College Discipline Read online

  "Oh my god. I so want to do it," squealed Jenna.

  Heather wasn't so sure. "It's not about sex, Jenna. It's about developing self discipline. And he doesn't give you love smacks, that's for sure. It hurts like hell and I cry like a baby sometimes. Is that what you're expecting?"

  "You know what it is?" answered Jenna, "When I was a young teenager my dad, who was an alcoholic asshole, used to discipline me with a belt. It made me so angry that I had to take it because I had no choice. So I always wanted to get revenge and the only way I could was to do worse things than what I got whipped for. Like, if I got whipped for smoking cigarettes I'd go out and smoke pot for revenge. So I spent three years smoking, drinking, taking drugs and doing all sorts of dumb shit just to get my own kind of payback. Isn't that crazy?" asked Jenna.

  "I suppose it is, but I can understand why you'd feel that way when you were a kid. So why do you want to get disciplined now?" asked Heather.

  "I think it's because I have guilt about the stuff I did when I was younger. I think I want to get punished for it so I won't have the guilt anymore. You know, my grades are pretty good anyway and I don't really need help there. But I would like to feel less guilty about all the shit I did and I think if I was disciplined for it now - when I can choose to do it and not be forced - I would feel better. Does that sound weird?" said Jenna.

  "Not really. I know what you mean about feeling guilty about things you can't take back. Sometimes you want to be punished in some way just to make it right or feel like things are balanced," said Heather.

  "Exactly. Can you set something up with this Professor of yours?" asked Jenna eagerly.

  Heather pulled her phone from her pocket and tapped out a text message. A minute later she received a reply. She smiled and said to Jenna, "Well, tomorrow night at 8PM you're going to feel a lot less guilt. But don't blame me if you can't sit down comfortably for a week." They both laughed.

  The next evening Jenna asked Heather to come with her to the first meeting just to make the introductions. Jenna was nervous and wanted the security of a friend being there to at least break the ice. Heather agreed but said she would leave after a few minutes so they could have a session in private.

  They arrived on time and were ushered into the living room by the Professor. Heather explained why they both came and he had no objection. He started to ask Jenna about her studies and grades. Jenna explained that her grades were fine but that she had issues concerning guilt and thought she would feel less guilty if she were properly punished for the things she had done in the past. She was surprised at the answer she received.

  "I hear that a lot," said the Professor. "After needing help to self-motivate it's the next most common reason that people want my services. Many people strongly believe the only way they can move on from feelings like yours is to pay a price in pain and suffering. They are tired of emotional pain and want to have physical pain instead. Does that sound like your situation, Jenna?"

  "Yes. That's it exactly," she replied. "I know it might sound weird or crazy or whatever, but I just want the hardest spanking I've ever had in my life. I want it to hurt for days. I want it with a belt or strap or something really serious."

  Heather put her hands over her face. Jenna saw her and asked, "What? What did I say?"

  Heather smiled nervously, "Be careful what you ask for, Jenna. The Professor has implements that hurt more than you can imagine. You might think you want it but when it's happening all you want is for it to stop."

  Jenna seemed unconcerned. "I'm serious. I want it to be severe. But there is one thing I need to ask you about, Professor. Heather told me how you get paid for your service. I'm cool with that. But I'd prefer to do it at the beginning of a session instead of at the end. Is that okay with you?"

  "Why do you want to do it at the beginning?" asked the Professor.

  "I don't want to keep any energy in reserve. I don't want to have to stop the discipline session when I think I can still give you a blow...y'know...pay you. Because then I have to be thinking about stopping earlier than I could. Do you know what I mean?" said Jenna.

  The Professor answered, "Frankly, I think it's astute of you to think this through the way you have. I can see that you are earnest in your desire to be, shall we say, firmly punished. I will agree to let you perform oral sex before the session, but I have a condition to which both you and Heather must agree. My stipulation is that Heather remain in the room for the duration of your session and that she agrees to help you get home afterwards."

  Heather didn't say anything. Jenna asked, "What for?"

  "As you said, you will not be trying to preserve your energy. At the end of the session you will be in no condition to simply walk out of here like you just left a spa. You might find it hard to walk. You'll be weak and feel very drained. I need to know that you will get home safely and I trust Heather to do that," said the Professor.

  Heather was immediately flattered to hear him say that he trusted her. It was such a compliment that she didn't consider what it would be like to witness a session before she blurted out her acceptance of the condition. Jenna just shrugged and said, "Okay, fine with me if she stays."

  "Very well," said the Professor, "remove all your clothes and stand in the middle of the room.

  Jenna hadn't realized, or wasn't paying attention when told, that she would be completely naked during her session. Her mind's eye had automatically pictured her teenaged spankings where she had her skirt raised or her pants lowered and was spanked over her panties. That was always plenty embarrassing but she had two reasons to be more embarrassed now. Firstly, her pussy was completely shaved and she had a tattoo of an angel holding a heart right above her pussy. The tattoo included the word 'Heaven.' It was something that only her lovers ever saw and the thought of the Professor and Heather seeing her somewhat boastful and slutty tattoo gave her pause.

  Secondly, Jenna had outrageously large natural boobs that she always kept tightly corralled inside full bras and under clothes that never showed cleavage. She wasn't used to people seeing her naked breasts. She considered protesting but realized she had already negotiated everything and all three of them had agreed. She had a vague recollection of both Heather and the Professor using the word naked when telling her about the sessions and figured she had just been too focused on all her other concerns to allow the word naked to register. Now she was committed.

  She dutifully removed all of her clothes and and stood as instructed, albeit while blushing. The Professor was very happy at what he saw. Jenna had wonderful curves, a tight, flat stomach and a firm, rounded ass that would be perfect for paddling. Her medium length hair was too short for her to sweep in front of her breasts to cover them. She noticed both Heather and the Professor were staring at her boobs.

  The Professor deliberately took his time and made her stand in the center of the room during uncomfortable silence. Finally he said, "My, my, don't you have a wonderful body. I'll bet that body got you into a lot of trouble when you were a teenager, didn't it?" he asked.

  "Yes, Professor," she answered, as she had been told to address him during sessions.

  "You told me about your drinking and drug use but you never mentioned anything about sex. Did you let boyfriends play with those big tits just to get back at your parents?"

  Jenna blushed more and looked at the floor, "Yes, Professor."

  The Professor was pleased at her embarrassment, "And did you let them touch your pussy for the same reason?" he asked.

  "Yes, Professor."

  "And did your desire to have revenge on your parents also drive you to suck cocks as a teenager, Jenna?" he asked.

  "Yes, Professor," she admitted.

  "Are you ashamed of all the cock-sucking and fucking you did behind your parent's backs, Jenna?"

  Jenna's eyes began to fill with tear. "Yes, Professor," she answered.

  "Say it," he prompted her.

  "I'm ashamed at all the cock-sucking and fucking I did as a teenager behin
d my parent's backs," she replied while choking back tears.

  The Professor stood up and said, "Well, let's see what you learned. Come over here now and put your mouth on my cock and show me how much you've learned from your years of bad behavior."

  Jenna got on her knees in front of him and unfastened his pleated pants, lowered his black, silk boxer shorts and feasted her eyes on the best cock she had ever seen. She gripped it loosely with both hands and there was still room for her mouth to take in the head and part of the shaft. She slowly licked and sucked at the head of his cock and a small moan escaped her throat.

  Heather's mind was reeling. She had never been in a room with two people having sex before. As she sat on the sofa she had an unobstructed view of Jenna performing oral sex on the Professor. She could also she how much the Professor was enjoying her efforts, a view Heather never had when she was the one doing the sucking. She felt strangely jealous and realized she had feelings for the Professor that went beyond what she had been aware of. She wanted to be the one giving him pleasure. Her blowjobs had always been at the end of her discipline sessions and she cried and sputtered the whole time, mostly aware of the pain of her burning ass and nothing else. But Jenna was enjoying her duty. She was hungrily sucking and slurping and working his thick shaft with both of her small, slippery hands. She was moaning and quite deliberately wagging her ass in every direction as she knelt in front of him.

  Seeing her ass begging for attention was perfection for the Professor. Jenna had no idea that the more she gyrated her little ass, the more it was going to get whipped raw. The thought of it pushed the Professor passed the brink and he pressed her head deep against his cock and yelled "Take it!" as he released his load into her mouth. Jenna swallowed what she could and licked and sucked the rest of his cum to ensure he was cleaned as he had instructed.

  Heather was mesmerized by the vision of the Professor standing tall over Jenna and arching his muscular neck and back as he unloaded and moaned. She wanted it to be her that serviced him. She wanted to jump off the sofa and yell, "Please fuck me, Professor. Or spank me. Or whip me!" Anything. She wanted his undivided attention yet knew she would not be getting it. The Professor had not even looked at Heather the whole time Jenna was sucking his cock.

  As he zipped his trousers he moved to his chair and said to Jenna, "Now come over here and place yourself over my knee for a spanking."

  "Yes, Professor," she replied while getting up from being on her knees.

  When she was positioned as required, the professor began to spank her. After only a few smacks he increased the temp and the force of each blow. Jenna did not make any sound nor any defensive moves. She just took it. Heather was surprised at how loud the spanking was and how hard the Professor was landing his blows.

  After nearly one hundred spanks the Professor told Jenna to stand. Her hands instinctively moved to her ass cheeks and she could feel the heat from them. They stung but it was not as painful as she thought it might be. From across the room Heather could clearly see two pink circles on her ass cheeks.

  "Thank you, Professor. Are we done?" asked Jenna.

  The Professor smiled and almost laughed. "That wasn't even a warm-up. I'd say we're a couple of hours from being done, Jenna."

  For the first time, Jenna began to wonder what she had gotten herself into. A couple of hours? Her teenaged whippings consisted of a dozen or so good licks with a belt. What could take two hours? Then she saw the Professor open a drawer and remove a red, leather strap. It was only about a foot long but it was very thick leather and had a black, wooden handle at one end. "Resume your position over my knee," the Professor told her. Jenna obeyed. She was only in position a second when the first stroke landed with a sharp snap.

  The pain was much more than the Professor's bare hand. It was beyond a sting. Before Jenna could calculate what made it feel so much worse she had received several more applications of the leather. The Professor was alternating between each cheek and every stroke felt harder than the last. Jenna began to squirm on his knee only to be told to keep still or he would start over. He continued with a steady cadence until he administered fifty strokes and Jenna began to cry quietly. Without a moment's rest the Professor told Jenna to get on the floor on her knees and elbows.

  Jenna complied but mistakenly positioned herself on her hands and knees. "I said elbows," corrected the Professor. Jenna adjusted so that her forearms bore her weight instead of the palms of her hands. In that position her heavy breasts pulled downward so her nipples grazed the carpet of the Professor's living room.

  The Professor looked at Heather, "Would you be a dear and fetch my number three paddle from the wall of the other room?" he asked her.

  Heather was shocked to hear him use the word dear but sprang up and trotted to the dungeon room. On one wall there hung a dozen paddles of different shapes, sizes and types of wood. Each was in its numbered place. She removed the paddle from the number three position and hurried back to the living room. When she handed it to him he gave her a sly smile as if he was secretly sharing his amusement with her. She could tell that he enjoyed her being there. Heather beamed.

  The Professor walked in front of Jenna and held the paddle in front of her. "Now you're going to get thirty with this before we move you into the dungeon and get serious. I want you to think about all the things you need to confess tonight."

  "Confess?" she asked.

  "That's right. I want you to be clear about what you feel guilty about doing and that means you need to confess it out loud. And then, of course, be punished for it. So start thinking about that right now," he told her.

  Before she could reply he swatted her across the ass with the heavy oak paddle. Jenna shrieked for the first time. The pain was deep and enduring. The Professor used a much slower cadence so she would feel the heat and pain of each stroke before the next one landed. Each blow drove her body forward and caused her nipples to scratch across the carpet, forward and back. By the end of the strokes her ass was deep red and her thick, swollen nipples were rubbed raw. She cried openly without trying to hide it from either witness.

  The Professor told her to stand up. "Heather, please take her into the dungeon and put her on the bench," he said. Heather helped Jenna get to her feet and then ushered her into the dungeon. She quietly whispered to Jenna, "Are you alright?"

  Jenna looked into her eyes and answered quietly, "Yes, it's amazing. I just need this," then she cried again. There was a long bench in the room. It tapered lengthwise so Jenna's hips pressed against the broad end and her head rested at the narrow end. The Professor pulled one of her ankles wide and fasted it to the heavy leg of the bench with a leather cuff. He told Jenna to spread her legs and then fastened her other ankle in a cuff. She was bent at the waist with her torso resting on the bench and her buttocks and pussy in full view.

  "Heather, please fasten her wrists to the cuffs that are straight ahead of her," he asked. To reach the cuffs Jenna's arms had to be pulled fully forward and her wrists were fastened together and held down firmly. The Professor fastened a thick leather harness across Jenna's lower back and cinched it tight. He stepped back and surveyed his work. Jenna was rendered immobile. Her legs were spread and fastened so that her toes barely touched the floor, her torso was held down to the bench and her arms were locked to the far end of the bench. He could also see her breasts were squeezed under her.

  "Heather, her breasts are being pressed into the bench. Please separate them and allow them to hang down freely on each side of the bench," said the Professor. Heather had never touched another woman's breasts. She stole a quick look at Jenna who nodded her permission. The bench under Jenna's chest was narrow and Heather cupped the left breast in her hand and gently moved it to the side. She felt the hot, swollen nipple in the palm of her hand and it sent an erotic shiver through her. She moved to the other side of the bench and slowly moved Jenna's right breast. It was so large it filled her whole hand easily. She let it linger for just an extra moment. It
was full and heavy and the hard nipple pressed into her hand deliciously. Jenna moaned with relief when both breasts were allowed to hang freely. The Professor smiled when he saw Heather absentmindedly lick her lips and then look away from Jenna.

  "Jenna, I want you to tell me something for which you feel guilty," said the Professor as he removed a leather tawse from the wall. It was longer than most tawses and had a double thickness of leather stitched together. It appeared very supple as if it had many years of frequent use. "Go on," he prompted, "tell me something you did that makes you feel guilty.

  "I took drugs," said Jenna.

  "Name one," said the Professor.

  "I smoked pot," Jenna offered.

  Without any delay a lash from the tawse landed viciously across both cheeks of Jenna's tenderized ass. As she yelped, another landed and then a third.

  "What else"" asked the Professor.

  "I took my mom's diet pills," admitted Jenna.

  Three more strokes landed on her swelling cheeks. The pain was bitting and Jenna began to cry.

  "What else"" asked the Professor.

  "I drank alcohol and got drunk a lot," she cried.

  Crack! Crack! Crack! Heather began to wince as she watched the hard lashes fall onto Jenna's flesh. Jenna twisted and contorted herself under the restraints.

  "What else"" asked the Professor.

  "I tried cocaine once," admitted Jenna as she convulsed with pain.

  Three more strokes of the wicked tawse were applied exactly where the last three had landed. Welts began to form and Jenna cried so hard she could not speak. The Professor returned the tawse to its place and removed a leather strap about the size of a man's belt. He gave Jenna a few minutes to recover.

  "Now, Jenna, I want you to tell me who you hurt?"

  Jenna paused to think. "I hurt my mom," said Jenna, with remorse in her voice.

  The Professor laid five hard strokes across the backs of her legs. Jenna jerked so hard she moved the bench and screamed like she was being strangled.

  "Who else"" asked the Professor.