The Romance of Chastisement

The Romance of Chastisement

Friday, August 22, 2014

F/M Spanking Special -- Master's Thesis Pt 1

I've noticed that some of the most popular posts here are of F/M stories, so to thank my loyal lurkers (You guys never comment. That's ok, I get it.) I'm making a weekend of it with a story of mine about a very wicked lady and a curious and impressionable young man. This tale is from Strict Ladies and Naughty Boys Volume 1 available at fine ebook stores everywhere. Amazon USAmazon UK;
Blushing Books

                                     MASTERS THESIS 
Part 1

No doubt about it, it was her. Tall, voluptuous and well proportioned. No change there. She had a broad face and arching eyebrows that framed big brown eyes. A formidable woman. She towered over Perry even without the heels. In them she probably had six inches on him. Probably now in her late 30’s or early 40’s, she was still hot. After all, the last time he had known her, he'd been 14 years old and in the eighth grade. He thought she had been hot then. The tight skirt, the high heels and the stiff white blouse had caused a stiffening in his lower regions even then. More so now. The strict looking outfit could not hide the underlying attractiveness even for what Perry thought of as an older woman. But Perry appreciated older women. They were more mature, more sure of themselves than the flighty 20-somethings with whom he was frequently fixed up by his sister and her pals. No, as a studious budding masters candidate in sociology, Perry preferred the calm demeanor and intelligence (and worldly experience) of an older female. Such women sometimes wanted to mother him, and on occasion, Perry played up to that. Perry had what many women refer to as “boyish charm” which meant that he was glib and mischievous and appeared younger than he was. In other words, a cute smart aleck.

His reverie for the charms of Miss Kincaid were interrupted by her question. “How can I help you Mr.Conroy?”

When he made the appointment he hadn’t known that she was now the principal at St. Andrews. She clasped her hands on the desk, her desk, in her office, where she had agreed to the interview. Then she stopped, eyeing him intently.  “Do I know you?”

Perry just grinned.

“I do know you,” she said with a look of sudden recognition. “You’re Perry Conroy. Yes, you are, aren’t you?”

“Guilty as charged, ma’am. It’s me. How are you Miss…er Mrs….Kincaid? I guess your name may have changed. You’re still Miss Kincaid to me.” He said smiling, extending his hand. She took it, giving his hand a warm clasp.

“No, no, it’s Miss Kincaid…I was married but readopted my maiden name after the divorce. You may call me Nora. No need for formality now.”

“Thank you Nora. It has been a long time.”

“You were in --what? My 8th grade class at Colwood Elementary school? My, my, just look at you now. How time flies,” said Nora shaking her head in amazement. “And to think that one of my old students has come calling…” She let the thought trail off. “So how are you, and what brings you here to my domain?”

Perry told her about his college career and his work on his masters thesis, which was the reason for the interview. Nora Kincaid was suitably impressed. “It’s nice to see a former student succeed,” she offered.

“Well I guess I should tell you what this is all about,” he said. “I’m going for a masters degree in sociology and I’m writing my masters thesis on cultural attitudes toward corporal punishment in the home and in school and it’s relation to juvenile delinquency. I’m conducting research to see if the use of corporal punishment on young people reduces juvenile crime or aggravates it. I’d heard that it was still in use at St. Andrews so I thought I’d interview the principal and, wow, it turned out to be you.”

 "Yes, it’s me. I was hired three years ago. And yes, being a private religious school, there is no reason why we can’t use corporal punishment. We did back at Colwood years ago. They banned it there just after you graduated.” She gave Perry an amused look as she reminisced. “You managed to stay out of trouble most of the time, I recall. It was your friends who found themselves on the wrong end of my 

Perry admitted they did, and rubbed his butt for effect, joking, “Whew! I bet they still can feel it.”

“Go on now. You’re a horrible tease. I only paddled students when they absolutely needed it.” And Perry was one who had definitely needed it. He thought he’d had her fooled but she knew better. He was just a bit too clever to get caught. There had been many times back in that classroom when she’d suspected that he was the real troublemaker and his pals had taken the blame or had been too stupid to cover their tracks.

Perry’s opinion was that it was debatable that any student “needed it” but he let it slide. Miss Kincaid had been one teacher who had not been reluctant to pull out the standard two foot maple paddle. The school district had been adamant that discipline was to be enforced in the traditional manner. This meant that the school paddle was approved for use if necessary. Each teacher was given some leeway in her approach to using corporal punishment, and most of them did use it, at least on occasion. Miss Kincaid’s procedure was to quell disturbances on the spot. She would fix the miscreant with a steely glare and pull open the drawer that held the paddle. The sliding sound of that drawer opening was one that Perry vividly remembered. With the paddle gripped firmly in hand she would order the culprit out into the hallway for half a dozen stinging licks applied firmly to the ‘seat of the problem’ while the unfortunate student leaned over, hands against the wall. She always left the door open so the class could hear the sharp crack of the paddle and an occasional yelp as the discipline was meted out. Tearful eyes and hands rubbing a smarting seat were often the result observed as the punished kid was ushered back into class.  

Later Perry reflected that these incidents had aroused sexual feelings, especially when girls got it. He could imagine them in the hall, bent over, bottoms out, taking firm swats from Miss Kincaid.  Perry had not been paddled that year. He’d been a cut-up in class and had deserved it, but he was never caught.

Perry had to admit that such feelings had not been too far from his consciousness when he had chosen the topic for his thesis. To Perry it was a fascinating subject. Now here was a prior proponent of its use ready to tell Perry all about it.

“Well, thanks for agreeing to see me and I guess, uh, I need to ask some questions. So like you said you still use corporal punishment. So tell me about it. How and when?”

Nora leaned back. This was interesting. This attractive young man wants to know all about corporal punishment. He seems fascinated by it. She had a thought and an idea formed. He is an attractive young man, she thought, and he certainly deserves a long over due comeuppance. Then she then began. “The ‘when’ part is spelled out in our handbook on discipline but mainly it is numerous tardies, skipping out during the day, disrespectful behavior, insubordination, smoking. There are a few others.”

“Does it happen often?”

“Less than you might think. We try other methods mainly. Detentions on Saturday with busy work is what we mostly use as a behavior sanction. But, I’d say about 3 or 4 times a semester someone gets in trouble and might have to take ‘licks’. We are a boarding school too, as you know, and so we act sort of in loco parentis for our boarders. To some of these kids we are surrogate parents, so lights out shenanigans can get kids in trouble too.”

“How does it happen?” Perry was avidly taking notes. She noticed his body language. This whole subject excites him, she mused.

“At the start of every year we send a packet home that contains a permission form for us to use corporal punishment if we deem it necessary. Parents either sign it or they don’t. If during the year we think it necessary, for those students whose parents have signed, we carry it out. If not, we send a permission slip home and they sign it then or not. We’ve found that some parents want to decide this on an ad hoc basis.”

“If they do agree, what is the, ah, procedure?”

“You are rather interested in this, aren’t you, Perry?” asked Nora raising her eyebrows. That look made Perry squirm. “Did it seem interesting to you in the eighth grade?”

Perry felt that Nora could see right through him, and he shifted uncomfortably. “Well, yes, but now it’s academic research,” said Perry, maybe a bit too defensively.

“Of course,” said Nora with a knowing smile. “All right,” she continued, “the student hands in the slip, or if there is previous permission we call them to the office. They must go and change into PE gear then and report back here. The PE gear rule insures that both boys and girls are treated equally and that there are no differences in clothing covering the, ah, target area. See it doesn’t matter if you wore a wool skirt that day or corduroy pants, you get it in your PE kit. And that’s only fair, wouldn’t you agree?”

Perry nodded yes. That made sense, but wow, thin PE shorts and underwear wasn’t much protection.

“Once the student is here and properly attired I call in a witness, usually another teacher. We go into that anteroom. Would you care to see?”

Perry said he would so they got up and Nora opened a door that led to an adjacent room. It was filled with file cabinets along one wall. Otherwise it was bare except for a handrail, like a ballet barre, along another wall and a pair of heavy chairs. A varnished wooden paddle hung from a nail on the opposite wall.

“We keep student records in here, but it’s also the dreaded inner sanctum to those unfortunate students who are summoned here. You will notice that along the floor we have three strips of tape in front of the rail. Depending on the student’s height he or she toes one of these lines and bends over, grabbing the rail. This braces the student and ensures that the buttocks are presented properly for application of the paddle. The tape adjusts for that. The student must hold on to the bar. If he or she lets go, that swat may not count. The student can express himself or herself verbally, but no profanity is allowed. If there is cursing or vulgarity, that swat will not count.”

Perry regarded this and flushed. Nora noticed.

“Er, how many swats do they get?”

“Oh, it depends on the offense. Between 3 and 10. Usually 5 or 6 for most offenses. For some of the younger girls, though, I just spank. I sit in the chair and spank the child over my knee. This is usually for the younger boarders for whom we are really surrogate parents. It’s more intimate, and we feel, actually nurturing. The girl has a good cry afterwards and gets a big hug.”

“What does it feel like? How do they react?”

Nora chuckled. “What does it feel like? What a question. It hurts, of course. Have you never been paddled?”

Perry shook his head, no.

“Really. Now there’s an experience every young man should have, in my opinion.” Nora put her hands on her hips and cocked her head, grinning. “God knows, you should have been paddled. I know you got away with a lot in my eighth grade. I recall now it was you and Louis Hedly and Todd Rimsohn. I know I took Louis and Todd into the hall that year but somehow I never caught you. Am I right?”

Perry’s blush told all.

“I knew it. I should have tanned your tail too. And in answer to your question, it burns like fire that just gets hotter and hotter and you can’t turn it off.”

“Can I see the paddle?”

“Surely.” Nora unhooked the instrument from its place on the wall and tendered it to Perry.

Perry gripped it by the handle and tapped his palm, lightly, then harder. “Ouch. Yeah, I guess this could hurt.” He handed it back to Nora.

“It’s a foot and a half on the business end, four inches wide and half an inch thick plywood. Our handyman made it. It’s sanded down to remove all the sharp edges. As you can see all the corners are rounded. I think he did a good job.”

“It’s… formidable,” said Perry. He could imagine the impact against a thinly clad bottom.

Perry was silent for minute, trying to imagine the scene. He caught Nora staring at him intently, a knowing smile on her face. It was a bit unnerving. He felt like he needed to say something to break the uncomfortable silence but Nora spoke first and her words were startling.

“So. Would you care for a demonstration?” Nora smiled and tapped the paddle against her leg.

“What?” Perry was taken aback.

“Clearly, you are curious.” Still that intent look and the Cheshire Cat smile.

“I….I..don’t…” Perry could only stammer.

Nora raised her eyebrows. “The way I see it, you can’t really write about this subject in an authoritative way unless you experience it. I think you need to see what it’s like to get a paddling from the principal---so you can have some empathy with those who have had this sort of discipline. You should find out what it’s like before you draw any conclusions. I mean, you did say this was research, right?”

Perry nodded dumbly.

“Well sometimes research includes fieldwork. Surely you know that. Don’t they teach you that you have to immerse yourself in the environment? See how the subject lives?”

“But…but a real paddling?” Perry was sweating under his collar. And blushing.

“You’re not afraid of a few swats on the fanny are you? After all, you’re a man of the world now, not some 12 year old. You did say your thesis was to be on corporal punishment, am I not correct?”

 His stomach was in knots. What had seemed titillating earlier now seemed to be spinning out of control. “But, ah, I’m in graduate school and uh,… but won’t someone…see ?” said Perry jerking his head around. All his excuses sounded lame.

“It’s after hours, Perry. Staff have gone home. It’s just you and me.”

Although he was nervous, Perry felt an undercurrent of excitement. Did he really want this? And here was one of the objects of a boyhood obsession, still looking beautiful, taking that commanding tone that had both chilled and excited him as a boy.

Before he could think he said, “Well, yes. Ok, I suppose. If it is for research, I could see…”. Actually he didn’t know what else to say. He felt trapped, cornered. She was so logical about it. What could he say? Laugh it off as a joke?

Nora smiled. “It’s only right Perry. Remember, you were very naughty in my class and I never took you to task.” She was wagging the paddle at him for emphasis.

Good God, was this really going to happen? Trying to stay somewhat calm, Perry licked his lips and asked, “Uh, how do we…?”

“We’ll do it just like you’d been sent to me for some serious infraction. Come on back out here and sit down.”

They retreated to the office and Perry sat in front of Nora’s desk again while she took her seat behind it like a queen on her royal throne. “Now, if you had been sent to me for something serious I’d now say, ‘Mr. Conroy you’ve been cutting up in class way too much and your teacher has complained. Simple detention will not do. I think, young man, that your poor behavior warrants a paddling. Your permission slip has been previously signed. So for your punishment, I’m giving you six swats. ”

“Uh six? Nora, isn’t that….?”

Nora shut him off. “It’s Miss Kincaid, Mr. Conroy. And until we finish you will address me as such. It will be ‘yes ma’am’ and no backtalk. Do you understand?” Gone was the friendly demeanor. This was the Miss Kincaid of old.

“Er, yes ….ma’am,” stammered Perry. He felt a growing sense of panic, but this thing was now a runaway train that he felt powerless to stop.

“All right young man, let’s go,” she commanded, getting up from behind the desk. Perry stood on shaky legs. She gestured with her hand for him to enter the room.

As she ushered Perry into the anteroom, she said. “Take off your coat, Mr. Conroy, and place it over there.” She pointed to a hanger. While he hung up his coat, she retrieved the paddle from its hook on the wall. Perry could not understand it, but watching Miss Kincaid in her tight skirt, high heels clicking across the floor, approach him paddle in hand, was giving him an erection.

“Now,” she said, “assume the position, please, toes on the middle line.”

Perry gulped. “Yes, ma’am.” He lined up on the tape and bent forward. As his hands grasped the barre, his buttocks were thrust back. It made him feel exposed and the posture was humiliating. This was unreal. Was he really going to go through with this?

“Hmmm,” said Miss Kincaid. “Stand up a minute.”

Perry stood, now confused.

“You are wearing wool slacks. That won’t do. It wouldn’t be the same. I need you to take down your pants.”

“What?” Perry exclaimed, now clearly alarmed.

“I think for you to get the full benefit of this you need to have not so much padding. So take your pants down.” She emphasized this point by pointing her finger in a downward direction.

“Wow, this is embarrassing,” said Perry.

“Just think of it as part of the experience, Mr. Conroy. A little embarrassment is good for the soul. Go ahead now. You do have underwear on, right?”

Yes he did, but they were thin blue nylon briefs, not boxer shorts. Perry grimaced as he undid his belt buckle and let the pants fall about his ankles. He bent back over and gripped the bar. Miss Kincaid tucked the paddle under her arm and lifted his shirt in back which had fallen over his rear end. Nice, she thought. The young man had nicely formed buttocks and they were barely covered by thin blue briefs. She’d been expecting boxers. Hints of bare bottom peeked out from the edges.

"Let's make this real," she said. "Drop your briefs."

Perry gasped. But he was too far in now. The air was charged with an electric tension. Shame competed with arousal. He did as she commanded.

“Now, Mr. Conroy, I’m ready to begin.” She took her stance at his side and pressed the paddle against his bottom. “Are you ready?”

“Er, yes, ma’am.” God this was embarrassing, thought Perry. His heart was beating like a trip hammer and his knees were shaking. 

Nora Kincaid brought her arm straight back to shoulder height then delivered a  smooth downward stroke. It impacted the boy’s bottom with a crack! that sounded like a pistol shot in the airless room. Perry reacted immediately. He yelped in pain and let go of the barre, straightening up. His hands flew to his bottom cheeks. My God! That stung. He’d had no idea.

Nora clucked in disapproval. “We do not allow the student to let go or stand up, Mr. Conroy. If you do that again the swat will not count.”

Perry couldn’t believe how much that hurt. After all this time, now he knew what his pals had told him to be true—it hurt like blazes.

“Back over, Mr. Conroy. Grip the barre.

Perry gritted his teeth and bent over again. Whew! He now knew this was going to be an ordeal, but he was too ashamed of what Miss Kincaid would think of him if he begged off. He had wanted to impress her, for her to think of him as a man. So he wanted to react like this was no big deal, but the reality was, it hurt like hell.

Perry braced himself. Miss Kincaid lined up then delivered another swat right on the plumpest part of his bottom. It landed with another loud crack! and burned like fire.

“oh..oh…oh.” Perry sucked in some air and tried to keep himself under control.

 She hesitated a few seconds to let that sink in then applied swat number three. The paddle cracked against Perry’s bottom creating a dark red band that was now visible on the bare cheeks of his behind. Perry held on for dear life. His eyes were tearing up. This was awful, more awful than he had ever imagined.

Nora lined up swat four. Perry was almost shaking. Whack! She brought her arm down in a fluid motion applying a little wrist at the end.

“Shit!” yelled Perry. “Ow…ow…ow..!” He stamped his feet.

Nora stood up. “Mr. Conroy, you forgot our rule that we do not allow the student to use profanity. I’m afraid that that one will not count.”

Perry looked back at her with a look of pure anguish.

“Back down Mr. Conroy.” Nora had to admit to herself that she was enjoying this more than she thought she would. There was something about having an attractive young man, not a student, but a younger peer, an adult, under her power. And to be able to mete out such a humiliating punishment. It was, frankly, somewhat arousing.

Whap! Swat number five made him hiss through his teeth and stamp his feet.

Swoosh…crack! “Aieee….yeow!” He couldn’t help it. The yelp just came out. After swat number six she could see he was gripping the barre with white knuckles and struggling not to rise. 

“One more for the profanity, Mr. Conroy.” Perry groaned but held on. She tapped once and drew back her arm. The last swat hit him square on the underside of his sit spot. He jerked and he let out a howl.

Nora Kincaid stepped back and contemplated her work. He was one paddled lad. It had been a salutary licking. “Ok, Mr. Conroy, you may now rise. Pull your pants up and compose yourself. I’ll await you in the office.” Perry watched as she hung the paddle back on its nail and retreated to the outer office.

Perry walked stiffly back into the outer office.

“Would you like a tissue, Perry?” His eyes were full of tears and he was blinking rapidly.

“Uh, yes, thank you Miss Kincaid.”

She smiled at him, handed him a tissue and said, “Well now that it is over, I’m just Nora again. I hope there are no hard feelings. You did want to go through that experience, right?”

Perry nodded. His seat burned white hot. Still, he felt the erection returning.

“And I think you’re the better man for it, if I may say. Now you can write with authority. Your thesis will have come not from just a dry academic perspective, but from real world experience.” She beamed at him with approval and something else Perry could see. Interest, maybe? Perry thanked her and left, somewhat embarrassed by his growing erection.

She slumped back in her chair after he left. Interesting wasn’t the word for that interlude. She shook her head. I guess he found out what he wanted to find out. She wondered what he would say when he found out that corporal punishment had been abandoned as a policy at St. Andrews long before she had arrived. They’d explained to her that they had kept the old barre and the colored strips and the paddle on the wall as a reminder of times past. They said it shocked and maybe scared a few students who came into that room. They told their friends and the word spread. The dreaded paddling room---an urban legend. Just a reminder that you’d better be good. We can always go back to the old way---that was the implied threat.

She wondered if she’d hear from him again and decided that if he called she would see him. He was attractive, polite, well presented, and oh so very malleable. And had that been an erection she’d seen as he rose to take his leave? Very interesting. Maybe she’d even offer to help him with his thesis.

Part 2 Sunday


Anonymous said...

Excellent story, building suspense all the way despite the fact that the reader knows where it "end up."

Our Bottoms Burn said...

I have thought about such a paddling many times over the years. And one from a woman wearing a short tight white skirt would be ideal. Good story.

Anonymous said...

Excellent story, not too long, great buildup of tension, looking forward to next episode.