I had brought the situation upon myself, cheating at a prestigious university was one thing, (and actually happened quite frequently), however getting caught didn't. The infraction was only discovered after our midterm test booklets had been graded, and that several of us in our little conspiracy had answered enough questions identically to draw the man's attention, punctuation and all. Had my professor been in possession of the slightest bit of humor he would have laughed at us and made us retake, but his class was ethics 101, and he obviously thought to make some kind of point.
I was the last of our little group scheduled to go see him in his office, and the only woman, the others rather tight lipped about their meeting with him and it's consequences. I knew what the subject of our discussion would be based on those invited to his office before me, and I had all the time in the world to ponder my situation. Do I deny all involvement, or beg for mercy and leniency, or go straight to playing the gender card? I was pretty certain that the man was straight, at least judging by the casual way he had checked out what little I displayed in class, even though my manor of attire on campus was always on the conservative side. I had other things obviously to wear when out with my friends, but in class I wished to blend in to the extent that I could so as not to draw too much attention to my gender, the young men in my classes also needing no encouragement. There was no hiding my feminine attributes, but I didn't go out of my way to display them on campus either, maintaining a 'good girl' image that until now had kept me beyond suspicion.
I knew I would do almost anything to not get expelled, the almost part on a sliding scale at the moment while pondering returning home with the specter of dismissal hanging over my head, and then of course having to attend some lesser school instead. Money wasn't the object, and a phone call back home with a large enough donation to the school to follow could have fixed everything, (probably), but such meddling from my wealthy family could have always backfired as well. Was this foolish ethics man beyond all that? Possibly, besides, I had made this situation, and I intended to fix it on my own in adult fashion and make it disappear, never to become part of my permanent record.
Having decided to play the gender card, and knowing my conspirators couldn't, I decided to dress in a manor that thought would exemplified feminine innocence. In a way I had inadvertently decided to play all three of the cards available to me at once without involving my prominent family, that would be my wild card, but not unknown to my ethics professor as he had to know who I was related to.
I set about to present myself to my professor after Friday's normal office hours as I was scheduled, most of the faculty out of the building for the weekend already. This man was therefore here on his own time, (I belatedly realized), as I walked through the empty halls, either implying how serious this was to him, or that he had no life. I guessed the latter, as I had plans myself out of town that got scrapped due to this little mishap that had nothing to do with maintaining my good girl illusion.
...I had both girlfriends, and boyfriends that I spent time with on the weekends away from campus, but those relationships were purely physical. It was to be another hedonistic weekend without limits, like so many others, and if those other friends could see the way I was dressed at the moment they would have disowned me. I was one day to be married off to a family at least as prominent as my own, so no serious relationship with anyone of my own choosing could possibly happen, unless I wanted to go it on my own and settle for a minuscule portion of any family fortune I may one day acquire. I had siblings who played the game to one day receive their share of the pie, and would likely have my slice as well if I displeased my sponsors...
I arrived five minutes early to make it look like I cared, wearing proper shoes with a modest heel, thigh high stockings which I loathe, and a simple print dress well below the knee that fit me flawlessly. I wondered belatedly while waiting for my appointment if this man could possibly know that my simple looking clothing, (along with my bag), were easily the equal to a weeks worth of his wages? I hadn't intended to rub such things in the man's nose as that wouldn't help my cause, but it was far too late to change into something else. I entered and sat when invited, and after we exchanged pleasantries he got to the point, I knowing he must have had this same conversation several times already this very day by the practiced way his words were delivered.
The man laid out a pretty good circumstantial case to prove our collective dishonesty, although the actual method, and therefore the proof that some dishonest act had occurred should have remained a secret. It was one thing for him to suspect something, worse still to explain how one did it and remove all doubt. My professor told me that my coconspirators had to a man spilled the beans, implicating me as the originator of the scandal in exchange for being allowed to withdraw from his class discreetly. He then went on to detail how we did the deed, removing all doubt that he was bluffing.
My professor told me that since I was apparently the author of the scandal, unless my friends were all collectively and separately lying, that I would not be offered their easy out. The most obvious option was expulsion, once the little formality of a hearing before the dean were to happen, and after than my prospects looked bleak. The shame of being caught in such a scandal would embarrass my sponsors, and could derail this little charmed life I had lead until now.
He then offered what he called an 'old school' alternative, if I was interested, but one that he warned was controversial in it's application and most certainly not authorized. I expected he might make me write lines on the chalkboard, and while that would diminish me in front of my classmates, there would likely be no permanent record of such things to follow me about. Perhaps he would instead have me sit in the corner for a class or two wearing a pointed dunce cap of my own construction, again shaming me in front of my peers, but nothing that some retail therapy couldn't make up for. I wondered playfully if I could be a distraction for him in class while sitting up on the dunce stool in the corner facing him, especially if I chose to wear something somewhat less conservative.
I caught myself smiling with the possibilities, but I had yet to accept his offer, or admit any guilt, I needing some more details first.
"Whatever did you have in mind sir?" I asked, I intrigued by the possibilities.
"Corporal punishment, with a yardstick, specifically this yardstick", he said while pointing at an ancient looking thick meter long stick standing in his corner. The numbers and lines were worn from it's surface, so much so that it was no longer suitable for measuring anything, it's true purpose therefore likely something else.
I didn't understand what he specifically meant as I had never been spanked by any means once in my life, but I didn't want to admit such either to my professor. It was one thing to be ignorant, I thought, quite another to open ones mouth to confirm it.
My professor could tell from my blank expression that he would need to elaborate, and he did.
"If you wish to accept my offer of unconventional discipline in exchange for avoiding likely expulsion from the university, you will in my presence administer ten firm smacks with that yard stick to your bare bottom within the next five minutes. If they are not firm enough you will do them over, and possibly over again until I am satisfied that you have been properly punished for cheating in my class. If you fail to find the courage to properly punish yourself as I suspect we will stop there, and we will behave as if this discussion had never occurred, I turning over my evidence to the dean."
"I will remind you that for this first stage of your punishment I will not have touched you in any way. If you complete your ten strokes in my office this day I will allow you to then retake your exam, the remainder of your punishment to be delivered by myself in a more private setting, in a manor of my choosing, but not to cause any permanent harm. You will be allowed to stop your punishment at any time you wish, but that will result in formal charges, I only administering that which you ask for."
It all seemed so kinky, but blessedly private. Did my professor think up this little situation just to get a look an my bare ass. If I had known such things were of an interest to him I would have dressed quite differently, possibly just wearing my heels, and of course my stylish trench coat until in his office. Did the fool not know that I would have willingly spent the entire weekend with him doing ANYTHING he could possibly think of just to be allowed to retake? I would have done as much on my planned hedonistic weekend get away for no more than the simple pleasure of the moment.
I looked around his office not in indecision, but to make sure his door was closed all the way. I knew for a fact that the outer door was closed to his waiting room, the one where his secretary would have been if this were normal business hours. Did my professor expect me to only flip up my dress to limit my exposure, probably. I decided if he wanted a show, I would give him one he would think about for the rest of his life.
I saw the empty hanger on his coat rack, I not wanting to wrinkle my nice dress unnecessarily, and I baked my body to where he sat in his tall chair and asked him to unzip me, even though I could have done so myself. The man complied with trembling hands and just a seconds worth of hesitation, I sensing that this wasn't what he expected. With the zip down I peeled out of my dress and hung it on the hanger as if this were just another day, returning to stand before his large desk at attention with my hands at my sides as he refused to even blink.
He looked from my thigh high white stockings tops to my lacy thong, and then on to my matching bra that followed the swell of my breasts naturally rather than defining their shape by design. I felt like a freshly unwrapped birthday present, and it was incredibly empowering, but just to make sure I had one more thing to do.
"Is my bottom bare enough for your purposes sir?" I asked, after pirouetting for the speechless man. Under the right circumstances the man could have seen me in less at the beach, but this after all wasn't the beach.
He nodded his head as he didn't seem like he wanted to speak, and I walked to the yardstick and returned to stand before him with it in my hand. Working out the mechanics of using the yardstick on myself was a first, but with it firmly held in my right hand I placed my left on the man's desk for support, and set about to apply my first ever corporal punishment.
The first swing was terrible, not because it stung, but it was so off center that it didn't count. The second was better, and it did sting, but when I opened my eyes I noticed that my professor had rolled his big chair back from the desk, and his slacks were tenting.
"Harder" the man croaked, I wondering how much longer he expected to last himself.
"I can't do it any harder" I lied. "You do it instead." And then as if he had agreed to do so I handed him the stick and laid down across his lap, but absent was any effort to stop me. I felt his manhood poking me in the belly, I submissively laying on him waiting for him to either pop off and make an embarrassing mess, or swat my butt with his stick.
He swatted me first, and he wasn't all that gentle about it, but I squirmed excessively on his lap in torment with each timed blow. The man lasted far longer that one my own age would have under similar circumstances, but I then felt him go ridged on me, and then his hot mess where it soaked through his pants and onto my bare skin. He took me all the way to ten after his mess, but his heart wasn't into it, I rather pleased with myself all things considered. My butt felt quite warm, but in a way that wasn't terrible to be sure.
I slipped into my dress after borrowing a tissue from the man's desk so as not to stain my nice dress, he telling me through his exhaustion that I could retake in my dorm room discreetly with a fresh test booklet, returning it to his office before class Monday.
"Thank you sir" I said by way of closing our little adventure, "For everything"...
Topic: Corporal Punishment 101 by Jackie Rabbit (Read 8381 times)