The Psychology of a Schoolgirl’s Mind

Taken from:

The Zorro Daddy ABDL Sampler

(Available exclusively on Kindle)

here is a little story about the “why?” and even more importantly, the “why not?”.

—————

The Psychology of a Schoolgirl’s Mind –

Ophelia looked over at Robbie, the two girls always having been competition for one another – first in high school and presently in college, since they both selected the same university to attend. But on this day, they would be forced to do the most unthinkable thing of all. They would have to work together as it seemed they both had a common enemy in their midst. And that common enemy’s name was Raquel Myers.

“Miss Myers,” the professor said, startling Raquel back from her daydream. “Is there something outside that window you keep staring through that’s more interesting than your education?”

“Um …,” Raquel said, clearing her throating and lowering her chin while smiling shyly. “No.”

Ophelia and Robbie glared her down with daggers in their irises. Oh, how irritating it was that Raquel could get the professor’s attention by ignoring him just as easily as listening to him. But those two weren’t the only girls in the classroom who were vying for his attention and the competition was anything but pleasant – despite how attractively almost every female in that class had dressed … all of them hoping that the professor would pick them for one of his infamous after-class private tutoring sessions.

A few weeks ago, the professor had made mention of how the Catholic Schoolgirl outfit was not only attractive but had withstood the tests of time and also found a place in practically every social situation. So, every girl in the class started dressing in the iconic pleated skirts, the female-cut white button down shirts and the thigh-high white stockings.

Some went so far as to wear dark-colored bras for the shapely see-through effect. Others wore bright red bras and unbuttoned the shirts down to their cleavage. They straightened their hair, wore flashy jewelry, wore modesty jewelry, wore different-colored stockings, wore different colored Mary Jane shoes, wore heavy amounts of perfume, wore earth-toned shades of make-up and did all they could to get him to notice them.

When he would pace in front of the class during lectures, the girls would uncross their legs under their desks, part their thighs for just a few seconds and then re-cross their legs the other way. When he would hand back their graded homework assignments, the girls would stick around to ask questions about their grades – looking for answers so plainly obvious that they couldn’t have been more openly-flirting with him – if they had tried. They were happy just to stand next to him for a few seconds of their day, as if those brief moments made the day worth living for them.

Their behaviors had become obsessions for winning. They were relentless with the outdoing of each other, all the while making themselves seem like they were the sweetest angels on Earth – at least when he was around.

And why did they do all of this? Why did they enter into nearly nail-scratching competitiveness with each other?

It was all to win the attention and favor of Professor Lance Evermore. He was an extraordinarily handsome man with such assurance in his movements, such confidence in his words and such timbre in his voice that every girl in his psychology classes grew weak in the knees at the mere thought of him – let alone when he actually talked to any of them directly.

But what none of the girls knew was that Raquel had already been chosen by the professor for private tutoring after the class ended that day. And how she was able to get him to say yes was simpler than could’ve been imagined. Raquel told him that she was thinking of applying to the university where he attended for his graduate degree. And, pulling at his heart strings a bit more, she told him she needed recommendations in order to be considered for enrollment there.

In reality, Raquel didn’t want his recommendation at all. She just wanted the private tutoring session with him … and all the rumored extra-curricular activities that came along with it.

Though all the girls would twitch their tails, it was Ophelia and Robbie who took things very personally – feeling threatened by other females, especially the ones like Raquel who seemed to have the grace, charm and beauty that appeared effortless to her.

“So before we end today, there are two other topics we need to discuss,” Lance said, leaning back on the front of the teacher’s desk as he folded his arms and addressed the class.

Oh, he was handsome. Soooo handsome. And there wasn’t a girl in that room who truly cared what he was about to say, just so long as he kept talking and just so long as he remained as perfect in real life as he was in their fantasies.

“The first topic is one we all should keep in mind. And the second topic, ladies, is one that I think you’ll find particular interest in,” Lance said, every female head raising up as their chins lowered for concentration as well as natural defense. “I’d like to talk about the concept of karma first. And before we part for the day, I’d like give a brief overview of a chapter we will begin on Monday … the psychology of the male brain.”

Across the room, there was a soft set of feminine sighs that were let out, as if he had just melted their very souls with the sweetest of endearments.

“Can anyone define karma for me?” Lance asked, every female raising a hand and some of them raising both of their hands. “Ophelia.”

“Karma is,” Ophelia began pausing to collect her thoughts and to think of the exact wording of the definition. “… of Buddhist and Hinduist origin. It is the belief that one’s own actions can bring upon themselves inevitable results, whether good or bad and either in this life or in a reincarnation.”

“Good, now put it in layman’s terms,” Lance said to Ophelia.

“Well,” Ophelia said, taking her time before answering – not only to be better prepared to answer but also to eat up the attention as well as rub it in the faces of every other girl in the class who put on a schoolgirl skirt that day. “It’s like, your actions will have equal repercussions that will affect you. Whatever you do comes back to you, like … if you do something good, then something good will happen to you. And vice versa.”

“Good,” Lance praised her, Ophelia blushing softly and seeming human for a few brief seconds. “Now, can anyone give me an example of karma?”

The hands went up again.

“Robbie,” Lance said.

“A boy bullies a schoolmate and later on, winds up working for his victim’s father. Soon, the boy’s victim becomes his boss,” Robbie answered.

“Good example,” Lance said, Robbie smiling proudly. “Raquel, what is the opposite of karma?”

Raquel sat up straight, shifting a bit in her seat as Ophelia and Robbie looked over at her, both smiling like sharks.

“The opposite of karma would be ……,” Raquel answered, searching desperately in her thoughts to come up with something that wouldn’t sound stupid. “… irony?”

Everyone in the class turned and looked at her. Lance smiled brightly.

“Exactly. Though there isn’t an exact opposite for karma, irony is a very intelligent response to that question. If what goes around comes around is, in fact, karma, then it would be ironic if someone did something good – only then to have something bad happen to them,” Lance said. “But let me ask you this, Raquel. Is coincidence the same as irony?”

“No,” Raquel answered firmly and quickly. “Coincidence has no rhyme or reason. Karma and Irony do have reasons.”

“Very good. Now, before this begins to sound like more of a philosophy class than a psychology one, let’s move on to the psychology of the male brain,” Lance said, aiming to wrap things up for the day. “Instead of looking to define it completely, let’s just dip our toes in the water. Who can give me a general overview of the understood psychology of the male brain and also a main difference between the functionality of the male brain as versus the female brain?”

A guy raised his hand, for a change.

“Yes, Zeke. Go ahead,” Lance said.

“The psyche of the typical male brain is to systemize everything. This means: the tendency for a guy is a drive to analyze, explore, and construct a system. He figures out how things work, or at least how to work within the system. The purpose of this is to understand and predict the system, or to invent a new one that he does understand,” Zeke answered, Lance nodding. “The main difference between the typical brains of the two genders is: males look to become mechanics of thought and females are empathizers. In other words, males want to figure things out and females want to understand people. Both are useful mentalities and serve each of the genders well.”

“Very good and I would add that nothing is absolute. But even though generalizations aren’t without exceptions, those exceptions don’t invalidate anything,” Lance said, gathering up his papers. “For now, let’s call it a day. And I’ll end with this final thought until Monday …”

Lance stood up and folded his hand, waiting for everyone to stop shuffling in their seats. Eventually, the class gave him their attentions one more time.

“It is propensity to become argumentative, if not defensive, when discussions of gender and the comparison between genders become the topic,” Lance said, being very serious now. “Psychology begins with an understanding of the mind and of the minds of others. The genders think differently. This is fact, not opinion. But there is nothing more annoying to me than a student who thinks he or she suddenly has the answers to questions that have been pondered by millions for centuries.”

The class laughed quietly.

“But I will tell you this: the answers don’t have anything do with defending your specific gender when you hear something that you don’t like the sounds of,” Lance continued, being harshly honest. “And if you cannot help yourself, if you must bring some level of drama into my class in order to make yourself feel more important or more intelligent, then I assure you … you will not be in my class much longer.”

The class quieted down as they absorbed the gravity of what he had just said.

“We will discuss the psychology of the male brain and the female brain and we will do so constructively,” Lance ended with. “If you can’t do that, then I’d suggest you don’t return to this classroom on Monday morning.”

And with that, everybody got up – moving in the direction of the door. Lance looked over at Raquel and held the fingers of his right hand up – giving her an indication of how many minutes he would need before they met in his office upstairs. Ophelia and Robbie looked over at Raquel, with more daggers in their irises. Raquel, being smart about things, avoided eye-contact with them. She also prevented herself from smiling and therefore, avoided conflict.

Walking out of the classroom, Raquel went directly across the hall and into the bathroom. Her nervousness wasn’t yet at a peak, but was well on its way. Looking at herself in the mirror and clutching her books in front of her, she starting bouncing slightly. Excitement began to swirl inside her along with a little trepidation. Insecurities rose to her surfaces. She wanted to run home and change her appearance, maybe doing a little something different with her hair or perhaps just taking a few minutes to collect herself so she could have at least a little poise to her demeanor when she walked into his office. But Raquel only had five minutes, less than five minutes at this point actually. And it would be sending Lance the wrong message if she was late. Maybe she wouldn’t get the invite from him again.

Ugh! There was no reason to be working herself up like this. And there was no reason to believe that he wouldn’t find interest in her.

Building her confidence, she walked out of the bathroom and down the hallway to the stair well, opening the door and beginning to scale the flight to the next floor.

Besides, there were a bunch of girls in his psychology class and any one of them would’ve gladly gone to his office, but he chose her. This was an important thing for Raquel to remember. He chose her!

At the top of the flight, she opened the door – walking into the hallway of the next floor up from the classrooms. And this hallway was just as packed with bodies – everyone trying to get in to see specific professors. Normally, college students wouldn’t be trying to extend the length of their Fridays in classroom halls. But it was crunch-time for getting professor recommendations for graduate schools and the most driven of scholastics were jockeying for position. It was the same ploy she used.

But in the middle of that hallway, Raquel came to a screeching halt with a thought that almost scrambled her brain completely while taking the air right out of her chest:

Lance knew that Raquel didn’t really want a grad school recommendation from him. He wasn’t stupid. But he had still invited her up to his office anyway. So … if he could’ve had any girl from his psychology class up for a “visit”, then why, specifically, had he chosen her over the others?

Oh my. This had brought a whole new onslaught of insecurities into her psyche. On the one hand, yes. She definitely wanted to be inappropriate with him, if not intimate, if not laid by him – right there on his desk. But on the other hand, Raquel wanted to know that, in his eyes, she was special to him. She wanted to know that he viewed her differently from all the other dreamy-eyed school girls in his psychology class.

But there was no way of knowing that … not until she walked into his office.

And this was the thought coursing through her mind, again and again, as she stared at the letters of the words on his foggy-glassed office door. Her heart pounded and she kept swallowing the little lump that kept forming in her throat. Lowering her chin, she glanced to the left and to the right – hoping no one in the busy hallway was paying any attention to her as the real attention she wanted just then could only come from the professor on the other side of the door she faced.

With a trembling hand, she reached out and took hold of the door knob. But she found herself incapable of turning it. It was as if she had become paralyzed by fear of rejection as well as fear of success, at the same time.

Oh my goodness. What kind of a state of mind could make her believe that failure was no different than success?

But she didn’t have to deal with this. She didn’t have to deal with it at all. She could just simply turn around and walk away, right back down that busy hallway – becoming yet another member of jumbled masses. She didn’t need to be singled out, in order to feel special. She was special already.

At the same time though, this easily could be a once-and-done opportunity for her. Even if nothing became of this meeting with him, there would be no harm and no foul. And all she had to do, in order to seize that opportunity, was to open that door and walk in.

So why couldn’t she open the door?

What was preventing her from walking in?

Why wouldn’t she grab the bull by the horns?

Logic and reason took her over. Instead of making a mistake, it made greater sense to walk away and to never attempt something like this again … at least not until she was able to answer the simple question of why she wanted to do it.

But, before she ever had the chance to even shift her hips to turn in the direction of the hallway, the foggy-glassed office door opened – Lance having been waiting for her behind it.

The door swung open and there Lance stood, his secretary sitting at her desk in the little reception area in front of his office. And that secretary had a very cheeky grin on her face – almost as if she had seen this sort of arrival from many schoolgirls before.

“Hello, Raquel,” Lance said with a smile and in that deep timbre that made every girl in the psych class swoon. “Right on time. I like it when students are punctual. It shows the seriousness of their intentions.”

Raquel stood rigid, not being able to move forward one single step. There was a slight tingle in all her senses and what she was feeling between her pinched thighs, well … it stood to reason that the secretary had already picked up on the pinkish hue that now colored Raquel’s face. Lance, on the other hand, was still a mystery. And Raquel wasn’t yet certain what he had picked up on.

“Come in,” Lance said, opening his office door and now holding two doors open for the trembling schoolgirl. “Let’s get started.”

Raquel was so dizzy, she felt like she was going to pass out. Like a lot of girls, she wanted attention. This came naturally to her and it was intrinsic to her core. But the greatest shock of all was when the attention was finally received. Having spent her entire life trying to stand out from the sea of pretty girls she always found herself surrounded by, without making it obvious she was trying to stand out at all, when that moment arrived and when Romeo climbed that ivy vine – well … the lifetime of fussing seemed worth it for that eventuality.

Taking careful steps forward, Raquel walked across the tiny reception area and into his office – still wondering about one thing, though. Yes, Lance was a psychology professor and a hot one, at that. But did he really want to delve into the psychology of a schoolgirl’s mind?

Good, bad or indifferent – Raquel as about to find out.

“So, Miss Myers, I wanted to thank you for your involvement in class today,” Lance said, shutting his office door and walking Raquel over to his desk, pointing to the chair in front of the desk and to a note pad that was sitting on that chair. “I was a little concerned, right there at the end, that the introduction to the different mindsets of the genders was going to provoke a battle of the sexes.”

Raquel picked up the note pad and the pen that were on the chair, sitting down and reading what he had written on the first sheet:

Raquel, my secretary is rather nosy. She’s good at her job, but also good at gossip. And I seem to be a source of ‘rumor material’ for her.

She looked up at Lance with a wrinkle forehead, confused a bit. Lance silently motioned for her to tear the first piece of paper off and read what was written on the second one.

“So we’ll see how the psychology of brains goes on Monday,” Lance said, taking a seat behind his desk as Raquel read what was written on the second piece of paper on the note pad in her hands:

My secretary is also ‘keeping one ear to the wall’, so to speak. She’s always listening in. It’s like my office is bugged. But she’ll be leaving soon for the day. So, until then, let’s talk vocal about ‘whatever’ but let’s write down our real conversation.

Raquel smiled, enjoying the idea of being a bit secretive. And what a fun way to beat a nosy busybody at her own game. She looked up at Lance who was holding up a note pad of his own with a simple question written on the first piece of paper:

Okay?

Raquel smiled even more brightly. She wasn’t expecting to have a whole lot of simple-hearted fun in his office. The rumors made her believe that it would be far more important to shave her legs to perfect smoothness when she got in the shower that morning. And while it felt nice to be that smooth, it also felt really nice to be more than just a pretty face to him. She wasn’t expecting that angle at all.

Tearing off the second piece of paper on her note pad, she quickly wrote out her response, holding the note pad up for him to read:

Okay!!! xoxo

“I’m most interested to hear about how you decided to apply to my alma mater,” Lance said, while writing her a note and passing it to her.

Raquel took the slip of paper and read it:

You could easily accelerate to the head of the class – If you learn what you need to learn along the way.

“It really seemed like a good fit for me,” Raquel answered – grinning from ear to ear as she wrote her response, tore the paper off and slid it over to him. “Plus, they have an incredible grad program.”

“What made you want to attend that specific Ivy League School?” Lance asked, reading the note he had passed her:

Do teach me, oh teacher. What must I learn to get ahead in the game?

Lance smiled brightly, beginning to write his response.

“Well … it’s Ivy League. That’s the reason,” Raquel said, Lance sliding a note across the desk to her. “Eyebrows perk up when an employer sees Ivy League on your education resume.”

Lesson #1: Always make your supervisor happy with your performance, his note read.

“That’s true,” Lance said, watching Raquel quickly scribble her response, then sliding the note to him. “It’s sort of like an educational Law of Attraction, I suppose.”

And what makes a supervisor happy about his subordinates’ performances? her note read.

“I will gladly write you a recommendation for enrollment there,” Lance said, writing his next note and sliding it to her.

Always take his advice, his note read.

Raquel set her note pad on the desk, scribing back to him quickly and sliding the note to him.

In other words: Do as I’m told, her note read.

Lance smiled and raised an eyebrow, writing to her again.

“Tell me, is Dean Cartwright still involved with admissions at Yale?” Lance asked, writing her another note and sliding it to her:

Give him something pretty to look at each day, his note read – Raquel writing her response right away and sliding it to him.

Dress my best? her note asked.

“I don’t remember hearing his name when I inquired with the University,” Raquel said, lowering her chin and smiling as she watched him writing another note, then sliding it to her:

Learn what he likes.

Reaching up and unbuttoning the front of her white blouse, she pulled back on the lapels to allow her cleavage to fill the center of his view.

“Well, he probably retired finally,” Lance said, writing her yet another note and sliding it over to her. “That guy was as old as dirt back when I was student there.”

“Professor Evermore?” the secretary said – knocking on his office door, opening it and peeking her head in. “I’m just about finished for the day. Is there anything more you would like me to do yet?”

“No, Abigail,” Lance said, Raquel remaining perfectly still and hoping that the secretary didn’t walk in – seeing her unbuttoned blouse. “You’re headed to Niagara Falls this weekend with the hubby, right?”

“That’s right. It’s our fifth anniversary,” Abigail said, with a smile. “We’ll see you Monday.”

“We’ll see you then,” Lance said, his ability to be kind becoming even more clear to Raquel that he held up no facades about himself.

Who he appeared to be was truly who he was. It sort of took away the mystery about him, and with it, some of the charm. But this didn’t deter Raquel at all. Real life was never as fairy tale perfect as what was shown in movies, but that didn’t mean real life couldn’t be just as good.

She wrote another note and passed it to him, realizing that it would still be another minute or two before Abigail the secretary would be gone.

Why did you pick me to … “tutor”? her note read.

Lance grinned devilishly, flipped her note over and then wrote his reply back to her.

Probably for the same reason you started wearing those schoolgirl outfits, his note read.

Raquel blushed, looking down at her half-unbuttoned shirt and deciding to unbutton it the rest of the way – then pulling the shirt tails out from her waist line. If she was going to feel the twinges of embarrassment, she wanted to revel in them fully.

Lance began to write the next note to her.

“Have a good weekend!” Abigail called from the reception area.

“You, too!” Lance called back, sliding the note to Raquel as he got up and walked over to the office door – peeking out and making certain Abigail was gone.

Raquel picked up the note and read it, then growing wide-eyed and setting it back down quickly. Lance walked back over behind his desk and sat down, putting his hands behind his head and leaning back.

“What do you mean by tell you a secret?” Raquel asked, referencing his message on the latest note.

“I mean: tell me a secret about yourself,” Lance clarified, bluntly.

“Why?” Raquel asked, trying to figure out where he was headed with this.

Was he coming on to her?
Was he genuinely interested in getting to know her?
Was he playing a mind game with her?
Was this a psychological test?
Why did he want to know a secret?
Why?
Then again …

“Why not?” Raquel asked rhetorically, a twinkle of fascination and of devilishness filling her irises. “Hmm … a secret, huh?”

“Just one,” Lance said – leaning forward, folding his hands and placing them on his desk. “But don’t waste my time by telling me about how you once stole a pack of your uncle’s cigarettes or how you once kissed your best friend’s boyfriend.”

“Well, those were the big two,” Raquel said with a laugh. “What other secrets do you want to know?”

“I want to know something you’ve never told anyone before,” Lance answered, his eyes conveying seriousness but his voice conveying kindness. “Let it be something that will change who you are – just because you revealed it to me.”

Raquel’s eyes grew big and wide again. Wow. He surely was everything the rumors said of him, but he was so much more as well.

“Yes,” Lance said with a smile. “You do have secrets that are so powerful as that, don’t you?”

Raquel swallowed the tiny lump that had formed in her throat.

“And I bet you’ve been waiting your whole life to tell someone. But it couldn’t be just anybody you told it to,” Lance said, continuing to melt her defenses. “It had to be someone who could take your secret and make it even better, maybe even better than you could have ever possibly imagined it yourself.”

Raquel shifted in her chair. No, she wasn’t uncomfortable or uneasy. But instead, she was a mere breath away from telling him something that may not have seemed so Earth-shatteringly important to her – despite the fact that it would probably destroy her to confess it.

“Skip the waiting game,” Lance said, aiming to coax the secret out of her. “Once you’ve stated your secret, you’ll realize how foolish the wait was.”

And that was when it hit her like a ton of bricks … Chapter 4 – the one about how people connect with each other, how they learn to trust each other, and … more appropriately for the moment, how two things could accelerate the bonding connection: firstly, an event or occurrence that was quick and traumatic. And secondly, following the human impulse to share one’s best-kept … secrets – in the attempt to make a friend out of someone who just might understand.

Raquel returned to her note pad – writing something on the top piece of paper, tearing it off, folding it in half and sliding it across the desktop to him. Then she sat back, picked up her purse, set it on her lap and covered her face with her hands. Lance watched her reactions for a minute, then picked up the piece of paper, opened it up, leaned back and read what she had written on it.

“Your secret is that you have a Daddy’s Girl Fetish?” Lance asked with confusion as to why this would be a secret she had kept. “Lots of girls have this complex.”

Raquel lowered her hands from in front of her face, opened her purse, reached inside, took something out and placed it on the desk. Then she sat back and covered her face with her hands again.

Lance leaned forward, looking at what she had placed on the desk. Raquel parted the fingers of her left hand so she could peek out and see his reaction. Then he looked up at her, realizing himself how difficult it must have been for her to share this secret.

“So I take it you’re submissive,” Lance said, leaning back and becoming a professor about this. “It’s well known, and often written, that the desire of the man is for the woman, but the desire of the woman is for the desire of the man. Not necessarily for him, specifically. But rather, for desire to be desired. In other words, it’s often the case that she is in love with the idea of being in love.”

Raquel lowered her hands from in front of her face, set her purse down, scooted her chair forward, placed her elbows on the edge of the desk and folded her hands.

“While I won’t go so far as to say that not everything has to have psychological explanation as it is a necessity to use one’s brain in order to even breathe, I will say that not every situation has psychological origins that you are able to define,” Raquel said boldly. “So let’s get past the psychology, Professor.”

“Now, you’re talking,” Lance said, leaning forward as well.

“I am submissive,” Raquel admitted, referencing the item she had placed on the desk. “But I’m also a humiliation-seeker. And I have fantasies about being disciplined into obedience.”

“The law of attraction,” Lance stated with a devilish grin.

“So continue to teach me, oh teacher,” Raquel said, grinning devilishly as well as she flirted back with him. “What’s the next lesson? What else must I learn to get ahead in the game?”

Lance raised an eyebrow, sitting back and fantasizing himself.

“Know your place,” Lance said.

Raquel scooted her chair back and stood up, walking around the side of his desk and back to him, flipping the back of her skirt away and sitting on the edge of the desk in front him.

“Always be willing to get your elbows dirty … or your knees,” Lance said, raising an eyebrow.

Raquel looked down and to her right at the top drawer at the back of his desk. Then she looked back him, seeing him pointing to the top drawer on the other side. She reached down and opened the drawer – finding a 12-inch ruler – the same kind that Raquel remembered having in her desk in elementary school.

Taking the ruler out of the drawer, Raquel stood up – Lance also standing up. He made her bend her elbows and lift her hands up to the height of her shoulders. Then he made hold one end of the ruler in either hand. Spinning her around, he pushed her forward – the front of her thighs pressing into the edge of his desk. Taking hold of the collar of her female-cut button down blouse, he lowered the shirt off her shoulders – allowing the shirt to fall to her bent elbows.

“So if the desire for a woman is to receive the desire of a man,” Lance said as he pressed in on her back and made her bend over the table. “What does it take to make a woman desire the man himself?”

The cups of her bra touched the surface of the middle of the desk, her breasts being smashed as she was made to rest her torso on it. Lance unhooked the back of her skirt and lowered the zipper, then sliding it down her legs to her ankles before placing his hand on her bottom and shoving her center against the desk.

Taking hold of the tails at the back of her shirt, he slid the material up her back – tucking it up under the bra strap just below her shoulder blades. Turning her head to the side and pulling her hair back to uncover her face, he then took the ruler from her hands – making her place her palms flat to the desk on either side of her head with fingers spread as widely apart as possible.

“I’ve often wondered why girls sometimes dress with the colors of their bra and panties not match,” he said, taking hold of her cherry red panties and lowering the back of them to the underside of her bottom. “Could it be that they got separated in the wash like pairs of socks often do or could it be that girls don’t believe they’ll find themselves bent over a professor’s desk at the end of the day?”

Raquel closed her eyes, a smile forming on her face as she could feel that tingle inside her, the same tingle that surfaced when she found herself in situations that drew the best out of her … or, in this case, sparked those little flames inside her that grew into an arousing fire. Her heart pounded as he placed his left hand on the middle of her back, sliding his palm up and down her skin – onto her bottom and back up.

Oh my. The professor was right, after all. It was the desire to be desired that fueled her forward. It wasn’t so much him that had fulfilled her needs. It was the attention and the meaning through his touch that she was wanted, needed, craved and sought after. It gave her purpose and passion and new meaning. It wasn’t all bad to thrive from this, but Raquel kept in mind that, at the moment at least, it was more about the action than the individual provider of such.

And this fact she would contemplate as she felt the varnished wood of the ruler being placed squarely across the center of her bottom cheeks. Opening her eyes, she looked over at that item she had taken out of her purse and set on the visitor’s edge of his office desk. Oh, what aspirations she had, just then. Oh, what else she wanted to confess to him then. But for that moment, she found herself contemplating the psychology of her own mind.

Was it herself she still thought of only or was it now of him instead?

Did it matter to her?

The psychology of the female brain was such that communication would always be a proponent to certainty. But communication seemed a bit out of place, presently. While she could multi-task with the best of them whenever necessary, she was about to receive something that made conversing back a lot more difficult. And, little did she know as Lance lifted his right arm up with that wooden ruler in his hand, that communication was about change completely – and new philosophies were about to be learned.

The ruler sliced through the air, making a swishing noise as Lance swung his right arm down – the ruler connecting squarely across her bottom cheeks. Raquel’s torso tensed up and she tightened her cheeks in response to the initial stinging pain as she gasped for air – a reaction more about surprise than pain.

But that was when it began, a realization that, in order to receive more attention, she needed to pay attention back. And if her heart wasn’t already beating so heavily that she could hear the pulsing in her ear drums, it certainly became that way without further ado.

The ruler swished back up and sliced back down, connecting with that same centered strike zone, squarely across her cheeks – Lance continuing to press the ruler inward as the sting traveled up a bit further, down a bit further and into the meat of her cheeks. Raquel’s eyes grew big and wide, from the sting and from the shock. Well, that didn’t take long to get her attention.

But how could she be attentive back to him? The answer was far simpler than she had first believed. With her reactions being honest and forthright, she was conveying to him every bit of attentiveness that she had to give. And Lance wasn’t yet ready to let up on her … not until she learned a lesson that couldn’t be taught to her in the classroom.

“From now on, when you come to class, you’ll be a very nice girl, even being sweet to the other schoolgirls … like Ophelia and Robbie,” Lance said, swinging his right arm down a third time and connecting the flatness of that ruler to that same center line across both of her bottom cheeks. “You’ll be a nice girl to them, won’t you?”

“Yes, Professor,” Raquel whimpered, still shuddering from his third offering.

“And you know why you need to be a nice girl to them, don’t you?” Lance asked, swinging the ruler down a fourth time and connecting with the exact same spot again.

“Oww,” Raquel whimpered feebly, squirming on the desk.

“Nice girls smile, even when others glare them down. And it should be very easy for you to smile, Raquel,” Lance said – delivering a fifth, sixth, seventh and eighth strike to her bottom with the ruler.

Raquel sucked her lips in to prevent from crying audibly, but tears freely rolled down her cheeks. And the longer he held the ruler against her bottom, the more the sting traveled inward – getting worse by the second. She kicked her legs all over the place – reaching back with her hands and covering her bottom cheeks with her palms facing up.

“You’re not being the teacher’s pet right now,” Lance said, grabbing her wrists and crossing them at her lower lumbar as he held them there with his right hand – switching the ruler over to his left hand and stepping to the side to prevent her feet from being able to kick him. “You’re not being that favorite student who got the tutoring session all the schoolgirls wanted.”

He brought the ruler down across that same strike zone at the center of her bottom cheeks yet again, a welting red stripe now marking his target. Raquel was doing all she could to keep from crying aloud. But the ruler strikes hurt so much and she could feel an immense sense of heat rising up from the red stripe. It felt like it was wet, like he had broken open the skin on her bottom and she was bleeding.

He brought the ruler down across that same stripe another three times and Raquel rested the side of her face on the desk, growing somewhat delirious from the pain and getting dizzy for that very reason. Looking over at that item she had set on the edge of the desk, the one thing she thought he would never accept in a million years, she began to realize how right he was. She had been such a fool to have waited. Maybe she hadn’t needed to wait until this office meeting with him specifically, but she could’ve opened up years ago.

That really didn’t matter now, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t still coursing through each and every thought she had, attaching itself to the things she felt she wanted and the things she knew she needed.

It was all about assurance and a steady influx of certainty. That was the basis of it. But was that also the psychology of a schoolgirl’s mind?

And just like that, her mind traveled back to earlier in the semester when Lance had made a suggested read to her psych class. It was a book about the workings of the typical female mind. He said that no matter how hard anyone studied others, if they didn’t first understand themselves, then they’d never understand anyone else.

She was indecisive, like so many other females. But as that book stated, it wasn’t really indecisiveness. It was just a different value system. Decisions weren’t nearly as important to her as the approval of others and the agreement of others.

This was why she could be naturally submissive.

Next was communication and the connections that were made by it. It was a cliché to state that women liked to talk on the phone. But it was a lesser known cliché to know the reason why. Raquel talked and laughed and cried with others all the time. It was her inherent need to feel assurance by sharing who she was with the people she trusted most.

This was why revealing the Daddy’s Girl Fetish to him drew her closer to him in a very instant and powerful fashion.

And then there was the clothing, in this case: the schoolgirl outfit. Appearances affected people’s communication and the way she dressed affected her communications with him. So that closet full of clothing and shoes was good training for finding the perfect look.

This was why she didn’t just want to look her best for him, but she wanted to look the best of all. In this, she sought and found approval.

Lance set the ruler down on the desk, then wrapping his arms around her and helping her to stand. Her back rested on his chest, her mind still delirious with sensations – some of pain … but some of pleasure. He reached down to the front of her panties, his fingers taking hold of the tiny waist band and peeling down the front. Raquel blushed when she saw how wet she had made the front of her panties.

But she hadn’t peed herself and it wasn’t tears that had saturated.

“Is someone just a little bit horny?” Lance whispered into her right ear, Raquel shrinking up inside – Lance quickly easing her down on top of the desk as her eyes glazed over with confusion. “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay.”

She winced slightly as she came to rest on that welted red stripe across her bottom cheeks, realizing then, she would be reminded of this ‘tutoring’ session for several days to come – whenever she sat down and felt that pain. But instead of upsetting her, this made her smile through her tears because she knew it would be something constant.

Referencing that book in her mind Lance told her to read, she remembered reading about the need for constant assurance and reassurance. With a basis of communication as the stuff that gave her certainty, constant shifting and changing made, the need for reassurance dire – especially so with no rock solid base to grow from.

Raquel might’ve been made to feel secure and to feel safe and to feel loved. But with a simple glance from a random guy on the street or when other girls like Ophelia and Robbie, would snicker at her appearance, her self-esteem would be crushed.

This was why painful sit spots made her happy. She could be reminded of the assurances she needed at a moment’s notice.

Then she remembered the passage about ‘bad boys’, why girls always fell for them and fell hard … the rogue journeyman – going places, doing exhilarating things, and being adventuresome. He was more than a white knight. He was a difference-maker and he knew how to communicate with women. The trick was: how long a woman would be willing to wait for him to become ‘not so bad’.

Sliding the soaked panties down off her legs and ankles, Lance reached across her body and to the front edge of the desk – picking up that item she had set there back when she first arrived in his office. It was a diaper – white, disposable, thick and crinkly. And as she watched him unfolding it, her knees instinctively bent – her legs curling up and her thighs parting.

And she began to gush new tears. Her mind traveled back once more, remembering the passage in that book about the natural sensitivity of a woman. She didn’t bother to read it, feeling that she didn’t need to read it because she lived it every day of her life.

Lance slid the diaper underneath her, folding the front up and fastening the tapes at her hips. It was the most pathetic job of diapering he possibly could’ve done. But that didn’t really matter to her. And the reason was obvious. It was just as obvious as the reason why women didn’t often approach men first. Rejection could literally remove the very foundation that her assurance was based off. It would’ve been like the rug had been pulled out from underneath her feet, letting her fall to rock bottom. The possibility of rejection was too great for her to risk standing up for. But she was quite capable of laying on his desk for it.

Sitting her up and then helping her to her feet, he re-buttoned the front of her white blouse and evened out the tails of her shirt before having her step back into her pleated skirt.

“I think you will need many future after-class tutoring sessions with me,” Lance said, zipping up the back of her skirt and straightening her appearance out. “You do know why you need to be nice to Ophelia and Robbie, right?”

“Why?” she asked honestly as he walked her out of his office and into the little reception area.

“It’s because you won … and they didn’t,” Lance answered, placing his right hand on the back of her head, pulling her close and kissing her.

Raquel turned to mush, on the inside and on the outside – doing her best to wrap her arms around him in some sort of organized fashion.

“I’ll be seeing you soon,” Lance said, opening the front door and giving her diapered bottom a pat as she walked out into the hallway. “Have a nice weekend … diaper girl.”

Working gracefulness into a waddled stride as she walked down the hallway and through the thinned-out sea of remaining students, Raquel smiled with a satisfied gaze of happiness in her eyes.

She had won – not just the affection of Lance but also of the knowledge that the psychology of a schoolgirl was nothing more than everything she had ever known and felt.

And that made her quite happy.

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