I am, I must admit in all humility, a mathematics prodigy. Across the board I'm pretty good intellectually but where mathematics is concerned I have a touch of genius. Not that that helps me in progressing through school as being brilliant in one subject doesn't give you passing marks in others. (Unless you're good in sport. It's amazing how being good in sport can help the dullest clod get a passing mark.)
Now switching the subject to Simone, she had a similar kink to me, but her kink was in the written word. She could write a one page essay that would reduce the teacher to tears. She could also reduce the mathematics teacher to tears with her sheer ineptitude where that subject was concerned.
You can probably see where this is going. Simone came flirting up to me, got up real close and personal, and asked me to tutor her in maths. She insisted that she was serious about it as she really wanted to pass, maths being the only subject that she looked like failing. It wasn't as though maths was essential for her future career path as writing and communication generally was the field of her choice. She just didn't like the idea of failing in any particular subject.
We had free periods that matched up a couple of times a week and so I agreed to meet her during those periods to review how she was going and give her additional tutoring where required. We both agreed that these sessions wouldn't last longer than an hour, mainly because I didn't want her to lose her concentration.
The first couple of sessions went well. Simone still seemed to have a problem catching on to simple logic but she did get there as long as I took it slowly and explained it all in baby steps. The third session was something else entirely.
Simone was in a fractious mood and that became evident from the start. She seemed to be spoiling for a fight but, oddly enough, not with me. I was just a convenient target for her hostility. Why she hadn't just cancelled the session I did not know. It wasn't as though I was compelling her.
I was the soul of patience. No, really, I was. For me, anyway. I did however get a little irritable when I found her simply ignoring what I was saying, looking out the window, plainly wanting to be outside.
"Simone, if you want to go and play outside then by all means do so," I said somewhat snappily. "Geez, if this was a regular class you'd either have detention by now or be taking a stern note home to your parents."
She sniggered at that comment.
"They stop sending notes home after you turn eighteen," she reminded me, "so I'm safe on that one. This close to the end of the year I'd probably ignore any detentions assigned. I mean, we'll be out of this school in another couple of months. What can they do? Chase after us to university, telling the university that we haven't done a detention?"
She laughed at me again, but made no effort to leave.
"Poor Johnny," she said. "Wants to discipline his unruly student and doesn't have any options."
She laughed again and suddenly seemed to brighten.
"Hey, I've got an idea. Corporal punishment is the go. You can always spank me."
We were in a private study room attached to one of the classrooms, a classroom that was currently vacant, and I kid you not, I was tempted. She was being deliberately difficult. I just gave her a nasty look.
"Oh, I know. You want to be sure I'm serious about a spanking, don't you," she said, and I could hear the mockery in her voice.
I was startled, for want of a better word, when she went into action. She jumped to her feet, lifted her dress and dropped her panties down to her knees. Then she turned and leaned over the desk, elbows on the desk, forearms upright and fingers interlaced, with her chin resting on her hands. Her bottom was lifted in a very provocative manner.
She hadn't leaned over the desk we were at but the other one, meaning she was facing away from me. It also meant that as I was still sitting and her dress had risen at the back when she leaned forward I had a little more of a view than I think she realised.
"Well," she said in a derisive tone, "what are you waiting for? You know you want to. I've been a baaad girl and need to be punished."
"Sit down or I will spank you," I grumbled. "You're really pushing it."
"Ba-ad gir-irl, remember," she sang, twitching her bottom from side to side.
Okay, if that's the way you want it that's the way you'll get it. We'll see who backs off first.
I flicked the back of her dress up leaving her bottom fully exposed, and dropped a firm spank on her bottom.
"Wo-oh," she carolled, once more twitching her bottom about. "You don't call that a spank, do you?"
I gave her a couple more firm spanks and I knew that they had to smart. She was doing a little yelping now, even though she was still laughing. She also changed her stance slightly, her legs now spread further apart, fully exposing her cleft.
It dawned on me that one of the reasons for twitching her bottom back and forth was to shake her panties down to her ankles, after which she'd kicked one leg free, giving her a lot more freedom of movement. It also gave me a larger target area to spank. (And the way I was reacting, a need for looser trousers.)
A few more spanks and I could see a subtle change in her pussy. Her mound was swelling and flowering, and I could see the sheen of moisture on her exposed lips. That development came along faster when the odd spank or two slapped against her mound, eliciting a squeak but no protest.
