He knocked on my door about 40 minutes after I got back to my office, about 15 minutes after I sent the email of my schedule. I was surprised he was so early. I expected his knock, but I expected it 55 minutes into my office hour, not 15. I got up from my deck and opened the door quickly and wide and stood well back from it.
"Well, hello. Come in. Sit down." He looked composed, not nervous, but not at ease either. I tried to read him, but couldn't.
"I got your email and decided to come over."
He looked at me and at the floor and at me again. I said nothing.
"Well, um,"
He didn't know where to go next, and I decided to let him sit and twist for a minute or so. I went back to my side of the desk and sat down. I picked up a pen from the blotter and rolled it back and forth between the palms of my hands. I watched him alternately watch me and his shoes.
"I was thinking of the discussion we had over lunch.........about ........what is the biggest lack in the community college. Um. I said that was ...."
I wondered if he would actually say the word again. I said nothing and leaned back in my chair.
"Um. I said it was discipline."
Ah! He said it!
"And you said we could all use discipline."
Time to let him up.
"No, Mr. Collins, you said that. You said: 'We can all use discipline.' I asked if that included you. And you said........?"
"On occasion."
"And you thought this might be one of those occasions?"
"Yes."
"'Sir'" His next comment would resolve things. If he did not use the title, it was over. If he did, he was mine. I deliberately did not stop rolling the pen, but kept it at a steady rate. He could not tell the pressure against it had increased or that my palms were slightly moister than when he came in.
As if to make me wait, he did not speak for a moment.
"Yes, Sir, this might be one of those occasions."
I could tell that he was as fully aware of what his answer mean as I was because he stood up and put his hands behind his back. A moment later, he raised his chin and looked me directly in the eyes.
"Well. Mr. Collins, you say this is one of those occasions. I must ask you to state it directly, so there is no misunderstanding. What occasion is it, Mr. Collins?" I wanted him to answer questions, to ask for it, more than once.
"Sir, it is one of those occasions on which I need some discipline, Sir." He was not rushing this at all. He was taking it in stages. I decided he enjoyed the catechism as much as I did.
"And then why are you here? So there is no misunderstanding, Mr. Collins?"
"Sir, I am here for you to give me the discipline that I need on this occasion, Sir." He was fully into now. He was looking straight through me at the wall behind. His upper arms moved very slightly as he clenched and unclenched his hands behind his back. I imagined his bottom moved likewise.
"Well, I will give you the discipline you need, Mr. Collins, and perhaps just a little more. Just a little more than you think you need. In any case, you will receive the discipline, both type and amount that I think you need. Is that clear, Mr. Collins?"
"Yes sir. Perfectly clear, Sir." His breathing began to come in shorter but deeper breaths. He would be very good to punish. And I would be glad to do it. I put the pen down, sat up straight in my chair, and pulled myself in toward the desk.
"Very good. Now come over here to this side of the desk and stand with your palms flat on the desk itself."
He did so at once, leaning forward slightly to do so. He held his chin up, looking at the wall in front of him. I sat still, pretending to shuffle some papers on the desk. "Oh, please unbuckle your belt, unbutton your trousers and lower the zipper all the way down."
He did so, without comment and started to push his pants down. He was more eager than I had thought.
"No, don't do that. Just put your hands back on the desk. If you remove your hands from the desk without permission, Mr. Collins, this session will be over at once and there will be no other sessions, ever." I picked up the meter stick that was lying on my desk, and walked behind him. He did not turn his head, or even move his eyes to follow me. "Is that understood, Mr. Collins?"
"Yes, Sir. I am not to move, Sir."
"And you are not to speak. Do not volunteer any information. Do not comment. Answer my questions in a simple 'yes, sir,' or 'no, sir.' Any more than would indicate a, um, well, lack of discipline, and earn you additional punishment."
"Yes, Sir."
I snapped the meter sick across his ass with considerable force, swinging savagely to make it hurt. Simultaneously, I grabbed his left shoulder with my left hand. He gasped, and jerked upright, removing his right hand from the desk but keeping the fingertips of his left hand in place.
"I did not ask you anything, Mr. Collins. That last comment of mine did not require an answer. Now, lean forward, Mr. Collins, and put your fore-arm and elbows on the desk.
He did so at once, dropping his head in the process, and slightly humping his back so that his bottom tucked under. I put my hand on the small of his back and pushed down. He knew exactly what I wanted, and arched his back, pushing his bottom up and out, an raised his chin to look, again, at the wall.
"Thank you Mr. Collins. That is good. Now do not move. I am about to start your discipline, the discipline that, on this occasion, you need."
I delivered the next three strokes of the meter stick in less than 8 seconds. Not as severe as the first, but landed in exactly the same spot, where his thighs met his buttocks, they hurt I knew. He gasped, and dropped his chin. I could tell from his breath that he was biting his lip.
Five more, landed in under 10 seconds, then a few seconds pause, and 5 more. I keep this rhythm up, 5 fast strokes -- a few seconds pause -- 5 fast strokes, until he had taken 50. I put my hand on his bottom to feel the head coming through his pants.
"Does that hurt, Mr. Collins? Have you had enough discipline?"
"Yes, Sir, um, I mean, no Sir."
I delivered three strokes, as hard as I could apply them. "'Um,' 'I,' and 'mean' were not necessary, Mr. Collins, were they?"
He paused, thinking of whether he needed to answer or not. This was my signal. Another cut with the meter stick, the hardest yet.
"No Sir!" He gasped, almost shouted. But he did not move. How strong! I reached around in front of him and brushed against his penis. I did not want to fondle it, to give him the pleasure or even let him know I was interested in his pleasure, but I did want to know if he was aroused. His penis was flaccid.
I put the meter stick down parallel to his left arm and grasped his belt buckle to the right of his open fly. I pulled it out steadily, again holding his left shoulder in my left hand.
"Do you know what I am going to do with this, Mr. Collins?"
"Yes, Sir. Yer...."
As he began to say "you're" I quickly let go of his left shoulder and grabbed for the meter stick. But he stopped. How fast he learned! "What am I going to do?"
"You're going to use it on my ass, Sir."
"Yes, but first." I moved behind him, grasped his pants by the waist, and yanked them to his ankles in one fast jolt. His ass, bare because I had demanded his underpants at lunch, was crossed with broad, red lines. In one or two places, I could see just the thinnest of welts, when two or more successive strokes had overlapped.
"I am sorry you do not have underpants on, Mr. Collins. A strap is considerably more painful on bare skin. But if you wish not to wear underpants,......"
"But you..."
The meter stick cracked as it struck his ass this time. He jerked almost upright, but not quite. I could over look it.
I flipped the coat tails up onto his back and stood again to his right. I doubled the belt, holding the buckle end in my right hand. His waist size made the belt a good 18" long doubled like this, I could easily hold the folded end in my left hand and snap it out of my grasp with the right hand, making it land with considerably more force on his already well-abused ass.
He did not stand or attempt to straighten up, but did move his hips from side to side and begin to gently sob during the 75 strokes of the belt. At first, each swat left a small, rounded darker red mark on the red bottom, but soon, they so over lapped that his entire ass was a deep vermilion.
I stopped, and listened to his slow sobs.
"You have been disciplined, Mr. Collins. You may stand up. But do not touch your ass or your pants."
He stood and turned to face me. I could see that his face was wet and red, but with tears or sweat, I did not know, nor care.
"There is just one more thing for you to do. Do you remember what I said about discipline?"
"Yes, sir."
"Do you remember what I said the beginning of discipline was?"
He frowned and started to answer. But I interrupted him.
"If you do not, perhaps another session with the strap will refresh your memory."
Either he had remembered all along or the threat brought it back.
"Yes, Sir," he said, "Obedience is the beginning of discipline."
"Yes, but I believe what I actually said was 'the beginning of discipline is obedience.'" He blanched, and looked at the belt I still held doubled in my hands. "No, that is all right Mr. Collins. You have been disciplined. You will not receive more of the strap because of your error. Nonetheless, the beginning of discipline is obedience. And I want you to be obedient to me. Will you be obedient, Mr. Collins?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Go on."
"Yes, Sir. I will be obedient to you."
"Good. Here is what you are to do. After you pull up your pants, button them and zip them, you are to walk directly to the gym and take a shower. In the shower or after it, you are to masturbate. If I were you, I would use some piece of soap you find in the shower and lather up your private area well so you can beat off without looking too much like you are beating off. Once you have masturbated to orgasm, your discipline session will be over. Until you tell me the next occasion has arisen."
He did not move. He looked at me. I knew he had a question, but I did not say anything. It was good for him to wait, like "corner time," but more effective. Finally, after a full minute, I said "Yes?"
"Sir, what if I am seen? I mean, my ass will show that....."
"You have been spanked? Yes, it will. And masturbating is to call attention to yourself in case someone may, through modesty or disinterest, not give you a good careful look. Obey me, Mr. Collins, for I will know whether or not you have by the look on your face the next time I see you. Obey me, Mr. Collins, or our relationship is over."
"Yes, Sir."
"My last comment did not require an answer. Hand me the meter stick."
The second stroke broke the meter stick in two.
"You are dismissed Mr. Collins, to the gym."
He pulled up his pants, zipped them, and left the office in silence. Only a careful observer would notice the strangeness in his gait as he left. Only someone familiar with the effects of a thorough whipping could guess the cause. I did not need to guess.