The Office of Correctional Services, Pt. 12

Hi Tessie,

Well, after a lot of hemming and hawing, I decided to take the plunge and submit to the initiation for Delta Kappa Phi. Originally, I was desperate to belong to a sorority – any sorority – but working with Ms. H has given me a new confidence I never knew I had. I don’t really feel like I need to depend on others for my self-esteem as much any more. It’s perhaps the greatest benefit of the lifestyle she has inadvertently introduced to me. 

So why, then, would I decide to join them? I suppose it was strictly for the experience of the initiation rites. It is a very kinky concept, really, the idea of a bunch of young women gathering together to gang up on one, and beat the hell out of her, all the time giggling and laughing about it like a gaggle of elementary school girls. I suppose a psychologist would say there was a healthy dose of subliminal lesbianism going on there, or that the violation of the initiate’s buttocks by a paddle is somehow symbolic of rape, or some such crap. Personally, I just needed to do this to try to better understand the submissive experience so, as a dominant, I can better play into that mindset. You know me – I can’t do anything halfway. I suppose I could have just gone to Ms. H and asked her ‘initiate’ me, but frankly, I’m still too intimidated by her. I think I would chicken out, and  I would not want to disappoint her. So I figured that it would be easier offering my backside to a bunch of giggling amateurs. 

Well, as it turned out, I seriously underestimated them. I am an artist, and they say a true artist must suffer for their art, but holy crap! Tessie, it hurt SO bad. I never dreamed a simple plank of wood could inflict such pain. They made me strip down to my bra and panties, then screamed obscenities in my face for half an hour, then made me bend over a high stool and plead with them to paddle me to tears.  

The head girl, Emma, took the first swing, and I fairly shrieked. If I’d been smart, I would have given myself a treatment with a hairbrush prior to this whole business as a warm-up, to desensitize the skin a bit. But, no, I didn’t think to do that. People think that the longer a beating continues, the more it hurts. But I discovered that the first strokes applied to an unprepared rear are the most painful. The flesh is at its most vulnerable and sensitive. I think my yelp surprised them all, but it did little to dissuade them. 

Emma handed the paddle to another girl, Anita, who leaned down and whispered to me that her boyfriend had an appointment in the OCS last fall, and he told her how mean I’d been to him, and that I’d even taken the liberty of ushering him out of the office with a sharp butt smack after his punishment. (Yeah, I started doing that). Now she was going to take his revenge for him.

Then she wound up as far back as she could reach and walloped me as hard as she was able. She let me have a dozen and I was beside myself by the time she’d finished. I had tears in my eyes and I don’t think I had ever known such pain. I was not allowed the simple consolation of rubbing my bottom. I was told to stand, then kneel down and kiss Anita’s feet, apologize for how I treated her boyfriend, and thank her for teaching me a lesson. 

It was humiliating, but the compulsion to obey and submit was surprisingly powerful. I was angry, ashamed, and somewhat in awe of Anita standing there, tapping that wickedly cruel paddle on her leg. Needless to say, I did what I was told. 

Then Emma announced that the initiation could begin. I turned white, appalled. I thought it was over! But, no, that first beating was an indulgence at Anita’s request. I had had nothing to do with the usual initiation. Now a whole tray of paddles was wheeled out, and the ten girls there each took one. They formed two lines, and I was told that I would have to pass down the line between them, bending over for each pair, ask them to let me have it, thank them, and then move on. 

Emma then told me I could quit now, if I wanted. The voice of prudence inside my head agreed. I had taken a sound paddling – in that sense, I’d achieved what I set out to do, so why put myself  through more agony? I don’t know, maybe it was the wicked smirk on their faces that got my gander up, made me refuse to admit they had defeated me right from the start. The story would get around campus that Lindsay Ashcroft of the OCS was quite willing to dish it out to whatever poor sot entered her office, but couldn’t take it. 

I sniffed back my tears and entered the gauntlet.  It was withering painful and equally as humiliating, but I played my part to the letter, bending and pleading and suffering and thanking my way down that line, proud as sin every time I swallowed the desperate urge to howl, or stood up to take on the next pair of paddlers. They each got two swings at me, so in total I got twenty more swats, on top of what Anita had delivered me earlier. When it was done, I could hardly stand, my knees were shaking so bad, and my jaw was quivering with stifled sobs, but I stood and faced down Emma as she walked up to me, hugged me and welcomed me to Delta Kappa Phi. 

I was far more proud of having endured the ordeal than being awarded my membership. It took me a full five days before I could sit with any reasonable comfort, but looking back on it, I am glad I did it. It was certainly one of the most profound experiences I’ve ever had, and I think my self-esteem is actually higher than before, knowing I have the strength to take a walloping like that. 

Still, I think I’ll stick with the other end of the stick.  It’s a lot easier getting a good night’s sleep afterward.

The Office of Correctional Services, Pt. 11

Good Morning Tess

Wow, I can't believe we’re into February already! This school year is just flying by. I've been doing a lot of studying, a lot of researching and essaying, and driving out into the countryside on weekends taking photos for painting winter landscapes. I did manage to get in a day of skiing. This winter, for all its relentless storms and brutal cold, has been a skier's paradise. I am so out of shape, though – my muscles were so sore after that day I could hardly walk. Gave me a taste of what old age has in store for us all…

How are you and your new beau getting on?

Hi Linds

Your winter sounds like our winter. Never seen so much snow, even for Colorado. Jim and I are doing great. He is such a nice guy. The best I've come across in a long time. We`re planning a trip down to Sedona for Valentine's. Can't wait.

BTW, you haven't mentioned anything about Royce or your part time job (if you can call it that) for the last month. Is all that spanking stuff out of your system?

Hi Tessie

Sedona would be wonderful! I am so jealous – and happy you seem to have found someone who looks like a keeper. And no, 'all that spanking stuff' is most definitely NOT out of my system. I just thought you might be getting a little tired of my going on and on about it. But since you asked - things are a bit slow at the OCS right now. I've only been called in to work twice since Christmas. But Ms H has been giving me lessons in the punitive arts. She has me practicing on a pair of small chair pillows, working on my form and my aim. She says I demonstrate some talent with the cane. I must admit, I do so love wielding that thing, especially the whoosh sound it makes – music to my ears. I give my own pillows a solid fifty strokes every night before bed. I'd love to practise on Royce, but he is crazy busy with his own courses right now, and there`s not a lot of privacy to be had around campus, anyway. We did meet at Starbucks last week, and I promised him that when spring arrives – if it ever does! – we`ll find some abandoned barn somewhere and I'll deliver him a sound whuppin`  that will make up for lost time. I told him that he would be expected to cut his own switch, and that he'd best learn to do a better job of it than the last time, or else! I also told him how eager I was to see him twist and squirm under my strokes, to watch the welts rise on his bare flesh, and to hear his cries and gasps of desperation. He gaped at me like a little boy getting his first glimpse at a naked woman, and had a decided awkwardness to his stride when we walked out.  Once we got out to the parking lot, I gave him a stern warning not to masturbate over our little discussion once he was home, but I tend to think my words went unheeded!

Something else is going on, too. I FINALLY got a reply on my application to Delta Kappa Phi – they have accepted it (yay, me!). Remember, that was the whole reason I took that position at the OCS in the first place – one of the entry requirements was doing some kind of work around the college, and the OCS was the only thing I could get. Well, it took long enough, but I guess they decided it was sufficient. I still have to pass a final interview and then the initiation, but it looks good right now.

Hello Linds,

Congrats on your sorority app! That`s exciting! As for Royce, are you sure the two of you are not involved, even without meaning to be?

Hi Tess

No, we really aren't inclined romantically. Don't get me wrong – we are fond of each other, but we love the spanko relationship we have right now. It's kinky and unique, and frankly, if we crossed that line into boyfriend girlfriend territory, it would get more complicated and something of that fun kinkiness would be lost.

As for Delta Kappa Phi, I am trying not to get my hopes up too high. And to tell you the truth, I am more than a little nervous, too. You know, it's an old school sorority. The initiation is pretty rough. One of the girls told me in secret that it involved some pretty intense paddling.  I don't know if I want to go through that.

I know what you must be thinking – what a hypocrite! Lindsay is willing enough to dish it out, but not take it. Well, you're right. So I'm a hypocrite. Sue me. I am not a fan of pain, and I'm not abashed to admit it. When I mentioned the initiation to Ms H, she smiled, and said "Good! Lindsay, you need to do this. A disciplinarian should experience corporal punishment first hand herself. She needs to understand exactly what she is inflicting on her charges. It will give you a proper perspective and a more profound respect for the implements you wield."

I couldn't really argue with her – one does not argue with Ms H, in any case – I know she's right. Before I wield a paddle professionally, I really should know just what one feels like on my own bare butt. Still, I've seen how the students howl under Ms H's paddle, and my knees go weak thinking about it happening to me. At least those students don't really have a good idea of what they're in for until it's too late. I do have some idea. They say that the unknown is what causes us the most fear, but I don't know about that.

What do you think, big sister – should I go through with this or not?

Lindsay –

I suppose that depends on how committed you are to this disciplinarian thing.  She is right – how can you dish it out properly if you can't empathize with what the poor sap you're beating is undergoing?

OMG, listen to me – I'm starting to sound like your boss, for crying out loud.  I am totally out of my league here. Do what you want , little sister. You always do. Just be sure you know what it is you want, first.

The Office of Correctional Services, Pt. 10

Hi Lindsay

Haven't heard from you for awhile. Just checking up on my little sister. Is she still growing up too fast? :D

Hi Tess

Yeah, sorry. Been a rather heavy semester. Classes are more intense this year. I've only been able to go out into the woods and paint once. And things in the OCS are evolving. In September I approached Ms Hutchins and told her I wanted to learn her trade and asked her if she would be my mentor. She told me she was not surprised, that she figured it was only a matter of time before I mentioned it. "Think carefully about this," she cautioned me. "There ought to be a service like ours in every college in the country, but the truth is that positions like mine are very few and far between. There isn't much call for the correctional arts, unless you go the private route and deal with types like that one lad that wanted to be punished."
I have thought about it, long and hard, and the other side of the coin is that there isn't much I can do with a major in art and art history once I graduate either. Ms H tended to look down on that side of her profession, sort of the way my art profs look down on commercial artists, but I've always loved the work of some of those artists, and from what I understand, some of those self-employed disciplinarians do quite well. It could be a way of making a fun living until I figure out my direction in life, anyway. Of course, I didn't tell Ms. H that - I told her I respected what she did, and having the skill set she had wouldn't hurt.
She laughed at that. "Don't be so sure." But she agreed and now after the Office closes, she spends a half hour or so teaching me all the nitty gritty details on how to deal out 'correction'. I have to say, she really believes in what she does, and takes it very seriously. "The big difference between what we do and those 'other' disciplinarians do is that our intention is to discourage our clients from a return visit, whereas they have a vested interest in seeing them come back again and again. So we don't dress provocatively, or tease them or try to appeal to their libido in any way. We want their experience to be a purely unpleasant affair, for their own sakes." She had me start working with the canes, testing the various weights and how to deliver a proper stroke. She even let me take a couple home, so now I spend an hour each night thrashing the daylights out of innocent pillows.
Because school is busy, the dorms are full and it's hard to find the privacy, I don't see as much of   Royce as I did in the summer, but we still meet for coffee sometimes. When I told him about my training, he pleaded with me just to let him come over and watch me work out with the canes.  I cautioned him that I didn't dare use them on him, since we could both be tossed out of our residences, but it was okay as long as he behaved himself.
OMG, how he loved just watching me swing those canes. It got him sooo horny, he would leave all trembling in the knees and in a sweat. I think NOT punishing him was more punishing than punishing him -lol!
A couple of weeks back, I felt sorry for him and was eager myself to try out my skills on some bare flesh, so I invited him to come with me on a painting excursion into the hills. We drove well out of town to a trail I knew that was off the main hiking paths. There was even an old, abandoned woodshed - how appropriate! I told him to go cut some switches from various types of trees and bring them back for my approval, while I set up my easel and paints. While I sketched the shed, he fetched a half dozen switches of maple and birch and hemlock. I tested them out on tree trunks and approved or disapproved them. I scolded him for the ones that snapped or looked too weak to do much good, and sent him off again. 
Once I was satisfied with three or four of his offerings, I instructed him to stack the cut logs into a suitable arrangement, then drop his drawers and prostrate himself over them and wait for me. 
I made him wait for almost an hour while I laid down washes on my canvas. A couple of times I strolled over behind the shed to make sure he was still waiting patiently with his naked butt in the air. It must have been unpleasant. The logs he was lying over did not look comfortable, and there was a chill in the air that rose goosebumps on his cheeks. But to his credit, he stayed there dutifully. To keep his enthusiasm from lagging, I laid the switches and the cane I'd brought on the ground in front of him so he could look upon the instruments that would soon heat up his chilled backside. Then I strode back to my painting.
Finally, I could not take the anticipation no longer than he could, and set my brush aside. It was time to paint Royce's rear end instead. I walked behind the woodshed and leaned down real close to his face. I told him he'd been a very good boy to be so compliant and patient, and now I was going to let him have his reward. I took up a strand of maple and rubbed it over his bared bottom. His whole body tensed with excitement at the touch. I took careful aim to lay my first stroke over the center of his buttocks and then let him have it. He quivered with pleasure and I watched with fascination as a faint red stripe formed right where I'd intended. Lovely.
Well, none of the switches held up for long without splitting or snapping. I told him that he needed to work on his switch-cutting and that as he had done such a poor job of  it, I had little choice but to use the cane. At this point his bottom was scratched and marked with little red stripes, but now it was going to get serious.
I rubbed the cane on him and lightly tapped the little weals I'd made with the switches , just to tease him. "I have SO looked forward to this!" I told him. "All the times you watched me beat those pillows, I was picturing your bottom rippling beneath my cane, just as much as you were. Ready?"
"Yes, ma'am!"
"Well, well just see about that."
I meant to deliver a series of strokes that would generate parallel stripes evenly spaced and perpendicular to his butt crack, but my aim was only middling. I succeeded in raising some angry red welts, and several grunts and hisses from Royce, but too many of the marks were crooked or crossed each other. Clearly, I needed a lot more practice. I decided to finish him off with a flurry of six-of-the-best, delivered as fast as I could, but on the fourth one he bucked and spilled the logs under him, rolling on the ground in a heap.
All in all, it was quite the little adventure we had. We might even try to get another outing in before the really cold weather sets in. 
Got to go. Getting late, I have a paper due, and pillows to punish. 

Love, 
Lindsay



 

The Office of Correctional Services, Pt. 9

Hi Tessie
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.

Hi Linds,
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?

Hi Tess,
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.

Lindsay-
'Other things'? You mean like you've met someone else?

Tess,
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...."
"Gratitude?"
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?"
"No, Ma'am."
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?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
"Well, let's make certain that you do." I laid the hairbrush gently on his naked buttocks, grinning as they clenched reflexively. "Ready?"
"Yes, Ma'am!"
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.
"How's that?"
"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. 

Lindsay-
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.

Tess,
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.

Lindsay-
Seriously, sister - can you really keep that up?

Tessie,
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.