Chapter 1
One
Two years later
Mira
My stomach flipped as I packed my things and put them into my book bag.
My friends were chatting easily, but I barely noticed their conversation.
Oh, I appeared as if I were actively listening, but my attention was on Professor Stahlbaum, and only her.
Every sense focused on my professor and whether I was going to be able to slip by her unnoticed.
The assignment I’d emailed her only a few minutes earlier had been due two days ago.
It was my first late assignment for her this semester, but I had turned in two late assignments the previous semester.
The problem was this was a single course done over two semesters, so I was pretty sure this was going to count as my third.
And Professor Stahlbaum had a three strikes rule.
I kept close to my group of friends, avoiding eye contact as we walked by the professor’s desk.
I laughed when everyone else did but only to blend in because I hadn’t been paying attention.
Unfortunately, it sounded fake even to my own ears and stood out amongst the others’.
Three feet past her desk, about to be home free, I released a breath, and then Professor Stahlbaum cleared her throat.
“Miss Wilcox?”
Oh crap. I looked back, my eyes widening at her stern frown.
“Mira, may I see you for a moment, please?”
I looked longingly at my friends. Most of them didn’t notice, but Cleo did. She was my best friend and knew I’d been tardy with the assignment. She looked at the professor and then grimaced at me, mouthing the words “good luck”.
Dragging in a deep breath, I nodded at Professor Stahlbaum, then stood awkwardly as the students filed out. Professor Stahlbaum ignored me, working on her laptop until the final student left.
I shuffled my feet, staring down at my shiny black Mary Janes. My stomach was tumultuous with nerves and the skin on my bottom was covered in gooseflesh. It was the first time in a while I was focused on something other than my sick mother.
The chair scraped on the floor, echoing in the empty room as the professor shifted in her chair.
“I’m sorry I was late, Professor Stahlbaum.”
“Late again, you mean?” she said firmly, her right brow arching.
I straightened my posture at her tone. I didn’t like being in trouble.
And I could have avoided it by turning in my assignment two days ago, but it wouldn’t have been to my standard.
If I’d only remembered my laptop the other day when I had to take my mom to the ER.
Or if I’d worked on her assignment rather than Professor Holland’s.
But being late with an assignment for my new professor seemed worse than being late with Professor Stahlbaum’s.
After all, I wanted to make a good first impression with Professor Holland.
But I sure was questioning that choice now.
“I told you what would happen should you be late again, hm?”
I nodded, swallowing the rising anxiousness climbing up my throat. You need this, I told myself. Not only to remind you not to forget things, even in emergencies, but to clear your head. Even just for a few minutes. “Yes, Ma’am.”
“I’m invested in your success, Mira. Is there a reason you were late again? Did I not give you a suitable amount of time to finish it?”
I squirmed, wondering what I should tell her.
I definitely didn’t want to tell her about my mom even though it would earn me some leeway.
I’d asked to take extra classes, begged Master Derek actually, and if he found out I was falling behind, I’d lose the opportunity and then I wouldn’t graduate before my mom died.
“Both your assignment and Professor Holland’s were due the same day,” I said in a shaky voice.
“I spent more time on Professor Holland’s assignment because I’m not as solid in his class.
And he’s new here. You only get one chance to make a first impression…
” I let my words trail off. It was the truth, just not all of it.
And I wasn’t considering it a lie by omission either.
Some things were private—like your mother dying.
“Did you get that one in on time?” she asked, looking genuinely interested.
I felt a bit guilty like it was a betrayal but I nodded. “I did.”
“Have you been late with any of his assignments before?”
“No, Ma’am. But this was our first. I was given special permission by Master Derek to take on the extra class when Professor Holland opened it.”
“What would Master Derek say if he knew you’d been falling behind in my class?”
Scrunching my brow and chewing my lip, I considered the consequences of this blunder.
Would she talk to Master Derek and make me drop the extra class?
Panic started to well. I needed that class, I needed it to graduate early.
If I didn’t graduate at the end of this semester, my mother might not see me graduate at all.
I told myself to calm down as she patiently waited for my answer.
“He might remove me from the new class, but I really need it on my transcript.” I’d take a thousand discipline sessions to make sure I was allowed to complete my degree before my mother passed away—a million maybe. My eyes slid to the armoire across the room, and I shivered involuntarily.
“Well, regardless of our issues, I’m at least glad you’re eager to learn.”
She smiled softly and my shoulders relaxed slightly.
She was a good professor, and I knew she cared that I missed an assignment not because she was a stickler for rules or enjoyed doling out punishments, but because she wanted her students to succeed.
For a second I considered telling her the whole truth.
If there was anyone I could trust with the knowledge that my mother was terminally ill, it was her.
She drummed her fingers on the desk considering what to do with me maybe. My stomach wobbled nervously as I waited.
“Miss Wilcox, I have one more question before we begin. How do you feel about spending an hour on Sunday evening each week, going through your schedule and organizing your planner for optimum success?”
My eyes widened. She’d do that for me? She’d help me figure stuff out so I didn’t fail? How many professors would do that?
“Really? You’d help me like that?”
Professor Stahlbaum nodded and I smiled in appreciation.
“Then, yes, please. I’d be so grateful,” I said, although I worried it would just take up more time I didn’t have.
“Okay, well, you’re definitely going to be paddled today, and it won’t be pleasant,” she said and folded her fingers together on the desk.
I grimaced, my stomach dropping as if I’d stepped off a cliff.
“But I’m doing it for your own good, do you understand? And I hope with my extra help, this will be the last punishment you receive for a tardy assignment. From me or anyone else.”
My lip trembled, so I caught it between my teeth. God, I hated this part. The sort of lecture, the being told what was about to happen, it was as bad as the actual paddling. Maybe. But it was for my own good. I needed to take responsibility. I shifted my weight to my other foot and released my lip.
“It will, Professor Stahlbaum. It will. I appreciate how fair you’ve always been. You’ve given me more than enough chances.”
“I have.” She stood, reaching out to touch my shoulder. “This is the third paper you’ve turned in late. And I told you this was coming should it happen again. I’m glad you’re accepting your punishment like a good girl.”
Good girl. Those words. So deeply a part of me.
I lowered my eyes feeling the pressure building behind them—a culmination of much more than what was about to come.
Professor Stahlbaum walked to the oak armoire.
I heard her steps, and the slight squeak of the hinges as she opened it.
I didn’t need to look up and see what was in it.
My part-time job as a service sub had me stocking these often.
How many times had I peeked in the bag of used items and imagined being the student who had been punished with them?
How many times had my panties dampened from those innocent daydreams?
But reality wasn’t fantasy and I wasn’t feeling any arousal now.
Maybe because I felt guilty for failing my professor, myself and my mother—especially my mother.
“How do you feel about paddlings, Miss Wilcox?” she asked as her heels clicked closing the distance between us.
I closed my eyes wincing. Feeling her standing behind me, I internally whimpered. My Dungeon play experience had taught me I hated paddles and I’d never even had a real punishment with one. But they weren’t a hard limit, just something I dreaded.
“Not good,” I mumbled.
“Not good as in, they’re a hard limit?”
Because everyone was so well vetted here at Rawhide, it was a normal question even though my paperwork specifically stated they weren’t a hard limit.
Professor Stahlbaum knew limits could change and consent was extremely important.
It’s why Rawhide Ranch was so reputable in the BDSM community.
Even if I’d filled the paperwork out five minutes ago, she’d ask again.
I considered telling Professor Stahlbaum wooden paddles were a hard limit, because the dread inside me was akin to a roiling sea, but I tossed the idea almost instantly. After all, I came to Rawhide for just this reason. I was wired for BDSM.
In my current predicament though, speaking the words was like cutting a tomato with a dull knife.
I knew from my Dungeon play, paddles hurt—a lot.
The only thing I liked less was rubber. Fighting a shiver, I replied, “They’re not a hard limit, Ma’am.
” I shook my head maybe to confirm my words but also maybe in a silent protest. Not the damn paddle please.
“Right then. Your safe word?”
Oh god, oh god, oh god. This was happening. The skin on my bottom broke out in goosebumps and I involuntarily tightened my glutes.
“Octopus,” I replied in a shaky voice.