Mr. Bentley


Stacy sat in math class trying to pass the time chatting with her
friend, Debbie.  Mr. Bentley, the instructor, was filling the board up
with a complicated equation.  In hushed voices they discussed their
teacher:

"Yeah, he is kinda cute," Stacy said, giggling, "but he's so serious!"

"I sure would like to try to put a smile on his face!" Debbie whispered.

A mental image of Debbie seducing Bentley popped into Stacy's head, and
she couldn't keep from laughing.  "I don't think he could handle you,
ha-ha!"

"MISS COOPER!"

The young instructor glared at Stacy.  "Do you know the answer to this
problem?"

Stacy looked up at the string of numbers on the board.  "Not exactly."

"Not exactly?" His piercing brown eyes locked with hers.

"No."

"No, what?"

"No, I don't have the answer!" she shot back, "I don't know, and I
really don't care."  Stacy felt Debbie nudge her in the back and heard
her giggle.

"Miss Cowan, how about you, do you care?" he asked.

"Um... yes, Mr. Bentley."

"Oh, brother," Stacy thought, "what a joke."

Another girl in the class raised her hand and asked a question and soon
class was dismissed.

"Miss Cooper, I would like to speak to you for a moment," the math
teacher said as she walked by.

"Your behavior in this class puzzles me."

"How's that?"

"You would think that an older student, such as yourself, would know how
to conduct herself in the classroom by now."

His words were like a slap in the face. Stacy was self-conscious about
the fact she was older the other students.  Returning to college after
working so many years had not been an easy decision.

"I just don't like math," she mumbled.

"What you like and what you need appear to be two different things
entirely, wouldn't you say?" he asked.

Was that a hint of a smile on his lips?

"Yeah, I guess so.  Look, I gotta go."

"I suggest you study hard tonight,' he said as she left the room.

Out in the hall, Debbie waited impatiently, "What did he say?"

"Aw, screw him," Stacy hissed.

"I would if I had the chance," Debbie snickered, "You wanna get together
tonight and study?"

"Not tonight, Bill's coming over to watch a ballgame."

"Oh, well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow then."

On the drive home from school, Stacy's thoughts were preoccupied with
her teacher.
What did he mean by that "want" and "need"
remark?

Later that evening, Bill noticed that she seemed distracted.  "What's
the matter with you?" he asked.

"Huh?...oh..nothing, I was just thinking that I should probably be
studying.  We've got a math test tomorrow."

"Since when did you ever worry about studying?" Bill asked.

"I don't know.  This math class is a bitch."

"Well, have another beer and forget about it," he said, handing her an
ice cold Miller Lite.

Bill was so wrapped up in the ballgame, he didn't even notice when Stacy
got up and went into her room.  She got on the bed and opened up her
math book.
After turning a few pages, she muttered, "What's the use?' tossed the
book on the floor, and went to sleep.


The next day......

Stacy could feel Bentley staring at her as she struggled with her math
test.  Time was running out, and she still had six more problems to go. 
One by one, her classmates got up and turned in their exams.  Her eraser
had practically rubbed holes in the paper.  Soon, she was the only one
left in the room, except for the instructor.

"Your time is up, Miss Cooper.  Hand in your paper," he said.


Two days later....

"Cheer up!" Debbie cajoled, "The girl next to us made a 58."
Stacy crumpled up her test paper and threw it down in disgust.  "What am
I gonna do?  I HAVE to pass this class to graduate." 

"Why don't you go talk to Mr. Bentley?" Debbie suggested.

"He hates me!" 

"Oh, Stacy, he doesn't look like he could hate anybody.  Just tell him
some sob story like your father's in the hospital or something.  It
always works for me." 

"Yeah, I bet...  He's not stupid, Debbie.  He'd know right away I was
lying. "

"Well, then, just tell him the truth."

"What? That I haven't listened to a word he said all semester?  I'm sure
he'd love that."

"I give up!," Debbie huffed, "Do what you wanna do, Stacy.  I'm going
home."  With that, she turned and walked off.

"I've gotta do something." Stacy thought to herself.  It had taken her
ten long years to finally get to this point, and she wasn't about to let
a lousy math class keep her from graduating.

Her mind raced as she climbed the stairs to the second floor.  The
thought of pleading with Bentley for a passing grade made her sick, but
she had no choice.  Why did he arouse such strong feelings of resentment
in her?  He was just another man, yet, there was something different
about him.  He seemed so quietly confident, nothing like Bill.  She knew
just how to get Bill's goat.  He'd stomp, yell, and pout if she got him
mad enough, but she usually got her way.  It wasn't going to be so easy
with Mr. Bentley.

The sign on the door read, "SCOTT BENTLEY."
"Well, this is it," she thought.  If worse comes to worse she could
always agree to sleep with him.  Other girls did it.  At least he wasn't
an old geezer like Dr. Sharp.

The door was cracked open.  Stacy took a deep breath and knocked.  No
answer.  She eased the door open and peeked inside.  The room was empty. 
"Great," she thought.  She walked inside and was looking around when
something caught her eye.  The folder on his desk had her name on it!  

At that instant, he appeared in the doorway.  "Ah, Miss Cooper," he said
"to what do I owe the honor of this visit?"

"Don't blow it, Stacy," she thought as she turned to face him.  "Uh..I
need to talk to you Mr. Bentley..if you have a minute."

He seated himself behind his desk and motioned for her to take the seat
in front of it.  

"I'll get right to the point, Mr. Bentley," she began, "Math has always
been a problem for me, but I can't graduate unless I pass this course."

He opened up her folder and looked inside.  "I see you have excellent
grades in your major classes, Miss Cooper."

"Well, as I said, I have a problem with math."

"I hate to see intelligent women such as yourself use their gender as an
excuse for poor performance in the area of mathematics."

"What?"

"Miss Cooper, there is nothing wrong with your mind, its your attitude
that needs improvement," he said matter-of-factly.

Stacy was fuming, "Look, Mr. Bentley, I have got to find some way to
pass this class, can you help me or not?"

"Are you aware that the last test in this class is less than a week a
way?" he asked.

"Yes."

"It would take a lot of work, but I think I can help you with this
problem if you are willing to apply yourself."

"O.K., here it comes," she thought.  "I'm willing to do whatever I have
to," she said through gritted teeth.

"I'll expect you at my apartment at 7 o'clock," he said as he stood up.

"Tonight?!" Stacy exclaimed.

"Do you have a problem with that?" he asked.

She had plStacyd to go to the movies with Bill, but...

"No... no problem," she muttered.

"I'll see you then."


THAT NIGHT .......

She arrived at his apartment around 7:15.

"You are late, Miss Cooper," he said.

"Yeah, I had to stop and get gas," she said, "and you can call me
Stacy."

"Don't let it happen again, Stacy," he said sternly, "sit down."

She looked at the desk, surprised.  She had expected him to lead her
into the bedroom as soon as she walked in the door.  "No, that's not his
style," she thought, "He's going to take his sweet time."

"Since you have spent the majority of classtime conversing with your
friends," he began, "I'm sure you are unfamiliar with the three basic
formulas I taught."

Mr. Bentley spent the next 45 minutes patiently explaining the
fundamental formulas needed to work the problems on the upcoming test. 
Stacy was getting restless.  The evening was not going the way she had
plStacyd.  Did he really expect her to learn this stuff before Friday?

He handed her a sheet of sample problems to work.  "You should have no
difficulty with these," he said, "I'll give you 20 minutes and then come
back and check them."

He went into the kitchen.  Stacy could hear the clink of ice in a glass. 
"He's going to break out the wine, I bet."

Exactly 20 minutes later, he returned ... with a Coke.  "Let's see how
you did," he said, handing her a glass.

Mr. Bentley took one look at the paper and glared at her.  "This is a
waste of my time," he said, frowning, "You didn't even try."

It was only then that Stacy realized, "He's serious...He really wants me
to learn it!"

She experienced a slight twinge of guilt.  "No, I mean, I will..I am
trying.  Would you just explain it to me one more time?"

"This isn't working," he said, "I don't normally recommend this, but 
I'm afraid its your only option at this point."

"What?" she asked, genuinely curious.

"Since time is short, the best thing to do would be memorize them. 
Surely, you can do that."

"Memorize them!" Stacy retorted.  "I can't memorize that mumbo-jumbo."

His eyes betrayed his otherwise calm demeanor.  "Miss Cooper, if you
don't think you can memorize these formulas on your own, there's always
Plan C., and I promise you, it *will* work."

"Plan C?" she asked, "What's plan C?"

"I have a feeling you're going to find out before the evening is
through," he said knowingly.  "You have 30 minutes to memorize the first
formula, Stacy, and I'm going to sit here and time you."

"Just memorize it?"

"Yes, I expect you to be able to recite it to me verbatim.  You now have
29 minutes."  He looked at his watch as he seated himself in a large
leather chair in front of her.

She looked at the sheet of paper in front of her and then at Bentley. 
"This is ridiculous," she thought, but began repeating the formula over
and over in her head.

At the end of thirty minutes, Scott Bentley stopped her.   " All right,"
he said, "lets hear it.  You should know it backwards and forwards by
now."

She tried, but stumbled after the first few words.  "Try again," he
demanded.  "I can't!"
she protestsed, " I just can't sit here and memorize something that I
don't understand."

"You most certainly can," he said, "You just don't want to bad enough,
but I think I can remedy that situation. "

"Fuck you, man.  I said I can't do it!" Stacy shouted angrily.

"So its come to this," he said, staring her down.  " You've been needing
this for a long time....




*********************************************



"Get up," he said, rising from the chair.  
"What?... What do you think you're doing?" she demanded, as he took her
by the arm.

He deftly unbuttoned and unzipped her blue jeans, and with one quick
jerk, pulled them down to her knees. 

"You're going to thank me for this one day, Stacy," he said.  With that,
he pulled her over to the large, overstuffed sofa and forced her down
across his lap as he sat down.

The next thing she knew, Stacy was looking at the floor with her shapely
ass jutting sharply upwards.  She struggled to get away, but he had her
in a vice-like grip.

"Let me go, you s.o.b.!" she cried.

"This ought to shut that smart mouth of yours," he said as he brought
the flat palm of his hand swiftly down against her upturned bottom.
"WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!." 

"STOP IT, DAMMIT!" she cursed, squirming and kicking.

"Be still!," he barked, "or I'll rip those panties off and see how you
like that."

"WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!" 

She continued to struggle in vain.  With each stinging blow from Mr.
Bentley's hand, her tender ass became hotter.  He continued to whack her
backside, until, exhausted, she ceased to resist.

"That's better," he said, resting for a moment.  "Now, I'm going to pull
your panties down, and if you don't make some rapid progress, you'll get
a *real* spanking."

Stacy felt his hand slowly and deliberately pulling her panties down to
expose her rosy butt cheeks.

"Repeat after me," he said, leaving her in that helpless position.
She got the first few words right, but unfortunately, her memory began
to fail.
"I can't...," she wailed.

"SMACK!" "Yes.." "SMACK!" "you.." "SMACK!" "can!" "SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!"

Without the slight protection of her panties, Stacy's bottom was turning
an even brighter shade of red.

Mr. Bentley continued mercilessly to spank his stubborn pupil.  His arm
was beginning to tire a little, but he knew he couldn't stop until the
job was done.

After a few more minutes of Mr. Bentley's hard, bare-bottomed spanks,
Stacy began to whimper.  "Please.... Mr. Bentley.... please, I've had
enough," she begged.  
 
"I'll be the judge of that," he said, 
"WHACK!!! SMACK!!!! WHACK!!!"  The last few he made especially hard, and
soon achieved the desired result.  "Little Miss Math is a Bore" was now
over his knees, no longer able to talk, only sob.

This was a good start, he thought, by this time tomorrow night he was
sure she would know those formulas.