The Office of Correctional Services, Pt. 5

Hi Tess

It's beautiful around here in the autumn. The campus grounds look like a Jackson Pollock painting, just a cacophony of colors, and the cool crisp air means I get to dig out all my favorite big turtlenecks and scarves. I love this time of year.(Sorry - I know you get sick of hearing me say that every year, but it just wouldn't be fall if I didn't, right?)
My courses are going well, and I even found time last weekend to get outside and do some painting. I couldn't resist the riotous oranges and flaming reds of the hills north of town. Brad went with me, but I'm sure he found it boring. He just did his work while I revelled in all the beauty.  To his credit, though, he didn't complain, and I  made sure to 'alleviate' his boredom when we came back.

Speaking of flaming reds, I have to tell you about what's been going on at work. There's this one guy, a Journalism major named Royce, who came in for an appointment.
Well, he didn't just come in for a scheduled appointment - first he called in to make an appointment for himself! I thought it was a joke when I first took the call. But when I called up his file, he was legit. He'd been in three times before. Nobody comes in more than twice - at least not to my knowledge. The first two were for relatively minor infractions, but the third had been a voluntary request. I asked him why on earth he would be making appointments for himself, and he only sighed and suggested I ask Ms. Hutchins. I did, and she was none too pleased to hear he'd called. She rolled her eyes and shook her head.  "I thought I'd done for him," she said, and told me to take the appointment.

He showed up two days later and I watched him as he waited to be called in. I'm pretty used to seeing how nervous and uncomfortable people are in my waiting room, but this Royce guy didn't exhibit any of that. He listened to the stiletto clapping of the paddle from inside Ms. Hutchins' office with his eyes closed and his head cocked like he were listening to a symphony. He watched his preceding appointment waddle out of the office with a knowing smile. Ms. Hutchins buzzed and called me in. "I need you to attend. This isn't going to be a typical punishment, and we are treading on very dangerous ground here. I want you to keep track of the proceedings - noting the stroke count and implements used, and his words. There needs to be a witness."
So I escorted Royce in. Ms. Hutchins gave him only a brief lecture about not expecting him back and how disappointed she was, and promised that this would be his last appointment. Then she had him over the bench horse, and I buckled him in while she selected a razor strop from her wall rack. Now, I've witnessed a few punishments so far, but nothing like the walloping Ms. Hutchins gave to Royce. Twenty with the razor strop, two dozen with the cane, and then she followed up with a final dozen from her lexan paddle. 

He was in tears halfway through, but that only seemed to make Ms. Hutchins more determined. I kept telling myself that he asked for this, that he didn't have to be here - he'd committed no violation of college rules. He wanted Ms. Hutchins to thrash the daylights out of him. Why? At first, I figured he was a masochist, but he sure didn't seem to be enjoying it toward the end. When Ms. Hutchins finally put aside the paddle, she asked him if he were coming back. He whimpered a very sincere 'no, ma'am'.

After he'd gone, she was not herself. She seemed very distraught, and no less distressed than Royce had been. "I realised on his second visit that he was one of those deviant types who gets a thrill out of being punished," she explained. "It's inevitable that you run into them in this profession every now and then. Most of the time, I can cure them of their fetish by a single severe dose of what they crave, but it's not been easy with Royce. I thought I had gotten through to him the last time, but.... I don't normally like to take it as far as I did today, Lindsay. What I did here was a violation of ethics - I'm a disciplinarian, not a dominatrix. I'm here to help get wayward students back on track, not cater to fetishists. I wanted to help Royce  because he's a thoughtful, studious young man with real potential. But I fear I may have to admit failure."
I don't know if she failed or not. I guess only time will tell. If he calls again, then I suppose she really might have met her match.

Anyway,  I really have to say goodnight. It's almost 1 am, and I have a report due tomorrow that I'm only half done. I need to be working, not ruminating on some stranger's sexual idiosyncracies. Maybe I need a small dose of Ms. Hutchins' paddle myself - lol.

Love,

Lindsay