Steve came to the end of his first year at Oxford. He did exceptionally well in his Part One examinations and took a first. He had also come a long way in the 'school of discipline', thanks to Professor Andrews and Eric, a second-year student who had been appointed his 'prefect'. However, the long summer vacation was about to begin and as everyone went their separate ways, Steve was no longer to receive the regular strict discipline Eric had provided. Steve's parents were impressed by the change they saw in their son and attributed it to the effect of attending university. They had no idea that it had much more to do with the pain Steve regularly felt in his backside as he received correction for his faults. Towards the end of the vacation, however, Steve was slipping back into his old 'cheeky brat' ways and they were glad to see the back of him when term started again and he returned to Oxford.
As a scholar, Steve was given the option of remaining in his room a second year - an option he was happy to accept. It was nice to have such a secluded place to receive discipline in privacy. Before long Eric came to pay him a visit. "Had a good vac, Steve?"
"Yeah, great! How about you?"
"Me too. Have you been keeping your journal?"
Steve realised with horror that the last entry in his journal was dated a month ago.
"Er, yeah. There are one or two gaps, but basically yes."
"Let's have a look at it then."
Eric opened the diary and noted with approval the full detailed entries for the first three weeks of the vacation, then frowned at the meagre entries for the next week or so and the blank space thereafter. "Steve, this isn't good enough. I suspect you've slipped back into your old ways again. I've seen it in your whole demeanour. You've gone back to being a brat again."
"No I haven't. You've got no right to judge me like that. You're only 18 months older than me."
"I've got every right. Professor Andrews delegated that authority to me and you accepted it. Now get those jeans and pants off and drape yourself over that piano stool while I think what to do with you."
Steve pouted and huffed, but realised it was in his best interests to obey. Meanwhile Eric extracted two long rattan canes and a couple of stout bushy birches from his bag. "Get that bottom up! You will receive a dozen strokes from each of my canes and a dozen from each of these birches."
"Eric, please! Break me in gently. I haven't had such a severe punishment for months! At least give me gentle warm up."
"No Steve. You've got to learn. And to make sure you don't get up until your punishment is over, I'm going to strap you to the piano stool." Steve meekly acceded.
Eric's canings were no joke. He had learned the technique well from Professor Andrews. With a minimum of effort and a deft flick of the wrist he made the cane bite like fire into Steve's buttocks. The pain was agonising and Steve begged for mercy.
"No Steve. You have no excuse for neglecting your journal. What's more, I am going to report you to the professor and you will be summoned, no doubt, for another session of discipline."
Eric completed Steve's two dozen strokes of the cane. Steve's legs were shaking and tears were starting to come to eyes as he realised his punishment was only half over. As the birch-rods did their work, he yelled and pleaded, but to no avail. And when he thought of the further punishment he would receive from the professor, he began to sob. Finally the birching came to an end. The skin on his bottom was broken in a number of places. Eric wiped the bleeding with a disinfected cloth and rubbed cream into Steve's bottom. There was no cum this time. Steve had had no erection or _s_e_x_ual thrill. This was pure punishment and he knew he had deserved it. He hung over the piano stool like a limp doll.
"Thank you, Eric" he said feebly.
A few days later the professor summoned him. It was a warm Friday evening in October, a year to the day since Steve's very first appointment with him. The door opened and the professor's bear-like frame appeared. He wore a serious expression and Steve knew he was really 'in for it' this time. "I'm worried about you, young Steven. You're 19 now and starting your second year. I had hoped you would be further down the road of discipline by now, but by all accounts the 'cheeky brat' in you has not been fully dealt with."
"No sir" said Steve miserably.
"Well then, young man. Kindly remove your shorts and underpants and drape yourself over the horse."
Steve obeyed without a murmur of dissent. He was truly sorry and ashamed that during the vacation he had regressed. Although his bottom was still sore from the thrashing Eric had given him, Steve was utterly resigned to receiving an even more severe thrashing now. He spread his legs wide in anticipation of receiving the cane. The professor opened the cheeks of his bottom and inspected his anus. "Good to see you're keeping yourself clean. I see too that Eric has recently thrashed you."
"Yes sir. I deserved it, sir. In fact, I deserve a lot more."
"Indeed you do. But your bottom is in no condition to receive it. I have decided to give you a suspended thrashing. You will stay here in my home this weekend and will do all the chores that need doing round the house and garden. If your attitude shows signs of genuine contrition, I will cancel your thrashing altogether. If not, you will get the thrashing of your life - far worse than anything you have experienced so far."
Steve breathed a genuine sigh of relief: "Thank you, sir. I won't let you down, sir." And he didn't. That Saturday and Sunday he worked like a Trojan from dawn till late evening. Late on Sunday he completed his last chore - cleaning and waxing all the professor's canes, of which there was a huge number. He was sure that one or more of them would soon be making contact with his bottom. He had a ball-busting erection as he anticipated the thrashing he would receive. He was now gagging to be caned.
But the thrashing never came. His daydreaming was suddenly interrupted by a crisp voice. "Steven! Well done, young man! I am much impressed by your change in attitude. You have carried out an enormous number of chores and done them even more diligently than I demanded. You have shown genuine contrition for your faults. I know you are gagging for a caning and you could have deliberately done your work in a slipshod fashion, hoping that I would thrash you. But you have resisted that temptation and given me no cause to discipline you. You are therefore free to go. Just be careful, otherwise you may have to suffer a really humiliating punishment."
"Thank you, sir!" said Steve, amazed at the professor's mercy. Tired but happy, he returned to his room in college.