Back to School

Back to School...... I am swooning just thinking about it.

Why am I so excited about it? What is so great about back to school, anyway?

Well it could have something to do with sitting in the lecture hall, glancing at the clock, waiting for my Professor and Spanker to walk in.

Or maybe it is the way my heart skips a beat as he strides into the room, putting his bag on the desk, and pulling out various papers, overheads, and finally his laptop...getting himself ready, and all I can think of is the way he looks as he slowly rolls his sleeve, or the look on his face when he tells me to bend over the chair.

It could be the feeling I get when he eventually looks my way with a slight knowing smile on his face, his head nodding in my direction, causing me to squirm and shift in my seat.

It might be watching Professor as he moves from behind his desk and looks around the room, clearing his throat softly.....confident that with that small, rather unobtrusive act he will get the room's complete attention.

Or even watching him lecture, while I take notes...being part of the class knowing that in a few hours this is the man who will cane my bare bottom. And when my mind wanders and my pen stops and hovers mid sentence, over my spiral notebook, one look from him brings me back to the class, and I spend the rest of my time listening to his voice, jotting down notes, and generally swooning over his arrogant "academic-ness".

Part of it could be seeing the clock's second hand land on the half hour and hearing students from other classes spill into the hallway just outside the door, moving to their next class. The students in my class do not move, however. Some of them shuffle a bit and glance up at the clock impatiently, but noone gets up to leave until Professor dismisses us.

Or maybe it is watching him attend to the needs of the each of the students in the line that inevitably forms in front of his desk as soon as class is over and how he looks over at me occassionally and smiles, over the heads of the many starry eyed girls with cheeks that turn slightly pink under his gaze, that wait for their turn to talk to him.

And it could have something to do with the look on his face when he suggests, "Why dont you take that eraser and clean off the board for me while you wait?" and I can almost hear the laughter in his voice while he helps the last student as I erase the over sized blackboard, a thin layer of chalk settling on the front of my jeans, knowing that I simply could not refuse his "request".

I wonder if it is, while stopping by his office on the way to lunch, the way my throat goes dry when he shuts the door behind us and tells me to lean over, so that he may apply several hard spanks to the seat of my jeans before leading me back out into the hallway and across campus for lunch.

It most definitely includes the point at which he says "Okay then, are you ready Naughty One?" and how my cheeks flush hot as I shrink slightly and glance around the cafeteria, wondering if anyone overheard him call me Naughty One, and the funny feeling in my stomach that starts to grow as I follow him back across campus, half running to keep up with his long legged stride.

It might be the tightness that I get in my chest as I stand in the center of his office on wobbly legs as he retrieves the crook handled cane from the top shelf of the bookcase and then turns to look at me.

And part of it is definitely the way he cradles the cane in both hands as quietly tells me to bare my bottom and bend over his desk.

I would imagine it could have something to do with not being able to make a sound as the first stroke falls on my tender flesh, leaving the white hot line of sting that threatens to take my breath away.

Or maybe it is they way he makes me count each stroke softly, and how I have to grit my teeth to keep from crying out, while listening to the people walk by, just outside the office door.

I think it could also have something to do with the embarassment I feel while standing in the corner, my hands on my head and my elbows against the wall, my panties and jeans pooled down around my ankles, listening to him type while I wait for the sting to subside, my bare bottom showing the marks of the caning I received just moments before.

Yeah. I think it is all of those things. And more.

I really can't wait for school to start :)