My name is Professor M. White, and I thought Id share an interesting story with MMSA Stories readers. I recently attended a linguistics conference in a big city in the Midwest, where this story happened.
I had been booked into the conference for months, but the university housing authority had yet to assign me living quarters. Coming up on just two weeks away, I finally called, and was told, Oh, we are SO sorry, Professor, we seem to completely have let that slip by! We have your deposit, and your request, but somehow it didnt get put through! May we call you back very soon with arrangements?
Well, I was more than a little upset, and it was a good thing that young lady on the other end of the phone wasnt in my office, or she would have received either a red ear from my bawling her out or a red rear end, I assure you. But, knowing these things happen, I kept my cool and told her, Of course - but I expect the same quality of accommodation that I contracted for when I sent you my check over two months ago, do you understand? Oh, yes sir, yes sir! she assured me. Um hmm, I thought, well see.
I didnt receive a return call for three days, by which time I was fuming. So I called again, and got the same girl. Oh Professor, Im so sorry! Can I call you back this afternoon? Enough is enough, so I told her, Miss, yes, you may, but if I dont hear from you by 5 p. m. today, youll hear from lawyer at 8 a. m. tomorrow. Do I make myself clear? Oh, yes sir, yes sir! Um hmm - again, well see.
My telephone rang at 4:30, and it was Miss Efficient - Professor? We are SO sorry, but our campus facilities are absolutely booked up now. However, we have arranged for you to stay with Professor M.- at his home. We are SO sorry, but Professor M.- assurs us that he will be able to bring you to and from the conference, as he is presenting as well, and that he will be DELIGHTED to have you as a guest.
Well, you can imagine my dismay. NOT private, NOT on campus, at the mercy of some stranger, no campus dining facilities, . . . in short, I was fit to be tied. And I told the young lady so - but actually, there was little she could do about it, she was probably just some grad student doing office work, and by the time I got through yelling at her, she was in tears - as well she should have been. However, what could I do? So I agreed to the arrangement, on condition that 50% of my housing fee was refunded and the university picked up my meal allowance. After a quick consultation with their dean, they agreed readily enough.
I flew into their hub airport 10 days later - still mad as a wet hen. My paper was troublesome, and having this difficulty didnt make my mood any better. However, I was quite pleased when at the airport a placard-carrying chauffeur met me at the gate and drove me into town - at least I didnt have to take a cab to Professor Joe Blows residence, I reasoned. The taxi eventually pulled up in front of a very handsome townhouse in the downtown section of the city, only 2 blocks from the University. Better and better, I thought. Then the door of the townhouse opened, and a very attractive, if diffident, young man of around 35 came down the steps, opened the cab door, and inquired, Professor White? He was quite nice looking, if a bit bland, around 6' tall and of reasonable build and weight, with attractive grey eyes and a charming, rather offbeat goatee. Well, this could be worse, I thought - yet, remembering the rather shoddy way I had been treated, I still felt a bit frosty.
Yes, thats me, I replied, without any warmth. Im so happy to welcome you to my home, and I have to extend the Universitys apologies for all this confusion. Confusion my ass. They forgot me, didnt they, and now Ive been shoved on you.
He had the grace to look both embarrassed and caught, and responded, Yes, Im rather afraid they did. But believe me, Im more than happy to have you here, and actually, I think youll find my home rather more comfortable than the dorm. Plus, I cook a hell of a dinner, and with that he smiled, and I was suddenly charmed. His smile transformed his whole face, and he was suddenly very handsome indeed.
He helped me up the steps with my bags, and we entered the vestibule of his townhouse. Not that Im old or weak, Im not - at 50, Im still a decent looking man, if somewhat silver-haired, and at 6'3' and 200 lbs, in decent shape thanks to the gym and the stress of my profession. But it was simple kindness for him to help me, and I decided that he could well afford to treat me decently - after all, he was being paid nicely by his university to put me up, even at a 50% discount.
He put my suitcase down in the hallway, and saying, Please, Professor, come in for a drink, led me into a living room decorated in what I call English stuffy university. Tweed, corduroy, leather and books, books, books. Pipe tobacco smell was everywhere. As were diplomas from several universities, a variety of nondescript photos, and, much to my surprise, quite a selection of athletic equipment scattered randomly around the room.
Please excuse the mess, he said, but my boarder, Greg, is rather messy. Im afraid Im not quite strict enough with him. This last was said with an ingratiating smile, and while I disapproved of the attitude, I approved, very much, of that smile - it was by far his best feature, and I had seen it twice now.
Its no problem, Professor M.-, I know how these things go, although I live alone myself, I replied. By the way, my name is Mark, and I find it difficult to be calling you Professor M.- and you me Professor White, when I will be sleeping here this weekend. May I know your first name?
His smile broke out again, twice as large as before, as he answered, Oh, yes! My name is Rick - my boarder is Greg, and if it is okay with you, Id love to address you as Mark. Greg, of course, will address you as Professor. He moved towards a large mahogany sideboard where several decanters were standing, and turning to me, asked, Would you like a drink?
Yes, Scotch, a little soda, two cubes, please.
He poured a couple of generous drinks, and settling into a couple of armchairs near a large bay window, we began to discuss the upcoming conference. I found, much to my surprise, that he wasnt ignorant of my field of study, and as I delineated my difficulties, he even helped with a reference or two that he assured me I could check at the University library in the morning before the 1st session of the conference.
After a 2nd drink, and more chat, he rose and stated, Well, before we get too loose here, I need to go and finish dinner prep - I thought steaks and salad would work tonight - oh God, youre not a vegetarian, are you? he asked, concern suddenly causing him to frown. I realized then that his face was quite handsome in any movement at all, only unremarkable when he wasnt expressing emotion.
No! I laughed, Im a carnivore - I like meat. I took the liberty of patting him on the back as I said it, and nothing could have surprised me more than his sudden reaction of almost feline pleasure in being touched - he leaned into my hand, smiled again, then, realizing that I was, after all, a stranger, suddenly said, Well, perhaps youd like to go upstairs first and relax a bit with that drink.
Sure, I replied, wondering what the hell was going on here. Either my instincts were completely frazzled by the plane trip, or this man was very interesting, indeed. Rick took me up the stairs to the 1st floor (it was a European style townhouse, thus the 2nd floor was actually the 1st floor), and showed me to the end of hall to a pair of pocket doors that opened on to a wonderful suite - a bedroom, separate dressing room and a full, old-fashioned bathroom, all self-contained. I was a bit confused - and said so. Rick? This is wonderful - but surely this is the master suite of the house?
He blushed, much to my surprise, and stated, well, yes - normally this is my room, but the University screwed things up so badly, and the Dean was so upset, so its yours this weekend - Ill be rooming with Greg up on the 3rd floor. He suddenly looked worried: God, its okay, isnt it? I laughed. Yes, Rick its wonderful, but I didnt meant to put you out of your own room for the weekend! Please, dont you have a guest room where I could stay?
He looked very pleased with the compliment, and stated firmly, Absolutely not! You are right here! and took my bags into the room, threw them on the large brass bed, and turning around, smiled and said, Okay! Freshen up, rest up a bit, dinner will be about 30 minutes! and disappeared out the door before I could even really appreciate his good humor and his wonderful smile. \
Rick had left two dresser drawers empty for me, and a set of fresh bath towels on the bed, so I unpacked, took a quick shower, and dressed casually for dinner. However, as I was dressing, I heard a distant door slam, then a quick exchange of raised voices, followed by pounding footsteps up past my room to the floor above, another slammed door, then the sound of running water. Someone coming in and showering, I supposed.
I went back downstairs after about 25 minutes, and made my way to the back of the house, to the kitchen. Rick was there, tossing the salad, and I could smell the steaks grilling on the back porch. He wasnt smiling. All fresh, I announced. He distractedly glanced and smiled at me, and went back to preparing the salad.
Rick, can I help? I asked. That would be a change, he muttered, then suddenly looking embarrassed, h e blurted out, Oh, Im so sorry, Mark, Im just upset. Greg is home late again, afer I expressly told him you were coming, and I have to take care of dinner myself.
Rick, let me help. Go take care of the steaks - I can do a salad, for Gods sake! I said, seeing that he was very put out. And hey - if thats wine you have, Ill take a glass. He smiled again (Lord, I was getting to like that smile!), poured me a glass, and disappeared onto the back porch. I finished the salad prep, and sipping my wine, soon heard the galumphing tread of a hippopotamus on the stairs - the kitchen door swung open, and there stood an amazing looking young man of 20 or so, 6'2" or so, and at least 190 lbs, all solid muscle. Black hair, green eyes, a rather soft, baby-ish face and very long, long legs completed the picture. And sullen, very, very sullen.
Oh, hi, he said. Is Rick around? he muttered. Yes, on the porch, I answered, giving him my best cold professor voice and look. He caught the message, and suddenly broke into a charming, con-man smile that was so insincere it almost made me laugh. Oh! You must be Professor White! Hi, Professor! Im Greg - Greg Lockley. Im Ricks boarder - sorry I was late, but you know, the gym and all . . . !
Yes, so I gathered. Rick is out there, and the wine is right here, I replied, pointing to the bottle of Bordeaux on the kitchen sideboard. Thanks, he breezed, and going to the refrigerator, pulled out a beer and slamming the door, went outside. I heard more raised voices, then sudden silence. Okay, I thought, Im beginning to get this picture. Soon enough, we were seated in the dining room, enjoying our salads and steaks, Rick and I tossing small talk and Greg occasionally interrupting with what he thought a germane question. The more I saw of this young man, the more I itched to tan his ass - he needed it, badly, but it wasnt my affair, so I kept my mouth shut.
Finally, Greg turned to me and said, Well, Mark, so youre presenting this weekend, eh? Same old stuff, Ill bet? and he grinned insouciantly, as if he had it all worked out. Okay, time to set a few rules, guest in his home or not - Greg, my name is Professor White, not Mark, and yes, Im presenting this weekend. And if you can explain identity construction during the 16th century in France, Id be glad to hear your opinion. Dead silence, and I do mean dead silence. Rick blushed a furious shade of red, and Greg just looked down at his plate, sullen again. Rick broke the silence: Im sorry, Mark. Greg forgets himself sometimes, he mumbled, all the while I could tell he was mortified by his boarders behavior. Rick, I said, I dont know how you work your house, or why you do it the way you do, but rude boys need help, and sometimes the only help they understand is a firm hand. There. Id said what Id been thinking for a while, but not too obviously, and I thought, lets see where it goes from here.
Greg looked up quite suddenly, surprised, and none too pleased. Im sorry, Professor White, I get carried away, but no one has a firm hand with me - Im too old for that stuff. He looked both petulant, scared and defiant as he said this. Um hmm, I thought, just as I thought, this boy wants and needs guidance. I toyed with my salad, and said, Rick, dont you think you ought to take a firmer hand with Greg? Its not my place, I know, but perhaps Greg is asking you for guidance, and you just dont recognize his need.
Rick suddenly looked up at me, arching his eyebrows, and asked, what do you mean? Its quite clear, Rick, I replied. Greg needs discipline. Well, you could have heard a pin drop. Then Greg burst out with Discipline! No way, man! Id move out before Rick could lay down any laws for me! Jeez - where are you from, Transylvania? Ive only got Rick, and he knows I dont mean to be mean! Greg! Thats enough! Rick burst out - Apologize right now! Greg had the sense to look down, and mumbled, Im sorry, I didnt mean that. Yes, Greg, Im sure you didnt, I answered, but youve got a big mouth, dont you? Yes sir, he mumbled. Greg, did you have parents? I asked. Confused, he answered, uh, yeah . . . well, I did. And what would your father have done if you had behaved this badly at the dinner table? I pressed. Uh, . . . uh . . . I dunno, he muttered. Rick, do you know what he would have done? I asked Rick, turning and querying him with a questioning look. Rick looked askance at Greg, then me, then answered, Yes - I know Gregs dad would have tanned his ass - but that was a long time ago.
I knew that this was the moment, that it was now or never, that I could turn this into an interesting trip or let it be just another dull-ass conference, and even more, in a household that was out of control. Rick would have to be shown the ropes, and Greg would have to be brought back into line. I finished my salad and steak without another word, and it was very quiet around the table. When I was done, I folded my napkin quietly on my plate, and rising up, I walked around the table, and tapping Greg on the shoulder, I simply said, Greg, go get undressed, come back downstairs in your underwear, and bring the hairbrush from my bathroom with you.
Gregs head jerked up, and I could see a smart remark forming on his lips, but I just squeezed his shoulder, and the words died on his lips. He just looked at me, then looked at Rick as if that would save him, but Rick wasnt looking at either of us, he was staring at his plate. Go on, Greg, now, I said. I knew I had judged the boy correctly, and sure enough, he got up from the table and slowly trudged upstairs. I turned to Rick and said, Rick, lets clear the table, shall we? and that is what we did. I still didnt say a word, and when the table was cleared, we went into the living room. Rick went immediately to the sideboard and began pouring himself a stiff drink, but I interrupted: No, Rick, not now. Give me that Scotch. You need a clear head. When Greg comes back downstairs, hes going to be in his underwear, carrying a hairbrush. And do you know what you are going to do? You are going to punish him for his misbehavior. Youre going to pull him over your knees, and youre going to spank him until he learns his lesson. Dont you think thats fair?
Rick turned, handed me the drink, and raising his head, gave me the most amazing look - part desire, part fear, pure need. Can I do that? he whispered. Yes, Rick, you can, and you should. Why do you think hes here - why do you think he abuses your hospitality, why do you think he acts the way he does? What the hell do you think you should be doing? I nearly shouted that last part - Rick looked so confused. But . . . but . . . spanking? Isnt he too old? I mean, Ive never . . . he stumbled over the words. Rick, what does the boy need? Well . . . discipline, I guess. Guess, my ass. Yes, discipline. And who is going to give it to him, if not you? Uh . . . I dont know. Thats right - no one. And hell become an irresponsible _f_u_c_k_-up like so many others. Is that what you want for him, Rick? No! Hes a good kid! Just. . . well, not organized. Rick, its time for you to be man. You boarded this young man, now its time to help him. Rick looked so confused, so sad, I almost laughed. Sometimes the blind just dont see the glasses in front of their faces. Suddenly, we heard a door close upstairs, and the slow steps of someone coming back downstairs.
Both of our heads turned in unison towards the living room door as Greg came back to the room. Hell, even Greg was smarter than Rick - he knew exactly what was going on - he stood there, clad in only his white jockeys, my mahogany hairbrush in his hand, his head was lowered, and he didnt advance one single step into the room. Come here, Greg, I said. Greg came towards me, slowly, trying to hide the hairbrush behind his back, until he stood two feet in front of me with his head down and not a word out of his mouth. He had a beautiful, if somewhat soft, body, I noticed, and there was an average package in those jockeys. But that package was getting excited - both Greg and I knew why, too.
I just stared at him for about two minutes, until I saw his dick twitch in the jockeys, and then I said, Greg? Why are you here like this? He was completely quiet, then whispered, Because you told me to, Professor. Thats right, Greg. And why did I tell you to come down here in your underwear with my hairbrush? Again, very quietly, I dont know, Professor. Yes you do, Greg. You know perfectly well. Why are you here in your underwear holding my hairbrush, Greg? I could see his eyes start to tear up, and I knew then that yes, I had judged this boy correctly. Oh, please, Professor. Greg? Because Ive been rude, Professor. Now I knew I was on the right track, so I forged ahead: Greg, what happens to rude boys? Oh, please, Professor, he muttered, head still hung low. Greg?? WHAT HAPPENS TO RUDE BOYS? I almost shouted. Greg jumped as if hed heard a gunshot, my tone of voice scared him so much. But Ill give him credit, he tried again: Oh please, Professor, I dont know . . . Greg??
He started to snuffle, and that set me off. I love it when a boy starts to snuffle, but it makes me angry, as well. You know the boy knows what he deserves, but hes trying to weasel out of it before hes even felt the first smack of the hand or brush. Oh, please, Professor, Im sorry, I didnt mean. . Greg!! What happens to rude boys?? Snuffle, snuffle. They get punished, sir. And should you be punished, Greg? I asked. And then he started to babble: oh please, please, please, sir, I wont be rude again, I promise, sir, I promise. Im too old for this, please sir, dont make me do this, I promise Ill be good, honestly sir, I promise! Now he was practically begging - just exactly where I wanted him. Show me the hairbrush, Greg. Oh PLEASE, sir, I promise! he whined. Greg! Yes sir, he muttered, and extended the brush towards me. Rick was fascinated - hed never seen this kind of interaction between a man and a boy, and he couldnt keep his eyes off the exchange. Um hmm, I thought, now, time to bring him into this scene. Greg, take the brush to Rick and show him the hairbrush. Greg shuffled over to Rick and held out the brush. Rick took it, weighing the heft and the size of it, looking at me, then Greg, then me, then Greg - he was fascinated. He gave the brush back to Greg, and when he did, I barked, Greg! He nearly jumped - and hurried back over to stand in front of me. Yes sir? DO you deserve a spanking, Greg? Now he really did start to snuffle, and even to cry a bit - but I knew better. Crocodile tears, tears of please let me out of it this time, sir, not real tears of sorrow and contrition. Oh sir, please, sir, PLEASE! Greg!! Do you deserve a spanking? Quietly, with shaking voice, he answered, Oh, please sir, . . . Greg, go stand in front of Rick. Confused, he did as he was told. Then I told him, Greg, give the brush to Rick again. He did, not quite knowing what was coming.
I continued: Greg, youve been a rude, thoughtless young man. To me, your guest, but more importantly to Rick, your protector and your landlord. And you need to make up for that behavior, Greg. Now ask Rick to pull down your pants and spank you. Well, you would have thought Id just announced the end of the world. Gregs head shot up and he looked at me as if I was crazy. Ricks head shot up, too, but his look was quite different - he obviously wanted to do this. Greg started to whine - Oh sir! No, sir! I cant do that, sir! Rick wont . . . I interrupted: Greg! Do you want ME to do it? Think carefully, son - are you sure you want your spanking from ME?? He did start to cry then - not real tears, not real crying, just defeat. No sir, no sir! Not you, sir! Not you! Then you turn right around and ask Rick for your spanking like a good boy! I snarled. Greg reluctantly turned around, and muttered, . . . spank, me Rick . . Nope. Not nearly good enough. I firmly stated, Greg! You ask like a sorry little boy who needs the spanking, right now! Do it! Do it now! And if you dont, Ill start your spanking, and youll be very, very sorry!
Youve never seen such a sight - this big bad boy, standing there in his underwear, having to decide if the humiliation was worse or the thought of having me spank him. Luckily for him, instinct took over, and he turned towards Rick and whispered in a shy voice, Rick, sir, please spank me for being a rude boy. Im sorry, Rick. Please spank me so that Professor White wont have to do it.. Please Rick, please. Rick looked at me, and I nodded at him, indicating that he was supposed to go ahead and give Greg a good spanking. I thought Id have to coach Rick, encourage him to spank harder, or longer, but I was wrong. Suddenly, Rick smiled, and pulling Greg closer, he reached out and started to slowly lower his underwear. Greg cried out: No! Oh please, nobody said . . Greg! I yelled. You stand perfectly still! If Rick decides you need this bare-assed, youll get it bare-assed! Do you understand, boy? Greg started to cry - again - but just snuffled, yes sir! Yes sir! Yes sir! Im sorry, sir!
Much to my surprise, after slowly pulling his shorts down, Rick leaned forward and slowly began to lick the head of Gregs penis, which was large, cut and gloriously semi-erect - the turn-on was intense, but the fear kept him from full erection. Rick licked and teased the cut _c_o_c_k_head for several minutes until Greg was so hard he could have broken a board. Then he grabbed Gregs arm, and more expertly than I would have imagined, he pulled Greg over his lap and positioned him so that his snow white cheeks were face up for all of us to see. Then, smiling at me, he said in a surprisingly firm voice, Greg, youve needed this for a long time! Well, he spanked him. He didnt start soft, and he didnt slow down. He just wielded that hairbrush like a pro, and after about 10 smacks Greg began to wiggle, moaning, oh please, Rick, please! but Rick paid no attention. I was sitting in my chair with a full view of the proceedings, and I have to admit, my own rod was getting excited inside my trousers. Rick just kept spanking away, and soon Gregs moans turned to cries, while his butt danced and wiggled on Ricks lap. Then his feet began to beat a tattoo on the rug, and he started to yell - Rick! RICK! RICK! IM SORRY, MAN! IM SORRY MAN! PLEASE! PLEASSSSE! but RICK just kept smacking him.
About then, Rick raised his eyes and looked over at me. I signaled that he should slow down, but not stop. Just regular, hard smacks about every 5 seconds or so - let Greg feel this, my eyes told him. After about a two minutes, Greg lost it - he started to cry. Little boy getting spanked cries, of course, but I could see Rick thought these were genuine. He was almost ready to stop - I had to signal him to keep on going, and soon enough, Greg began the bad boy dance, his butt so hot it caused his legs to move to avoid the smacks, to soothe the heat. I was getting very hot, and from the look on Ricks face, so was he. Then, after about 5 minutes, I heard what I wanted to hear. Greg began to cry, really bawl like a little boy getting a bare-bottom spanking from his daddy. Oh pleasssse, smack! PLEASSSE RICK, smack! PLEASSE smack! RICK Im SORRY {sob} smack! RICK OH {sob} smack! RICK IT HURTS smack! {sob} OH RICKY smack! smack! OH RICKY OH RICKY {sob} smack smack {sob} smack! OOOWWW {sob} OH RICKY smack! AAWWWW {sob} OH RICK smack! smack! smack! smack!! OHH { sob sob} DADDY smack! OHH DADDY smack! smack! {sob} OH DADDY smack! smack! {sob} smack! IM SORRY {sob} smack! IM SORRY smack! smack! ILL BE GOOD I PROMISSSE smack! smack! smack! I PROMISSE OH DADDY IM SORRY AAAWWWW OHHHHHHH. Rick just rained that hairbrush down on Gregs ass, punishing him like a bad little boy over his daddys lap, and Greg just bawled out loud, losing all verbal skills, OOOOH HOOO HOOOO HOOOO OHH DADDDDDY OHHHHHH WOOOO HOOOO OOOOH OHHHH DADDDDDY OHHH! His feet were moving so fast you could hardly see them, and he had lost his last composure, he was just crying and bawling and sobbing now, a bad, bad little boy getting his spanking from his daddy.
Another 10 minutes and Gregs feet stopped moving, and now he just lay over Ricks lap, crying and bawling like an overage boy finally getting his comeuppance, a bad boy finally getting a long overdue spanking: HOOOO HOOOO OHH DADDDDDY OHHHHHH WOOOO HOOOO OOOOH OHHHH DADDDDDY! Rick stopped, looked at me, and I signaled that yes, that was enough, Greg had been broken, he was a spanked little boy. Greg lay there across Ricks lap for a long, long time, just crying his heart out, while Rick lightly rubbed his ass and kept repeating, Sssh, Greggie, its okay, you were a bad boy, but youve been spanked now, and its over, ssssh, Greggie, your spankings over, ssssh, its all okay now, you were bad but its all better now. Ssssh. Now it was time for Phase Two. To be continued -