The Math Tutor Part I-B

[MichiganHeadmaster]

The Math Tutor

Part I-B

After four classes, Samantha was scoring 65 to 70% on the sample tests – a marked improvement from the 60% on her mid-term. With a little more time and effort she would certainly score in the 80’s. During her fifth session, though, Rick detected a change in her attitude. He asked what was wrong. Samantha had to admit, her voice cracking, that she was out of money for lessons and this would be the last one. She looked at him as a tear ran down her face. It was unplanned. Samantha had no intention of trying to manipulate Rick. Still, it had its effect.

“I’ve brought you this far, Samantha,” Rick said. “You’re going to pass this course, and you can pay me whenever you have it. I don’t care if that’s next year, or whenever.” Another tear ran down her cheek, and Samantha embraced Rick. He hugged her back, noticing that she smelled nice and feeling a bit turned-on. After fifteen seconds or so, he grabbed her gently by the shoulders, moved her away and looked in her eyes. “We’ve just got an hour left tonight, Samantha. We need to get to work.”

After that, he increased her sessions from ninety minutes to two hours. And as much as he wanted to entertain her offer of “Is there anything I can do for you?,” he just told her to be on time for class and to study and practice.

After eight classes, Rick realized that Samantha wasn’t improving very much. She seemed to be stuck in the 70 to 75% range – not bad but not enough to pass the semester with a B. Something was wrong.

“Samantha, your problem is that you’re not focusing. You’re making careless mistakes, missing simple rules and forgetting your formulas. A lot of times you pick the wrong answer even though you knew the right one, and you don’t realize it until after I correct it.” Samantha admitted to having problems concentrating. He could see that she was starting to despair.

“Samantha, I’m hesitating to tell you this, but I will because I think it can help. My girlfriend needed help passing her history class last year. I’m no history expert but I could see that she needed help focusing. One day I playfully told that I should give her a spanking if she scored too low on her practice tests. Well, we laughed about it, but the next day she asked me if I was serious. I thought about it and said that if it would help, I’d be willing to give it a try.”

Samantha felt herself blush but got oddly excited about it. “What happened?” she asked.

“I gave her sample tests, ten questions at a time. After correcting the test, I would add up the wrong answers, have her get over my knee, and take down her jeans and panties. I gave her five hard swats for every wrong answer. Well, her scores started going up quite a bit after that. She stopped making stupid mistakes and focused on eliminating the most obviously wrong answers, then carefully reading the remaining answers and picking the best one. Her scores went from the 70’s to the 80’s. Since I really wanted her to pass, I drilled her the last night before her final, making her stand up while I asked her questions. If she got one wrong, I made her bend over and gave her one stroke of a cane I had just bought. I let her keep her jeans on, but this particular cane hurts like hell even through jeans. “

Samantha was nervous but noticed herself getting wet. “I’ll do whatever you say. I really want to pass this class, Rick. I’ll do whatever you want, just say it.”

“Okay,” Rick said. “Things are going to change just a bit. There are three weeks left in the semester, plus study week. That’s four weeks to master this material. So, you’re going to continue to report to me twice a week – that’s eight more classes. I’m going to be strict. You will be on time, and I’ll test you to see if you’ve done your homework. We’ll have pop quizzes and remedial courses on anything you are having trouble on. I’ll decide when and how punishment will be administered. You will submit to correction whenever I order it. Are you ready for this?”

“Yes,” Samantha said, with a slight tremble.

“Good,” smiled Rick. “Let me assign your homework for next week and we’ll finish up.”

For the next several classes, Samantha showed up on time as instructed and Rick quizzed her on her homework prior to starting the day’s lesson. As promised, he imposed punishments for wrong answers and for sloppy analysis. He didn’t tell her how to dress, but he did decide how each punishment would be administered. At first, he avoided becoming too intimate. He never asked her to remove clothing, and never used his bare hand. Instead, he had a wooden paddle, which he would use over her jeans or skirt-clad bottom, usually asking her to bend over. Once, following a test on which she scored only 70%, he had her get over his knee and gave her a dozen hard swats with the paddle. This was the first punishment that caused her to struggle and cry, but it was also the last time Samantha scored less than 75%.

Finally, during the twelfth session, Rick introduced the lexan cane. Following a quiz, he had Samantha bend over and gave her three strokes over her jeans. She jumped at the first stroke, and Rick commanded her to keep her position. She obeyed, but with difficulty.

The next session, Samantha got 75% on her quiz. Not bad, but not good enough. This time, he had her get over his knee, and lifted her skirt. He felt he had earned the right to become a tad more intimate. He delivered a hand spanking over her panties - around twenty swats. He moved the material a bit to check for redness. “I think you need ten more, Samantha. The rest will be on your bare bottom.” He carefully lowered her panties to mid-thigh, inspected his handiwork again, then delivered five sharp smacks to each cheek. He rubbed each cheek tenderly, and noticed that she slightly parted her legs – just enough for him to see that she was beginning to get wet. Pleased, Rick pulled her panties back up and continued the lesson.

By the fifteenth lesson, Samantha was routinely scoring 75 to 80% on quizzes, and even got an 85 on one. She was almost ready for the final, but nothing could be left to chance.

“Samantha, the next class is going to be a practice final. You’re going to take a thirty-question test, and I’m going to force you to concentrate on each question as you take it. The feedback will be immediate and severe.” Samantha was nervous. “Come here, I want to show you something.”

Rick opened a door to a storage room and brought out a wooden device with two padded shelves. She noticed leather straps affixed at certain points. “This is a kneeling bench, Samantha. I bought it for my girlfriend. We have adopted a lifestyle where discipline is imposed from time to time. This is for the more severe punishments, and as you can see it is quite effective in holding a girl in place for correction. You’re going to take your practice test while secured over this. It will approximate the stress of the actual final, and correction for each wrong answer will be immediate.” Again, Samantha was nervous but strangely anxious to be positioned over the strange-looking apparatus.

Rick explained the rules. She would be secured over the kneeler. The questions would be shown to her. To make her focus, she would have to answer each question without scratch paper. If she could score 80% with this handicap and under this stress, she could certainly pass the actual test.

She would be allowed 30 seconds to give an answer. Failure to answer would be the same as a wrong answer. The penalty for one wrong answer would be one stroke of the lexan cane on her bare bottom. A second wrong answer to the same question would earn her two additional strokes, and a third wrong answer would result in three more strokes. That would be the maximum number of strokes for each question.

In theory, she could get 180 strokes, but that would mean either refusing to answer at all or guessing so badly that she never got even one right, which would be impossible given the law of averages. In fact, she should be able to guess at least 24 questions correctly for 80%. If she did that she would, at most, get penalized for six wrong answers. Of course, six wrong answers could be anywhere from six to thirty-six strokes, depending on how many guesses she took – a fearsome number of strokes with this type of cane on bare skin. Still, Rick was going to be strict and make her see this through. She would have to trust him to know when to call off the test in case of a total meltdown. Samantha agreed that this was for her own good.

Now was the big day. Samantha arrived on time as usual. What she hadn’t realized was that Kaitlyn, Rick’s girlfriend, was going to assist. “I need Kaitlyn to help me with this, Samantha. You’re going to have to get over any sense of modestly. Kaitlyn will help me place the questions where you can see them, and will help monitor you during this session. Since you’ll be strapped over the bench and unable to release yourself, it helps to have an extra person around for safety reasons. If you don’t want to go through with this, just say so.” Samantha stated she wished to continue.

CONTINUED IN PART II