Jessica pays the price for showing up at her professor's flat with a late assignment. Jessica stood up at last, far from confident she had what Wolf would consider an appropriate summation. Time was gone, however, for any alterations. Wolf had only grudgingly permitted her this attempt to make up for a poor exam grade, and it must be handed in early, before Wolf's first class. She gazed down at her dress, then chewed unknowingly on her lip once more. This would certainly not do. It was, according to her clock, quarter to seven. However, she had set it forward a good quarter hour two months before to prevent herself being late for classes. So she had the time to clean up a bit. She reached behind her and quickly unfastened her dress. It was a simple garment, for, when away from her parents, she was not much given to fripperies. She stripped it off and stepped out of it, moving quickly to her wardrobe. She took down her green dress, for it set off her soft, wavy chestnut hair so nicely, and slipped into it. She decided it was too formal. She removed it and drew on a white one, pretty, and somewhat short (for her), and quickly buttoned it up before turning to the mirror. "Damn," she said deliberately. She removed the elastic which had bound her shoulder length hair back in a loose tail and brushed at it furiously, working at the bangs to get just the right look, brushing it out so it tumbled glossily over her shoulders. Finally, glancing at the clock, she sighed and grabbed her papers. Ms. Wolf was a fanatic about punctuality, and she couldn't risk being a single minute late. She cut across the south common, and in her haste failed to notice the hose snaking its way along the grass to the sprinkler sweeping water back and forth. Her ankle caught on the hose at the top of a low hillock and she went flying forward, the report spilling from her hands. She wound up on her stomach in the wet grass and dirt, her skirt up around her waist. She lay stunned a moment, water raining down on her, then scrambled to her knees with a cry of dismay, shoving her skirt back down. She stared around wildly, then snatched at the nearest paper, already somewhat damp. She twisted and snatched at another, then crawled to a third, hurriedly lifting them and holding them protectively beneath her chest as the water continued to patter down onto her back and head. With the last of them in hand she scrambled out of range of the sprinkler, and stood still, panting for breath and staring down at the wet papers, the ink already running in numerous places. Water was trickling down her cheeks as well, and in a moment, she knew, her tears would join it. There was no time to return and change, not without further provoking Ms. Wolf by being late. She hurried on, hoping her explanation would do, and the woman would be a little sympathetic to her bedraggled appearance. The building which housed the comfortable flats provided to unmarried professors who chose to stay on campus was only a few hundred feet along, and she was soon tugging the heavy door aside and trotting up the stairs. She was breathless as she reached the door to Ms. Wolf's apartment but she was on time -she thought, though she had cut it quite close despite her best intentions. There was no answer to her knock, and, chewing lightly on her lip, she knocked again, louder. She was about to knock for a third time when Ms. Wolf opened the door. "McMann," she said, her voice cold. Jessie was caught by her own surprise at sight of the woman. She wore a long robe, and her heart beat faster at the thought of what lay beneath. "Ms. Wolf," Jessie whispered, clutching the papers to her chest. "What time did I set for the delivery of your report?" she demanded, ignoring the water dripping from her hair. Jessie blinked in surprise. "Seven, Miss." "Seven. Not quarter past seven." "But... but I'm quite certain I'm on time!" Jessie exclaimed desperately. "You're quite certainly wrong then," the woman said with a scowl. "But I..." Then she remembered how Anne Baxter had been toying with the clock the other day, and her heart sank as she realized the girl might well have reset it to its proper time, all unknowing why it was fast. She hurriedly attempted to explain, but Wolf appeared less than impressed. "If you can't manage punctuality here in the school, McMann, how do you intend to do so in a future career?" "Please, Ms. Wolf I - " "Pleas are for beggars and children. Which are you?" "Ms. Wolf - " "What have you done to yourself?" Wolf looked at her dirty dress in disgust and Jessie felt on the verge of tears. "Oh, never mind. Get inside, girl," she said crossly. Jessie bit her lip and stepped inside, her eyes quickly darting around, thrilled, despite the situation, at being in Ms. Wolf's very own rooms. There was a comfortable looking sofa facing a small fireplace, and lovely curtains over the window. She wondered if Ms. Wolf had made them herself, for they did not look store bought. To one side was a narrow table of some dark, polished wood, with a sculpture of some sort atop it. Past the living room was an open door she thought must surely lead into the bedroom, and her heart beat quicker at the sight. "How, McMann, do you expect to make your way about the world if you cannot get across the campus?" Jessie tried to explain about the clock, and the sprinkler, her words tumbling over themselves before Wolf silenced her with two fingers against her lips. "I don't want to hear it. You're babbling like a child, McMann." She gazed at Jessie for a long moment without speaking. "Take off those wet clothes and I will see if there's anything I can do for them. We can't have you wandering around the campus looking like a disreputable beggar girl." Jessie could hardly breath for a moment. She had judged every nuance of Ms. Wolf's words since her fantasies had appeared, desperately trying to determine if there might be the slightest interest in the kind of liaison tormenting her own imaginings. For every hint Ms. Wolf fancied women there was another which spoke to the contrary. Yet here she was asking Jessie to remove her dress! Of course, that could be entirely innocent. She might just mean to clean the thing a little for her, perhaps toss it into the washer. She might - "Hurry up, child! You're dripping on my rug!" Jessie shakily set down the report and reached behind her. Under Wolf's calm gaze she tried and failed to undo the buttons behind her neck. The woman finally shook her head with a tortured expression, gripped her shoulders, spun her about, and began to undo them herself. Jessie felt miserable at being seen as such a feeble, helpless child to Wolf. Yet at the same time a flood of embarrassment mixed with a strange excitement filled her as the woman's long fingers undid her dress and pushed it forward over her shoulders. She shrugged it down, bending to push it past her hips, then stepped out and turned, face scarlet. Wolf examined the dress for a moment, then looked at Jessie with a knowing smile. "Are you embarrassed to be seen in just your underthings, McMann?" "N-No, Ms. Wolf," Jessie breathed. She could feel the tight constriction of her bra against her swelling breasts. "No? Why don't you remove your underthings then?" "M-Miss?" she squeaked. "They seem to be somewhat damp as well," Wolf said with a raised eyebrow. Breathless, her heart pounding, Jessie reached behind her back and somehow, perhaps luck helped, undid her bra, then slipped it forward and off. Her breasts dropped a little without the support, but still thrust out quite firmly for their large size. She was both mortified and desperately proud at the obvious look of respect on Ms. Wolf's face as she examined her breasts. They were not enormous, but they were quite large for her slim frame, and almost perfectly shaped: round and firm, the nipples large and pink, inflating to embarrassing size when aroused or chilled. She stood there for an eternity, almost entranced, and it was not until Wolf pointed toward her bikini briefs that she abruptly slipped her thumbs into the sides, slipped them down and off, and stood upright once more. As the soft white fabric dropped to her ankles she looked down at herself, then stepped out of them, raising her eyes once more as Wolf snatched her things up and stepped back. "Don't move from that spot. You're still wet, and everything in here is an antique." She walked down a small side hall, leaving Jessie standing nude but for her shoes. She quickly removed them, examining the bottoms for dirt, then bent to place them next to the door. Her skin tingled from top to bottom at being nude in so public a fashion, for she was a naturally shy girl with few friends. There had been no girlish sleepovers with others, nor public showering among school teammates (Her Catholic school would certainly not endure such immorality). In truth, not a single person had seen her entirely nude since her childhood. Even Thomas Cox, the boy who had drunkenly used her several years earlier, as she had sought to escape her virginity, had done so in the darkness and cramped confines of the back seat of his car, with half her clothing still on. And there had been nothing since but occasional fumbles and gropings. So despite her play of indifference her nudity before Wolf was the most sexually exciting thing Jessie could ever remember experiencing, and she had to fight to keep from shaking at the excitement within her. As she straightened and turned she found with alarm that her nipples were swollen like raspberries. This was invariably embarrassing for her when she was in public, for their size meant, whether from cold (usually) or other reasons her nipples, when hard, became quite easily visible through almost any clothing. Now, of course, she could only hope Ms. Wolf would assume it was the chill of the water which had her in such a state. The woman returned, and Jessie bashfully covered her breasts with her arm, cupping her sex with one hand. She could feel the warmth of her groin through her hand, and watched Wolf with wide eyes. Wolf's own eyes flicked over her, and she blushed once again, trembling under that remorseless gaze. "Now then, McMann,' the woman said, picking up a half emptied cup of tea, "You have a report for me?" Jessie blinked in surprise, then looked around and spotted it on the floor. She bent and picked it up, still trying to awkwardly cover her nudity, and too daunted to ask for a towel or a robe. She held it out hopefully but Wolf simply sat on the sofa, crossing her legs. "I don't think I want ink on my hands, thank you. You read it." Jessie blinked. "H-Here? I mean, now, Miss?" Ms. Wolf nodded absently. Standing naked by the door, then, her skin still moist, her hair frazzled and tangled from the sprinkler's unwanted attentions, Jessie held up the paper, and in a shaky voice, began to read. As she did so her embarrassment began to fade, to the point where she stopped attempting to hide herself. She was only serving to make herself look immature and stupid anyway, she thought. And her certainty that Ms. Wolf must have more than simple academics in mind had begun to rise, allowing her nudity to excite rather than shame her. She read for some minutes, her voice alternately breathless and steady. It helped if she didn't look up, for finding Wolf's eyes on her invariably caused her to falter. She found herself unconsciously clenching the muscles in her groin repeatedly, feeling a deep sense of anticipation and sexual need in the presence of the beautiful and impressive Ms. Wolf. Her nipples remained almost painfully, and obviously erect. Jessie knew that Wolf could not have missed them, and was unlikely to still consider them the product of her brief dousing. Every slight breeze wafting through the nearby open window set them tingling and sparkling as they seemed to become more and more sensitive the longer her own inner arousal remained high. She tried to ignore that arousal, however, and everything else of a sexual nature, as she did her best to impress Wolf with her intellectual capabilities. She spoke of the thefts which had taken place from the tombs of the ancient Egyptian kings, and the artifacts ruined by careless, often amateur archaeologists and greedy exploitation, then summed up what they had learned about the style of ancient Egypt from the Valley of Kings digs. When she was finished she let her arm drop, almost hissing aloud as her forearm brushed gently along her right breast and set it jiggling slightly. She held the papers clutched in her hand as she looked to Wolf, anxiously waiting her judgement. "Well, it wasn't bad on short notice," Wolf said with a shrug in her voice, "but it's hardly impressive enough for me to overlook you showing up looking like the little lost match girl, to say nothing of being late. Serious study requires discipline, McMann." "I-I have discipline, Miss," Jessie said. "Not the discipline I require, girl." She sipped the last of her tea, then looked doubtfully at the empty cup before raising her eyes to Jessie once again. "Go and make me another cup, dear," she said, holding it up. Jessie hesitated, then swallowed nervously and stepped forward, intensely aware of her own nudity as she bent forward to accept the cup. Ms. Wolf made little effort to stretch out her arm, and Jessie had to bend quite far, her breasts hanging obviously and heavily a spare foot or so from the woman's face. "One sugar, dear." "Yes, miss," she gulped. "And take your things out of the washer and put them in the dryer." "Yes, miss." She walked through the living room, surrounded by a curtain of sexual heat, her eyes moving towards the small hallway. She turned to look towards Ms. Wolf, but the woman only smiled and waved her on. Just down the hall was the little kitchen. The tiles were cool to her bare feet as she walked to the stove and set the pot to boil, then rinsed out the cup. She looked behind her, then reached up and squeezed one breast. She drew in her breath sharply at the gush of pleasure and heat that oozed out of the soft, heavy orb into her chest. She could not remember her breasts ever feeling quite so sensitive, to say nothing of her aching nipples. The small washer and dryer were just across the little hall, and she quickly transferred her clothing, setting the dryer. Her every movement reminded her of her nudity, and despite her relative innocence she was quite certain Wolf was keeping her nude for a reason, and that something deliciously wicked would eventually transpire between them. Wolf had neglected to offer her any tea either, an inexcusable breech of etiquette normally. Since she was certain the woman would not be so crude she guessed she was merely being put in her place. That, of course, was not really necessary. She was well aware of how inferior she was to the beautiful, brilliant, worldly Ms. Wolf. She moved to the doorframe, peering down the hall towards the living room, then eased a hand down between her legs, her index finger pressing against her clitoris. It was hot and swollen and intensely sensitive. She clamped her lips together, pressing her cheek against the wood as she began to stroke her finger lightly across her clitoris. Being in Ms. Wolf's flat like this, naked, with Wolf just up the hall, made the act shockingly outrageous, and she was literally trembling with arousal as her hips began to roll in unconscious heat, her legs spreading as her breathing grew more and more ragged. She climaxed in seconds, barely able to keep from making a sound, jerking violently against the corner of the door frame as she jammed her pussy against her fingers. Then she staggered back, almost falling across the small table, standing there gulping in air as she tried to recover some measure of composure. She rested, getting her breathing back under control, waiting for her heart to stop pounding. Yet even as her breathing eased and her heart slowed she knew the climax had done little to suppress the heat within her mind and body. Instead she felt cocky and daring as she stepped to the counter. She let her body arch like a cat as she prepared the tea, and considered how she could let Ms. Wolf know what she wanted. She returned with the tea, her breasts jiggling slightly, the nipples still quite hard, and presented it to the woman, who took it negligently. "Thank you, my dear." "You're welcome, miss." Wolf sipped it, made a slightly disapproving face, then turned her eyes towards Jessie once more. "So, McMann, you were telling me about your discipline and fortitude." "Well, once I put my mind to something, miss, I'll put forth quite a deal of work to bring it about." "Will you now?" "Yes, miss." She shifted her weight awkwardly from one foot to the other, quite unsure what to do with her hands. "And do you take... orders well?" "Oh yes, miss,' she said, bobbing her head with certainty. Taking orders was something she was, indeed, quite practised at. Her parents had seen to that. "And yet, you were not, as I ordered, here at Seven." "I'm sorry, miss," she said anxiously. "You went to public school, of course, McMann." "Yes, miss. McDonald Academy." "And were you... disciplined there?" "Well, yes, miss," she said uncertainly. "Do your British schools still use canes for discipline?" "I, er, not usually, miss." "No? Pity. You've suffered for the lack, I think. Turn around a bit, dear." Blinking in confusion, Jessie slowly turned, then when Wolf circled her finger, turned more, until her back was to the woman. "Yes, I can well imagine a flighty girl like yourself learning considerable discipline by the touch of the cane across your backside,' she said. "You've never been so punished?" Jessie swallowed, her insides thrumming more powerfully now as she began to grasp the direction the inquiry was going. "N-Not since I was much younger, miss," she whispered. "And were you ever caned?" "No, miss, b-but I was strapped a few times," she said tautly. "A few times too few, I think. Perhaps you'd have learned more discipline." "Yes, miss," she said. "Do you think you could use more discipline, McMann?" "Yes, miss," she breathed. "I think so too." She paused for a long moment. "Do you see that planter over there above the table, McMann?" There was a narrow French provincial table set against the wall nearby, and a heavy planter hung from a chain fixed to the ceiling above it. "Yes, miss." "Go over there and take it down." Surprised, but obedient, Jessie padded across the rug to the table, then, blushing as she felt Wolf's eyes upon her backside, reached up and forward. She had to bend deeply, legs together, and rise onto her toes to lift the pot up sufficiently, and was well aware of how neatly presented her bottom was. She turned with the pot in her hands. "Set it down on the floor to one side," Wolf said. Jessie did so, then again turned, mutely requesting orders. "Open the little drawer in the table, McMann, and take out what you find." Jessie looked down and slid open the little drawer she found, her eyes widening and breath catching at what she saw. There appeared to be only one object in the drawer, a pair of glistening metal handcuffs. She removed them slowly, again turning her head to look at the woman. "Put them on." She stared down at the handcuffs, the first she'd seen outside of a television show. Her pulse was racing faster and faster, yet her lower belly was becoming as moist and heavy as it had been before she had masturbated in he kitchen. Her excitement was mounting to the point she was having difficulty not trembling visibly. She carefully placed one of the open cuffs around her left wrist, then closed it until it clicked locked. She blinked her eyes as she tugged at it, then put the other around her right wrist, awkwardly closing it as well. Her breasts seemed to grow harder and heavier now as she looked up at Ms. Wolf. "Turn around, dear," Wolf said. Jessie obeyed, the little metal making a soft clinking sound. "Do you see the hook which held the pot? I want you to reach up and slip the handcuffs across it," Ms. Wolf said. She was going to cane her! It could only be something like that. Jessie had, of course, heard of such kinky games, but never had she imagined she would willingly take part in them. Now she readily, almost eagerly reached up for the hook. She had to rise onto her toes once again, her hips and lower belly pushing in hard against the side of the table as she strained herarms forward and up. The hook was near the wall, and she could not quite reach it well enough to slip the little links between her handcuffs over it. She had to half crawl onto the table, throwing one knee over the top before the link slipped over. Then she eased back, gasping at the firm pull of the cold, hard metal against the soft flesh of her wrists. The span was barely long enough for her to stay on her toes, and she was forced to bend forward quite lewdly at the waist. "That's a good girl," Wolf said. She continued to sip her tea and Jessica continued to stand still, bent forward, wrists aching slightly, body stretched out, toes quivering and trembling. Her insides were a riotous maelstrom of shame, shock, elation, fear, lust and confusion. After several long moments Wolf set down her cup and rose, walking slowly across tostand just to one side. Jessie looked down, panting lightly, noting her breasts hanging heavily, then looked up tosee her wrists tightly shackled before turning her face to Ms. Wolf. She felt deliciously stretched out and vulnerable, her behind pushed out in what she knew was a quite attractive manner. "I think this position displays your bottom to maximum effect, McMann," the woman said."The aesthetic value alone is worthwhile, even without the helpful exposure for discipline." "I-I - thank you, miss," Jessie said helplessly, flushed and excited. Ms. Wolf smiled, then walked past, going to a nearby chest. She opened it and drew out along, slim wooden rod, then turned, face stern. Jessie gulped, fighting nervousness and fear, feeling the tightness in her groin as she imagined the cane striking her. She watched Wolf move back, turning her head in an attempt to look behind her. "I'm sure this will help your studies, McMann," Wolf said. She swung the thin crop through the air a few times, producing a hissing sound as it cut through the air. Then she drew it back and brought it down hard against Jessie's backside. At first she felt only the light impact, and almost allowed relief to form. Then, a spare instant later, the hot fire of pain lanced through her buttocks and she cried out. "Quietly, McMann," Ms. Wolf said in annoyance. "I-I'm sorry, miss," she moaned. Another blow struck her, and she gasped, her body jerking, her breasts jiggling. The pain cut into her sharply, then faded to a hot burning. Again the crop sliced through the air, then met her perfectly positioned buttocks with a soft crack. Jessie's eyes watered, and she groaned at the pain, twisting weakly in her helpless position. The handcuffs cut into her wrists, and her hips were already sore as they ground against the edge of the table. Yet there was something else entirely. This was not, as she knew full well, any kind of real discipline. She knew this was a sexual game to Wolf, and found the notion astonishingly delicious. She gasped again as the crop came down on her now flaming bottom, moaning helplessly. The sexual heat which had been building within her from the moment she removed her clothing built rapidly higher. She remembered Wolf's talk of Egyptian harem girls and imagined herself one, imagined herself Ms. Wolf's helpless sexual plaything, her very own harem girl, gasping at another blow, then another. She felt herself pulling against the handcuffs, trying to lift herself higher, to grind her sex against the edge of the table. Another blow laced into her bottom, then another, and still another, each drawing a soft cry and whimper as her hips rolled and jerked in response. She had had few orgasms in her life, until recently, when her masturbation had become far and away more frequent, but knew herself close to one now. The sharpness of each new blow was somewhat faded now, unable to force its way through the fire engulfing her buttocks: Yet the impacts were echoing deep in her lower belly, echoing inside her empty vaginal sheath, the muscles clenching again and again. "Oh!" she cried as a particularly hard blow threw her head back. "You must be strong of will to succeed in life, McMann," Ms. Wolf said. "The weak give way to the strong." Another blow cracked down across her behind, and a sob escaped her. "I think that's enough for now," she heard, the sound coming as if from a distance. "But I'm quite certain more will be required in future." With that Jessie felt the tip of the cane slide down her spine between her sweating buttocks, brush lightly across her puckered anal opening, then dart in beneath her moist sex. Suddenly it jammed up between the warm lips to saw briefly against her clitoris. It was enough. Her head was flung back again, and her hips rocked as the orgasm swept through her. Her thighs were tightly clenched together, and her muscles spasmed furiously as the hard, thin wood, sawed back and forth with painfully delicious strokes. Her breasts jiggled up and down achingly and her mind flared with impossible pleasure. Then it faded, and she slumped breathlessly, gulping in air, all but hanging by the wrists now. Her head fell forward, hair spilling around her face to blind her as she fought for breath. "I think your things should be ready now," Wolf said. "You can get yourself down, I'm sure, while I fetch them." She walked away, leaving Jessie limp and groaning. After a moment her legs grew strong enough to half climb up on the table and slip the handcuffs over the hook, but that left her wrists still locked together. Wolf returned and laid out her clothes, then smiled at her, shaking her head briefly and reaching deeper into the drawer to remove the key. She unlocked the cuffs, replacing them in the drawer, then motioning her to get dressed. It was only after she had left, half dazed, her behind still burning hot, that Jessie realized that at no point had she actually touched Ms Wolf, or Wolf her.