Breathing out slowly, she started to shimmy free of her pants. All the while, Professor Emerson petted her forehead and stroked along the top of her head. The motion of his hand relaxed her surprisingly well.

If she had done this in front of anyone else, Tara might have felt violated. And while a steady pulse of humiliation rocked her body, she didn’t feel disgusted or dirty as she stripped in front of him. Once she took of her pants, he took them and tossed them and set them aside. She had to be grateful. At least he didn’t toss them into the hamper nestled in the corner of the room.

“And?”

“Please, Sir, don’t make me.”

“You agreed to this when you signed my contract.” His response brooked no defiance, no resistance, only agreement and compliance, so Tara gave in, hooked her thumbs around her panty waistband and pulled it down. Arching her back, she pulled her panties down her thighs, past her knees, and all the way off until her teacher took them from her and tossed them into the hamper.

“Huh, I think you really are suited for this.”

“What?”

Professor Emerson didn’t even seem to mind about her lapse in his proper title because a wide and dangerous grin splayed his lips as he nodded down at her pelvis. “You don’t have any big girl hair down between your legs.”

She had never blushed so hotly or brightly before. Her heart pounded as the truth of his words sank in. Tara didn’t want to admit them or face him again. He allowed her a few seconds to calm down, but then he told her to open her eyes, and she had to do it.

Only when she saw him again, he held something in his hand. “It’s okay. I understand why you’d want to keep yourself well groomed,” James told her. “And don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.”

Any degree of calm she may have fostered in the last few seconds got wiped away because he knew something about her now, something she would have never admitted to anyone else. Even Jessie didn’t know about how she looked like a little girl down there.

But then James held up what he had gathered while she tried to melt into a puddle of humiliation. It took her a half-heartbeat to realize what he had. She had seen smaller versions. She had seen them and thought pretty much nothing of them because she never babysat or really dealt with small children.

Although Tara had expected it, the sight seemed to make her near future much more real. She tried to beg and plead for some sort of mercy, but he ignored her as he held it up and then she went silent when he started to speak, “What do babies where?”

“What, Sir?”

“What do babies wear? They all wear one thing in common.”

“Please, Sir, don’t make me say it. Not if you’re going to make me wear
that
.” Her heart pounded hot and hard her in her chest. She was going to do have to do it. She didn’t have a choice. Tara saw it now, but why did he have to draw it out? Why did he have to make her wait?

“I asked you a question. And when I ask you a question, I expect an answer.”

“Sir, you’re holding a diaper.” The last word stuck to the back of her throat, but she got it out, her voice small and cowed.

“That’s right, little girl. I’m holding a diaper because you’ve been very bad, and I think you need a reminder. Now, how long you have to wear this depends entirely on your performance. If you do well and prove you can be an adult, then you won’t have to wear it. Until then, I want you to feel this at all times and now that if you act like a child, I will treat you like one. Understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good. Then what should you do?”

Her stomach sank another inch. He intended to do it himself! Tara couldn’t believe it at first. Still, she understood what he expected of her, so Tara did it. She had to be a good student, a good girl. Those words sounded so demeaning, even in her head, but she lifted her legs up, forced her weight down onto the small of her back, and raised her bare butt.

James drank in the sight of his blushing girl. This was more fun than he could have possibly imagined, which meant he decided to draw it out, just a bit. While Tara kept her legs in the air like a toddler in need of a fresh diaper, he worked slowly. First, he unfolded the diaper. Then he pulled off the tabs.

But rather than slip it under her and be done, he decided to show her exactly what he was going to make her wear, “See this? It’s modeled exactly on what baby girls often wear. It has little princesses and butterflies. Aren’t they pretty?”

Tara wanted to sulk. She wanted to ignore him and be rude, but any defiance might have gotten her into more trouble. He already spanked her once, and she couldn’t go through that kind of humiliation again, so she spoke, “Yes. They’re very pretty, Sir.”

But the part that shocked her was how she meant it. Tara didn’t want to tell him, yet she meant them. The princess and butterflies were very cute. She didn’t want them on her butt, but they would have looked really sweet on some toddler. Only her teacher meant for her to be the toddler, so she had to go along with it.

He pushed the diaper under her butt, pulled the front flap up and over her pelvis, then secured the tape. With each one, Tara felt her most adult body parts become trapped in an infantile prison. Covered in thick cotton and layers of plastic, she had been diapered.

Diapered. The word sank in, and nothing she did or said could change the truth. She was a college girl lying on a changing table with her teacher smirking down at her because he felt this was the best way to teach her to behave.

Tara closed her eyes because she couldn’t face him any longer. She tried to understand how this happened, and little by little, she concluded this was her fault. She could have written the papers. She could have done her homework or made herself concentrate in his class.