Friday's Final Lesson
By Littlesilverstar, silverstar222b@yahoo.com
Young female professor gives an unusual out-of-class lesson

NOTE: The heroine of this story is based on one of my college professors.
This story, of course, is a work of fiction, but I've kept her first
name and the major details about her are similar to the real woman.  She 
certainly inspired me, in many ways.

"...by using women as well as men in their armies, the ancient Celts
were able to greatly increase the reach of their military," said Monica.
The thirty-three-year-old history professor paused, then added with a
smile, "Also, the female warriors would often go into battle completely
naked, which of course caused a serious distraction for the enemy." She
paused again, still smiling, as she looked at the reactions of her

students. "Are there any more questions?"

A young man with blond hair raised his hand. "That sounds pretty cool,"
he said. "How come more civilizations weren't like that?"

"Well," said Monica, "as we've been learning, there were a fair number
of cultures that made use of female warriors, more than most historians
like to admit.  But yes, it's also true that the majority of cultures
excluded women from their armies.  The misguided ideology of patriarchy,
and the insecurity of most kings and rulers, was the cause of that."

A young woman with long brown hair spoke up. "Patriarchy is for people
with small minds and small...you know," she said, eliciting giggles from
most of the class.  She continued, "If a woman can show that she can
fight as well as a man, wouldn't it be to a ruler's advantage to let her
join his army?"

"That's right, it would be," said Monica. "But many rulers allow their
pride and their biases to cloud their judgement.  That's why many rulers
of that type end up losing power and, in many cases, their lives."

"I think there's a very good reason for not letting women fight," came
a voice from the back row.  The speaker was an ugly young man with black
hair.  Monica had always had a bad feeling when she looked at him, and
now she knew why.  He continued, "Men are the ones who are made for
fighting.  Women are smaller and weaker than men, and they should devote
themselves to feminine pursuits, as nature intended them to." This
comment elicited shouts and protests from several of the female students,
including the woman with the long brown hair who had spoken earlier.
Before a battle could break out in the classroom, Monica held out her
hands for quiet.

"What was just said was certainly controversial," she said. "But we're
just about out of time for today.  We can continue this debate when we
come back to class on Monday.  Have a good weekend and don't forget the
assigned reading, which is chapters 6 and 7."

The students stood up and filed out of the classroom.  Monica noticed
the student who had made the sexist comments scowling as he left.  After
all the students were gone, she gathered up her things and headed for her
office.  She had a lot of work to do.

It was several hours later when she was finally finished with the day's
work.  The sun had already set and the campus was cloaked in darkness.
Monica, after leaving her office, stopped briefly in the bathroom to
freshen up a bit.  She paused to glance at herself in the mirror.  Her
tight black pants and sleeveless white top showed off her attractive 
body.  At 5'6" and 140 pounds, she was an average-sized woman, but she 
had distinctly powerful shoulders and a nice, slender waist.  She 
combined a feminine figure with muscular legs, well-developed biceps, 
thick and powerful forearms, and hard, solid abs.  Her small, firm 
breasts stood proudly on her chest and looked larger than they actually 
were thanks to her strong chest muscles.  Shoulder-length dark brown 
hair, dark brown eyes, and a deep tan completed the (sexy) picture. It
was no surprise that she was hit on quite often, both by her colleagues
and by her students.

Monica headed out to her car, which was parked in a garage across campus.
As she walked along a deserted pathway and passed a cluster of trees, 
three men suddenly jumped out in front of her.  One was tall and 
muscular, another was husky and bald, and the third was thin and of 
medium height.  All three were wearing masks.

"Get out of here.  Go home," she said.  The men laughed. "Let's get her,"
said the tall man.  He advanced on her from the front, while the other
two moved towards her from the sides.

Monica's self-defense (and gymnastic) training kicked in.  As soon as
the men began advancing, she launched herself into a fast series of back
handsprings, flipping out of the immediate danger zone. Landing perfectly
on her feet after half a dozen handsprings, she positioned herself in a
fighting stance.  The bald man and the thin man were rushing towards her,
with the tall man right behind them.  She fired a powerful roundhouse 
kick to the side of the thin man's head.  It connected with a brutal
impact and caused him to collide with the bald man.  Both of them went
down in a heap.  

The tall man let out an angry roar and swung a punch at her face.  She
avoided it easily by ducking.  He swung another punch, which she dodged.
She then delivered a knee to his groin, causing him to emit a high-
pitched squeal.  She followed it up with a punch to his jaw and a spin
kick to the side of his head, knocking him to the ground.

A pair of arms grabbed her from behind. "I've got her!" said the bald
man, who had made it back to his feet.  The thin man, who had also by
now gotten up, approached her to attack.  She knocked him backwards with
a kick to the chest.  She then simultaneously swung her head backward
into the bald man's and stomped hard on his foot.  With a shriek of pain,
he released her.  She alternated her attention between the two men, 
first smashing her elbow into the bald man's face, then delivering a
strong side kick to the thin man's gut, then launching a back kick into
the bald man's midsection.  Pausing to admire her work, she saw that 
both men were stumbling around, doubled over in pain.  She sent the thin
man to the ground with a powerful uppercut, then knocked the bald man
down with three quick kicks to the face.

Looking around, Monica saw that the tall man was just getting back to
his feet.  Before he could attack, she flipped towards him with a front
tuck followed by a cartwheel.  As she cartwheeled, her feet smashed one
after the other into the tall man's head, knocking him back down.  As 
she landed on her feet, he began getting up again.  He didn't get very
far, however, because she delivered a brutal knee to his face, knocking
him back to the ground.  Blood from his nose stained his mask. Gripping 
him by the back of the neck, she held him up and kneed him in the face 
three more times, more blood from him splattering and staining his mask 
further each time.  As he went down after the final knee, she sighed 
with satisfaction.

A growl came from behind her.  Monica turned around quickly, her pony-
tailed dark brown hair swinging around after her.  The thin man was 
still lying on the ground, but the bald man had gotten up and was 
standing close to her.  She could have sworn that he had an evil grin on 
his face under his mask.  He reached into his coat and produced a 
.45-caliber semi-automatic pistol from a shoulder holster.

Monica acted instantly.  Before he could aim the gun, she performed a
lightning-fast crescent kick that knocked the gun out of his hand and
sent it sailing through the air.  As he stood there, shocked that she
had disarmed him so easily, she drove her knee into his fat gut.  As he
stumbled around moaning in pain, she performed a pretty but extremely
powerful backflip kick on him, sending him to the ground.  She then
kicked him in the head as if she was kicking a soccer ball.  She kicked 
him in the head again, then grabbed him and wrapped her lethal thighs 
around his neck.  She began squeezing him tightly. "Thought you could 
just kill me, loser?" she asked. "Think again." The bald man tried to 
pry her thighs loose with his hands, but his feeble attempts were no 
match for her muscular and deadly legs.  The helpless man began gasping 
and thrashing as his air was cut off.  She squeezed harder and harder, 
then suddenly twisted her hips 180 degrees, snapping her opponent's neck.  
She stood over the corpse and said to herself, "That felt good." Bending 
over and removing his mask, she saw that his face had become covered 
with shades of blue and purple.

A noise came from behind her.  The tall man was halfway to his feet.
Monica calmly walked over to him and delivered an incredibly strong
kick to his groin.  Her legs were strong enough to allow her to kick a
45-yard field goal, so any body part that was on the receiving end of
her kicks was in deep shit.  The tall man shrieked like a little girl
when Monica's boot impacted his manhood.  Clutching his wounded family
jewels, he collapsed in a heap.

The tall man sat up with a whimper, then a growl. "I'm gonna choke you
to death, you little bitch," he snarled.

"Then get up and do it, you ugly asshole," she responded. "If you're 
man enough to try.  But I guess you're not much 'man' anymore, after
that kick," she snickered.

He growled like a wild animal and slowly got to his feet.  Before he
could attack, Monica delivered a brutal kick to his knee.  The sound 
of bone shattering was accompanied by a howl of pain from her opponent 
as he collapsed to the ground.  She walked over to him and stomped 
hard on his broken knee, grinding down with her foot.  His howls of 
pain became even louder.  She turned her head and saw that the thin
man was starting to get up.  Kicking the tall man in the head and 
knocking him out in the process, she said with a smirk, "Don't run away.  
I'm not quite through with you yet."

Monica turned her attention to the thin man. "Finally decided to get up,
huh?" she said. "Good.  I've been giving your friends a good lesson and
I wouldn't want you to miss out on the fun." As she spoke, she fired a
quick jab to his face.  He growled in pain and tried to swing a punch 
of his own at her, but she blocked it with her thick forearm.  As he
began swinging another punch, she grabbed his arm and twisted it hard.
He began squealing like a little girl.

Monica laughed. "You're just not made to be a fighter, are you, you 
little prick," she said. "Sheesh, look how big my arms are compared to 
yours, and I'm a girl." Her thick, strong, tanned wrists and forearms 
stood in sharp contrast to his small, skinny, pale ones. Still laughing,
she socked him hard in the gut.  As he bent over with an "oomph," she
delivered an amazing-looking high kick to his jaw.  The force of her
kick shattered his jawbone.  He stumbled around, making muffled noises.
Balancing on her left leg, she then began battering his face with a
barrage of fast but brutal kicks from her right leg.  After about nine
or ten kicks, his muffled noises had become whimpering, high-pitched
squeals.  He was almost out on his feet.  Finally, Monica delivered a 
lovely spin kick to his head, knocking the thin man out.  He landed
face down on the grass.

The tall man was beginning to make noises again.  Monica walked over to
him. "Your turn," she said as he shook his head dizzily and began 
climbing to his feet.  She ripped his mask off, revealing her opponent
to be an ugly, scar-faced man.  She then added to that ugliness by
slamming her fist right into his eye.

The tall man let out an enraged roar, both at being hit and at having
his identity revealed.  He reached out to try to choke her, but Monica,
taking advantage of her fast reflexes, grabbed both of his arms and 
twisted them, then kicked him in the chest.  Releasing his arms, she
began pummeling his face with powerful punches.  After about a dozen
brutal hits from her, his bloody face looked as if it had been run over
by a large SUV.  She fired one more punch at him, a brutal right to the
jaw that sent him to the ground.

Monica began launching powerful kicks to her downed opponent's ribs.
Her kicks were accompanied by the sound of bones cracking and screams
of pain from the tall man.  After about seven or eight kicks, he lay
still.  His unmoving body formed a neat trio with those of the 
unconscious thin man and the dead bald man.

Monica walked across the grass, searching for the .45 that the bald man
had been carrying.  Finding the pistol on a patch of crabgrass, she
picked it up and examined it. "That moronic bald man didn't even keep a
round in the chamber," she thought to herself as she pulled the slide
back and released it, chambering a round. "Even an inexperienced person
would have had time to kick the gun away before he got it ready to 
shoot." Gripping the pistol in her right hand, she turned back around.

The tall man sat upright. His left hand clutched his broken ribs, while
his right held a black revolver that he had drawn from an ankle holster.
"I came here to beat you up, bitch, but I brought insurance too," he
said. "How stupid do you think I am?" Monica realized that he couldn't 
see what she was holding in her hand from his angle.

The tall man began raising his gun.  With lightning speed and deadly
accuracy, Monica took aim with her pistol and fired a shot that got her
opponent right in the middle of his forehead.  As he slumped dead to 
the ground, she stood over him and answered his question.

"I think you're pretty damn stupid," she said. "You've got a hole in 
your head." 

She laughed at her line. "I feel like an action heroine in a cheesy
Hollywood movie," she said to herself.  Then she turned serious again
as her eyes traveled over the still-unconscious form of the thin man.
Contemplating whether or not to shoot him, she decided to spare his
life, as he hadn't actually tried to kill her.  Bending over him, she
searched him for weapons, finding none.  She then removed his mask.
When she saw his face, she gasped in shock.

It was HIM! The sexist student from her class that day! She had never
imagined that he would take things THIS far.

The sexist young man stirred and groaned.  Monica calmly waited for
him to finish waking up.  When he saw her kneeling over him and 
realized that his mask was off, he gasped in panic and tried to escape,
but Monica put a stop to it by displaying the gun in her hand.

"Cooperate, and I won't have to use this," she said, as he nodded in
fear. "Now, I know most of my students' names, but you haven't talked
much in class.  What's your name?" she asked.

"Evan," the young man said glumly.

"Well, Evan," she said, "would I be correct in assuming that you hired 
those two guys to teach me a lesson?" He nodded. "I know 'em from 
church," he said. Monica shook her head, wondering what kind of church 
THAT was.

"How much did you pay them?" she asked. 

"Two hundred bucks each," he answered.

She shook her head again. "Well, the bad news is, you just wasted four
hundred bucks," she said. "The worse news is, you'll have to waste a
whole lot more than that on a lawyer.  And I do mean waste, because
there's no way you're getting acquitted." She continued her 
questioning. "What were they going to do to me, if I hadn't been so
good at defending myself?"

"I...uh...got mad and embarrassed in class and just wanted to teach
you a lesson by having them beat you up a little," he said.  Monica
looked at him coldly. "Were they going to rape me?" she asked.

Evan shifted nervously, his eyes darting to the gun in her hand.  She
noticed and laughed.

"I'm not going to use this just because you say yes," she said. "I'm
not as emotional and immature as you.  Now, were they?"

"Yes," he admitted, looking at the ground in shame.  Monica nodded,
then said, "Look at me." He did so, still fearful, as she stared
directly into his eyes.

"Evan, you've just made the biggest mistake of your life," she said.
"And considering what a fool you are and the many stupid mistakes
you've surely made in your twenty or so years on this world, that's
saying a lot.  Your attitudes would have caused me to dislike you,
but if you hadn't pulled this stupid stunt and instead expressed your
views in an essay, you would not be headed for prison right now.  In
fact, if you managed to write a good essay, I would have even given
you a good grade, even if I didn't agree with your personal opinion.
I'm professional enough to not let personal dislikes get in the way
of the grading system. But you threw it all away because you thought
you and your buddies could beat me up.  Clearly, you have NOT been
paying attention in class."

"The next several years of your life are going to be extremely rough
for you," she continued. "You'll spend at least that long in prison.
A scrawny guy like you will be considered fresh meat by the bigger
prisoners.  And I really meant what I said earlier, during the fight,"
she said as she compared her arm to his again. "Hell, I'm a girl and
I'd do better in a men's prison than you.  Not only that, but word is
going to get out that you were beaten up by a woman, which will 
further reduce your status.  In prison, a man who's been beaten up by
a girl is rated maybe one small notch above a child molester."

Evan looked as if he was about to cry. Monica continued, "The regular
kinds of lessons, given in a classroom, don't seem to have taught you
anything.  My lesson right here, given in the form of kicking your
ass, is considerably more effective.  But bigoted views don't ever
disappear in the span of the few minutes it took for me to beat you 
up.  They take years to change, if you change at all.  If you survive
prison, then hopefully yours will have changed." She paused, then
said, "Now, the sound of that gunshot I fired to kill your tall 
friend will surely bring the police here soon, but I think we have
time for one more lesson before you go off to jail.  I'm going to 
give you a spanking."

Monica pulled Evan's pants and underwear down and began spanking him,
giving him hard, firm open palm slaps to his bare ass, which quickly
turned bright red (matching the color on his face).  As she continued
spanking him and the sound of police sirens came from the distance,
his current humiliation along with his dark prospects for the future
became too much for him, and he began to cry.

Monica smiled as she spanked him.  She didn't normally give lessons
this late on a Friday night, but, she decided, this one was very
important.

THE END

silverstar222b@yahoo.com