Geoff King thought a frontal assault was usually the best tactic when negotiating with undergraduates. When he wanted to find something out, just asking point blank often gave the best result. He had decided, therefore, to mollify his concern about Jared Ekmon and DKA by just calling the chapter president on the phone and asking for an immediate interview.

Shaun Dillman, senior in political science, and president of the Thencee chapter of DKA put the phone down and shook his head. What in hell is going on, he wondered. First a problem with one of the seniors that had triggered procedures not used for half a century and now Dr. King pretty much demanding to see him immediately about a problem with a pledge, Jared Ekmon. If Shaun weren't afraid to put another problem off because it might just be as serious as the one he was trying to bring to closure today, he would have insisted that he was too busy to see Dr. King right now. As it was, King was on his way to the chapter house already. Crap!

Shaun ran down the hall looking for Roy Frunze, the pledge master. He wasn't in his room. He dashed down the main staircase to the first floor and scanned the public rooms for Roy, but didn't find him. Finally, he looked in the kitchen, where Roy was making himself a cup of coffee.

"Roy," Shaun began, "Professor Geoffrey King is on his way to see me about Jared Ekmon."

"Christ Shaun, today?" Roy protested. "Haven't you got enough going wrong without having a faculty member in the house right now, especially a big _s_h_i_t_ faculty member like King?"

"Look Roy, God _d_a_m_n_ it. I just want to know if everything is going okay with Jared Ekmon?" Shaun grabbed his pledge master by his left shoulder and stared right into his face. "Tell me Jared Ekmon hasn't been brutalized in one of his initiation peggings. Tell me you haven't beaten his ass so much he couldn't sit down," Shaun demanded.

"Shaun, cool it, man," Roy said soothingly. "Jared Ekmon is one of our best pledges. He's a young kid, so I've been watching out for him. We've treated him very fairly in the peggings, he's not ever gotten more than 20 swats and he is doing more and more pushups each time. I think the pegging ceremony is working on him as well as it ever can. He is going to be one great brother in this chapter."

Shaun Dillman smiled at Roy Frunze and squeezed his shoulder. "Thanks," he said. "I just needed to hear it from you directly. I knew it was okay, but I wanted to be double certain before I talked to _f_u_c_k_ing King. We don't need another _f_u_c_k_ up right now."

He turned and walked through the formal dining room into the reception foyer. As he stoop looking through the leaded glass main doors with their stained glass medallions, he wondered if Dr. King had ever been inside the Delk house before. Shaun hoped he would be impressed with the classic men's club appearance of the first floor. The dark wood paneling and leather and dark wood furniture was in excellent condition despite years of use. It was most of the upper floors of the house that showed the true wear and tear of hard use by generations of brothers. As he was daydreaming about what a great organization he was leading, a shadow, in fact a very large shadow, appeared in front of the door.

Geoff King raised the clapper on the side of the elegant entry doors, but before he could let it fall even once, the doors opened and a well groomed, red-headed young man in a three-piece suit confronted him. "Welcome to the chapter house of Delta Kappa Alpha, Dr. King," the young man said. "I'm Shaun Dillon, the chapter president. I talked to you on the phone just minutes ago."

As he was ushered into the main floor of the house, Geoff King was impressed with the air of old money and old values that permeated the place. Dark, carved wooden panels lined the walls. The floors were dark, highly polished wood covered with oriental carpets—handmade ones by the look of it. Wow. He could see why Jared Ekmon had chosen this chapter during rush.

"Dr. King, why don't we talk in the smoking room, right here," Shaun motioned to an open door with his right hand. "We don't do much smoking in here, but the furniture is comfortable, and it should be private this time of the afternoon on Sunday." Geoff walked in and sat down in a very comfortable leather mission oak Morris chair. He was about to comment that it wasn't necessary to get dressed up to talk to him on a Sunday afternoon. He was wearing a flannel shirt and jeans, and the fact that Shaun Dillman had put on a three-piece suit to see him was flattering. Just then, however, another member of the fraternity came toward the open door and, seeing Shaun, said "Don't forget, Shaun, that the Judge...Oh, sorry, I didn't know you had a guest."

"Thanks for the reminder, Darren, I'll get to it later," Shaun smiled and then sat down opposite Geoff King. "Sometimes I wonder how a fraternity chapter president ever gets anything done." Geoff King smiled and nodded, but was wondering why Darren had also been wearing a three-piece suit. Something must be going on this afternoon. He wondered why Shaun had agreed to see him if they were in the middle of something. Had he been that insistent?

"Now, Jared Ekmon, a very nice young man and one of our very best pledges," Shaun began, "What is it you wanted to discuss, Dr. King?"

"Well, this is probably just silly, but I just wanted to ask you a few questions," Geoff began. "Jared is one of the best students in the freshman class, and he's younger than normal for a freshman. He's doing some independent research in my lab, already, and I've noticed some unusual behavior that suggests he's under a lot of stress, perhaps too much." Geoff paused to take a couple of breaths, and then continued, "I know he is pledging DKA, and although he says he is enjoying pledging very much and that being a Delk pledge is a positive thing in his life, he hasn't been able to give me any other reasons for his being in a bit of a state most of the time. Being curious and thorough, I thought I'd come talk to you about it to satisfy myself that Jared is not somehow getting stressed out by the pledge process and to make certain you knew about the stressed behavior I'm seeing."

"Dr. King, I think it's great that you take personal time to check up on possible problems your students are having," Shaun said sincerely, "I'm glad to know about this, but frankly, I'm puzzled by what you say. Jared seems very calm and happy when he is participating in DKA pledge events. Of course, we really don't see our pledges all that often until they are initiated and become full members."

"Shaun, please call me Geoff." Geoff King smiled and then asked, "Jared seems to be physically sore, and I was wondering if you know why?" He thought he noted a split second of uncertainty in Shaun's facial expression, but then he gave Geoff a quizzical look and said, "In what way is Jared sore, Geoff?"

"Well, his arms seem to be particularly sore and he sometimes has tremors when he is trying to do dissections. Earlier in the fall, he had about the best hands I've seen in an undergraduate in years and was making fabulous progress learning to do some difficult microdissections. Now most days, he seems hard pressed to sharpen a pencil," Geoff explained.

"Gee, I wonder if Jared is taking the wellness stuff to extremes? Shaun paused as though lost in thought, but actually seemed to be quite relieved, "You know that Memphis Caine requires all fraternity and sorority chapters to have a full scale wellness seminar every single semester. One of the components is physical fitness and the benefits of exercise. Maybe Jared has really gotten into calisthenics or something," Shaun suggested.

"Jared tells me he is going to the gym every morning to do some exercises. He says he needs to bulk up a little bit because he feels like a dwarf compared to most of the guys on campus." Geoff King smiled and said, "Believe it or not, Shaun, I once had those thoughts, but I seem to have over done it." He laughed, and then continued, "My worry is not that he is doing lots of pushups or chin ups or using the Soloflex too much. What I pick up on is that my asking about it seems to drastically increase his stress level and he seems to have trouble talking about something that seems to me pretty trivial." Geoff King got serious and looked at Shaun and said, "So I'm turning over all the rocks looking to see if there is something else going on that would explain this."

Shaun was about to say something when yet another fraternity brother in a three-piece suit walked into the smoking room through the doorway behind Shaun and announced, "Shaun, you really need to take your turn. It's just not fair if everyone piles up at the end."

Geoff watched Shaun's annoyance which seemed to be laced with fear. Having given the intruder looks that could kill, Shaun turned around and said, "I really must make this as brief as I can. As you can see they are waiting for me.."

"I'm sorry if I am interrupting something," said Geoff. "I do have a few more questions. By the way, what's going on here this afternoon?"

"Oh," Shaun said almost too quickly, "we are having a fantasy football tournament in the game room in the basement. I really couldn't care less, but I'm on one of the teams and some of the brothers take this stuff real serious."

But it was hardly a fantasy football tournament. In the single circular room at the top of the stone tower at one corner of the massive chapter house, a senior brother, Rob Gill, lay suffering. He was naked, thoroughly tied up, and blindfolded. As he lay on his back with his bound wrists under him and his knees bound tightly to his chest, he tried to prepare for his next painful punishment and continued to work to convince himself that he was guilty, that he deserved to suffer, and that on the other side of the pain he was experiencing lay redemption.

"Shaun, you may know Bob Harper. He is the pledge master for TTT. I am the TTT chapter's faculty advisor and also Bob Harper's honors thesis advisor." Geoff King stopped, realizing he had absolutely no idea who the faculty advisor for DKA was. He continued, "One of the TTT pledges had a foul interaction with Isabella Metz during which she accused Theta Tau Theta of paddling and pegging him. As this has unraveled, I have pressed Bob pretty hard about whether TTT is physically hazing anybody, and I am now convinced that they are not. However, the very fact that Isabella is making these accusations may suggest that some chapters on this campus are still mistreating their pledges. One of the chapters that has been mentioned is DKA. Naturally, I made the link to Jared's stressed behavior and his physical soreness."

Shaun Dillman suddenly saw a fork in the road approaching. Should he tell Geoff King about initiation pegging and paddling and punishment pegging and paddling as a matter of the chapter's ancient history or should he stonewall him and play ignorant and stupid. What he didn't realize was that either road could lead to the same disaster given that his adversary in this sudden game of chess was Geoffrey Trimble King, Fearless Leader. Shaun made a snap decision and never looked back. "Actually, Geoff, I do know something about where the physical hazing rumors reverberating in the system come from," Shaun said quietly.

Rob lay listening as the door opened. There was a sound of moving cloth and then silence. Then suddenly there was the sharp crack of a Delk fraternity paddle hitting naked butt. Then silence, no words, no sign, nothing. Finally there was the sound of bare feet walking toward him and his complexly mingled sense of expectant dread and sincere desire for deserved punishment broke across his mind like a tsunami. The peg was gently removed, then, not so gently the heavy leather paddle came crashing down on the bottom of his ass and backs of his thighs. The pain was excruciating, and Rob let out an involuntary scream. The peg was reinserted. Rob knew it must be a new peg, but it didn't feel any different. At least it wasn't the big peg, although at this point he was no longer particularly dreading that. The bare feet walked away. There was again the rustling of cloth and another sharp crack of wood on skin. After a moment the door opened and closed again and Rob was left to suffer his pain and discomfort in silence until the door would open again.

"Many years ago," Shaun began to weave his tapestry of truth and fiction, "This chapter, and probably many other chapters on this campus, had secret ceremonies involved with pledging and initiation that included physical hazing. I only know for certain about this chapter, and even then I only know fragmentary details. There was one or more so-called "pegging" ceremonies included in the pledging process leading up to initiation. The details of the ceremony were absolutely secret and were apparently passed on verbally because the chapter records only record the existence of the ceremony and say nothing whatever about what it actually was. Our oral history suggests that some individual goals were set for each pledge during each pegging ceremony and the severity of a paddling that followed was determined by how well a given pledge met his goals during the ceremony. Apparently these ceremonies were held in what is now our game room in the basement. Sometime between the world wars, this space was opened up to the rest of the house and renovated as a usable room. Before that it had apparently been secret and hidden. There is also mention of a pegging ceremony used as punishment for serious offenses by initiated brothers whose behavior damaged the chapter or put its well being at risk. Our written records simply note its existence and there is a listing of when it occurred, although not who was punished. The old records do state that a punishment pegging ceremony should be presided over by a brother who has been so punished in the past. Since the last recorded occurrence of such punishment was in 1939, it is likely that all information about what this actually was has been lost forever." Shaun looked at Geoff King and thought he saw clear signs that he was taking the bait hook, line, and sinker. He continued, "In modern times, Delk's have been pledged by a sophisticated program of education and bonding designed to prepare brothers for professional success and social success in their lives. This chapter does not physically or psychologically haze its pledges at all. We have, on occasion allowed our pledges to drink during off campus bonding retreats, but until New York State raised the drinking age from 18 to 21, those activities weren't illegal. Our retreats are so successful, that he have been slow to change them, including removing all consumption of alcohol." Shaun tried to put on his most open, honest, sincere face, and looked benignly at Geoff King.

In the tower room, Rob heard the door open again and again braced himself. The sequence of sounds and silences unfolded again. How many times had it happened now, 23 or 24, Rob had lost count. The rustling of cloth and the sharp sound of a bare butt getting the wood was followed by the quiet, but scary sound of bare feet approaching. A hand gently rested on the part of his anatomy that had repeatedly received the painful swats of the leather paddle. Then suddenly he felt the peg being rocked back and forth. Then it was swiftly yanked out. Rob involuntarily groaned, more from surprise than pain. Everyone before had been very gentle. Before he could analyze what this change could mean, the leather paddle crashed down onto his butt, seemingly harder than ever before and he screamed, longer and louder this time. His scream was abruptly interrupted by the rapid and painful insertion of a new peg. This must be one of the large ones, he thought. Whomever was standing at the edge of the table on which he was lying was really intent on his being thoroughly punished, he realized, as the peg was twisted back and forth several times after it was inserted. Then he heard receding footsteps. The rustle of cloth was followed by a faint sound, almost like a light touch of varnished wood against naked skin. Through his pain, Rob realized that the proctor must think most of the brothers were going too easy on him. This last brother had been much harsher, and his second swat had been almost nothing. How many are left, Rob thought. He found he couldn't remember how many brothers were required to punish him and he had now completely lost count of how many people had come through the door.

Geoff King looked at Shaun with the same highly tuned filters he used on any student who was telling him a bizarre tale. Was this unusual, but true story, or was this a piece of complete fiction, or was it a patchwork quilt of truths, half truths, and outright lies. Just as Shaun had made a snap decision to weave the tale, Geoff came to the working hypothesis that it was bull _s_h_i_t_. Now, he thought, I must attack and see if I can get it to unravel.

"So why are you wearing a three-piece suit?" he suddenly asked.

Shaun looked puzzled for a moment and then said, "I changed into my suit just after you called and said you were coming over. We always dress up when important people come to the chapter house."

"So it isn't for the fantasy football tournament? Then why are the other brothers I've seen also wearing suits?" Geoff asked.

Shaun hesitated just a moment, but Geoff could see the lie being formed. "I guess I'm not certain," Shaun began, "Perhaps some of them have dates or are going to evening church services or something."

"Okay, go get Darren and whoever the other brother I saw was and bring them here and let's ask them. Let's see how the fantasy football tournament is going," Geoff said with a bit more emphasis.

Shaun facial expressions were under his strictest control, but his face became noticeably paler. Before he could say anything in response, Geoff King continued, "Who is the DKA chapter faculty advisor? I think I should ask him some of these questions too."

Shaun became really pale, but quickly said, "Actually we don't have a faculty advisor just now, we are in the process..."

Geoff King cut him off by asking, "So who was the last faculty advisor."

Shaun hesitated and then said, "Well actually we haven't had a faculty advisor since I joined the fraternity."

"So you've been in the process for three or more years, have you?" Geoff said, smiling. "How on earth is that possible. President Murphy makes a point at every recruiting event that our fraternity chapters here at Thencee all have faculty advisors. I became the TTT chapter advisor almost overnight because they were afraid to be without one for more than a week or two or Isabella Metz and Memphis Caine would be there with flame throwers to raze the chapter house and pour salt on the ashes."

He stood up and as Shaun Dillon rose to his feet, Geoff King pushed his massive right index finger into Shaun's breastbone. "Something's going on here," Geoff insisted. "Do you take me for a fool? Do you think I'm that stupid? I am an empirical scientist. I make my living by careful observation. I'm also an experienced teacher. I've heard every bull _s_h_i_t_ story in the _f_u_c_k_ing book a thousand times already. You, my friend, are an amateur liar. How dare you think you can sit here in your genteel surroundings with your preppy costume and feed me this line of blather without my throwing up all over you and then tearing this chapter house apart brick by brick with my bare hands until I find out what is really going on here?

During this phillipic, Shaun's face was turning as red as his hair. When Geoff paused to catch his breath so he could really start yelling, Shaun made an even bigger mistake, he challenged Geoff King directly by saying, too loudly, "Don't you think you are a little bit out of line, Dr. King? How dare you call me up on a Sunday afternoon and demand to talk to me and then accuse me of lying in my own home? Which almighty deity do you think you are? Zeus? Mars? Mickey Mouse? I think it is time for you to leave. I have many more important things to do than listen to this crap from a fat, bald, pompous old fart like you ."

Geoff King stopped, smiled, and spoke in a very quiet voice. In the stillness that followed Shaun's outburst, Geoff's voice was like distant rolling thunder. "I think you may actually discover which almighty deity I am. I think you'd better get ready to surrender at the beginning because the waves of troops that are going to come stomping into your world will seem endless. Memphis Caine will probably lead the first wave, then Isabella Metz. Nancy Jubal will lead the next wave, and after her, Jack Murphy himself. At some point in the middle, you are going to get a faculty advisor and he is going to supervise when you fart." Geoff paused noting that Shaun had turned from beet red to ghostly white during his last quiet tirade. "Permit me to rashly accuse you by stating what I think is going on here. I think you are still hazing your pledges to this very day. I think you have been physically hazing Jared Ekmon, and when I prove it, I am going to hold you personally responsible. I think you use physical violence and the threat of physical violence to keep your pledges and brothers in line. It may take some poking and prodding, but eventually the sack of _s_h_i_t_ you call the DKA chapter at Thendara College is going to be lanced like a boil and when it is, the vile crap that spews forth into the light of day will make a lot of people puke."

Shaun Dillman looked at Geoff King with a terrible expression that conveyed both fear and confidence. He walked through the doorway and turned back toward the front door. "It is time for you to leave, Professor King. We are not afraid of Memphis Caine or Isabella Metz, and we are certainly not afraid of you. Go back to your lab with your icky little bugs. You are completely off base, you have no clue what you are doing, and it would be terrible if one of Thencee's most renowned teaching scholars got hurt while he was playing the bull in the china shop."

As he paused at the front door of the DKA mansion, Geoff King smiled his finest smile as he reached out quickly and took Shaun Dillman's right hand. "Thank you for your time and your willingness to share your fictions. I hope you thoroughly enjoy whatever it is you are doing this afternoon, even if some person or some people are not." On a sudden hunch, he added, "By the way, I should mention that I have written down the license number of the Lincoln Town car with the Massachusetts plates that's parked behind the house. In an hour or so, I'll know whose car that is, because I'm certain it doesn't belong to any of the brothers. Ciao." He walked down three or four steps and then turned around to face a rigid red-headed young man who seemed paralyzed in the doorway. "Oh yes, if any Delks so much as look cross eyed at Jared Ekmon as a result of my visit today, I'll see them in hell."

As he drove down the hill toward his own "mansion", Geoff King realized he had absolutely no idea about how to find who belonged to the license number he had written down. He was certain, however, that his wife had trusted patients who were policemen who did know. Geoff wondered how far off base his wild accusations were. Probably nothing very serious was going on at DKA. On the other hand, Shaun Dillman should be a fairly smart young man and the signals he was unintentionally sending Geoff's well tuned antennas were all wrong. Moreover, in his guts, Geoff now had a very bad feeling about the great stone house on the hill. Well, after dinner, he would sit with his coffee and plan strategy and tactics. For certain, he would get a membership roster and pledge class roster for DKA and start perusing the academic records of these young men. Geoff was still feeling the warm glow from thinking about how much fun this was going to be when he walked in the back door and caught the delicious aroma of sauteeing garlic. Julia was cooking one of her fabulous, from scratch, dinners.

Shaun stopped to take a leak before taking the stairs to the second floor and then to the third floor two at a time. He stopped at the winding stairway to the tower room when he encountered Darren holding a clipboard. "You are the last one, Shaun," Darren reported. You're cutting it close. There are only 5 minutes left in the two-hours of Rob's punishment. You know what a stickler the Judge is for ceremonial details." Shaun shuddered as he thought about what the Judge would think and do if he knew about the conversation he'd just had with Geoff King. Christ, what a day this was turning out to be. He focused on the immediate task, and said to Darren, "So all 35 juniors and seniors in the chapter who are here this week have already meted out their punishment and received their punishment? I'm number 36?"

"Right," Darren said as he checked Shaun's name off the list. "I should warn you, the Judge is swinging a really mean paddle today. For someone who is over 80, he is certainly physically capable."

"And he likes putting the wood to young butt too," Shaun said. Shaun walked up the spiraled stairs to a small landing where there was a chair for his clothes. As he stripped, he realized that his butt was liable to get bruised by the two swats he was about to take from the Judge. What would Fiona think about that, he wondered? Shaun had been having a very physical relationship with Fiona Goodwin for almost two years. Of course, being vice president and then president of the chapter meant that he'd not felt the wood since his own initiation which had been almost 6 months before he'd met Fiona and fallen into lust with her. Well whatever. Everything else was going wrong today, so he'd deal with Fiona tonight somehow. Right now, he would really brutalize Rob Gill so that at least his second swat from the Judge wouldn't contribute to any bruising on his own butt.

As Shaun, now completely naked, walked up the final steps to the heavy wooden door to the tower room, he realized that the combination of thinking about Fiona and, he had to admit, thinking about punishing Rob Gill had made him throw a woodie. As he looked down at his tumescence, he thought, not bad. Who knows what the Judge would think, but then who cared.

Shaun opened the door. The Judge was standing like an evil god in a black hood and robe. He was holding a large, thick Delk paddle that was emblazoned with the sacred symbols of the fraternity. He really looks like a giant, Shaun thought as he closed the door behind him and walked over to face the proctor of the punishment pegging. The robed figure handed Shaun a small card on which the words, "Brother Rob deserves the best you can give. Do your duty or face the consequences." were written. Shaun looked at the Judge, and nodded as he handed him back the card. Without pausing, Shaun positioned his legs as far apart as he could and reached down and grabbed his ankles. He arched his back to extend his butt as far as possible. The president of the chapter, he knew, ought to be flawless at "assuming the position." Shaun had to wait only a second before a nearly silent whoosh was followed by a sharp crack and searing pain across his butt. He almost made a sound, but stifled it. He had, he was certain, actually wobbled a little bit as a result of the swat.

Slowly he released his ankles and stood up. Without looking again at the Judge, he turned and looked for the first time at the blindfolded, bound young man lying on his back on the padded table. Rob Gill was short, only 5' 4", and he was slender. Although he was well muscled, with excellent definition from years of gymnastics, he didn't weigh more than 130 pounds. Shaun and Rob had pledged together, and although they weren't best friends, Shaun had always considered Rob a really nice, solid guy and had enjoyed his camaraderie. Now he had to inflict pain on Rob. Certainly Rob deserved it, and to save his own ass, Shaun was going to see that he did it right. As he approached the naked figure, he saw that Rob Gill was tightly trussed in DKA neckties. Indeed each brother who had to participate in the punishment pegging also had to provide an official silk Delk tie to be used to bind Rob for his punishment. The Judge had clearly used all the ties. As he came closer, he noticed that the blindfold was soaked with tears. Maybe Robbie boy wasn't as tough as Shaun would have thought. Then he looked at Rob's ass and stopped dead. From his balls to his asshole, the backs of Rob's thighs and his tightly stretched buttocks were deepest purple. The heavy leather paddle lying beside Rob on the table didn't break the skin, which, Shaun assumed, was why they were using it. But God, this was really severe. As he stared at the punished young man lying expectantly before him waiting for yet another white-hot wave of pain, Shaun realized that this wasn't punishment, it was torture. Shaun walked around to the end of the table and very gently grabbed the peg and slowly pulled it out. He was pleased to see that although there was a lot of lubricant and mucous covering its surface, there was no blood. He noiselessly put the peg in the container of water that already held the 35 other pegs that had already tortured Rob. Shaun picked up the leather paddle and brought it down gently, almost as a caress. The paddle landed just hard enough to make a weak slapping sound. Rob twitched, but made no sound. God, he is tough, Shaun thought. Then he reached down and picked up the final peg, his peg. Oh God, he moaned silently to himself, it's the monster, the one peg that was really bigger than all the others. This peg, Shaun remembered was 2 1/2 inches in diameter at its widest. No pledge was ever subjected to more than 2 inches in the initiation peggings. Shaun had a momentary attack of lightheadedness and thought for a second he was going to faint. Instead he steadied himself with his left hand on the table and ever so slowly and carefully placed the tip of the final peg in the center of the waiting, angry red circle of flesh and slowly inserted it. As the final, largest bulge disappeared and the final narrowing held the peg in place, Rob moaned softly.

Shaun realized that although the punishment for Rob was over, it was probably a violation of ancient protocols for him to do anything to ease Rob's suffering. Nonetheless, he walked around the table and very gently squeezed Rob's left shoulder with his right hand. Before he withdrew his hand, he caressed the suffering brother's shoulder for just a moment, thereby aiding and abetting the enemy. It was a tactile apology. Then Shaun walked back to the Judge and assumed the position for a second time. The swat, when it arrived, was even harder than the first one. As Shaun stood up, he wondered if he were getting soft as he got older. This last swat was more painful than any he ever remembered receiving before. As he turned toward the Judge, he was horrified to see that the figure in black robes was signaling for him to assume the position again. Shaun realized that he must now pay for having gone easy on Rob. Fiona would not understand. He returned to his finest paddling position and again the wooden paddle landed hard. This time he decided he would hold his position until the Judge signaled him to rise. No signal came, but a third swat landed and then a fourth. Shaun was drowning in a sea of red pain. The swats continued and he began to hear a sound following the crack of the paddle hitting his ass. He realized the sound was his own scream.

The Judge gave Shaun Dillman, current president of the chapter and a lousy example of Delk discipline and fortitude, ten swats as punishment for his having barely touched the deserving _f_u_c_k_er on the table who was getting his ass tanned and reamed. Dillman was such a pussy he actually screamed as each of the last three swats landed. The Thencee chapter was getting soft. He would have to take actions later to see that they were toughened up. Later! He reached down and touched Shaun's back to signal him to stand up.

As Shaun looked at his tormentor, the proctor of the punishment pegging, the Judge, the robed figure nodded his head in dismissal. Shaun opened the door, stepped through it, and closed it. As he started down the stairs to his clothes, he heard a click, but its significance didn't register. He reached the landing and grabbed his boxer shorts. As he was pulling them up, he heard Darren's voice, "Jesus Shaun, look at your ass, what happened to you?" Darren came running up the stairs with a look of concern. Shaun reached back and touched his cheeks with his hands. They were warm and already very sore to the touch. This was going to be a major bruise, worse than any he'd ever had in his life. Maybe he'd call Fiona and feign illness tonight. Darren persisted, "Jesus, that guy's a _f_u_c_k_ing bastard to beat on you like that. You're the _f_u_c_k_ing president of the chapter, man!"

"Darren, I took pity on Robbie, lying there all bruised and went easy on him," Shaun admitted. "The Judge was within his rights to lay it on me hard for doing that, although I am pretty surprised by just how hard he put the wood to me. Remember the concept of the punishment pegging. All juniors and seniors who are on campus are culpable when one brother jeopardizes the well being of the chapter. One role of the proctor is to observe the severity of each brother's punishment of the brother being pegged and compensate. Every brother gets one hard swat at the beginning. The second swat is harder or lighter depending upon how hard the brother was on the bound brother. If a brother feels not very responsible for the wrong doing, then he is free to punish the guilty brother severely and be punished less severely himself. If he shares more of the guilt for what happened, then he can share in the punishment more by going easy on the guilty brother and getting another very hard swat, or apparently two or three or whatever. Actually I don't know how many swats I got, but it seemed like millions." Shaun's monologue was interrupted when he realized that someone, almost certainly Rob, was screaming. He bound back up the stairs and listened outside the door. Rob was screaming, in fact, Shaun had the sudden thought that the Judge was killing him. He grabbed the latch of the door, but the door was locked, as the click had indicated. Shaun stood frozen in uncertainty. Given what the Judge had just done to him for going easy on Rob, Shaun was afraid to interfere. On the other hand, if the bastard were causing poor Rob to scream like this, he had to be stopped. Rob had been punished enough. As he counted to ten and then twenty, the screaming stopped. Shaun listened carefully but could hear absolutely no sounds emanating from the tower room. Whatever's done is done, he said to himself as he quickly trotted down the stairs and continued dressing. If the Judge had killed Rob, he didn't want to be anywhere near the scene when the _s_h_i_t_ hit the fan.

After Shaun, the wuss, Dillman closed the door, the Judge, locked it and turned to the thoroughly punished brother lying on the table. It was now time to finish the punishment. He walked up and leaned over the bound Rob Gill. The words he spoke were the first human vocal sounds Rob had heard except his own groans and screams, and those of the last brother to punish him, since the beginning of his punishment pegging.

"I believe you have not been punished nearly severely enough, my young brother," the Judge said softly. "Do you agree?"

Rob, lying in misery, but waiting and praying for redemption replied, "Yes, sir, I do."

"I am going to hit you with the leather paddle and ream you with the largest peg until you decide that you are truly sorry for what you have done and have been punished enough. I will not stop until you tell me to stop. And if you tell me to stop before you are really and truly sorry and all your guilt has been beaten away, I will know and you will be even sorrier. Do you understand," the Judge asked?

Yes, sir, I do, " Rob said in a quavering voice. He took a deep breath and then continued, "I have truly been suffering and I am truly sorry. But you are probably right that I'm not as sorry as I will become if you punish me further. My suffering is still not equal to that which I have caused by my wrongful actions. I ask you to beat me with the leather paddle until you are satisfied that I have evened the score. I beg you to torture me with the peg that is in me right now until I am truly sorry. I am barely a man, but I'm ready to try. Stick it all the way up and I'll try not to cry," Rob said paraphrasing the letters on the door of the last pegging chamber he had occupied.

The Judge looked down at the young man lying before him. He was tightly trussed up in DKA neck ties. His ass was already sorely beaten. The largest peg in the punishment set was fully inserted. He had already taken 36 swats, some of them really hard. He had already been subjected to 36 insertions, some of them quite rough. Yet he was sincerely asking for more pain to make his redemption complete. The Judge smiled, Rob Gill was truly a Delk. Despite his mistake, he is truly one of us. The Judge positioned himself to use the paddle and the peg to finish the punishment. Rob Gill, he thought, by God I will make you whole.

The Judge grabbed the handle of the paddle in his right hand and the handle of the peg in his left hand. He roughly moved the handle of the peg in a circle and then swiftly pulled it out. Immediately he brought the leather paddle crashing down on Rob's bruised ass. Just as quickly he drove the peg fully inward in one swift motion. He repeated this four part sequence again. Circle the peg, pull it out, smash down the paddle, drive in the peg.

Rob Gill took the first two cycles without uttering a sound. His lips curled in a strange smile. He is getting what he needs, the Judge thought, as he proceeded to deliver cycle after cycle. After ten cycles, Rob started to moan. The Judge decided that it was time to up the ante to the final level of pain. He pulled out the peg and turned it around. The handle gradually thickened to a 3-inch flange that was flat on the other side to control the maximum depth of insertion of the peg. The Judge pushed the handle end inward until the flange had disappeared, then he stopped. Taking the leather paddle, he began to smack the base of Rob's _c_o_c_k_ until he was also lightly swatting his balls. Each swat to his balls, caused Rob's body to convulse. Between the excruciating pain from the peg and the sudden, almost electric bolts of pain from his balls, Rob was now screaming continuously as the Judge kept up a regular tattoo on his balls. His mind's eye was filled with star bursts like skyrockets. Then the darkness began to constrict around the light flashes and suddenly there was nothing.

Rob stopped screaming and the Judge stopped. He had reached the desired end, the brother had lost consciousness. Quickly and gently, the Judge removed the peg and then hid all the pegs under a cloth. He untied Rob without damaging any of the DKA ties and gently laid him on his side. Finally he removed the blindfold. He covered the naked brother with a soft deep red silk blanket. Only then did he break open a capsule with smelling salts and revive Rob Gill.

As Rob opened his eyes, he saw a black robed and hooded figure looking down at him. The figure reached up and removed his hood and Rob found himself staring into the kindly brown eyes of an elderly, wise white-haired man. The Judge reached down and stroked Rob's hair gently and said, "You have passed through the punishment pegging with flying colors. You are a credit to yourself and DKA. Your wrongs have been paid for, you once again have an unblemished record as a brother. From this day forth and forever, do good not ill." The Judge reached under Rob's shoulders and knees and picked him up, wrapped in the red silk blanket as though he weighed nothing. He hugged the punished pledge tightly to him and held him this way for nearly 5 minutes. Then he looked down at Rob Gill and asked gently, "Are you ready to get dressed and rejoin your brothers? They are probably worried about your welfare. It is important that you show them that you are cleansed, that your spirit is freed of guilt, and that you are again their equal."

The Judge gently set Rob onto his feet and held him by the shoulders as he straightened his legs and tested his ability to walk. With unsteady steps, he walked around the room wrapped in the red blanket. Then, he noticed his clothes carefully hanging on the wall. He turned toward the Judge, who nodded. Rob walked over and slowly dressed. When he was finished, he stood in his three-piece suit and ran his fingers through his hair. He walked around for a minute or two until he felt fairly steady. Then he walked over to the Judge and faced him.

"What you did was brutal, it was drastic, and I realize it must have been harder for you to watch and then do than it was for me to endure. However, it was absolutely necessary, and it worked. Except for strange feelings at my backside which I am certain will quickly heal, I feel like a whole person, newly forged in the fires of pain and forgiveness. I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I will never be able to repay the debt I owe you." Rob looked up at the Judge and smiled.

"Only someone who has been cleansed by a punishment pegging may be a proctor himself. It was just over 60 years ago that I was standing where you are standing thanking a brother, long dead, for punishing and cleansing me. I will not live forever, and soon you will be the only brother of this chapter who can serve in the role of proctor should this most sacred and secret ceremony need to be performed again. It is important now that you rejoin your brothers so that they can see the benefits of the ceremony they have all participated in with significant personal cost. Then, before I return to Boston, you and I will secretly review all the details of this ceremony so that you can organize and conduct it by yourself if and when the need arises." The Judge smiled at Rob Gill, made the secret ceremonial signs used in the DKA initiation, and extended his hand in the secret handshake.

Rob Gill walked to the door, unlocked it and opened it. As he passed through the doorway and started down the stairs, he heard cheering as the first of his fraternity brothers came into view. He smiled and walked slowly, but steadily down the stairs into the waiting handshakes and pats on the back from his brothers. He was one of them again.

Shaun Dillman watched as Rob Gill slowly walked down the stairs. His smile was almost angelic. After what he has been through, he looks great, better than great, he looks fabulous. Jesus, maybe the Judge knows what he is doing after all. Maybe this most rare and secret ceremony really works. Rob Gill was one of them again. Shaun's heart missed a beat as he realized that his earlier conversation with Geoff King might well mean that he was the one who would soon not be one of them. After a fallow of 60 years, would there be a second punishment pegging so soon after this one? If he had screwed this up by his own hubris, would anyone go easy on him? Could he take what Rob had taken? And then he thought, don't be ridiculous. You are the president of a Delk chapter, this Delk chapter. You are smart, you have the backing of generations of Delks behind you. Finish the congratulations and bon homie and then go join Fiona for some much deserved _s_e_x_ and lovin', and stop worrying. He followed his own advice, but he shouldn't have.