She selects from his clothes

If he was her teacher, she would be better served to obey. That had gotten her through all her schooling, she’d always been a good girl, and she wasn’t about to stop now. Unsure quite what to pick, she gravitated toward her favorite color and selected a cobalt, lacy bodysuit. A little bow sat above her belly button, making her look like a present. Unsure about shoes, she decided to pad down the hall barefoot. If she were going to bed with him she wouldn’t need them anyway.

Sir sat, legs crossed, in the living room reading. He looked up as he heard her enter. “Good girl, excellent choice.”

“Thank you, sir.”

He smiled at her. “You’re learning your first lesson well.”

“What should I do with my clothes?”

“You may keep them as a reward. Afterall, you’ll not be a prisoner in this house. You’ll be allowed to leave.”

Eliza nodded. She was deeply conscious of her state of undress. She was on display for him. Perhaps that was her first lesson: that she was his to do with as he pleased.

“What, um, what is my first lesson?”

“Obedience.” A look of annoyance crossed his face, “And for your second lesson come here and bend over the table.”

Eliza nodded and moved softly to bend down. She placed her elbows on the coffee table and realized she was presenting her ass to this relative stranger.

SMACK

His hand came down hard on her left cheek.

SMACK

Then her right.

He spanked her firmly for 10 strokes on each ass cheek. By the end she could feel her pale skin burning from the ****.

“Your second lesson is not to question me. We’ll get on just fine as long as you remember that. Your parents chose me because I have your best interests at heart. And everything I do will be in those interests.”

Eliza nodded. “Yes Sir.”

“Good girl.” He began to caress her stinging ass. “Now you must be hungry from your trip up. You may stand. Dinner has been prepared.”

Eliza sat across the table from her mentor, silently eating. The food was delicious. It was evident he had a private chef. When he came in with their plates Eliza almost moved to cover herself but stopped just in time. Sir wanted her on display, clearly. And she was to be obedient. They ate in relative silence, periodically broken by a question about her life. He seemed genuinely curious about what kinds of books she liked and her hopes for the future. She supposed he needed to know what kind of life he was preparing her for. At the end, once the plates were spirited away, Sir had one final question.

“Eliza, are you on birth control?”