by John Benson
The door said 'Housefellow' and it was open. Helen had this open door policy so we felt free to come in and talk. She's a grad student, Helen is, and cute and athletic, and I was a little in awe of her, even before I heard the rumors. That's why I was lurking just outside her door. Because of the rumors, and I was afraid they weren't true, or she would turn me down, but I was also afraid that she'd say 'yes.' Finally I just couldn't stand the indecision any more, and knocked on her door jam. She looked up and put her book down. Some Latin poet or something.
"Cathy. Hi. Is there something I can do for you? Come on in and sit down."
I came in, feeling little and embarrassed. I did not sit down. I felt like looking down and mumbling, but I forced myself to look at Helen. She was so pretty and so nice but didn't take shit from anybody. Reminded me of someone from my past, I think.
"I heard these rumors," I said, and yeah, I felt about as lame as that just sounded.
Helen waved her hand and went, "So? It's a dorm full of girls. Gossip is what they do. What do you expect?"
Did I want it to be false so my heart would calm back down, or did I really want it to be true? I was all bent out of shape about it, that's for sure. "Um, you know those two brats, Jill and Lisa? The rumor is they've stopped being a pain in the butt because they're getting one. The rumor is you spank them."
Helen shrugged, serene. "Which, even if it were true, would be something private, and absolutely none of your business."
I'd already asked both the brats, and they'd denied it, but when they did, Jill blushed and Lisa squirmed, and that kind of gave me hope. "I'm not trying to get them in trouble, Helen, and I'm not trying to get you in trouble either. I need to know for personal reasons."
"Well," Helen said. She sighed. "Speaking hypothetically ..."
Oh. Sure. Give her an out. "Yeah?"
"Well, all right. Let's say hypothetically that there's a certain kind of girl who needs discipline in her life and if she doesn't get it from a trusted person in authority, she'd have to get it from her boyfriend, and she fears that might risk getting pregnant and dropping out of school, or at least getting all messed up emotionally. Then maybe you could see how someone in authority could see her way clear to bend the rules, because there'd be more good than harm?"
Helen was saying it was true. I felt this heady mix of fear and joy. "Well, while we're speaking hypothetically, what if I've known that's what I've needed for quite a while. Could you see yourself clear to discipline me, too?"
Helen stood up and closed her door. "Sit down," she said. I was shaking like a leaf.
That interview still stands out sharply in my mind. I was sitting now, on the edge of Helen's bed and she was standing over me and I was sweating and looking at my hands and feeling like a kid in grade school who'd just got caught breaking a really important rule.
"How long have you known?" asked Helen.
I huddled there with my hands squeezed together and breathing way too fast. "I was pretty little," I admitted. "I used to bare my butt and wad up a pillow and lay on top of it and imagine I was getting spanked, and I'd wiggle and the friction on my front would, well, you know."
I stole a look up at Helen, hoping she'd tell me I was naughty, but she just had this wistful smile. "Go on," she said.
It got a little easier with the telling. "Well, and then in sixth grade I got this huge crush on the teacher. Her name was Miss Maher and she sometimes threatened the whole class with a spanking and the word gave me this tingle and I thought about it all the time. I'd imagine what it would feel like to be helpless across her lap with my pants down as she used a ruler on my hind. I wanted that so much I even did something wrong just so she'd catch me, but all she did was rat me out to my parents and I got good and grounded. I later learned that the school rules had been changed back in 1958 and teachers weren't even allowed to spank. I was so bummed."
"And now you'd like discipline from me?" asked Helen.
Part of me was screaming inside that getting it for real would really hurt, and I wasn't very good with pain and this was really dumb, but that wasn't the part I was listening to right then. "Yes, Ma'am," I said.
"Come back after curfew unless you've changed your mind and you will get your wish, dear. And leave my door open as you leave."
"Yes, Ma'am." I could hardly breathe.
"Oh, and Cathy?"
"Yeah?" I turned. She looked so pretty, and so stubborn, so resolute.
"If we do this, it's my responsibility to make sure you find it much more unpleasant than you will exciting. It has to be real discipline."
"Well, yeah." That's what I wanted. Real discipline. Punishment for being naughty. After all. What else was there?
So now I had time to fret and change my mind, and that other part of me? The one that knew it was going to hurt? That part got to come out and have its say. But I was also starting to get real worked up about getting it, in a way I had to admit had something to do with sex. I promised myself I was going to keep this pure and not use it as an excuse for anything dirty, but then Alice came in our room and asked my roommate to play bridge and there I was all alone with too much time on my hands (big mistake) and I laid down on my bed and lay on my belly and my hand found its way inside my jeans and as I did what I'd promised myself not to do, I realized how much Helen reminded me of Miss Maher.
It was a week day, so curfew was ten o'clock. It wasn't that we had to be in bed then, it's just they locked the outside doors and if you came home after that you got in trouble. So there was nothing special about me waking down the corridor toward Helen's room at 10:15. But the fact of why I was doing it made me furtive. I felt as if I were naked, or wore a great big 'spank me' sign or something. If someone had walked by, I think I might have died.
Helen met me at her open door. "So," she said. "You've decided."
"Uh huh." Gulp.
"Why?"
"Because I deserve it, Ma'am."
"Cathy. It may be enough for you to explain this to yourself in existential terms, but if you want my help, we have to have attainable goals. It's the only way I can explain what I'm doing to myself. So why don't you try again?"
Oh. Okay. "Um, I want to have to study harder. I want to have to eat better. And I want to have to go to bed at a reasonable time."
"Okay," Helen said. "Then follow me."
I followed her down two flights of stairs. We were headed to the basement. My heart was in my throat.
It's an old stone building, built way back in the WPA days and down at the very bottom of the stairs there's just a pop machine and a couple of locked doors. One of them leads to the heating system and I had no idea where the other went until Helen unlocked the door and shooed me in.
She didn't turn the lights on but I could see a little by the light filtering in from the basement windows. It was a room kind of like our dorm rooms, and even had a bed. "It's private here," Helen said, "but it isn't sound proof. You'll have to promise to keep quiet."
"Okay," I said, whispering. I was scared and real excited. "What is this place?"
"They used to have maid service," Helen said. "Women who cleaned up and changed the sheets once a week. Back then this was their room to change clothes in. I think the bed was an OSHA thing, so they could lay down. Anyway. You're sure you want discipline?"
"Uh huh." Very sure, actually. I was still afraid it was going to hurt, but I'd passed some kind of point of no return.
"Even though you know I'm going to make sure you hate it?"
"Uh huh. It has to hurt. If we don't make it real, it's cheating."
"All right. And you promise I'll see improvement on the things we mentioned? Your studies, diet, sleep patterns?"
"Yes, Ma'am." Half of me wanted to blurt out that I should be spanked for you know, what I did while I was waiting, but that half didn't win.
"All right then. Bare your butt and bend over and grab your ankles."
I'd wanted Helen to bare me. And I'd wanted to go across her lap. It'd be more intimate that way and that's the way I'd always dreamed it. But hey. The fact that Helen wasn't following my script just proved I wasn't in charge. This was her show and I had to do everything she wanted, and that thought gave me such a blast of lust and shame and I did exactly as I was told.
She walked over to the bed and pulled a paddle out from under the mattress. It was maybe an inch and a half wide and maybe two feet long not counting the handle. And my hind was naked and I was bent over and I was going to get it and I couldn't yell or we'd both get in trouble.
Splat! It landed, sounding pretty loud and it stung like crazy and I knew I was in trouble. Helen had had practice on those damn brats Jill and Lisa and she knew just how to spank. She gave me just a couple seconds between the whacks for the full effect to register, and spent a lot of time on my upper thighs. I was on fire and I hated it but I knew it was deserved, and so I wiggled some and whimpered lots but forced myself not to scream.
It was over. "Is that what you wanted, naughty girl?" Helen asked.
"Uh huh." I straightened up. Man, it ached back there. My voice sounded like I was still in sixth grade, and in my heart I was. Sixth grade and punished by the teacher I adored.
"And you promise that as long as you're getting regular discipline, your behavior will improve?"
"Uh huh."
"Once a week?"
"Yes, Ma'am. Um, how about once a week and every time you want, okay?"
"Okay."
"Hey, Helen?" I felt so helpless and so needy.
"Yes, dear?"
"Can I have a hug?"
She came over and let me hug her and remember I still had my jeans and undies down, so I could feel the rough fabric of her clothes against my skin. It felt so good, and then I went too far and kissed her, and for just a second she responded and then she pushed me away. We both were breathing hard.
"Don't," she said. "This has to stay just discipline, or we're going to have to stop."
"Yes, Ma'am," I said. Helen left and I gave her a head start by counting to a hundred, then pulled my pants up over well-spanked buns and left the room. The lock clicked shut behind me.
I ached but I was flying high and knew a couple things. One was that I was going to try awfully hard to do whatever Helen wanted. The other was that I knew I was in love.
I spent my free time in the library, talking myself into the closed section and trying to find myself among the sexual deviants. Masochist? Well, not exactly. It seems they actually like the pain. I don't. I need the feel of helplessness, of obedience, of submission to the trusted other. I need there to be pain, and I need to hate it. I'm sexually submissive. The docs talk about their success rate curing it using talk therapy, but I don't want to be cured. I just want to be with Helen.
Which brings me to my second question. Am I a homosexual? I mean, I'd always subscribed to the American Dream in principle, grow up, get married, have a family. And the idea of being with a guy doesn't gross me out or anything, until you bring up particular guys and then forget it. They're crude and horny and essentially selfish. Yeah, I know. The way I felt towards Helen.
Shyness kept me away from Helen and desire drove me toward her, and for three days they balanced out and I hovered in the background, watching her, wanting her. Wishing she'd take me to the basement and punish me and then make love. And on the third day I dredged up the courage to go and talk to her. I wore a flirty skirt. In the hallway the two brats smiled at me and I smiled back. It's like they knew, and if they did, soon the whole dorm would know. They're the best gossips on the planet.
I hesitated at the threshold, tormented by feelings of inadequacy and doubt. Knock-knock.
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