Spank Trish again during the next meeting

The thing is, you know your next student is Peggy, in her final year and about to get her doctorate. According to the notes you perused briefly earlier, she's expecting to practise her viva with you today, but without memories of her thesis or the past three years of her course, you won't be able to do that effectively. You have enough experience of the Rulebook by now to know that it will implant knowledge directly into your brain if you want it, but without reading the thesis, you're not even sure what questions to ask. However, if you're still spanking Trish when she arrives, she'll just have to understand that disciplining another girl comes first and you'll arrange her mock viva for another time.

Accordingly, you tell the weeping twenty-something to sit on the edge of the table and spread her legs. Putting even her modest bodyweight onto her battered nates causes a considerable amount of discomfort and is reason enough in your mind to keep her sitting, rather than lying back. When she swings her legs apart until her calves touch the side of the table top, the movement of her brutalized bum flesh causes an anguished gasp and fresh **** sobs.

"Put this on," you say, handing her the placard, which she dutifully drapes around her elegant neck, flicking her hair over the chain. "Now, Trish, I told you to read continuously, without breaks, but four times you stopped to cry instead."

"I'm sorry, Professor," she interjects, morosely.

"I'm sure you are, but I'm going to spank you for five minutes for each transgression." Although you're familiar with the layout of your room, you still check that no clock is visible from the position your student has been required to adopt. "Don't count the smacks, but do count off the seconds until it's finished." You don't feel the need to elaborate on what will happen if she counts too quickly.

"Yes, Professor. Please may I be spanked for not reading properly."

Shifting your chair to the perfect place in front of your student's crotch, you check the time and commence, raining down a flurry of random blows onto the front and inner curves of her thighs. You vary the rhythm, sometimes four smacks in a second, sometimes only one or two, some lighter, some harder. Trish is already having difficulty counting steadily, her voice warbling with anguish. She's adopted the technique of saying "one, Professor, two, Professor" and so on, probably to help her keep time, rather than as an act of respect. That may be hard to maintain when she reaches numbers over a thousand, you muse.

Less than a minute in, with dark bruises starting to form even at this early stage, you hear a knock on the door.

"Come in," you bellow, not wanting to have a hiatus in the middle of a spanking, then add, more quietly, "count in your head, now, Trish."

"Yes, Professor," she gasps out, then compresses her lips, concentrating on the numbers flowing through her mind to distract her from the relentless swats peppering her thighs.

The door opens and a shapely blonde enters, wearing a gauzy white halter neck dress and silver stiletto sandals. Her honey-coloured hair is close-cropped in a fashionable bob and her nails (both gently pointed finger and rounded toe) match the scarlet of her lips. Her bare left arm displays a livid weal travelling down from shoulder to elbow and when she turns to close the door, her backless dress reveals that she's been flogged quite heavily in the last few days, the red ridges contrasting with pale skin. The multi-tailed whip she carries matches the marks closely and one more thing you notice, before returning your attention to the blubbering girl in front of you, is that she's wearing a wedding ring.

"I'm sorry, Peggy. As you can see, something's come up. Would it be possible for us to reschedule?"

"That's quite alright, Professor," the blonde replies, taking a chair and positioning it facing you, but standing next to it, waiting for an invitation before sitting down. "Next week will be fine for my mock viva. It's not as if I'll get any less prepared in seven days."

You gesture to the chair without any break from pummelling Trish's increasingly aching thighs and Peggy sits, crossing her legs comfortably, not even sparing a glance for the younger woman writhing in agony on the table. Since academic discussion has been postponed, you turn the topic to other matters, Peggy's plans for the future and how life's treating her now. She proves to be an interesting and highly amusing conversationalist (although she ought to be, because she mentions still finding the time to do stand-up at a comedy club in town, where she met her adoring yet very harsh husband). You're laughing and enjoying yourself so much that you almost don't notice Trish's thighs becoming so blistered that the skin threatens to peel away in strips. Fortunately, you realize just in time and decide to give the other side of the paddle a go, switching to occasional smacks scattered across the whole of the punished region, with a few directly on the naked twat between.

Perhaps sensing that the spanking is coming to an end, Peggy changes tone a little and regales you with the account of her latest whipping from her husband, for spilling water on the floor when putting the flowers he bought her in a vase. Either she knows your tastes or it's quite a coincidence, but her description of the agony searing into her back with every lash combines with the thrashing of the helpless girl at your mercy to leave you in quite dire need of relief. You've just given seventeen firm swats in a row to her pudenda when Trish chokes words out through her mask of tears.

"Twenty-minutes, thank-you, Professor. Thank-you for punishing me. Please may I show my gratitude?"

You check the time again and find that it is indeed twenty minutes, plus eight seconds, which rather surprises you in terms of her accuracy, although it might just be luck. Hardly able to wait any longer, you stand up and start undoing your fly.

"Shall I leave you to it, Professor?" Peggy asks, seeming completely unphased by you preparing to fuck another student in front of her. She was just reaching the climax of her story about the whipping and you'd quite like to hear how it ends, but it might be easier to concentrate on your own pleasure without an audience.