Saturday, 17 August 2013
The Office of Correctional Services, Pt. 9
Well, here we are in the height of summer. I hope you're not still upset that I decided to stay here for the summer instead of coming home. I really needed this time for myself, wandering the hills and painting before the semester and all the craziness starts up again. This is a ghost town this time of year, and I kind of like it that way. No long line-ups in the mornings at the coffee shop, no college rowdies at the pub. I wish you could be here to enjoy it with me.
Of course I'm not upset. Just a little disappointed, maybe. I would love to come out there for a week or so, but you know how work is for me. There never seems to be a let up. I notice you have not made any mention of Brad in any of yur emails this summer - I'm assuming that's a dead horse?
I guess. Who knows? He's not contacted me since he left town and I'm certainly not contacting him. In any case, I'm not losing any sleep over it. Besides, I've had other things to keep my mind occupied.
'Other things'? You mean like you've met someone else?
No. Not exactly. I wasn't sure about telling you, but wtf? You remember that guy Royce I told you about, the one who used to call in to us at the OCS to book himself an appointment with Ms. Hutchins?
Well, I ran into him at Starbucks just after the holiday in July, and we ended up having quite the long chat. Of course, it didn't take long for the subject to come up. I jokingly chided him that we'd not heard from him in a while. He smiled uncertainly and fessed up that he wanted to make the call, and almost picked up the phone many times, but was afraid he'd pushed his luck too far already, and Ms. H would try to have him suspended or expelled. He was probably right. She was at the end of her rope with him. At this point, I could not help but probe a little deeper into this guy's head. I was fascinated to know what drove him, what twist in his make-up made him want to get thrashed by Ms. H, or any other woman, for that matter.
He chewed his lip, as though assessing whether he wanted to entrust a near stranger with his innermost feelings. He was surprisingly shy. I feared I had pushed too hard, too fast, so I reversed gears and told him my own story, of how I had taken this job because I was desperate to get into a sorority and needed to qualify by being involved somehow with the college, and how over the months I had gotten drawn into it more and more. It was like a kind of narcotic, but a psychological one - the quirkiness, the intensity, the drama - everything I've told you just poured out of me.
I could tell he was enthralled, and his mouth was literally hanging open by the time I'd finished. I think he was as curious about what drove me as I was about what fueled him. Well, my opening up about myself had the desired effect. He started to fess up about how he'd been frequently spanked as a boy by an aunt who had raised him after his parents died. She was very old-fashioned, and not afraid to wield a hairbrush, and though he initially dreaded the mere sight of her pulling it out of her purse, eventually he became numb to it. "You can get used to anything, even being regularly hauled over someone's lap and walloped to tears. I guess I learned to associate those spankings with a young boy's natural emerging libido, probably as a defence mechanism. They were easier to endure if I learn to sexualize them. I don't mind telling you, it took some doing. But after awhile, I went beyond being numb to looking forward to the thrill of them."
"My Gawd - how often did she spank you?"
"Oh, she had me on a schedule of demerits. Every Saturday morning she would tell me to go fetch her that brush and then go over all the little things I had done to earn demerits through the week. Then it was over her knee for my weekly lesson in good behavior. The thing was, I never knew until then what I was in for, and sometimes I would get it worse than my misdemeanors seemed to warrant."
"Sounds like those demerits were an excuse to spank you. You sure she wasn't a spankophile herself?"
"Oh, I've no doubt of it. She definitely enjoyed warming my backside. But she cared, too - she would always hug me afterward, and tell me that she still loved me. But warned me the demerits would start accumulating again if I didn't behave."
"So you learned to like the pain."
He laughed, and shook his head. "That's where you're wrong. It's not the pain I enjoy, not really. Oh, it's a turn-on up to a point, for sure. But a determined arm will always trump an eager butt. Believe me, halfway through a spanking from my aunt, or a beating from Ms. Hutchins, I am NOT enjoying the pain. It's f-ing awful. At that point, all I want to do is get away, and I am seriously regretting ever volunteering for it."
That startled me. "Then- I don't understand. Why -?"
"There's a lot more to punishment than just getting beaten. As a kid, I knew that every Saturday I was going to get it, and Saturday was always arriving, so I existed in a constant state of anticipation and fear. Like I said, you learn to adopt in order to cope, so it's those things that I've become addicted to. My pain tolerance is pretty good, and I do love the vulnerability and kinkiness of being barebottomed and bent over a warm, soft lap, but the pain is a necessary evil. Without it, though, there is no basis for anticipation or the thrill of suspense. It's a rollercoaster ride of highs prior to the act, the highs being overwhelmed and replaced by desperation,shame, and suffering; then when it's over there's this deep sense of relief and something else it's hard to pin down...."
His eyes lit up. "Yes. You do understand, don't you?"
"I've seen it on many a student's face, even as they're fighting back the tears."
"Incredible, isn't it? There are few experiences or feelings like standing there afterward with your pants down and your buttocks burning, your whole ego structure vanquished, your mind and soul laid as bare as your bottom. It's strangely liberating. And you're right - you feel grateful."
At this point, I noticed a pair of middle-aged ladies were staring at us. They looked away when I made eye contact, and made a hurried exit. We both turned red, but had to laugh when they'd left, joking about how they would be talking about the two perverts they overheard in the cafe.
Then another impulse overtook me:
"Royce. Would you like it if I were to spank you?"
His eyes bulged and it was obvious what his answer would be. He swallowed and nodded sheepishly. "Would you? Really?"
"Yes. I'm no Ms Hutchins - I doubt I could give you a walloping like she could, but I could try."
"It's not rocket science, you know. You just aim and swing."
I laughed. "Well, there are techniques to it. I am just not practised with them."
"I would very much appreciate the privilege of assisting you in expanding your talents, if you would grant me that privilege."
We sat there in nervous silence for awhile, each of us feeling that sense of anticipation he'd been talking about. A sudden nervous anxiety was creeping in, and I decided to act before the moment lapsed. "Well. I suppose we should get on with it, then. Where shall we go?"
"My dorm is emptied out. Everyone is gone. We'll need the privacy - the one drawback to spanking is that it tends to be loud."
"You're not going to raise a fuss, are you?"
"I can always stuff a sock in my mouth if necessary - I was more thinking of the clap of your hairbrush. You do have a hairbrush with you, don't you?"
I reached for my purse, and gave him a furtive glance at it. "Silly boy. Girls always have a hairbrush on hand."
"That is a very arousing thought."
Sure enough, his dorm was empty. Funny - I knew we were not likely to end up in bed together, but I was as nervous as though we were. I think I was more anxious than he was, and he had more of a right to be. But I was excited, too. Once we were settled in, he asked if he might go barebottom, and I told I wouldn't have it any other way.
He was quick to drop his pants, and he blushed at the bulge in his underwear. I didn't mind - I could hardly expect him not be aroused. I tried to sound stern to set the mood as I took a seat and ordered him over my knee, but my voice cracked and he only laughed. I told him he would not be laughing for long as he leaned down over my lap. Royce is fairly tall, but he's thin framed, so I was surprised at how heavy he was. I felt my thighs flush at the hardening, stretching maleness pressing down on them. I liked that feeling - it gave me a rush. I thought I should start off with a scolding of some sort, like Ms H always does, but I didn't really have anything to scold him about, so I just slowly drew down the back of his underwear to reveal a set of buns that sported a rosy hue.
"Royce - has someone else spanked you recently?"
Ma'am. Nobody had ever called me that. I rather liked the sound of it. "You look like you've had a spanking not too long ago."
"I, uh, I kind of did that myself a couple nights ago."
OK.... "Well, if you want me to take up the responsibility of keeping you properly punished, we'll have no more of that. You understand?"
"Well, let's make certain that you do." I laid the hairbrush gently on his naked buttocks, grinning as they clenched reflexively. "Ready?"
So I raised the brush and let him have a good smack dead center across his cheeks. The flesh rippled outward, his back muscles tensed, and his toes curled. He sighed, like a smoker having his first cigarette after a long flight.
"Sweet as honey."
Well, Tess, I 'sweetened' up his backside for him a lot more. It was such a thrill to watch him tense and squirm and stiffen and moan on my lap, not to mention making his butt turn redder. I wanted to make him yelp or cry out just once, to let him know I was capable of giving him what he needed, and I know I made it hurt, but he took it all in stride. I suppose I could hardly fault myself. I was new at this, and these cheeks had taken far worse than anything I was putting them through. I think I must have given him half a dozen separate spankings that night, but in the end it was my shoulder, and not his backside that gave out first.
Nevertheless, when I finally admitted defeat, he dropped down in front of me and thanked me profoundly for what I'd given him. I apologized that I'd not been able to break his resolve, but he was nothing but grateful for my efforts.
What an amazing day that was! We talked for quite awhile afterward, and agreed to do a similar session every Thursday afternoon till school starts up. Looks like I'm taking up the role his aunt used to play. I don't mind. He gets what he seems to need, and I get to whack ass (which, frankly, I seem to crave almost as much!). He promised to let me try out a few more implements on him, so the next day we went shopping for belts and slippers and bath brushes. I also needed a new hairbrush. Mine is cracked.
Well, that's not exactly a typical start to a relationship, but at least he doesn't sound like he's likely to treat you they way Brad did.
Whoa! Don't get the wrong idea. We're not dating, really - I don't have any romantic interest in Royce, and I don't think he has any in me. There are unquestionalby sexual overtones to our friendship, but they're strictly impersonal, if that makes sense. We don't have sex, at least not the vanilla kind. We are helping each other explore aspects of our natures that we want to better understand. I wouldn't go so far as to call it academic research - we both get a real fun high from our sessions - but I think we want to keep any emotional complications out of it.
Seriously, sister - can you really keep that up?
Well, once school starts up again, our little spanking trysts will have to end - nowhere to hold them privately. Like Royce said, the one drawback to spankings is that they tend to be fairly loud undertakings. And I don't really want it to get around campus that I'm dishing out spankings to any willing butts. I already have a bit of a reputation from working at the OCS, after all. That's enough notoriety, thank you very much.