Spare the Rod. [ Father ... Yaga ]

[Baba Yaga]

"In serving his parents, a filial son reveres them in daily life; he makes them happy while he nourishes them; he takes anxious care of them in sickness; he shows great sorrow over..."

In the front of the auditorium, a young girl shone somewhat proudly, showing off a little bit as she explained her theory to the rest of the room, her expression not naughty nor prideful, but her eyes shone just slightly under the bright classroom lights. When she finished speaking, the woman sat back down and folded one leg over the other, smirking just slightly when a few students around her clapped at her explanation. Odessa was not that woman.

Ms. Lakes, all 5'3" of her, sat rather uncomfortably next the back of the auditorium and to the left, doing her best to hide down behind the person in front of her despite the fact that she was on a higher level of the seats. The Ethics 101 class always took place in the presentation hall due to the nature of the thing; constant talking. The room carried the young woman's voice to the back of the hall where it simply passed over Odessa's head.

She wasn't stupid, no. Odessa could tell you about animal evolution for hours, or perhaps poetry if you asked her. But when it came to ethics, Odessa couldn't find purchase beneath her fingers, especially not in their current lesson.
The girl up front could have rambled on for hours about Confucian's Classic of Filial Piety, touching over roles and family ethics, respect for one's father, virtues and cultural significance, and even if she spelled everything out, Odessa would likely still be confused. Her pretty little A average had dropped to that of a B- and Odessa, who prided herself on impeccable grades, wanted to pull her hair out.

Class wore on. Odessa pouted to herself in the back. She took notes and kept up as best as she could, but little drawings began to bloom up along the side of her notepaper, the young lady tuning out completely as it grew worse. She hated group discussion, and she hated the girl up front who apparently knew everything about everything.

The professor waved his hand off and told everyone to have a good evening. It was four in the early evening now, but in the sweetness of late summer, the day was still relatively young. For Odessa, that meant time to go home and read about things that were actually important to her, not how she should respect her Daddy.
However, the professor seemed to be firmly rooted in his desk, even as everyone else started fanning out of the room and heading for the doors. She frowned, biting down on the inside of her cheek. Perhaps this would be a teaching moment.

Ms. Lakes kept herself occupied, or at least presented herself that way, continuing to doodle in her notebook. Finally, all the other students seemed to have vanished, leaving just young Odessa in the presentation hall with her professor. Like a lamb walking to the slaughter, she made her move.
Odessa rose, taking her notebook with her as she went slowly down the steps, almost silently, taking her time as she drew near his desk. She'd never talked to her professor in private before. Certainly they had heard each others' voices, mostly his, but she doubted he knew her name. No matter, it wasn't his job to do such a thing. Finally, she reached his desk, standing before it timidly. Odessa was not unlike a lost child.

"Professor?"

 

[Father Figure]

Doctor Andrew Randall Holmes. The man radiated every polished and distinguished stereotype that such a name seemed to hold within the stenciled letters of the silver name plate that rested upon his desk. It was something he brought in his briefcase to every class, almost a cliché really, and before the class began he pulled it out and set it down like it was a banner flying. It was something that had become habitual for the man, a way of reminding others of who and what he was, but that was the power of such an individual. He had long learned, unlike most people, that you had to establish boundaries. You had to ensure even in the smallest of ways that the hints were read on the unconscious level, before they ever made it to the conscious. With that in mind, even in his youth he had begun dressing impeccably. He had begun practicing his diction, his smile, his brooding gaze. So it came as no surprise that visage was more akin to a hammer blow when he slowly looked up to gaze at the young lady standing in front of him.

She was standing there timidly, she was holding herself in a position of practical subservience in a social setting. Arms in front, books placed for protection, her gaze almost swept downwards so that it did not quite meet his own. Everything about her gave off the exact opposite of what his own intentions were. So he studied her in that moment, studied her and took in everything about her. His eyes gazed solemnly, hazel and brilliant, admiring her beauty for a brief second before filing that away. She was a lovely little creature wasn't she...alternative and pale, every aspect tailored to say that she was a rebel in some fashion. Just being herself, just doing what she liked, just the social outcast who didn't quite fit in anywhere....except with all the other social outcasts.

He did not believe her for a moment.

No, she wanted something and so she was affecting the mannerisms designed to get her what she needed. Typical. He stood and looked away from her, not bothering to speak as he began to put his materials up. Closing his books, his graded works, his planner. He put his brief case on the table as he stood there, and standing there it was easy to see how intimidating he might be. Nearly six feet in height, his shoulders were muscled and broad, his frame maintaining that v-shaped power of an athlete who took care of himself, and yet his greying hair emphasized his age. His brow furrowed between his eyes, narrowing his features, the austereness showing as he picked up that name plate and placed it in his briefcase.

Resignation in his voice as he finally addressed her. "Ms. Lakes, is it not? I imagine you want to speak concerning your grades." He said it with certainty, that was always the reason a student wished to speak to him. It was not as if he wanted to engaged them in further conversation outside of class after all, so it was not leap of imagination to imagine that the young lady was displeased that he had been so critical of her recent paper.

 

[Baba Yaga]

He was ignoring her.

Odessa's grasp on her books tightened somewhat, her elbows growing stiff and locking. She watched rather dumbly as he made something of a performance of putting his belongings back into his suitcase, meticulously picking things up one by one, almost as if he had obsessive compulsive disorder. Odessa wondered briefly if he did.
His voice startled her and she looked up at him, her eyes widening a bit more. She felt like a deer in the headlights. Odessa opened her mouth for a second, only to produce no sound. She shook her head.

"Ah, yes, Sir," Odessa began, as if she was not used to the sound of her own voice. "I'm having some difficulties understanding the concepts we've been going over for the past few months. I hope I'm not wasting your time.." Odessa trailed off slightly, noting how he seemed to be somewhat expectant, if not a little bit impatient. She felt foolish suddenly and turned her gaze down again, running her thumb over the leather side of one of her notebooks.

"I've been attending different study groups," Odessa continued suddenly, forcing herself to look back up at him as she spoke. He seemed the type of character who demanded such respect. "At least twice a week I've met up with others to try and get some help from my peers who understand, and it feels like such a simple thing to get the grasp of, I don't know why it's not clicking with me."
Odessa appeared to be pouting, looking quite forlorn. Dr. Holmes stood before her, a great pinnacle of knowledge and righteousness, and Odessa faltered at his feet.

"I was wondering if you had any suggestions for me," Odessa said, finishing her little speech. She was not certain if asking him for help directly was the best option at this point. By the way he seemed to dismiss her when she first came up, opting for packing himself up instead, it seemed he was either too busy to help her out, or simply did not care to give her the time of day.

 

[Father Figure]

Straightening his shoulders he merely raised an eyebrow at her explanation. Obviously it was not as if he felt he was teaching a high level course with this work and he considered it rudimentary at best. The very idea that she was having a difficulty, the very thought rankled him. Not that he could imagine a person would not, not everyone was a gifted individual, but he knew Odessa already. He had taken an active interest in her scholastics when he saw her grades slipping, had shown a brief hint of interest in her and her accolades. She was not someone who would have considered slow by any means of the word and his disapproval of her seemed to radiate in every way a human being could have expressed themselves. He started to turn away, to pick up his belongings and leave with perhaps a word of dismissal, but then he paused. He paused and spoke with exasperation in those words.

"Ms. Lakes," he said, his eyes never having left her visage even as she hemmed and hawed not to meet his own. "It is evident that it is not a lack of skill, not a lack of talent. It is a lack of interest. This is a freshman level Ethics course, Ms. Lakes. Surely you cannot tell me that it is beyond your capabilities?" He made a small tsking noise with his tongue, letting himself finally take the briefest of moments as she looked down in order to gaze at more than just her face. It was in that moment that he had other considerations, other thoughts that entered his eyes. Thoughts that might very well show the professor did not quite agree with his own ethics course work.

Glancing down he turned his wrist up to look at his watch, noting the time and that the room was not going to have another course for more than a couple of hours. He had no pressing business, nothing that prevented him from continuing this discussion. She wanted suggestions did she? She wanted his aid? Very well, he would provide it and then she could accept it as she wished. He felt a stirring inside of himself as he thought of the possibilities, a thrill of hormones that rushed deep inside of his very soul and he nearly made a yearning sound of appreciation. To say that he found her attractive was an understatement. Instead how he felt was something much more dangerous, something much more visceral.

He found her vulnerable.

He placed his briefcase back upon the desk, sitting it down and placing his hands upon it as he looked at her and then he casually asked a question that had no place in their conversation. His eyes were narrow, hard even, testing the boundaries with that one question. After all there was no point in doing much of anything if this was enough to have her scurrying out of the room. She was an intuitive young thing, she would understand the hint in the question itself and his voice rather solemnly asked. "Are you wearing any panties today, Ms. Lakes?"

 

[Baba Yaga]

Odessa frowned, mentally kicking herself for him implying that she simply was not interested. She mulled it over in her mind, fleetingly so, and supposed he might have had some sort of point about that. She didn't spend much time thinking about ethics, what was right and what was wrong; Ms. Lakes could easily be described as selfish. She did not make a display of it like most girls her age did, going out and clubbing and getting high and taking the morning-after pill. No, Odessa wasn't flamboyantly self-indulgent. Her selfishness was within herself, spending too much time in her dorm room, hiding from everyone else with the curtains drawn, practicing taxidermy or reading about witchcraft. Odessa was self-indulgent with both her privacy and her distaste in most other people.

As Dr. Holmes felt a stirring in his loins, a fire that burned deep in his belly, Odessa felt an odd chill travel through her body, starting at the base of her spine and crawling up into the back of her mind. It felt like something was crawling around inside of her skull and suddenly, her gaze was trapped on her professor's face. His mouth was moving. He was asking her a question.

Odessa was quite pale to begin with, but when he questioned her about her undergarments, the color of her flesh changed to something that would make one look ill, as if they had not seen sunlight in months. Her eyes widened just slightly, the pretty little turquoise things glistening inside of her skull. What did he just ask her. Why couldn't Odessa answer.

"Y-Yes," Odessa breathed, her mouth forming words without her permission. The panties in question hardly served their purpose of an actual garment and left little to the imagination, exposing almost the entirety of her backside beneath her dress. Some might question just why a girl would wear such scandalous panties on a regular day of the weak, but to Odessa, it was her fun little secret; her boost of confidence and armor that no one else could see.
At once, Odessa took a single step away from his desk. Whether she was beginning to make a run for it or preparing to step back and give him a view was unknown, but the look on her face was trembling fear and confusion.

 

[Father Figure]

The response she gave him was breathtaking and he raised both eyebrows in surprise at the way her body changed and shifted. He had surprised her to be sure, but that much? Enough to send her fleeing and scurrying away like the hapless little animal she might happen to be? The way her skin suddenly paled with the shock of it? No, he thought, no there was so much more to that question. So much more to be yielded if he decided to push.

He had every intention to push.

He gave a solemn glance towards the door once more, ensuring that there was nobody that was going to come round and then he moved around his desk. She had stepped back as if she were a prey animal sniffing the air for fear of danger, so he knew he had to have a light touch at the moment. He could press the advantage, perhaps try to take her physically, but he was certain that would go poorly. No, he had to play this in a different fashion if he wanted to capture this little creature. He had to make her feel like she had participated, like she had played a part in her own downfall. It made him smile inside at the idea that she would be sickened by the debauchery that she might partake in.

He enjoyed it, he could not help himself. He enjoyed making a woman feel compromised, feel desecrated. That was the better word for it. How many had he placed his hands upon in his long tenure at the college? How many had he shown that terrible side to himself? He could not count the numbers, it had begun so very long ago, and now Odessa stood there and he gave a small smirk at her...as if she were beneath him. Obviously in his mind she was. He gave that smirk as he leaned back against his desk, crossing his arms and he peered at her with intensity before finally speaking.

"Show me. Go on. Show me, Ms. Lakes. Surely you can get the hint can you not? That perhaps your grades might see a slight turn upwards if you decided to play my games with me? So, if you can stomach it," he gave a teasing smile, this time actually showing an expression that radiated up into his eyes. Humor. Humor at her predicament. "If you can...accept it, well, then show me and we can discuss some extra study habits that might benefit you."

 

[Baba Yaga]

Odessa shut her eyes for a moment as he requested - or was it demanded? - that she show them to him. She took a long pause, her gaze leaving him once more and finding the floor between them, much happier to stare at the ugly carpet than his cold eyes. She should have known that he was going to demand that he show her. Odessa wondered how bad it would be. To her, Dr. Holmes probably had some little old wife who was his age, perhaps a bit younger. She would have gray in her hair just like him, and her body would be tired and old. Odessa's body was still young, as tight as could be, and presently hidden under her dress.

Her hands had found her dress as she thought, grasping loosely at the fabric. It was snug around her slim waist but grew out, giving her plenty of room and stopping short just above her knees. Odessa looked at his face once more, briefly, looking for an answer. She already had one, but she didn't want to come to terms with it's truth.

Slowly, the young woman's body began to turn. She drew another foot back, but not fully, as if stepping to the side. Odessa twisted her body carefully and face away from him, showing him her back. Odessa switched her books to one of her hands, holding them at her hip. She turned her face slightly to see him, to confirm that he was watching despite how she felt his eyes all over her. Still, he observed. Odessa's eyes went downwards again.
Her free hand came to the hem of her dress, grasping at the fabric, bunching it in her fingers before beginning to draw it upwards. Inch by inch revealed her thighs, a creamy white beneath the stockings. She showed him the straps of her garter belt, a strange, sort of old-fashioned touch for a woman her age; another one of Odessa's fun little secrets. The dress continued to go up until finally, it revealed the softness of her backside.

Odessa's body was not unfed. She had an average size waist, one that Dr. Holmes's hands would fit quite nicely on. However, her backside was something to behold. It was round and quite full, dipping down into her thicker thighs. Her cream-colored backside was clad in that joke of a garment, the few straps of 'panties' that clung to her ass, squeezing into the thick globes of flesh. Odessa bunched her dress up further and held it away, making sure he could see every part of her ass. She swore her heart had stopped.

 

[Father Figure]

He had admired her that was true but he had not expected her to be so delectably perfect. That bottom was exquisite, everything he could have wanted to see in a woman, and he found his eyes widening in just the slightest hint of appreciation and attraction. He made no other show of his want for her, he made not attempt to show her anything at that moment. She was not looking at his face and it was easy for him to control such a response. His lips would have curled into a snarl if he could have let it all out. However, he restrained everything. He was a middle aged man, experienced, it was lust to be sure but a lust that he could easily prevent from ever entering the equation if he wanted. Unlike the young boy who might fall prey to the wiles of a woman such as Odessa, this man could turn and leave the room and never once look back.

Yet he wanted her like he was a fucking animal.

He moved forward to touch that amazing backside, gripping it viciously as his other hand came up to touch her throat. It was demanding, dangerous, the surest show of a domineering personality. He did not choke her, he was not intending to threaten her life, he instead just collared her with his strong hand...holding her in place as his other hand moved along her ass. His fingers slid across the crack of her as he stood there, uncaring if another saw them, but caution took over. If nothing else he was a creature of reason, always weighing his decisions before moving upon them. He turned her just slightly away from the door so that any who looked in would merely see his large frame, his entire body preventing them from realizing a woman stood in front of him.

His voice was low, sultry with mixed emotions. Distaste, demeaning, and approving all at the same time. "Ms. Lakes, I am amazed at your choice of undergarments. Tell me, is it because you secretly hoped for something like this?" His hand dug into her flesh, giving it a vicious squeeze before coming back just slightly in order to slap that willing and so very responsive to the blow from an expert hand. Once more he caressed the spot where the flesh reddened, nails tracing in small arcs. He had not even come close to dipping to touch her young holes, once more the measure of the man shown in the fact that he did not run for the finish line.

Instead he merely taunted her with the idea of victory. "You brought this on yourself, look at you, standing there trembling...dressed like a harlot and ready to be taken like one. Are you willing to barter for your grades, Ms. Lakes?" Not once had he called her Odessa, not once. It was as if he dehumanized her with her very own name.

 

[Baba Yaga]

The reality of what was happening to little Odessa slapped her cleanly across the face when his large hand came to rest on her backside, his other winding purposefully around her throat. She took in a small gasp, a breath of air that could barely be heard even in the silence of the room. Odessa's eyes were somewhat softer now, weaker looking, and she kept them forward, not daring to look at him. If she couldn't see him, he couldn't see her, supposedly.
But Dr. Holmes did see her. And he was enjoying what he saw.

"I-I don't-" Odessa was trying to respond to his question - rather, his insinuation that she enjoyed this - when his hand whacked at her backside. Of all things, Odessa dropped her books, sending the leather-bound articles to the floor with a tiny clatter. The hand that once held them came up to cover her own mouth, her eyes squeezing shut for a moment. Dr. Holmes would not have to guess that she was suppressing a cry.
Odessa had not been struck on the behind since she was a child, and it disgusted her that there was always a small part of her that enjoyed the punishment. Wailing, bent over the knee of her father. He had not drawn her skirt like Odessa did for Dr. Holmes, but here in the lecture hall, she held it up herself, literally inviting her professor to do as he pleased.

His nails ghosting along her flesh made her shake her head a little in response to his question, finally, her eyes still tightly shut. Odessa's pores shifted, goosebumps rising all over her lily-white flesh, giving the impression that she was cold. Quite the opposite. Odessa's body was agonizingly hot now, despite the fact that the room was a comfortable temperature. A cloud of shame hung over her head, coming to rest in the edges of her face and his throat where he touched her, making her blush hard enough to look like she could have had a sunburn.

At the end of the day, Odessa needed to graduate. She would not drown in student loans that only ended in her failure. Finally, she opened her eyes, glassy and scared. Odessa's hand pulled from her mouth just far enough that she could speak, her gaze turning to him carefully.
"I need to pass," Odessa said, a prayer in the sudden darkness of the lecture hall.

 

[Father Figure]

That cry. That was all he really needed at that moment to understand this young woman in all of her glory. Every inch of her screamed for the need to be punished for the feelings of her past, all the emotions that had consumed her. It was in the arc of her throat and how she tilted it when she looked back at him, the way her eyes gazed with that look of drugged befuddlement that only a true submissive could feel when faced with a dominant man, and the very fact that she had not even bothered to drop her skirt after he spanked that amazing ass of hers. No, in fact she had continued, she had offered, she had provided him more than just opportunity but with permission. Perhaps she did not see it yet, but he did, the very sight of her crumbling will falling before him like an animal laying down to die. His eyes narrowed as they met hers and she could finally see the man for who he really was.

He smirked with wicked glee at that moment.

His hand slid from her throat to touch her beautiful hair, gripping it like she was some upstart child that required some guidance. She could use whatever excuse she wanted, let her think her grades mattered that much, but the truth inside was that she just needed more. They both knew it, yet he could not do it in view of that window. No matter how much he wanted to just continue they required a bit more privacy than this. He gazed round and then using that beautiful hair he began guiding her away from the door and towards the back of the room, his hand giving her ass a good squeeze but he did nothing more to her as he pressed further back into the lecture hall.

It left her books on the floor, but really why even bother with the fiction that her studies mattered?

His voice was dark, even teasing as he spoke to her. "Ms. Lakes, I am sure we can arrange for you to pass. I have very little doubt, but you have to show me how much you're willing to give. I will admit that you are a very....," he gave a smirk. "Well rounded woman, but I think I should see everything you have to offer. Don't you?" He practically shoved her away towards the floor of the hall, up in the back where they could be obscured by the many tables and desks. His eyes narrowed as he towered over her. There was no need to hide the fact of his intention, she had already known the moment she lifted that fucking skirt and he whispered vehemently.

"Fucking spread for me, Ms. Lakes."

 

[Baba Yaga]

Again, that same cry that Dr. Holmes had so instantly fell in love with left her again as he gripped her hair, a cry that made her eyes wrench shut before, as if she could open them again and she would be safe in her dorm room. She kept her eyes shut this time, not wanting to face him anymore, unable to.
The young woman practically stumbled as her professor guided her deeper into the classroom, deeper into her own demise, essentially. His grip on her was firm, far more commanding than anything she had ever experienced, and yet he was simply bringing her somewhere. He didn't yank her around because he didn't need to.

When she managed to open her eyes again, she was somewhere else, far away from the safety of the glass window in the door. His hands remained just where they were when she tried to hide, holding her with a practiced ease. Dr. Holmes had turned handling young, frightened women into an art form. He would no doubt help her find just where she belonged in his classroom.

Fucking spread for me.

Spread what? Odessa fumbled stupidly in her mind, the answer lingering, but she struggled to see it past the venom in his eyes. Only when his hands abandoned her, leaving her with an open wound of loneliness, Odessa began to move into what she assumed would best please him. Funny how that desire came over her so rapidly; the desire to please.
Ms. Lakes saw the desk before her and took one step closer to it. At once, she began to bend, her torso and legs making a near perfect ninety degree angle. Her tiny hands came to grip the opposite side of the desk, but not before returning her dress to where it once had been, right above the hefty dip of lower back, revealing herself once more. In two shaking movements, Odessa had spread her legs, her ankles lined up perfectly with the legs of the desk. She kept her head low, practically panting.

With her ass illuminated under the soft lights of the lecture hall, Odessa felt like a rack of lamb in the butcher shop. She was silent apart from her quivering breath. Her ass was forced to arch out, legs wide open, revealing the outline of her sex beneath the tight panties. Her backside was completely visible, apart from the elastic black straps that gripped it, a tiny bow of ribbon at the top. She was mortified.

 

[Father Figure]

That ass of hers was something to be relished and he took his time in doing so as he looked down at her. His own hands came out, this time taking full charge of the young woman, gripping that amazing bottom and opening her fully up to him. There was no need to be coy any longer, not like this, not with her displayed in such a whorish fashion. The time for subtlety was long gone. He had demanded of her and she had decided that regardless of her fears, regardless of her uncertainties, that she would give him more of herself. He smiled as he spread her to gaze at those holes, narrow eyes admiring the small bit of cloth that covered her little pussy and that tiny puckered asshole. Well now, it hardly gave him much in the way of options now did it? He would have to gain access to her cunt if he wanted it, but one...one was wide open and ready for him.

He spit on her.

It was a cruelty in and of itself to have someone spit upon you and he understood that instinctually. Of course in a few moments his tongue would be upon her, of course he would be swiping it along her flesh as intimately as any lover would have, yet there was definitely something different when it came to being caressed by a tongue...and having a man purse his lips and spit down onto your asshole. He watched it pool there, sliding down to coat the fabric which covered her little cunt and he leaned close. She could feel the hot air from his lungs, sliding out as he exhaled over her panties and then he swiped his tongue upwards along the thin fabric to catch his own dripping saliva. His tongue moved and he tasted her little rear end, dipping within, providing a small measure of lubrication.

His intentions were clear, there was little doubt of that fact. He intended to take her, take her right there, and his hands came off as he straightened after a few moments of working her young hole. He smiled down at the shiny flesh as he undid his own pants, yet he was hardly about to take her just yet. No, that would be too far and too fast. He wanted to make her suffer, the sadist in him burning as he pulled free his belt. He doubled it over in the palm of his hands and he whispered softly. It was a lulling sound, a horrid one, the way he seemed to know her so well.

"I know you cum thinking of being raped by men, don't you fuck slut." Whether it was true or not, he said it. He said it to hammer home the fact that she was bent over like a willing slut. The belt idly moved in his hand, a swift flicker of expertise, and then he brought it down. Idly striking across her ass, the swift motions of a man who knew how to provide a spanking and frankly was just fucking with the woman he was giving it to. This was all about making her feel horrid for her lot in life, not inflicting true pain....though maybe this was the truest pain, the emotional and mental trauma. A woman abused because she was letting herself be treated so. He practically loved her for it.

 

[Baba Yaga]

Odessa gasped as his spit fell upon her asshole, the tiny ring of muscles puckering in response. What the fuck did he just do. The woman looked back over her shoulder, trying to see what he was doing, but she only felt his large hands gripping her ass, playing with her cheeks and tugging them apart. She felt obscene.

As his tongue fell upon her tiny rear hole, Odessa's eyes almost rolled and she arched, yanking on the edge of the desk as if trying to crawl upon it, but her feet remained firmly rooted on the floor. Her eyes shut tight, her mouth open in a noiseless wail of shock, disgust, and pleasure unlike anything she had ever felt. It was a strange feeling to be sure, a hot, wet protrusion into a very private area of her body, but it was a feeling that she would quickly come to enjoy. Her head fell back down and finally Odessa let out a sound, a fleeting mewl of approval. Her nails gripped the desk until her knuckles turned white.

Dr. Holmes stopped and Odessa ceased her pathetic squirming, hiding her face in her long hair, trying to bury her shame. But the professor could smell it on her. It radiated from her trembling shoulders, her now somewhat sticky cunt. Her body was made of it.
It was no surprise that Odessa had no response to his claim that she enjoyed the thought of being ravaged, touched herself while dreaming of some man's throat around her neck. She hadn't given it thought until now, but wasn't that happening to her already? Odessa hadn't told him to stop, so she supposed not. She was digging her own grave.

"Nnh!!" Both her hands came up to cover her mouth, clapping over it firmly when the belt flickered across her ass. The white flesh bounced slightly in response before a thin, red line rose over it, proving to Odessa what he had just done. Odessa kept her elbows on the table, staying bent over for him, but she gripped her mouth fiercely so no sound could come out. Odessa's eyes had shut once more, a habit she clearly did often, trying to block out the reality of her situation. Little Odessa Lakes, bent over a desk, her ass showing, as her professor whipped it with his own belt.
The old familiar feeling of childhood guilt crept over her, starting in her toes and snaking up her legs until it pooled in her gut, heating up her insides. Odessa felt very young, but had she done something wrong? She was caught with her hand in the cookie jar again, and instead of going to bed without supper, Odessa was receiving the rod.

 

[Father Figure]

She looked so very delectable.

Her rosy young ass offered upwards in that supplication that practically demanded she be taken. Her cheeks flinching with every blow of his belt, the taut orbs jiggling just slightly as he brought it down with swift strokes. How he adored her gasps, the way she moved, the way she seemed to just revel in all of it...and hate herself for it. He wondered briefly what it would be like to make her cry, wondered what it would be like to make her suffer. He adored her shame. His smile had long since disappeared as he looked down upon her, like she was an animal being studied beneath his gaze. A science experiment to find the right buttons to make the young Ms. Lakes utterly break. Not just physically, no....the physical was far too easy. People claimed that they could not be broken, but physical pain could break anyone eventually. No, not that.

He wanted to break her fucking soul.

Most men would have dropped their pants at this moment and fucked her. Most men could not have stopped themselves from doing it. Looking at her she was ready, her ass cheeks red and spread wide, her little ass covered in spit. He could have just pulled forth that cock of his and mounted her, raping her little holes as she cried with nobody around to save her. He could have it and there was no doubt that he had the desire to have it. He had the desire to take and destroy, yet...it was not going to be enough for him. Instead he took a slow deep breath, letting her lay there ready for him, and he put his belt back on. He did it casually as he walked to move in front of her, his steps making the business shoes he wore echo in the room with every motion.

There was little doubt as to his arousal. It could be seen when she opened her eyes to find him standing before her. Pressing viciously against the front of his suit pants. He looked at her, idly considering as his hand came to touch her hair and trace through it. Almost as if he were petting her and he leaned down and spit...a slow dribble that spattered across her cheek. His voice was calm, completely at ease, as if they were back discussing her grades.

"I'll need your number if I am to arrange tutoring sessions for you, Ms. Lakes."

 

[Baba Yaga]

Odessa wanted to cry. Guilty, little tears built up in her eyes, wrenched shut for the entirety of her spanking, but they did not fall. She simply would not allow them to. Whatever grasp on dignity she still had left did not let her cry.
She did, however, sound out. Each cruel bite of the belt brought a whimper from her, and even though it was muffled by her own hands, Dr. Holmes's trained ear was more than likely to hear it, a soft moan of suffering in his classroom.

Finally, it seemed to stop, leaving her ass a bright red and covered in thin welt lines. She was surprised that she had taken it so well, and although it still hurt, Odessa had a feeling that it could have been far worse. The professor had no mercy for her, not anymore, so he was likely just holding back so he wouldn't scare her away. Odessa was terrified, but it was not a fear that would make her run. She could not move.

Her eyes opened and she was met with his groin, inches from her face. Her hands fell from her mouth finally when he touched her hair and she actually leaned up into his hand, only to have him spit in her face.
Odessa shut her eyes again and turned away, letting out a quivering breath of air that she had been holding. Her knees wanted to buckle into the desk and just allow her to collapse, but would she give up so easily, just from him spitting on her again? Odessa didn't dare wipe it off.

"I-I..." Clearly Ms. Lakes was on the verge of going nonverbal from the surprise of everything that had just happened to her. Shakily, one of her hands left the desk and reached into the pocket of her dress, finding her own cellphone and setting it down for him. She expected him to put his number in her phone, as her phone had no lock screen. The background picture on it was some sort of animal inside of a jar.

 

[Father Figure]

He gave a soft smile as if he were dealing with some helpless child, and in a way he was. It had taken the man no less than fifteen minutes to go from having a brief conversation with Odessa Lakes about her grades....to having her bent over, spitting on her, and treating her like she was nothing but flesh to fucking abuse. What kind of man was capable of that, of reading her like she was a menu for him to partake of....and perhaps what made it worse was that it seemed no dish would be denied to him if he wished to order it. He looked down at her, admiring the sheer level of subservience in the young little bitch and he continued to trace his fingers through her hair. It was a kindness in a way, but in truth it was the sheerest of cruelties. His mannerism would do nothing other than destroy her completely in the end.

He wanted to make her hurt.

Yet he would keep his word, she would come to find that out soon enough. He would ensure her grade was raised, that her life changed, that even other teachers would begin to treat her better. Her teacher had quite a bit of clot. For now though this was the current problem and this was the way it needed to be. He took her phone from her and idly placed his number within it, merely doing so as if this was a common place occurrence and he had just asked that they remain in touch. He then texted himself and sat the phone down next to her, his other hand moved to take out his phone now.

Still the entire time he remained hard, he remained viciously aroused and he never did a single thing about that mammoth cock waiting in his trousers.

"Now then, I am texting you my address. Tomorrow night you will arrive promptly at seven, I doubt you will have a problem making it on time." He sent the message and placed his phone back up before giving her head one final pat and picking up his briefcase....and then of all things he began to walk away. He walked away, leaving her there completely, not even bothering to apologize or say a word about her red ass and spit covered face. His large frame moved to the door of the room, reaching out to touch the knob and then he paused and looked back at her still bent over there.

"And Ms. Lakes, don't make the mistake of thinking you're supposed to be presentable. You show up dressed and ready like the whore you are, understood?" And with those final words he left her in the empty auditorium.

 

[Baba Yaga]

Odessa stood before the desk, still leaning over it as he had left her, dumbfounded. She let out a weak breath she had been intentionally holding in, then slowly, she gathered herself back. Shifting, Odessa stood up, allowing her dress to fall back over her whipped backside. She practically stumbled back to her purse and fallen books, picking them up and placing them on his desk for a moment. Odessa reached into her purse, pulled out a tissue, and began to wipe her face and backside. She tossed the soiled item into the trash.

Ms. Lakes now sat in her tub, hiding beneath the murky water, a strange lavender color with bits of flowers and herbs floating around on the surface. Her backside still ached, and her mind was still racing. More than anything, Odessa questioned if this was going to be worth it. When Dr. Holmes had inquired about her undergarments, she had expected him to just look at them then fuck her. He made no show of his arousal other than his penis trying to snap his zipper in half. Even then, he didn't touch it, didn't demand that she disrobe him. Perhaps he was just waiting until he could get her home.
Peering at her phone, he was right there in her contacts, simply as Professor H. She frowned and pushed the device further away from her on the floor, tucking her arm back into the hot water. Odessa shut her eyes and tried not to slip below the surface.

His home wasn't far. Odessa did have a car which was left mostly untouched while she stayed on campus, and she slid out of it and observed Dr. Holmes's house. She took a moment to glance at the time; 6:55 PM. She was early, though just barely. Odessa took there until the clock was almost at seven. The young woman made her way up the front steps, dusted off her skirt, and gave a few soft knocks.

 

[Father Figure]

He had been expecting her. Not because he gave her the order, or because of her grades, but because of her past. He already understood how traumatized she had been as a child, how she had suffered and he imagined at some point he would find out what had happened. For now though he merely would let it lie, because in the end he had no need to know...things would be as they were and he would have his way. He was already imagining the future with her, already imagining the things he would do with such a willing young woman to service his requirements. It made his eyes glitter, turned him into something frightening as he sat in his living room and slowly sipped upon his glass of cold ice tea. It was the quintessential look of a professor sitting at home, everything stereotypical about him, not a hair out of place to show that he was anything but the norm. Yet when he heard that lock his head tilted downwards, a small bit of shadow covering it, and he smiled with delight.

He had pegged her correctly, that was for sure.

He was an abuser and she was the abused, it was the circle of life that such things existed. Let other people rail against it and whine like the little children that they were. The internet was full of it nowadays, the outrage culture, the oppressed victims. Well, perhaps he enjoy oppressing though it had nothing to do with class dynamics. He merely felt that there was power and there was the lack of it, you were either the perpetrator or the victim. He damn well knew which one he wanted to be. He stood up and sat his glass down, coming to open the door to gaze at her with implacable eyes. He merely looked her over, a small mew of distaste touching his features as he nearly shut the door in her face. Arrogance was in that stance, in those eyes as he casually said.

"You call that dressing like a slut? It's pitiful, Ms. Lakes, much like your classwork. Come in, kneel, and you may crawl behind me. Never leave the floor unless I inform you otherwise." The words held nothing but contempt in them as he turned and moved back into the house.

He left the door wide open before her, giving her the choice once more. He could have grabbed her and jerked her in, could have forced her to the ground and raped her right in the entryway of his home, but that was not who he was. No, this was all about humiliation and subjugation and the truest way to break someone was to make them party to their own breaking. So he left her there and went back to his chair, not bothering to say another word until she was there before him.

 

[Baba Yaga]

As the door creaked open, Odessa felt like running. She squeezed her purse a little tighter to herself, biting down on the inside of her cheek as he spoke. He was not pleased, which would likely be her first mistake of many in their relationship to come. Odessa waited until he had seated himself again before she stepped beyond the threshold, closing the door behind her.

She set down her purse, as well as the scarf she wore on a chair she found next to the door. Odessa knew what he wanted, but it was almost physically painful for her to provide it to him.
Reaching up, her hand came to the zipper on the thin, cropped sweater she wore, zipping it down about halfway. She wore nothing but a bra beneath it, one so sheer that something could be seen beneath, some sort of faint glittering beneath the dim lights of his home. Upon further inspection, Dr. Holmes would find that her nipples were pierced.

It was then that Odessa dropped to the floor, carefully so, knowing damn well that he expected a show out of her. She moved with an almost catlike slowness, slinking across the floor. Odessa wanted to keep her head down, but she kept it level so he could see - the fear in her eyes, the heavy blush across her cheeks. Odessa kept her back dipped, placing one hand before the other as she made her way silently across the floor. By the time she got to him, she could withstand his gaze no longer, stopping to kneel just before his feet. Odessa folded her hands neatly in her lap, her eyes set on his polished shoes. She looked like she was going to fall over.

 

[Father Figure]

Yes that was so much better, so much more what he had expected in life. He watched her idly for a few moments as she approached him, as if she were artistry came to life. He was not above being affected by a woman's body, was that not the point of all of this, yet he could not for the life of him set aside his need to push her further. To dominate her in all completion and claim what was his to his satisfaction. That was the sickening part of who he was, the need to degrade, and how he had already degraded her. He had spit on her face, slapped and abused her ass, and made her come to his house like she was nothing but a whore for hire. It was just the idle way he did it which turned it into something twisted, the way he had used their very relationship to begin forcing her to serve him. Worst of all though was something else, something that she felt to the core of her being.

It was the way he seemed to know her without ever bothering to try.

He watched her lower her head like she was a pet about to be scolded and he gave a small internal smile as he saw the way she looked down at his shoes. Even here at home he seemed to be wearing dress shoes, the only true thing that had changed was that he no longer wore the coat and tie he'd had on in class. He peered at her from behind his glasses before he reached to the side and picked up his tablet, bringing it up so that he could access the schools grades. He tapped for a moment, not bothering to speak to her, just letting her sit there before he finally spoke. "Well then, let us see what we have here, hmmm?" He casually scrolled along for just a few moments before making a small sound of disapproval as one foot slid forward on the floor, raising just a tiny bit up off the ground, giving it an angle.

"Ms. Lakes, your last project it seems that you did not meet the criteria concerning interviews. You were suppose to interview a minimum of five other students about their concerns regarding campus life and how they think it can be improved. Tell me, why were you unable to do so? Was it because you are pathetic and unable to have conversations like an average person?"

That business shoe continued to stare her right in the face, right beneath her lowered gaze before he whispered. "Polish my shoe while we talk. Tongue first and then use your cunt."

 

[Baba Yaga]

As Dr. Holmes dropped the word 'pathetic' onto Odessa like a piece of wet trash, she shot him a scowl. It was brief, but her brow had furrowed, her lips curled down. She was quick to remove her sight from him, however, returning it once again to the shoe that he had demanded she clean. With her mouth.

Odessa had done many things in her life that others would consider to be gross, but to her, it seemed universal that putting a shoe in her mouth was the pinnacle of debasement; and that was just why her professor wanted her to do it.
She looked at him once more, hoping he might have been lying. He needn't tell her he was serious and she swallowed hard. His shoe waited.
Slowly, Odessa put her hands on the floor as she lowered herself, the scent of Italian leather becoming more distinct. She couldn't imagine how many disgusting things his shoe had stepped it, and although it seemed immaculately clean, just the thought of it made her cringe. The door wasn't locked, and she could just as easily run, but she knew she would regret it. Odessa took a slow breath.

Her lips parted and her little tongue came out, her body instinctively flinching as it fell upon the top of his shoe. To her surprise, it tasted of nothing. Indeed, she could taste the leather, but it was subtle and not overly offensive. Of course, the lack of taste didn't make the act any less revolting to her. It was clear that she didn't like it, her movements languid and faint as he spoke to her, continued to degrade her.
Odessa went until she had cleaned everything she could reach with her mouth, apart from the sole. That, if requested, would no doubt send her running. She would rather fail the course than lick whatever dog shit and cigarette butts had met his shoe.

Her next move was an important one. Should she remove her panties? Odessa knew that Dr. Holmes wanted her to, but it seemed pointless to continue to slather his shoe in all kinds of fluids. She remained on her knees, righting herself, her hands grasping the bottom of her skirt.
Again, she donned slutty panties, ones that matched her bra in how sheer they were. It could be seen that she was hairless, apart from a faint strip down the center of her mound, in which glittered another small jewel. A Christina piercing sat neatly inside the thin line of hair, showing off that Odessa was no stranger to pain, rather, she must have enjoyed it.
Holding her skirt up so he could see, Odessa hid her face to the side once more and shut her eyes tightly, just barely touching the lips of her panty-clad cunt to the top of his shoe.

 

[Father Figure]

As she moved along the tip of his shoe he could not help but smirk at her. That smirk said everything about the man that he was, everything about the kind of creature she was sitting there with. He had pushed her, degraded her, had taunted her with her gpa and how she lived her life and yet she continued to take it. It was so much more than just a woman who was out to get ahead. This was a woman who had been traumatized in the past, perhaps broken, and he wondered exactly what had happened with her. For the first time ever he seemed pleased with her, her obedience, and that was when he reached down to undo his pants. His hand moved his shirt aside, pulling free that thick cock, his fingers wrapping around the base as he gave a slow languid stroke. It was the first time she had seen him. He had seen everything she had to offer. From her tits, to her cunt, and her perfect little ass....and yet she had not even seen nudity from him until that moment.

He was rather glorious.

He slowly stroked before her very eyes and he reached out suddenly with his hand to wrap his fingers into her hair. He did not expect to have her lick the bottom of his shoe, the truth being that what he had requested was nothing but a sincere exercise in ownership. He had wanted to push her so that she felt unclean, so that she felt defiled, and that was what he was getting. So he jerked her by the head to come close to him, the shoe beneath her pressing up so that the toe caught along her grinding lips and brushed her clit over the edge of him. His eyes never left hers though, not once as he brought her face down next to that dick and then he did something utterly sickening. To treat her like this was inhuman.

To act like it was the way it should be....even more so. Yet he did, he moved so that the heavy erect shaft just lay on her face. He pressed it there, leaving it, and then he began to converse with her as if they were just having the most normal kind of day in the world. His voice was slow and steady, lulling, the voice of a psychiatrist who had his patient nice and situated on the couch. "Tell me, Ms. Lakes, what happened to you when you were younger? Did someone hurt you?"

 

[Baba Yaga]

Ms. Lakes stumbled slightly on her knees as he raked her forwards, forcing her face to press into his cock. She would not tell him, but Odessa had never seen anyone as impressively enormous as he. His cock was like the marble of Adonis mushed into her cheek, hard enough to make her wince and shut her eyes tightly. It was no secret that she was both frightened and aroused. He would practically feel it beneath his shoe in the heat of her cunt, still tingling faintly from him scraping her clit across the leather. Odessa squirmed, her grip on her skirt tightening. She wanted to brace against the couch he sat in, but she had a feeling that he would not respond nicely to such a thing. Again, Dr. Holmes was speaking to her, asking her something.

"No," Odessa spat, her glare meeting him. Of course, that was a lie, and a pathetic attempt at one at that. She took a deep breath and let it out harshly, knowing that whatever information she gave him, he would use to torment her. She felt it would be better to not let him in on her existence, but lying wouldn't serve her well, either.
"My father used to spank me when I was a kid," Odessa said, after a pause so long that God could have created the universe again. To her, being hit as a child was nothing out of the ordinary, until she learned in school that parents were not supposed to strike their children. Odessa bit down on the inside of her lip, shutting her eyes again and trying to pull her face from his dick. She only succeeded in hurting her scalp.

"I know what you're doing," Odessa mumbled, keeping her eyes shut, her face turned from him. She needn't say more than that. To her, Dr. Holmes's game had been easy to figure out suddenly. He would coin the phrase 'daddy issues' and use it to drive her face into the floorboards. He wanted to belittle her, and she handed him that weapon now, but Odessa was smarter than her grades showed.

 

[Father Figure]

He gave a small raising of his eyebrow as he heard her words, not even bothering to truly discuss them for the moment. He could feel that wet lovely cunt, practically soaking into the leather of his shoe, and yet once more he did nothing. Not even in this moment did he make her suck his cock, he did not jerk her head around and force her face down, he did nothing other than let her exist in a state of arousal and subjugation. It was utterly sickening to see another human being treat someone like that. Yet he found that it was the only way he could get release, by degrading and using little women such as this, and when he heard her respond to him. His lips pressed together and he felt his cock twitch just the tiniest of bits as she spoke...it was that, that childhood, he understood and making her speak was all in such good fun.

Yet she did not know what he was truly doing.

She could think she did, but she would once more not understand the good Doctor. Long ago he had put cameras into the domicile, the residence well maintained and updated with state of the art microphones and video recording. Everything was wireless, taped and placed away on a digital recording. He had no foolish notions, his system was encrypted, his data storage device on premises. The Doctor took no chances. Then again he imagined if someone even bothered to note the network, that like many they would pass it by. After all he was just a college professor. Yet the sheer myriad amount of sickening things he had done to young women that he had recorded, that he kept and nicely hidden away for his own personal use...it was mind boggling.

And now he was getting Odessa Lakes.

He watched her, tilting his head down and he took hold of that thick prick, took hold of it and begin to lightly move the head back and forth along her cheek as if drawing with his preseed onto her flesh. His voice was low and languid. "Maybe so, but that does not mean you should not talk. After all, this is more than just grades, this is getting to know one another. Now, we both know he did more than spank you didn't he...did he hurt you? Did he hurt your mother?"