The Professor's Girl | 18+ | COMPLETE |

+ chapter 5 +

I arrived on campus the following day with Marilyn Manson blasting on my headphones. His music was so nostalgic; once again, hearkening back to my 14-year-old, weirdo self. What kind of almost-quarter-life crisis was I going through with this crap? To be fair, the music also served as a great distraction from the stares I was getting. I might have overdone my "revenge" clothing. The black collared dress I was wearing was a little Wednesday Addams-esque, and now that I thought about it, the sheer thigh-highs were definitely too much. I hid my discomfort with my own attention-attracting appearance behind massive black sunglasses.

I did feel a little bit better as I found myself approaching the classroom just ahead of Jay. I tossed my hair back, but on my best resting bitch face, and strutted into the auditorium just ahead of him. The look of absolute shock on his face was priceless.

Don't fall, don't fall, don't fall, I thought as carefully made my way down the stairs.

Kahlan was on time today, already sitting at his desk sipping a coffee as the students filed in. He caught sight of me immediately.

Oh my god. His face. He put down his coffee cup carefully, his expression the same one I had seen on his face when he had crouched over me on the couch that night. Predatory. Like he would eat me alive. Suddenly Jay seemed extremely unimportant.

I sat quietly in my seat at the front of the room, almost wishing that someone else had claimed it so I could have been forced to choose a less obvious seat further back. I crossed my legs, even though I knew it made one heeled foot stick out tantalizingly. Kahlan was shooting me fiery looks, and I honestly could not tell if he was mad or entertained.

Kahlan flicked off the lights, and the projector lit up the white board with a painting of Marquis de Sade. "Good morning class. I hope you all enjoyed your first reading. How many of you here were already familiar with de Sade?"

Several hands shot up across the room, including mine. I could have sworn I saw Kahlan's mouth twitch in a small grin when he saw my hand go up. "Very good. So who can tell me a bit about him?"

"He really liked sex!" shouted a male voice. There were a few snickers and murmurs of agreement. Kahlan smiled.

"He did," he said. "Marquis de Sade, like another famous writer you may be familiar with, Mr. John Wilmot, was a libertine. Libertines had a very particular philosophy that even today would probably be considered rather unusual, let alone during their time. Can anyone tell us a bit about the Libertine philosophy?"

"They didn't believe in boundaries," I said. "They believed there shouldn't be any restraints to how one lives their lives, whether sexual or moral. They placed a strong value on physical pleasures, the stimulation of the senses."

"Very good, Miss Lizbeth," Kahlan's gaze lingered on my nylon-clad leg for just a moment longer than it should have, eliciting the most delicious little rush of excitement from me. "In fact, this perverse approach to sexuality that Marquis de Sade had is part of the reason we have the word "sadism" today: it's actually based off of his name."

I was feeling pleased with myself by the time class had ended. I'd disarmed my ex and Kahlan hadn't stopped giving me lingering looks the entire class. Still, the heels were starting to get just a little painful, and I considered going back to my apartment in between classes to get a more comfortable pair of shoes. The heels had already served their purpose for the day anyway.

As I was collecting my things to leave, Kahlan called to me from his desk, "Lizbeth, could I have a word with you?"

My insides shuddered excitedly. "Yes, professor?" I said, putting a little more emphasis on professor than I really needed to. He remained seated at his desk, hands folded in front of him in a way that seemed dangerously patient.

When he spoke, his voice was low. "What exactly are you trying to do to me, Miss Lizbeth?"

I feigned confusion. "I'm not sure what you mean, Mr. Travis."

He exhaled loudly through his nose. "You know exactly what I mean. The picture? Really? And this . . . these clothes?"

I laughed softly. "I don't think you can tell me how to dress, professor."

He got up from his chair, slowly. There were still a few students leaving the room, so he leaned closer and kept his voice down as he said, "I wouldn't tell you how to dress, Liz. I would love to see you dress like this every day. That's the problem. Because seeing you like this makes me want to do bad things to you. Things that, as your professor, I'm morally obligated not to do."

Inside, I was absolutely writhing. On the outside, I shrugged. "Maybe you should take a page out of Libertine philosophy, Mr. Travis. Dispose of the boundaries."

His jaw clenched. "Don't tempt me."

"Or what?" I said dangerously. The classroom was empty. I turned to go. Let him think that little exchange over. Let him be the one obsessing over me. It felt good to be the powerful one for a change, after Jay had spent so much time bringing me down.

"Lizbeth!" The sharpness is his voice made me stop. I glanced back over my shoulder. He was seated back in his chair, fiery-eyed and loosening his tie. "Get back over here, and get over my knee."

My eyes widened. "W-what?"

"You heard me," his voice was commanding, irresistible. "Get back here. And get over my knee."

+++

a/n: I used to daydream in class about being spanked over the professor's desk. There's probably something wrong with me.

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