Chapter 36

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Another erotic story from the FLOGMASTER!

Copyright 1995-2009 by the Flogmaster. All Rights Reserved. Free distribution via electronic medium (i.e. the internet or electronic BBS) is permitted as long as the text is _not_ modified and this copyright is included, but _no_ other form of publication is allowed without written permission. This document _may_ contain explicit material of an ADULT nature. ***READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!*** Anything offensive is your own problem. This story is for **entertainment** purposes only, and it does _not_ necessarily represent the viewpoint of the author or the electronic source where this was obtained. All characters are *fictional* -- any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental.

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Erin's Adventures
Chapter 36

(*****, M/f, Severe, College girl caning)

Erin puts her foot in her mouth again... and pays the price. (Approximately 1,336 words. Originally published 1998-02.)

After the shock of that first caning from Miss C., it soon became a part of the comfortable routine of university life. I found it nearly impossible to go a week without a demerit or two, but I was with good company: every evening before supper at least one or two girls were caned, sometimes as many as four or five. It very nearly became boring, especially considering the mildness of Miss C.'s light cane. It left no weals, only redness, and one could be caned several nights in a row without harm. Most of the girls seemed to find the canings more annoying than painful, except for a few of extra-sensitive types, like my roommates Donna and Janice.

Miss C. did alter her methods slightly if you were caned more than once during the same week -- the severity was the same, but the punishment was given on the bare bottom. After the first couple times I found it wasn't as embarrassing as I'd expected. In fact, it was rather exciting. I only wished the marks were more evident. I thought longingly of the nearly bloody weals I'd gotten in school. Some of those had taken weeks to heal!

It wasn't long before I got my wish, though the methodology took me completely by surprise.

Though I was majoring in English, my least favorite course was Ancient Literature. I found the texts bloody difficult and boring and I couldn't relate to them at all. I began to slack off in Professor Boron's class, neglecting my reading and occasionally pretending to be sick and not attending class.

One day, about halfway through the semester, I received a note informing me to meet the Professor in his office at 4 p.m. I arrived a little late, thinking I knew exactly what he wanted to talk to me about, and not very happy to discuss it.

"Good afternoon, Miss O'Grady," he said when I entered. "I see to treat punctuality with the same cavalier attitude you treat my class." He waved at the clock on the wall which read twenty after four.

I shrugged. "So I'm not interested in ancient literature. What of it?"

His eyebrows went up. He was a big man, rather fat, actually, though dressed formally the way he was now he was quite presentable. "Young lady, you have an attitude problem."

"I have a lot of problems," I said with a sigh. I plopped down in a chair without asking. "You should have seen the blind date I had last Friday. I thought I wouldn't survive the night. God, what I prick that boy was! Or wasn't, actually. Hee hee."

"I should think your lackluster studies would concern you more than the vagrancies of your social life," said Professor Boron coldly.

His seriousness goaded me. I was failing his class already, so what more could I lose? "Fuck Ancient Literature!" I said. "Who needs it?"

To my surprise the man didn't even blink. He simply stood and went to a tall cabinet in the corner. Opening it, he withdrew a wicked brown cane, slender and made of ratan. I flinched.

"I see you are familiar with this," he said. "To the desk."

"You can't -- " I began, but I was already standing and walking to his desk. My bottom tingled in anticipation.

"I can," he said firmly. "Unless you wish to fail Ancient Literature?"

The tone in his voice gave me hope. So there was a chance I hadn't failed after all? Perhaps a caning was worth it. I did need the course to graduate. If I failed I would have to retake it later. It would be best to get it out of my way my first year of school. I shrugged and bent over the desk as though I wasn't concerned, though my eyes told me the cane wasn't a thin instrument like Miss C.'s.

"You are an unruly and obnoxious girl," said the man as he came up behind me. Suddenly I was thankful I'd worn trousers. They were thin, but that wasn't as bad as getting it over my knickers. I could feel the material tighten across my cheeks as I bent over.

At the first blow I neary bit my tongue off. I gulped and held on, widening my stance slightly to hold position. I didn't want him to see me wiggling, thinking he was hurting me. I was determined to take his thrashing without a peep.

The next one left a welt -- no question. The pain was hotter and fiercer than several of Miss C.'s strokes together. By the time he'd given me six I knew I'd still be feeling these the next day. But he didn't stop at six -- no he went right on to twelve. I never breathed a word and took the entire punishment most stoically, but in truth I was most grateful when he stopped. I'm sure he was disappointed I'd taken it so well.

"Are we done?" I asked in a bored tone when he stopped. I rose and stretched, ignoring the painful throbbing of my backside.

"No we are not," he said coldly, freezing me in my tracks. I hesitated. More caning didn't appeal to me much after twelve with that heavy rattan rod.

"Er, what's next?" I asked casually, trying to keep the panic out of my voice.

"That was for your rudeness and being tardy. Now you shall be punished for your slackness and poor coursework. Take down your trousers."

This did not please me at all, but I couldn't let him see me bothered now. I licked my lips and nodded, nonchalantly jerking down my beige pants. My panties didn't help me at all. I'd worn my most petite ones, the one's I'd bought on a dare with Donna. They were thongs with only a narrow band of cloth passing between my cheeks. My arse was essentially bare. I preferred these when I wore pants because I didn't like the outline of my underwear showing through my thin trousers, but right now I'd have worn heavy woolen knickers in a heartbeat.

"Ah, I see you are a naughty girl even when not in school," said Professor Boron in his deep, masculine voice. "You think too much about your social life. Perhaps this will teach you a good lesson."

With those words, the large man delivered six of the hardest, most painful strokes of the cane I'd ever felt in my life. (And I've felt quite a few!)

God it was awful. Despite my resolve I moaned and wiggled and even cried a bit. The pain drenched me with sweat. Enduring it felt like the most difficult thing I'd ever had to do. And yet --

It was a glorious feeling. I realized right then what I'd been missing from Miss C.'s little canings. Hers amused me. They stimulated me, but only mildly. What I wanted was total abandonment. Real pain. I didn't understand why at all, but that's what it was. I wanted something that hurt, something that made me *feel* more than anything I'd ever felt before. I wanted to be overwhelmed, overcome. My mind flashed back to Mrs. Arler and her riding crop. She'd known how to make me feel! Even the mildest stroke from her had caused me agonies of feeling. I wanted to feel that way again.

Professor Boron was close. He did a good job. It felt like he ravished me with that cane. A part of me was incredibly disappointed when he stopped. My arse throbbed. It was heavy with weals. I could hardly wait to run my fingers over them in the shower. Pinching them would give me such incredible agony!

"Come back in two weeks," said the professor's booming voice. "We shall revaluate your situation then. Is that understood?"

I nodded meekly, pulling my pants up awkwardly. Two weeks. God, I could hardly wait. Perhaps then I wouldn't even bother with panties.

More to come next week!

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