by Allen Bare
She nodded miserably, and went, her progress through the outer office watched with wide eyes by the two seniors, who had certainly been able to get an earful during the noisy session that had just taken place.
"I'll just go back to work, then," said Connie. Then she leaned close and whispered, "Your place or mine?"
"Yours," I whispered back, "but only after I buy you dinner."
"You've got a deal." She winked and left.
My impressions from the Disciplinary Board session, backed up by private comments from Connie, who knew both young women well, had persuaded me that Lee Kemper was by a good measure the guiltier of the two seniors. Jessica, a good-natured girl, had let herself be imposed on. For that she must of course pay the piper, but her enterprising friend Lee had run up a much heftier bill.
I called Jennifer first. She was 22 years old, of middling stature, with a nice though not spectacular figure. She had light brown hair, pinned up in a rather old-fashioned bun, and large gray eyes in a pale, oval face. The long, eventful wait had taken its toll, and I could see that she was already close to tears. According to her record, this was to be her first paddling since the spring of her freshman year, and I'm sure it was a rude surprise. But she had been caught fair and square, and knew she had it coming. In response to my directions, she reached up under her tan-and-white plaid skirt, peeled down her panties, and laid herself meekly over my lap without fuss or fight.
Jennifer had a broad but finely proportioned bottom, its skin fine and soft like a baby's. The satiny beige of her slip and her pulled-down panties framed it to advantage. Though it was a almost a shame to redden those pale, trembling cheeks, I had a duty to perform, and I set about it without delay. The girl winced and gasped at the first impact of the paddle, and was soon wriggling about and crying shrilly. Her arm and leg movements placed her in the category of "swimmers," though she was among the more restrained of these-perhaps more of a dog-paddler.
I whacked away until both oval buttocks were well aflame, and it was clear that the wailing Jennifer would carry away with her memories that would not soon fade. I put down the paddle and let her rise, sobbing, and cover up. I thought it most unlikely that I would be seeing her in this position again.
But a Dean's duty is never done. Another miscreant still awaited my ministrations-Miss Lee Kemper, the instigator and sole beneficiary of the deception. She was a sharp-featured little brunette of 22, striking rather than pretty, with a short haircut à la Jamie Lee Curtis. My preliminary review of her record showed that she was no stranger to the paddle, having been caught in several earlier circumventions of the strict Emberley's rules, though none had been quite this serious. She came in wearing a conservative green dress and a sullen expression, apparently having thought of no way to sidestep this most painful aspect of Emberley tradition.
I seated myself on the bench and called her over. She hesitated a moment, and I wondered if she was considering flight. But Beth Capodistria's debacle had made it pretty clear how successful that was likely to be, and she came-one could not say eagerly. I ordered her to take down her underwear, and she complied. When it came time to bend over my lap, however, Lee apparently began to have second thoughts about compliance, because she looked quickly over her shoulder toward the door, as if gauging her chances of making a dash for it. I got a quick grip on her wrist before she could try anything-though I suspect that she would have found it hard going with her thighs bound together by a pair of panties.
Lee, I discovered when I got the skirt of her dress up, went in for fancy, Victoria's Secret-type undies-wide, flare-legged panties with broad panels of lace, and an equally lacy garter belt supporting sheer nylon stockings. The color of the underwear was white-pure and virginal-but the overall impression was anything but. The panties were gathered a little above her knees, where, with the back of the belt and the descending elastic garter straps at both sides, they made a sexy frame for Lee's pert bottom. She was very short, no more than five feet and an inch or two, and when I had her fixed in spanking position she could touch the floor neither with her toes, nor, except by stretching, her hands. It would have been like taking a child across my knee, except for the shape of that upturned backside, which no child could have owned.
Suspended thus between heaven and earth, Lee did give way to panic at last, and began a sudden and desperate struggle to twist loose. But her small stature betrayed her; she could bounce around a bit on my lap, but she hadn't the slightest chance of getting off it, or even moving seriously out of position. I pinned the wrist of her outer hand firmly in the middle of her back, where it helped to keep her skirt from descending, and laid on vigorously with the paddle.
Lee never stopped fighting, but she was no more able to evade the paddle than to get off my lap. She squealed every time it came down, shouting words that Emberley girls were not officially supposed to know, although every single one of them did. As the two squirming cheeks of her firm little bottom took on, by degrees, an infernally red shade-with, I'm sure, a surface temperature to match-the little rule breaker’s vocal and body language changed to match, going from defiance to desperation and eventually to agony and terror. Finally, she was using words even I didn't know-not because she had a saltier vocabulary, but because she was no longer capable of anything but incoherent raving, interspersed with loud shrieks at each stinging smack. She twisted her head and rolled her eyes back, looking frantically for the descending paddle, though this intelligence was of no practical value, for she had no defense against it.
All in all, it was about as sound a spanking as I had delivered so far, and Lee Kemper's bottom was almost purple when I stopped. This was deliberate. Her offense was the most flagrant I had punished so far, and I intended that-within reasonable limits-the punishment should be proportionate to the crime. Miss Kemper would be carrying some impressive bruises for a week and probably more. If she displayed them to others, the good effect of the discipline would be spread; if (as I suspected was more likely) she kept them to herself, at least she would be likely to think before she tried cheating on the rules again. She would be getting a sharp reminder every time she sat down for the next several days.
When I laid the paddle down, Lee was too lost in her misery to do anything but continue to lie there, bottoms-up, and howl. Finally I took her shoulders and moved her back until her feet contacted the floor, and she stood up at last. The lacy panties, which she had almost kicked off, fell in a puddle around her ankles, and she stood there with both hands pressed to her seat, making no effort to retrieve them, until I suggested that she "rearrange her clothing." (I considered it part of my duty to speak vaguely and pompously on occasions where more direct speech might have increased the young lady's embarrassment.)
But Lee acted as if she hadn't heard me; she simply stepped out of the panties and continued out the door, leaving the forlorn undergarment on the floor. After some hesitation, I picked them up and put them into a manila envelope, which I gave to Mrs. McCutcheon with directions to wait until the next day, then to send the student a message requesting her to call and pick up her property. The secretary efficiently wrote Lee's name on the front of the envelope. "Shall I write what's in it?" she asked.
"Um, all things considered, I think it would be better if you didn't," I said, indicating with a gesture that she should look inside.
"Ooooh," said Mrs. McCutcheon, grinning. "I guess not."
Well, it was not yet noon, but it will probably come as no surprise that the remainder of the working day proved to be rather anticlimactic. I was looking forward to my evening with Connie, not only because of the way I knew it was sure to end, but because I always found her a pleasure to be with. There were, I reflected, some fairly serious matters we had to discuss.
~ The End ~
This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as advocating any non-consensual spanking
activity or the spanking of minors.
