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BEST
BESM FICTION AWARD: "A Slave's Journal."
Excerpt from Chapter 1.
"Professor Blackthorne is an arrogant prick." That's the first
thing I thought upon meeting him. Sure, he's smart and educated up the
wazoo, but he's far too full of himself. He's one of the most annoying
people, I think: a know-it-all who really does know it all. Unfortunately,
his course was required for my graduate degree in ancient history, so
I'd have to put up with him.
I'm intelligent, I'm opinionated, and I'm used to getting my way. But
I didn't get this far in academia by cursing out the faculty. So, I kept
my mouth shut through his self-important lectures, his slanted, patriarchal
view of history, and his peculiar classroom requirements (I haven't had
to ask permission to go to the bathroom since I was in elementary school).
But when the "good professor" had the
gall to give me a B on my dare I say brilliant midterm paper, I went straight
to his house. I didn't care if it was 10:30 at night or if the visit was
unexpected; I was going to be heard.
Professor Blackthorne was grading papers when I
arrived. Suddenly, I felt quite nervous. I hadn't wanted to admit up until
that point that I found him kind of intimidating. Nevertheless, I took
out my paper and demanded that he change my grade. "I don't know
why you seem to have it in for me," I said, "But I know and
you know that this paper is better than a B. You are messing up my GPA,
and I would like for you to change my grade to an A." There, I said
it. For a few moments, I was aware of my heart pounding in my chest.
Professor Blackthorne gave a small smile. "I'm
sorry, Miss Heartbreak, but I must say, the B I gave you was kind. Your
research was shoddy, your arguments flimsy, and your prose as muddy as
a swamp. In fact, the only reason I didn't fail you outright is because
you seem to show some small, glimmering degree of promise and I didn't
want you to get completely discouraged."
I was utterly shocked. No one had ever spoken like
that to me before. I ripped up the paper right in front of him and started
to leave the room. I didn't need this kind of treatment. I was going to
write a letter to the head of the department. No, better than that, I
was going to call the head of the department. I--
"Would you come back here, please?"
Ah-ha! Maybe he came to his senses, finally, and he's going to apologize
for giving me such a poor grade and being so rude to me. You see, you
just have to stand up for what you believe in this world. "Kneel."
A burst of adrenaline shot from my heart down to
my pussy and ricocheted off the pit of my stomach. It was like a switch
was flipped. From some far away place I wondered why it didn't even occur
to me to say no. I slowly sank to my knees on the rich carpet. He looked
at me appraisingly. In his eyes, I saw challenge, authority, power, and
even kindness-- enough kindness that I knew he wouldn't harm me. He took
off my glasses slowly and gently. He might as well have blindfolded me.
Vulnerable now, all I could see was a blurred version of his face. Somewhere
in the back of my mind I remembered that I had an early class tomorrow,
but that was becoming less and less important...
"Lie across my lap," said Professor Blackthorne, quietly, but
in a tone that sent a shiver of fear through me. Doing so, I felt absurd
and awkward-- anything but sexy-- in my "finals-crunch" outfit
of sweats, T-shirt and sneakers. I was anticipating something painful,
but felt strangely disappointed when he landed a couple of spanks on the
outside of my sweatpants. It didn't hurt. I just felt silly and embarrassed
for him.
Balancing my hands on the floor, I started reading the titles of the books
in front of me and thinking of how my roommate and I would have a good
laugh when I got back to my apartment. Maybe we could even start a rumor
that Professor Blackthorne was a pervert. I wonder if that would get him
canned. Nah, he probably has tenure--
My sweatpants were slowly being pulled over my ass. Oh my goodness. What
underwear did I have on today? Oh no, my ugly flowered granny panties.
How humiliating. Suddenly, there came Professor Blackthorne's flat hand
slapping against one of my asscheeks. With only thin cotton to protect
me, I gasped. It stung. Before I had the chance to think about it, then
came another slap. I whimpered. And then I felt a hard swelling of the
Professor's erection, pushing against my ribs from beneath. He was getting
turned on, hearing me whimper in pain. Slap! This time it landed just
under my ass, on the tender skin of my back upper thigh. It stung and
I squeaked in surprise. I squirmed and tensed up, feeling his cock get
even harder. (More....) |
