Dean of Discipline: More Tales of Old-School Punishment

by Allen Bare

  The Dean of Discipline, Volume Two

  By

  Allen Bare

  ©2014 by CF Publications® and Allen Bare

  All rights reserved.

  No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Published by CF Publications®,

  PO Box 706

  East Setauket, NY 11733

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-62750-4362

  This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.

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  This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.

  Table of Contents:

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter One

  It had been a fairly strenuous Thursday, with eight students to paddle, and I was glad to see the end of it. At a little before six, I found Connie in her office. "Dinner?" I asked.

  "Good idea! I've been shuffling the same three pieces of paper for ten minutes. I think it's time I called it a day."

  We walked across the campus to Mulligan's, a brew pub on Main Street that was known for its food as well as its beer. We had a good meal, accompanied by an Extra Special Bitter, on my part, and, on Connie's, by Wit, a dry wheat beer with a slight tincture of orange peel and coriander. As we were leaving, we exchanged greetings with the Ruggleses, whom we met coming in. Ed looked glad to see us, but I noticed some coolness in Jo's expression. Well, I thought, you can't please everyone-but I would be disappointed if this promising friendship wasn't going to work out.

  Still, it was too nice an evening to dwell on that. Connie and I were filled with well-being as we strolled back through the campus to the parking lot behind the administration building.

  I could think of nothing I wanted nothing more than to get this sweet woman into the sack again, but an inner voice told me to take it easy and not be too pushy, aggressive, and male. So I said, as casually as I could manage, "Early night tonight?"

  Connie studied me for a moment. "Well, that depends," she said.

  "On what?"

  "On whether you come home with me," she said, grinning. "If you don't, I'll probably pace the floor all night in sheer frustration."

  "Oh, gosh, no sense both of us doing that. You lead; I'll follow."

  We got into our cars and lead she did, all the way to her little house and, once we got there, into her fragrant bedroom. Connie had put on a teasing mood, and before we got down to serious business she managed to provoke me-no difficult task, to be sure-into turning her over my knee and planting a fusillade of hearty smacks on her bared bottom, where I could see rosy traces of my recent handiwork.

  One thing, of course, led to the other.

  Somewhat later, as she rested in the curve of my arm, I said, "Well, Ms. McHugh, it looks as though we might be on the way to becoming ¼ an, um, item."

  "Mmmmm." It was a sigh of content.

  "So we'd better level with each other."

  Connie raised her head far enough to look at me. "What? You have a wife and six kids you haven't told me about?"

  "God forbid! No, I've told you almost all there is to know about me, though I admit there's a tiny bit more. I won't hold that back from you, but first I just want to ask you about something."

  "Goodness! What could that be?"

  "Well, I can't help suspecting that you've done this sort of thing before."

  Connie sat bolt upright, covering her face with both hands. "Alas!" she howled. "My secret is out! You have discovered that I am not altogether innocent of acquaintance with (blush, gulp) S-E-X!"

  "Oh, cut it out," I said, though somewhat distracted by the sight of her breasts. "You know that isn't what I'm talking about."

  "Well, just to make sure there are no painful misunderstandings," she said, "suppose you remind me of whatever it is I'm supposed to know."

  "Yeah, that's probably a good idea. What I'm talking about is the spanking. The way it turns you on. I don't mean just seeing a paddling, or even holding somebody down for one. I mean getting your own behind walloped. It gets you, uh ¼."

  "Sopping," she said simply. "Always has."

  "You mean those paddlings you got as a student?"

  "Uh, well, no, not quite, not at the time, at least. It hurt too much. But afterwards, when I was alone in my bed, and the pain had died down to a kind of dull ache, I'd start to feel a little sexy. I'd lie there on my belly and play it over in my head, from the time I came into the office until I left, and I'd think about reaching up under my skirt and slipping my panties down, and then lying across old Dean Jewett's lap, and feel my skirt being raised and my bottom being all bare, and it would get sexier and sexier until I'd be squirming and thrashing around and . . . well, you get the idea."

  "When did you start to have those feelings, do you remember? When you were little?"

  "I guess so. Daddy never spanked me-he was too much a gentleman of the old school to ever lay a rude hand on his daughter, no matter what she'd done. My discipline was left to Mama, and Mama didn't believe in violent means of child-rearing. But I'd sometimes hear Daddy whipping Billy with his belt, and the sounds got me pretty excited. I remember half-wishing he'd whip me some time, but I could never have spoken such a scandalous thought, and he wouldn't have done it anyway."

  "Well, to go back to my first question, did you ever manage to get sex and spanking onto the same menu? Before you met me, I mean?"

  Connie looked at me for a minute. "I'll tell you," she said. "But, first, do you mind telling me why you're asking me about this?"

  I had to think for a minute about my motive. "You know," I said, "I can't think of any reason why I have a right to know. I guess it's just that falling in love makes me curious." I remembered a passage in Henry Miller where he said that when you love a woman you want to know everything about her, even how she makes water. But did I really want to make old Henry my advisor on etiquette? "You really don't have to tell me anything," I said quickly. "Just being curious doesn't give me any right to know."

  "Oh, it's OK," she said. "And by the way, thank you for not shying away from the L word."

  "My uncompromising New England conscience."

  "You're a funny old Yankee." She kissed the tip of my nose. "Let's get comfortable again." She was still sitting upright, though she had pulled the sheet up to keep her breasts warm. I raised my arm and she settled her head on my shoulder.

  "I think I told you that I had a couple of relationships during the year I was getting my degree at UNC," Connie said. "One was with a very sweet man named Powell Pettigrew."

  "A fellow Southerner, I'd guess from the name," I said.

/>   "Oh, indeed. The Army of Northern Virginia had so many of his ancestors in it that I doubt General Lee could have taken the field if they'd all gone home at the same time. Powell was a specialist in Confederate history, as a matter of fact; he was very proud of his family history. But he wasn't a snob, and he didn't hate Northerners, either. He was a sweet, shy, well brought up Virginia boy, and I was terribly fond of him, even after I saw that it wasn't going to work out."

  "How come? If that isn't a rude question," I added.

  "Well, once we were intimate-and that wasn't right away, because Powell was so polite and shy that he needed lots of encouragement-it wasn't long before I began to feel that something was missing from our relationship."

  "Maybe I can guess what that was."

  "You wouldn't need three guesses. I wanted him to spank me. Sex was pretty good without that, but I knew how much better it would be if he'd play a little game with me beforehand, at least now and then. So, naturally, being an independent young woman of the eighties, I made my lover acquainted with my need."

  "And?"

  "And he was horrified. He couldn't imagine doing anything violent to a woman under any circumstances-that was the only way he was able to see it, as violence."

  "So, even though you told him you wanted it ¼."

  "He still couldn't make himself do it."

  "Did you ever try getting him mad?"

  "Oh, once, but all I managed to do was make him miserable, and that made me miserable. That approach didn't work at all. Another time I got him to agree, very reluctantly, to try playing a scene, where he was the stern headmaster and I was the schoolgirl caught sneaking in late. Powell did his best, he really did, but he was too self-conscious to be much of an actor. And, when he finally got me over his knee, he gave me three half-hearted smacks and had to quit. It was just too disturbing for him to really go ahead with it.

  "I could see that, if I stayed in that relationship, I was never going to be really satisfied. I think maybe Powell started to pull back a little, too; he had probably had second thoughts about making a commitment to a woman with such disturbing wishes."

  "So you broke up."

  "Well, it wasn't that simple. As I said, we were both very fond of each other, and we tried to keep things going, but we just got more and more unhappy, and finally both of us had to admit that it just wasn't going to work out. There was a lot of misery on both sides before it was finally over."

  She frowned. "Anyway, it ended, and I was still in Chapel Hill, working on my degree, which took another five months."

  "During which you met."

  "Nobody at all for a couple of months. I was really beginning to wonder if I wasn't a little bit crazy to have such weird desires. It wasn't the first time I'd had that thought, and I'm sure it must have occurred to you at least once or twice."

  "Oh, at regular intervals since my teens. I think I was at least 35 before I was finally able to accept that part of me."

  "That's what I love about you. You don't seem to be the least bit conflicted about it."

  "Well, it didn't come easy."

  "No, I guess not. -Now, where was I? Oh, yes, at loose ends in Chapel Hill. Not completely, of course; I had my degree to work on, and I really got a lot done during those next two months without any social life to distract me. But after a while I got itchy. Now that I was sure about what I wanted, it got harder and harder to keep my mind off it. I wasn't about to go out cruising for Mr. Goodbar; I might have been crazy, but I wasn't stupid.

  "Well, I wasn't stupid in that way, at least. Eventually I did something that was pretty stupid in another way. I'm embarrassed to tell you about it."

  "You don't have to," I said.

  "Oh, thanks, but I've decided to tell the whole truth," she said. "Even when it hurts."

  She paused a moment, as if pulling the threads of her story back together. "There was one professor I had a kind of crush on," she said at last. "Not quite a crush, I guess, I mean, I never imagined our being lovers. He was happily married for one thing, and thirty years older than me for another. His name was Austin Jarman, and he was one of those tall, lantern-jawed mountain men from Appalachia-somewhere in Kentucky, I think. He was by far the kindest and most sympathetic teacher I had there, almost fatherly in a way. I think that may be why I found myself having fantasies about him."

  "But not as a lover?"

  “No, never. I imagined myself getting into some kind of hot water and being called into his office to be admonished and."

  "Chastised?"

  "Of course. I imagined it over and over. I even wrote a story about it, with the names changed to protect the innocent, though I never showed it to anyone.

  "Anyhow, one day when I was feeling kind of frantic and frustrated, I actually went up to his office and tried to make the fantasy come true."

  "Oh, dear."

  "I told you it was stupid. I hadn't really done anything, but I pretended that a paper due the next day wasn't started, and I went on and on about how disorganized I was and how I didn't really have a good excuse, and finally I said, though I couldn't get it out without turning red, that sometimes I thought what I really needed was a good spanking."

  "Wow. How did he react to that?"

  "He just looked at me for a long time, while I sat there looking at my shoes and wishing that lightening would strike the building and reduce both of us to little piles of ashes. Finally, he began talking, and he was just incredibly kind and tactful and nice, and he didn't say a single word to make me feel any stupider than I already felt, or to suggest that what I was doing was in any way extraordinary or improper or out of line. But the basic message, underneath all that tact and kindness, was that I'd better go take a cold shower quick, before I got myself in trouble. I really did feel chastised when I left the office, though not in a way that helped a bit with my frustrations. I was utterly appalled when I thought about what I'd done, but I was grateful for the way he handled it."

  "Poor Connie. I wish I'd been there."

  "If you had, I wouldn't have needed to try any such shenanigans. Anyway, about a week later, I met another graduate student, a guy named Rogers Brown, coming out of the library, and he asked me to go get a cup of coffee with him, and pretty soon after that, we were going out."

  "So the social life livened up again."

  "Did it ever. Rogers didn't need any encouragement-the reverse if anything. If Powell was Ashley Wilkes, Rogers was Rhett Butler. We went to bed on our third date-which was a record for me, until I met you."

  "Well, I'm special."

  "Hmf. Anyway, I didn't have to tell Rogers about my peculiar needs; all I had to do was tease him once and I was over his knee with my pants down."

  "He was into it?"

  "If he wasn't, he did a dynamite imitation. And he loved acting. We played so many scenes together my bum was always black and blue, and I was afraid to sit down if anyone was looking-I moved like an old lady. But with all that inspiration the sex was fantastic. It's a wonder I managed to finish my work in time to get the degree."

  "But you did, and you came out here, and there doesn't seem to be any Rogers Brown around. What happened?"

  Connie shrugged. "I had a job offer here and Rogers was staying in Chapel Hill. He was working on a doctorate and still had a year or two to go. We were passionately involved with each other, but the L-word never came up and I didn't ever really expect it to. I don't think you can tie Rhett Butler down, not nowadays anyhow. I always knew down deep that it wasn't going to last. All the same, I was very unhappy that it ended so soon, and to give him credit I'm pretty sure Rogers felt the same way, but we both knew that, when I left Chapel Hill, we'd never see each other again, on purpose at least."

  "So you came out here and renounced sex and took up a life of nun-like devotion to your work."

  "Oh, I looked around-discreetly, because I'd learned my lesson from Professor Jarman-but there were no suitable males on the scene. I kept deciding to give it another year
, and then look for a job in some bigger place-maybe San Francisco or New York-where I'd have a better chance of meeting the right kind of man. But this place kind of gets to you, and I really like my life here, apart from no one paying attention to my misbehavior, so I kept renewing my lease. And now, you have arrived like Young Lochinvar out of the west to make all my fantasies come true."

  "I'll do my best, ma'am, but I should point out that if you think Sandersville, PA is west of here, your fantasies may be just a trifle distorted."

  "Distorted! Twisted! Warped!" Connie cackled happily, making a grab for a part of my anatomy that had, until then, been resting comfortably. What ensued was more of a wrestling match than a spanking, though it included elements of both.

  Quite a while after that, we were sitting by the fire-I back in my clothes, Connie wrapped in a robe-sipping Black Bush. "You owe me something," she pointed out.

  I knew what she meant. "Yes, I said there was one more thing to tell you about. Its this-there's another woman here at Emberley that I've played with. We're not emotionally involved, but we did agree to see each other now and then to talk. And maybe to play.

  "I want you to understand that I'm not in love with this woman, and I don't think there's any chance of that happening. And she's not in love with me. I wouldn't ask you to accept any situation that would lessen my commitment to you. But I would like to be able to keep my agreement with her. Is there any way you can accept that?"

  "Wow." Connie sipped her drink. "I don't know. I mean, every time you spank me, it leads straight to sex. How can you keep that from happening with this person, whoever she is?"

  "I manage to keep it from happening with the students, don't I?"

  "Well, sure, but that's different. You're in your office. Even so, you can't deny that spanking them makes you feel sexy."

  "I sure can't deny it to you! And who, so far, is the only person in the world, apart from myself, to benefit from all the sexy feelings that get stirred up in that way?"