by Quentin Quillis
I had just moved to a new college for an advanced degree, and since my funds were limited I gratefully leapt at a job as a graduate research assistant. My first meeting with Dr. White was slightly embarrassing since I was ten minutes late. My flimsy excuse was that her office was deep in a maze of storage rooms in one of the outlying buildings, and it took forever to find the stairway to the sub-basement. As I was nervously trying to justify my tardiness she held up a hand to silence me.
"No need to explain, young man. Consider this your first challenge and you succeeded. Most people don't even know this floor exists. I found this space a few years ago and while I keep a small office in the department for student problems, this is where I do my most interesting work and the remote location suits me just fine. It took some doing to get it the way I want it but it was worth it, don't you think?"
I had to agree with her. After the trip through the dark and dingy hallways it was an oasis. It was actually a suite of sorts with beautiful wood paneling and marvelous oak furniture throughout. The front room had a nice desk, a couch for waiting visitors and a door leading to a storage closet. The main office was a true marvel. The desk was massive and had a large easy chair. Along one wall was a sofa that dwarfed the rest of the furniture. Not only was it long enough for a basketball player to stretch out and not hang off either end, but it was wider than any similar piece I had ever seen. If you sat on it and rested against the back, your knees would not reach the edge. It could easily be a very comfortable bed and I wondered how many times Dr. White had spent the night here. A door off to one side opened into a small lavatory complete with a shower. I was impressed. It was more like what you would expect for the president of a large company. The only thing missing was a penthouse view.
As I sat there in awe of my surroundings, she reviewed my application and asked me a few questions. There were the expected inquiries regarding my previous studies and experience but there were a few that surprised me. Was I married? (No); did I have a steady girlfriend? (Sadly, No again); did I work out on a regular basis? (Yes); and the one that really got me asked if I was a heterosexual. For a moment I wondered if she was planning on making a pass at me. I guess I should describe Dr. White at this point. She was in her late forties and attractive in an older woman sort of way. Not my idea of a dream date, but if I had to make love to her as part of the job it wouldn't be too great a sacrifice. I assured her that I preferred females for intimate company and she made another note on her pad before standing up to shake my hand and offer me the job.
My duties would be to maintain her files, run errands, and generally be at her beck and call as necessary. At her request, I did most of my work on the weekends, and if I showed up during the week she usually sent me on what I thought to be wild goose chases with the primary purpose of keeping me away for an hour or two. My suspicion was increased when I passed a fairly attractive young woman heading down the stairs as I was emerging from the bowels of the building. We exchanged smiles but where mine was all warmth and hopeful, hers was forced and nervous as she quickly scurried on her way.
The folders I filed for Dr. White were curious also. They contained data which I had to enter into the computer. There were a number of fields which were only identified by number and the entries were in a code I couldn't make head nor tail of. Each file also had one or more envelopes sealed with wax so I couldn't see their contents. When I asked about her research project, I was gently but firmly told to be patient and not ask any more questions.
This lasted a few more weeks until I made an unexpected visit to the office. I hadn't finished all my work on Sunday, so I came in early Monday morning to complete the data entry and filing. I had to use my key to get in, so I thought I was alone and was busy at the computer when I heard some sounds from her office. My first response was to open the door and couldn't see what was going on, but I decided to investigate by ear first. I put my head against the wood and listened carefully. I heard Dr. White's voice and remembered her strong admonition that I was never to enter her office uninvited so I stayed at my post. There was that sound again. Someone was slapping something and with the accompanying gasp it sure sounded like a good hard spank. Dr. White was speaking again in a normal tone of voice so I assumed (rightly) that she was not on the receiving end. The spanking (and I was totally convinced that's what it was) continued for another five minutes. The gasps had turned to moans and muted cries as it progressed. Whoever was in there with Dr. White did not sound like she (it was definitely a she) was having a good time.
When all I heard was quiet talking, I decided to make my exit before I got caught. I was almost out of the office when a new sort of slapping sound, much louder than before, preceded a shrill screech. I wasn't sure if the previous spanking was delivered by hand or not but there was no doubt this application was with a more substantial instrument. While that initial squeal sounded more like surprise than acute pain, it didn't indicate that it was a pleasant surprise. I was rooted to the spot as whatever was being used landed at least a dozen times before the recipient joined in the chorus. There was no gasp of surprise now, but loud vocal acknowledgement of each of the next dozen or so swats. When it seemed to be over, I quietly slipped out and hid in one of the nearby storage rooms. After a half-hour, I was beginning to think I had imagined the whole thing, when the girl I met on the stairway a while back came out. Although her face was freshly washed and showed no signs of the distress I heard from her earlier, she did rub her bottom vigorously as she disappeared down the hall.
Dr. White came out a minute later and looked up and down the passageway. She said, "Mac, you can come out of hiding now."
I shyly presented myself, and my first question was how she knew I was there. She laughed and said, "I didn't. I always say that after a session just in case you actually are hiding close by. It may sound silly but as you can see, it worked. Come into my office."
What followed was a long discussion of her undertaking and my reaction to it. She was working on a paper entitled, The Effects Of Spanking On Late Adolescent Females. The subtitle was: A Comparison Of Sexual Responses Based On The Age And Gender Of The Spanker. Dr. White had hopes of finishing her research by the end of the year and presenting her paper at an upcoming conference.
When I convinced her that I was surprised but not shocked, she smiled and said, "That's good, since I was hoping for your help in completing the study. Each of the files represents a different girl. All of them are volunteers, but for varying reasons. Some feel the need for continuing discipline from an external source, namely me, and some seem to find a sort of pleasure in suffering at my hand. One seems to think this will help her grade in my class, even though I have assured her it won't. I find it hard to categorize the others. Maybe it's the excitement of being part of a new area of research. Whatever the reason, I appreciate their dedication. If you hadn't stumbled on us today I would've told you anyway. It's time to move to the second stage of the project, which is why I hired you."
She outlined my participation. First I would stay at my desk when the subjects arrived. This was to gauge their response to my presence, and knowing that I knew why they were there.
The next week the embarrassment level would be increased. The way the furniture was placed, I could not see into Dr. White's office from my desk, but she would leave her door open so there would be no doubt that I was hearing everything.
Week three called for me to be present as a observer but in an 'only interested in the academic aspects of the project' sort of way.
The fourth week of my participation was when Dr. White intended to see her sub-title in action - remember 'A Comparison Of Sexual Responses Based On The Age And Gender Of The Spanker.' I was to be the other gender and a younger age. The sexual response business was an added bonus for me the last week.
The finale would be me alone with the girl (or so she would think). After I performed the onerous duty of spanking, I was to provide what comfort I could and ascertain the level of sexual excitement my efforts (during and after the spanking) would bring out. Dr. White opened what I had been told was a storage closet, and showed me another one of her secrets. It was equipped with video recorders and monitors. She recorded all her sessions for later review and would be hiding in there, and watching me with the girls. There was an unspoken understanding that while I had a free hand in dealing with the girls, she would be close by in case she needed to interrupt and prevent me from forcing myself on an unwilling victim.
I asked if should watch the tapes of the previous sessions so I had an idea of who was who and brush up on their reactions up to this point. With a motherly smile, she showed me where the tapes were kept, but cautioned that I only watch them in the office. She also broke the seals on the envelopes. Inside were essays written by the girls, describing their reactions to the spankings and a picture of their bottoms, both before and after each session. I quickly perused a few of them and was impressed by Dr. White's dedication. It looked like every subject would've had a very difficult time sitting for quite some time after the 'research'.
She was understanding enough to leave me alone as I watched the tapes. Dr. White had a pretty fancy set-up. She used two video cameras and the tapes were synchronized on the playback device so you could watch the girl's facial expressions and see the impacts on their other ends at the same time. Her project had been going on for quite a while, and it took me the rest of the week and all day Saturday and Sunday to review the results so far. She made me promise to stay clear of the office when she had an appointment, until it was time for my first official appearance to the subjects, so as not to show her hand prematurely. I didn't have a problem with that, although I made it a point of being somewhere near the building to see the girls (I knew their schedules and recognized them from the tapes) as they entered and found myself looking for them on campus.
Not to be reposted, reproduced or distributed, in part or whole.