The Lesson She Made Me Ask For

Dear FemdomU Forum,

I’m a graduate teaching assistant at a university, and the woman who shares most of my duties is another TA I’ll call Claire. We’re both in our late twenties, working for the same professor, teaching sections of the same course, and spending far too many evenings together grading papers from students who apparently believe punctuation is optional.

Claire and I got along well from the beginning. We complained about the professor, traded grading duties, covered for each other, and occasionally went out for drinks after finishing our work. She was confident, sarcastic, and naturally bossy. Even when she asked me to do something instead of ordering me, it somehow sounded like an order.

One night, we were alone in the classroom after nine. We had finished grading but stayed to talk, sharing the last of some terrible vending-machine coffee. The conversation wandered from dating to sex and eventually to fantasies. Claire told me about a few things she wanted to try, and then she asked about mine.

I hesitated long enough for her to notice.

“Oh, come on,” she said. “It can’t be that bad.”

So I told her the truth. I said I had always wanted to be dominated by a woman in a classroom. Not role-play in somebody’s bedroom with a little plaid skirt and a fake chalkboard. I meant a real classroom with rows of desks, fluorescent lights, and the possibility that someone might walk past the door.

I told her I wanted a woman to make me strip, bend me over a desk, and punish me with a wooden ruler. I wanted to feel like I had no choice but to obey her, even though we would both know that I really did. I even admitted that I wanted her to use the ruler on more than my ass.

Claire stared at me for a second and then laughed.

Not a cruel laugh, exactly, but enough to make me regret telling her. She asked whether I had been fantasizing about her doing it. I tried to avoid answering, which was apparently an answer by itself.

“You want me to make you strip right here?” she asked.

My face went hot. I said something stupid about how it was only a fantasy.

She laughed again, called me a pervert, and changed the subject. By the time we left, I was sure I had embarrassed myself and possibly ruined our friendship. But the next morning she treated me exactly the same as before. Within a few days, I convinced myself she had forgotten about it.

Almost three weeks passed.

One Thursday evening, Claire asked me to meet her in our usual classroom to help organize materials for an upcoming exam. When I arrived, the blinds covering the narrow window in the door had already been pulled shut. She locked the door behind me without commenting on it.

We worked normally for about half an hour. Then Claire closed her laptop, walked to the front of the room, and picked up one of the thick wooden rulers lying beside the whiteboard.

She tapped it against her palm.

“Take off your clothes.”

I honestly thought she was joking. I laughed nervously, but she didn’t. She stood there in her work clothes, holding that ruler, looking directly into my eyes as if she expected immediate obedience.

For a second, I seriously considered saying no. This was no longer something I was describing over bad coffee. It was real. She was my coworker, we were standing in an actual university classroom, and she had just commanded me to get naked.

I looked her in the eye, trying to decide what to say.

Then I realized my shirt was already off.

I hadn’t consciously decided to remove it. My body had simply started obeying while my brain was still arguing with itself. I looked down and found my hands unzipping my pants.

That was the moment I knew the answer was yes.

Claire must have seen the realization on my face because she smiled and told me not to stop. I pushed my pants and underwear down together, stepped out of them, and stood naked in front of her. My cock was already getting hard, which made it impossible to pretend that I wasn’t desperate for this.

She made me fold everything neatly and place it on a chair. When I finished, she pointed toward the instructor’s desk.

“Hands flat.”

I obeyed.

Claire began with my knuckles. She had asked enough questions during our original conversation to know what I could handle, and she reminded me that I could stop everything with one word. Then she brought the ruler down across my knuckles.

The crack made me jump.

I pulled my hands away automatically. She calmly told me to put them back, and something about her tone made my cock twitch. The second stroke landed harder. She ordered me to count each one and thank her afterward.

By the fifth, my knuckles were red and throbbing.

“Now your ass,” she said.

Claire moved a chair into the center of the classroom, sat down, and pointed the ruler across her lap. I had pictured this exact moment countless times, but I had never appreciated how humiliating it would feel to lower myself across the lap of a woman I worked beside every week.

She adjusted me until my bare ass was raised over her thigh. Then she rested the ruler across my cheeks and asked how many I thought I deserved.

I said ten.

She said my lack of ambition was disappointing.

The first few strokes were controlled, almost playful. Then she started putting more force behind them. The ruler cracked sharply against my ass, leaving thin lines of fire across both cheeks. I counted aloud while she corrected my position whenever I squirmed.

When I kicked my legs, she trapped them beneath one of hers. When I reached back, she pinned my wrist against my spine. When my counting became less distinct, she threatened to start over.

By the time she let me stand, my ass felt like it had been set on fire. I could feel the raised lines whenever I moved, but my cock was fully hard and sticking straight out in front of her.

Claire looked down at it and shook her head.

“You seem to be enjoying your punishment.”

I admitted that I was.

She tapped the ruler against the underside of my cock. It was only a light touch, but I jerked as if she had struck me.

During our late-night conversation, I had told her that one of the most frightening parts of my fantasy involved having my cock disciplined. Claire remembered every word. She ordered me to spread my legs, place my hands behind my head, and remain perfectly still.

She first used the ruler to lift my cock and examine it, turning it from one side to the other as though she were evaluating an assignment. The humiliation was incredible. I was naked, red-assed, and standing at attention while my coworker inspected my erection with a classroom ruler.

Then she tapped it.

The first strike was light and landed across the shaft. It wasn’t truly painful, but the shock ran through my entire body. The second was slightly harder. I gasped and almost lowered my hands.

She gave my cock several more carefully controlled smacks, each one just hard enough to sting without causing injury. Watching that ruler land on my dick was worse than feeling it. I kept expecting a brutal blow, but Claire understood that frightening me was more exciting than hurting me badly.

After the last strike, she placed the ruler beneath my balls and lifted them.

I swallowed hard.

She gave each testicle one very light tap. Even that made my knees buckle. Claire laughed, caught me by the chin, and asked whether I had learned my lesson.

“Yes, Ma’am,” I said.

She set the ruler on the desk and told me that my punishment was over. Then she pulled her skirt up.

She wasn’t wearing panties.

My mouth went dry. Claire sat on the edge of the instructor’s desk, spread her legs, and told me to get on my knees. I moved between her thighs, but she grabbed my hair before I could touch her.

“You wanted to be used in a classroom,” she said. “Now show me whether you deserve a passing grade.”

I pressed my mouth against her pussy.

Claire didn’t let me treat it like ordinary foreplay. She gave instructions constantly, telling me when to lick her slowly, when to flatten my tongue, and when to concentrate on her clit. If I changed rhythm without permission, she pulled my hair and made me correct myself.

The whole time, my sore cock hung between my legs without being touched. I was painfully hard, but she made it clear that my pleasure wasn’t part of the lesson. My job was to keep my mouth where she wanted it and make her come.

After several minutes, Claire pushed me away and ordered me onto the floor between two rows of desks. I lay on my back, completely naked beneath the fluorescent lights, while she stepped over me and straddled my head.

She lowered her pussy onto my mouth.

That was the part of the fantasy I had never dared to describe fully. Claire sat on my face and began riding it, grinding her clit against my tongue while my nose and mouth disappeared beneath her. She used my hair to control the angle of my head and rocked her hips with no concern for how undignified I looked underneath her.

She lifted herself whenever I needed air, but otherwise she treated my face like something that belonged between her thighs. I held her ass while she rode me harder, listening to her breathing become rougher and feeling her pussy grow wetter against my mouth.

When she came, she pressed down firmly and shook above me. I kept licking until she finally grabbed my hair and pulled my mouth away from her oversensitive clit.

Claire stayed seated across my chest for a while, catching her breath and looking down at me. Her pussy was wet, my face was a mess, my ass was burning, and my cock was still standing hard between us.

She glanced at it and smiled.

“Class dismissed.”

She stood, pulled down her skirt, and instructed me to clean the ruler before getting dressed. I wiped it carefully while she watched. Then she made me carry our bags to her car, although she was kind enough to let me put my clothes back on first.

Before I left, she handed me the ruler. She had written something across it in black marker while I was dressing.

PROPERTY OF CLAIRE’S CLASSROOM

We still work together, and during the day we remain completely professional. No one knows what happened that night. Sometimes I almost convince myself that it was a dream.

Then Claire picks up a ruler during class and taps it against her palm.

She always looks directly at me when she does it.

Signed,

Her Favorite Teaching Assistant