The Floundering
story codes: MF, Spanking

The Floundering Undergrad, Concluded
by Don Frank

Some weeks and several more conferences later, Amy handed in the final
draft.  Each session ended up in the office, of course, where she was
disciplined.  Now, with the paper completed, she was somewhat surprised
when I asked her what she felt she needed.

Hesitantly, she replied, "The strap?"  

I told her to bend over the desk in her undies, removing only her pants.  I
tied her arms up over her head, so that there would be no escape.  Then:


There was a savagery, a brutality in this first blow, far beyond what she
was expecting.  She jumped, crying out in pain.  "That's too much, Sir!"

Now, the final tricks of this hand had to be played carefully.  I had
triumphed as either a Dom or a Top, but the cerebral Domination was not
yet complete.  I needed to take the chance; it was now or never.

WHACK!!  A second blow, even harder than the first.  She struggled to
free herself, but in vain.  "Please, stop, Sir!" she pleaded, to no avail.  
The third blow reduced her to tears.  Her helplessness, the pain, my
indifference to her limits:  How much more could she take?

. . . and the next thing she knew, I was pulling down her panties.  For a
moment, she feared the worst -- that the subsequent blows would fall on
bare skin.  But to her relief, it was the salve, not the strap, which she felt
-- comforting, gentle, and soothing.  I came around and released her
arms, then told her to put on her pants.  I even handed her some tissues,
to blow her nose and wipe her eyes.

"The wheel has gone full circle," I said, in an obvious parody.

Amy nodded with recognition.  She didn't dare register her resentment,
but the look on her face could not be camouflaged.  Nevertheless, she
was relieved when I spoke to her, very gently.

"O.K., Amy.  What has just happened here?  I want you to speak freely."

She hesitated, then began:  "That was much too hard, Sir.  You really  
hurt me.  And why didn't you stop when I begged you to?  You . . . you . .

"I crossed the line?"

"Yeah, I'd say so!" she replied, with some indignation.

"The metaphor, Amy?"

She paused for a moment, taken aback.  Then it came to her.  "I crossed
the line first, when I plagiarized, didn't I?"

"Exactly.  Now, the dramatic metaphor?  From something 20th century!"

For a moment, she felt sheer dread.  Would she have to be spanked
some more if she couldn't recall?  Her ass simply could not take any more
than it had already been given.  She shrugged her shoulders.

"Don't worry," I said, smiling gently.  "I won't discipline you further.  I just
want you to think, to recall, to ---"

"Of course!" she interrupted, with a big smile.  "Uncle Ben in DEATH OF A
SALESMAN:  ‘Never fight fair with a stranger, Boy.  You'll never make it
out of the jungle alive that way.’  Right?"

"Excellent!" I replied.  "Now, would you care to stay for dinner . . .?"

The next week, Amy came to collect her paper and final grade.
"This is absolutely excellent work," I began, most sincerely.  "Go right to
the last page to see your grade."

Of course, it was an "A."  Better than that was the enormous pride she
felt.  She wanted to jump up and hug me, but my stern presence checked
that impulse.  Still, she broke out in a warm smile.  "Thank you, Sir.  
Thank you SO much!"

"You earned it," I said.  "How are the other courses going?"

"I'll be back in the Summa Cum range if I can Ace the last two finals.  And
I have to admit it.  Our disciplinary sessions really turned things around
for me this semester."

"Great," I said.  "Now, I'd like you to join me in the office."

Amy followed me without hesitation, but with more than a little trepidation.  
"Shall I get the paddle, Sir?" she asked.

"Not yet," I replied.  "I'd like you to share some of your inner thoughts with
me right now.  You've been through a great deal this semester.  You were
floundering in all your classes, but you've snapped out of it.  True, I've
spanked you, paddled you, whipped you, even hurt you last week.  But
you’ve turned a corner, and grown immensely, and I don't really think that
the "discipline" was the only reason for that.  What has happened?"

Amy needed a few seconds to reflect.  So much HAD happened.  How?  
"Well . . ." she began.

"Would you feel more comfortable if I told you that I'm really not planning
to discipline you at all today.  Your grade is already in.  I'd just like to
know more, to understand better."

Amy was relieved -- (although a light ass-warming . . . well, no matter; she
could live without it!) -- and started to explain.  Then, suddenly, she
stopped.  "Sir -- could I ask you something?"

"I thought I was the one with the questions!" I said, smiling.

"Well," she replied, blushing noticeably.  "Could I . . .?  Could I . . .
undress?  I mean, it's not that I want to . . . you know . . ., but -- "

I smiled.  "Sure."

"And, after I'm naked, could you maybe give me just a couple of playful
swats on the ass?"

I nodded my head.  "I'm sure that could be negotiated," I assured her.
Then, staring right at me, she peeled off her clothes.  Off came the socks
. . . the shirt . . . the pants and undies, together . . . and, while she stared
right at me, the bra.  For the first time ever, she stood before me in her
naked glory.  She continued to blush, unable to hide the flush of
excitement sweeping over her, but there she was, standing proudly and
confidently.  And, she began to share everything that she had been
going through for the past year.

After she had finished, I took her by the hand and had her lean over the
table.  I gave her a number of nice, warming swats on the ass.  She could
feel the blood rushing to her buttocks -- and hips, and . . .  And then I was
applying the salve, ever so gently.

When I was through, I invited her to join me for dinner, and told her to get

I had cerebrally Dominated Amy, and my triumph had been secured by
the brutal whacks I gave her the night she handed in her paper.  Because
she was my student, I could not consider sex with her, but the Domination
had been most enjoyable.  In the end, I had broken her.  She wanted to
strip in front of me, she wanted me to spank her, and -- most importantly
-- she once again wanted to excel in her academic work.  There was no
need for anything more between us.

I was genuinely thrilled by Amy’s academic progress.  The following year,
I wrote her a glowing recommendation to grad school and helped her
garner a huge fellowship!!

Chapter One         Chapter Two        

© 2007 Don Frank

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