Read Online Hot For Teacher -- A BDSM Erotic Romance Story (Submission University #1) by Nathan Stratton - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Nathan Stratton
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education – and I was scared to death.
“I’m going to be straight with you,” Professor Stone continued, addressing the room. “This class is tough. I’m a strict grader, and I expect a lot out of my students. You’ll see soon enough what I mean, but suffice to say that if you’re looking for an easy A, you really are in the wrong place.” He looked out over the audience, as if searching for anyone who seemed like a slacker. Reflexively, I sat up a little straighter in my chair.
“Now, we’ve got a big group here,” he said, which was a definite understatement. There were at least 300 students in the class, and the room was completely filled. I wasn’t surprised. Professor Stone had a reputation for being one of the better lecturers at this school, and he always had high ratings from students. He wasn’t kidding about being strict, though – I’d looked through old course evaluations, and nearly all of them had mentioned what a demanding professor he was.
He walked back over to the podium. “But despite the large class size, I’m going to ask all of you to contribute during lectures. I expect all of you to do the assigned reading before class, and I’ll be calling out names at random to provide answers to my questions. And yes, in case you’re wondering, I will be grading you on class participation. Now, let’s see here… who should I pick on first?”
For the first time, he opened his briefcase, and pulled out what looked like the class roster. He deliberated over it for a second, and then pointed his finger at a random spot on the page, reading off the name it landed on. “David Fisher?” he said, squinting inquisitively into the audience.
Somewhere near the back came a bored-sounding voice. “Here.”
I turned to look at the student who’d spoken – he looked like your typical frat-boy slacker, slouched down in his chair with a baseball cap pulled low over his forehead. It was 11:00 in the morning, but he appeared to have just woken up. He couldn't have been more than 19 years old, and to my eyes he looked like a spoiled, overgrown baby. I could only imagine what Professor Stone thought of him. I looked back to the professor now, curious to see what he’d say next.
“Mr. Fisher, can you please tell the class what the term ‘power dynamics’ means to you?”
The student smirked sarcastically. This should be good, I muttered to myself.
“It’s like the, uh… dynamics, of, um… power?” he said, in a lazy drawl. The class tittered again, and he broke into a smart-alecky grin.
“Dazzling,” Professor Stone replied flatly. “Keep up that attitude, David, it will take you far. Let’s try again – hopefully, someone with a brain this time.”
David’s grin faded. Now, the class was laughing at him, rather than with him. I smiled inwardly; I was glad Professor Stone had taken the kid down a notch. But my smile, too, faded in the next instant, as I head my name being called.
“April Greiss?”
My cheeks burned; my stomach leapt up to my throat. I raised my hand silently, too flustered to speak. Professor Stone looked around the room, not seeing my hand. “April Greiss? Are you with us this morning?”
“…Here,” I squeaked, in a voice that wouldn’t have been audible if the class room hadn’t been so silent. I felt three hundred heads turn towards me, and three hundred pairs of eyes burning holes into my skin. But when Professor Stone locked eyes with mine, all the rest of the students faded out of my consciousness. It was like we were the only two people in the room.
“Hello, April,” he said, in a pleasant tone that took me by surprise. He smiled warmly. “And how are you today?”
“Hi,” I gulped. “Fine.” I knew he could tell I was nervous, and I was so thankful that he seemed sensitive to my anxiousness. The stern tone he’d taken with David was gone now, and he was looking at me with a
“I’m going to be straight with you,” Professor Stone continued, addressing the room. “This class is tough. I’m a strict grader, and I expect a lot out of my students. You’ll see soon enough what I mean, but suffice to say that if you’re looking for an easy A, you really are in the wrong place.” He looked out over the audience, as if searching for anyone who seemed like a slacker. Reflexively, I sat up a little straighter in my chair.
“Now, we’ve got a big group here,” he said, which was a definite understatement. There were at least 300 students in the class, and the room was completely filled. I wasn’t surprised. Professor Stone had a reputation for being one of the better lecturers at this school, and he always had high ratings from students. He wasn’t kidding about being strict, though – I’d looked through old course evaluations, and nearly all of them had mentioned what a demanding professor he was.
He walked back over to the podium. “But despite the large class size, I’m going to ask all of you to contribute during lectures. I expect all of you to do the assigned reading before class, and I’ll be calling out names at random to provide answers to my questions. And yes, in case you’re wondering, I will be grading you on class participation. Now, let’s see here… who should I pick on first?”
For the first time, he opened his briefcase, and pulled out what looked like the class roster. He deliberated over it for a second, and then pointed his finger at a random spot on the page, reading off the name it landed on. “David Fisher?” he said, squinting inquisitively into the audience.
Somewhere near the back came a bored-sounding voice. “Here.”
I turned to look at the student who’d spoken – he looked like your typical frat-boy slacker, slouched down in his chair with a baseball cap pulled low over his forehead. It was 11:00 in the morning, but he appeared to have just woken up. He couldn't have been more than 19 years old, and to my eyes he looked like a spoiled, overgrown baby. I could only imagine what Professor Stone thought of him. I looked back to the professor now, curious to see what he’d say next.
“Mr. Fisher, can you please tell the class what the term ‘power dynamics’ means to you?”
The student smirked sarcastically. This should be good, I muttered to myself.
“It’s like the, uh… dynamics, of, um… power?” he said, in a lazy drawl. The class tittered again, and he broke into a smart-alecky grin.
“Dazzling,” Professor Stone replied flatly. “Keep up that attitude, David, it will take you far. Let’s try again – hopefully, someone with a brain this time.”
David’s grin faded. Now, the class was laughing at him, rather than with him. I smiled inwardly; I was glad Professor Stone had taken the kid down a notch. But my smile, too, faded in the next instant, as I head my name being called.
“April Greiss?”
My cheeks burned; my stomach leapt up to my throat. I raised my hand silently, too flustered to speak. Professor Stone looked around the room, not seeing my hand. “April Greiss? Are you with us this morning?”
“…Here,” I squeaked, in a voice that wouldn’t have been audible if the class room hadn’t been so silent. I felt three hundred heads turn towards me, and three hundred pairs of eyes burning holes into my skin. But when Professor Stone locked eyes with mine, all the rest of the students faded out of my consciousness. It was like we were the only two people in the room.
“Hello, April,” he said, in a pleasant tone that took me by surprise. He smiled warmly. “And how are you today?”
“Hi,” I gulped. “Fine.” I knew he could tell I was nervous, and I was so thankful that he seemed sensitive to my anxiousness. The stern tone he’d taken with David was gone now, and he was looking at me with a
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