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Southern Discomfort

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13

“It was really nice of your grandfather to lend us his truck,” Jerry said.

“It sure was,” Alvin replied. With transportation available, they had been able to revisit the houses whose cards had been destroyed by Bill-Bob and his gang of Klansmen plus acquire a couple of dozen more in rural areas that they would have had a very difficult time reaching on foot.

They had dropped the cards at the County Election Office in the center of Kilmartin. The clerk, a sour-looking woman approaching sixty, had looked quite perturbed at having to accept them, but accept them she did.

“And it was really nice of him to lend us his shotgun,” Jerry continued, fingering the long barrel that lay across his knees. “Though we didn’t see any signs of those creeps today.”

“Yeah,” Alvin replied. “I wonder where they are. Off burning a cross somewhere or something?”

“You ever fire a gun?” Jerry asked.

“Yeah, that very one, my friend. I’ve been out huntin’ with Gramps a few times visitin’ down here. What about you?”

“Nope, never,” jerry said. “I’m a peace lovin’ sort myself. I don’t know what I’d do if things heat up there in Vietnam and they try to draft me.”

“I ain’t goin’,” Alvin said. “No how, no way. But I don’t think we have to worry as long as we stay in school.”

“Your Grandpa ever have to use this shotgun against the Klan or any other troublemakers?” Jerry asked.

“Thankfully, no,” Alvin replied. “Though I know he wouldn’t hesitate to kill one of those motherfuckers if it came to that. My Dad was always trying to get him and Grandma to come and join us up in New York, but that land has been in the family since not long after the end of slavery and he couldn’t bear to leave it. Now, they feel they’re too old to uproot themselves.”

“How did your Dad end up in New York?”

“He was mustered out of Fort Dix, New jersey after the war, took the train up there, met my Mom at a dance in Harlem and the rest is history as they say. Got a job doin’ roadwork for the City and never looked back.”

“Well, I’m glad of that,” Jerry replied. “If he’d come back here, we probably would never have met.”

Alvin nodded. They were passing a green lawn with tree-lined paths winding amongst brick buildings. “Hey, this must be the College, Kilmartin Academy. What say you we stop and have a look around?”

“I hear they don’t like your sort here, Alvin. Probably not mine either.”

“I’m not planning to transfer from the Ivy League to this ass wipe little college, my friend. Just want to have a look around.” He pulled into a parking space under a large oak tree. “Better stash that bad boy under the seat.” Jerry carefully placed the shotgun under the seat, out of sight to any passersby.

They got out and started walking towards one of the larger buildings. As they got nearer the more traveled area, they encountered two male students who deliberately moved to the center of the path to block their way.

“Excuse us,“ Jerry said.

“Where are you two headin’?”

“Just lookin’ around,” Alvin replied.

“”There ain’t much to see here,” one of them said.

“If you’re thinkin’ of applyin’ here, don’t bother. One of you in this school is one too many,” the other added.

“We’re not interested in attending your school,” Jerry said, hoping to keep Alvin from starting a fight. “We already attend college in New York.”

“Yeah, maybe you’ve heard of Columbia,” Alvin added.

“Listen to him,” the other student said, shaking his head.

“It’s true,” Jerry said. “You wanna’ see our student IDs?” He started reaching into his pocket.

“Oh, fuck, who cares?” the first student said, stepping aside. “Go have your look around and then get lost, OK?”

They continued on towards the main building, which, the sign above the portico indicated, was Administration.

Suddenly, Alvin froze in his tracks. “It’s her!” he whispered.

“Who?” Jerry asked, looking puzzled.

“The one of my sisters that this rinky-dink place decided to let in so they could pretend to be integrated.” He pointed to a very nice looking Negro girl walking with a white woman who looked a bit too mature to be a student. He started walking quickly so as to intercept them before they mounted the stairs to the building. Jerry hurried to catch up.

Smiling broadly, Alvin greeted Harriet. “Imagine running into a sister at a place like this. Alvin Washington’s the name” he said, extending his hand. “From New York City.”

Harriet smiled back at him and shook his hand, obviously pleased to see another Black person on the campus. “Harriet Jackson, from Atlanta. And this is Professor Barbara Moore,” she added.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Washington,” Barb said.

“And this,” Alvin said, indicating Jerry who had arrived on the scene just a touch out of breath, “Is my buddy Jerry Goldman, also of NYC.”

“Pleased to meet you, “Jerry said.

“You’re not thinking of applying to the Academy are you?” Barbara asked, sounding hopeful. Nothing would be better for Harriet than to have a fellow Black student on campus.

“No,” Jerry replied. “We’re both happily enrolled at Columbia. We’re taking a semester off to come down here and register voters.” He reached into his jeans pocket for a couple of voter cards. “You wouldn’t happen to be eligible to vote, Miss Jackson?”

“I’m sorry, I’m only 18, but I promise you, the very day I turn 21. I’ll be registering here or in Atlanta or wherever I might be,” Harriet replied.

“I’ll take one, though,” Barbara said. “I’m registered up in Minnesota, but, I’ve been meaning to transfer it down here.” Jerry handed her a card.

“Listen,” Barbara continued, “We’re late for our ride, but, we’d love to talk further with you guys. You may have seen the posters for the Highland Festival this coming weekend?”

“Yeah, We saw ‘em” Alvin said.

“Well, we’re going to go and you should join us,” Barbara said.

“With all due respect, Professor Moore, I don’t look Scottish and I don’t think Harriet does either.”

“I don’t know if I look Scottish,” Jerry added, “but I’m pretty sure I’m not.”

“It doesn’t matter; the Festival should be for everyone. And please, call me Barbara.”

“You’re probably new down here,” Alvin said, “But that isn’t how things work.”

“Well, it’s time things changed. Meet us at the west gate of the campus at eight on Saturday. We’ll walk over there together. Now we really do have to run.”

***​

Billy-Bob drained the bottle of Bourbon and tossed the empty onto the floor. It made a satisfying “Clunk!” “Goddamn nigger-lovin’ Yankee bitch got me fired!” he exclaimed.

“I thought it was the Dean fired you?” one of his fellow Knights said.

“Yeah, Pete, but it wouldn’t have happened if that goddamn Moore woman had stayed up there in goddamn Minnesota.”

“Look, I’m sorry I showed that picture around, Billy-Bob,” another man said. “I know you said to keep it to myself, but it was just too juicy not to share. Them two lesbians was goin’ at it like bunny rabbits. I never seen nothin’ like it.”

“What’s done is done, Abner. But I swear I’ll see them two swingin’ from a tree after a damn good whippin’. And that Alvin Washington boy and his friend Goldstein, too. We got to defend our way of life, right men?”

“Right!” they all yelled.

“But we gotta be smart about it. Too many Feds around lookin’ to bust us. We bide our time, wait for the right opportunity to present itself and then we strike. Like Lee at Gettysburg.”

“I thought Lee lost at Gettysburg,” Rusty said.

“Nah, he just made a whatchamacall ‘strategic retreat’, Rusty. The South will rise again!” he shouted to wild cheers.
 
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14


“Ohhhh my God! I’m getting sooo close. Faster now, harder! Don’t let up!”

“Ohhh, me too! Hang in there while I catch up!”

“Kiss my boobs! I love that!”

IMG_6579.jpeg

“And keep this up at the same time?”

“Yeah … (gasp) … never mind … I’m cumming!

“Fuck! … Almost there here … any sec now!”

“OH MY GAWWWD! … Holy Shit! …. NOW! NOW! NOW!!”

“You got it Babe!”

“GAHHHHHHHHHH!”

Spent, they fell back on the bed, where they lay side by side, naked, sweat-sheened, both trying to catch their breath.

“Gawd, Carolyn, that was … was … our best … ever! What a fuck that was!” exulted Biff, reaching down to pat her affectionately on her thigh.

“It really was, darling,” she cooed. “Each and every time is better than the last. We’re so hot together. Don’t you agree?”

“Indubitably!”

“You and your big words!” she scolded playfully as she rolled over on top of him to plant a kiss on his broad forehead.

His hands went instinctively to her ass, cupping and squeezing her cheeks a couple times before moving up her sides to her armpits, there to leverage her up so that her breasts dangled just over face.

He raised his head to within an inch or two of them. “Want me to kiss those beauties now?”

“Little late for that. Should’ve done it earlier when I asked you to. Besides we’ve got to get up. We’ve class at ten.”

“Oh, yeah. Professor Moore’s American history lecture.”

“Well, Biff, now that your five day suspension is over we get to go to class together again. That’ll be nice. Don’t you agree?”

“Guess it will. And I don’t mind lookin’ at her, either. She’s got a really nice bod.”

“Jerk!” She hissed, pulling away and falling over onto her back alongside him.

“Hey, relax. She’s nuthin’ compared to you, babe. And if we have anything to do with it, Professor Moore won’t last long here at the Academy.”

She smiled knowingly, but didn’t respond. Both lapsed into a couple of minutes of silence. A silence broken by the sounds of movement in the hallway outside the door to Biff’s room. A bunch of his Gamma Theta Upsilon brothers were headed downstairs for breakfast.

One stopped long enough to rap on the door, calling, “Hey Biff. Time to stop screwing Carolyn, and get a move on. We all got to get over to Professor Moore’s class by ten. Don’t want to miss the Moore show!”

“Want to know a little secret, Biff?” she said, suddenly turning on her side to face him.

“Let, me guess … you want it again,” he drawled, reaching over to trace his forefinger in tight little circles around one of her nipples.

“No! Not that! …” she protested, gently pushing his hand away. “I meant something you don’t know.”

“Alright. I’m listening.

“It has to do with this weekend’s festival. I’m pretty sure you and I are going to be elected Festival Queen and King for the second straight year! Would you believe it?”

“You’re kidding. That never happens. What makes you so certain?”

“Well, guess who is in charge of counting this year’s ballots!”

“You?”

“Yes, as President of Delta Gamma Sorority, it’s my responsibility to tally up the votes!”

“And you’re not above ….”

“If I have to … but so far we’re looking good. And why, not? We’re the best, right?”

“I won’t disagree. But we need to get a move on now, need to get dressed and grab something quick to eat. Wouldn’t miss Moore’s class today for the world!”


***************


At ten sharp, Barb entered the rear of the lecture hall and made her way down the central aisle to the raised platform and lectern down in front. The hall was full, every seat taken. There was quite a buzz of conversation given the large numbers, but it receded like a wave to either side of her as she passed by the rows of seating.

The weather having turned fall-like that morning, she’d chosen to wear a suit … a gray open-front plaid tweed jacket and matching mini skirt, complemented by an off-white turtleneck. She wore a pair of black round-toed flats on her feet and had drawn her hair back in a pony tail.

On reaching the ‘lecturer’s well’ down front, she turned to face the hall. Foregoing the lectern and backing herself up against the stout table nearby, she hoisted herself up so as to perch on its edge, crossed her legs, tugged at her skirt, and cheerily addressed the class with raised voice, “Good morning, I’m so pleased to see so many here.”

Someone shouted, “Would ya mind crossing them legs again, ah didn’t get a good ‘nuff look!”

She couldn’t make out who it was. Only that it came from somewhere near the back of the hall. But it was immediately followed by a ripple of titters and a few guffaws cascading through the hall, along with a very loud wolf whistle.

Taken aback, she was silent for a moment, noting as she scanned the room that Biff Sutton was back in class, presumably having completed his five day suspension. He was seated halfway back amidst what appeared to be a large ‘Greek’ contingent. Alongside him was his girlfriend Carolyn.

“Recovering quickly and determined to get on with it, Barb announced by way of introduction, “Our topic for today is the presidential campaign of 1860, the election of Abraham Lincoln, and the difficult challenge he faced at first in trying to preside over a deeply divided, and soon to be fractured, Nation.”

“And it all went downhill from there!” shouted an anonymous student voice.”

“Well, as a matter of fact, Lincoln saw his Presidency at that point in time as one dedicated to healing the Nation. He had never said up to that point in time that he favored ending slavery in the South.”

“You lie,” someone shouted.

Another screamed “Nigger lover!”

“Why should anyone believe anything you teach? It’s all lies. Damn Yankee lies!” shouted a third.

“How many of you out there are actually enrolled?” she demanded in response, sliding down off the table and stepping forward to stand defiantly before them, hands on hips.

Silence.

“If you are not enrolled, please leave!” she shouted, tears beginning to well up in her eyes.

No one moved. Although she thought she detected a few who appeared uneasy …perhaps uncomfortable with what was happening but not feeling brave enough to buck the power of the Greeks. Something told her it was Biff Sutton and Carolyn Smith who were behind all of this.

“I’ve decided to call class for today,” she declared, having decided there was little point in continuing. “You’re all dismissed. And, as for me, I’m headed over to Old Main to report to Dean Windar what has transpired here. Mark my words, especially those of you that are behind this, there’s bound to be be some severe repercussions.”

“Strong words!” shouted a frat boy, whom she recognized as one of those who had manhandled her up onto a table to be humiliated by Biff at that dreadful Gamma Theta Upsilon party.”

“And from what we hear,” added another student, rising to his feet, “you and that coon-girl, Harriet, are shacked up with Dean Windar, probably fuckin’ and suckin’ him off every night, and each other too. That’s for sure!”

Someone near the center of the hall suddenly stood up to raise a blown-up version of the photo Billy-Bob had taken of Barb and Harriet going at it in their dorm room, rotating about slowly so that all present could have a look.

“Take it off, Professor, give us a show!” shouted another.

“That’s enough!” declared Barb, her voice cracking a bit under the stress. “I’m leaving now! Class dismissed! Biff and Carolyn! You might want to come along, because when I get to Dean Windar’s office I’m going to lay this whole affair at your feet!”

With that said, she stormed up the central aisle and barged out through the classroom door, all eyes following her.

And once she was gone, attention shifted to Biff and Carolyn. They both made a point of shrugging, to demonstrate their total lack of concern. Carolyn even went a step further, circling a finger around near her ear, to imply that Barb was crazy. Yet, they both were on their feet and side-stepping toward the central aisle, only to take off in hot pursuit once they’d reached it.

And soon as they’d departed, a lone student, down in the front row, stood up to turn and face the hall. Her name was Margaret Brown, a senior that everyone knew would graduate Kilmartin with high honors. Bespectacled and prim, she looked the part … At least the stereotypical part.

Wagging a forefinger at them all, she declared, “You ought to be ashamed, all of you! Together, on this day, you’ve besmirched the honor of this proud institution. And I’m letting you all know, here and now, should Dean Windar demand corroboration of Professor Moore’s complaint, I stand ready to provide it!”

At first it was not more than half a dozen, but soon the number swelled … still a small minority, to be sure … and not a Greek amongst them … but they took to their feet to applaud her.



TBC
 
“Yes, as President of Delta Gamma Sorority, it’s my responsibility to tally up the votes!”

“And you’re not above ….”

Rigging the election is Carolyn’s game
An act for which she feels no shame
Perfectly legit it’ll seem
The new King and Queen

Biff and Carolyn elected once again
 
15

“I’m extremely disappointed in both of you,” Dean Windar began. Carolyn Smith and Biff Sutton shifted uncomfortably in their chairs. Barbara stood beside the Dean’s chair, glaring down at the two troublemakers.

“It wasn’t me!” Biff protested. “Besides, all that happened is that some students disagreed with Professor Moore about Lincoln and the cause of the War Between the States. Isn’t that what the First Amendment is about?”

“Disagreeing and discussing is fine. That’s what college is for-learning to think,” Barbara replied. “But you know very well that wasn’t what this was about. This was about shaming me!”

“That’s not what happened. People just said they thought the war was provoked by the North,” Carolyn said.

“Professor Moore tells me that she was subjected to personal insults-called names-and that insinuations were made about her private life, insinuations, in which I myself was included,” Dean Windar said.

“Insinuations?” Carolyn said. “Is that what those are?”

“Mind your tongue, young lady,” Windar said glaring at her. “This is a college. Discussions of academic matters are what we are about. Personal insults violate our standards of behavior and you know that.”

“Nothing like that happened, Dean, sir,” Biff said. “We were having a class discussion and she freaked out because we stood up for Southern pride.”

Windar turned and picked up the phone on his desk. “Agnes, would you send Miss Brown in, please.”

The door opened to admit a mousy looking young woman. “Miss Brown, would you mind telling us what you witnessed in Professor Moore’s class this morning?”

Margaret Brown gave a clear and concise description of the events in a very matter of fact manner that could leave little doubt as to its accuracy.

When she was done, Dean Windar thanked her and dismissed her. Biff and Carolyn looked deflated. Obviously denial wasn’t going to succeed here.

“Anyway,” Carolyn protested. “Why are you singling us out?”

“I know very well who are the leaders among our Greek contingent, who were the ones most involved in these disgraceful events,” Windar replied. “I will consider the appropriate punishments for the others involved, but I am holding the two of you as the main parties responsible. I’m afraid that we cannot tolerate such behavior at the Academy, especially since, in both of your cases, this is not your first offense. I want you both gone from campus by the end of the day,” he announced.

“What?” Biff said, looking stunned.

“You’re expelling us?” Carolyn protested.

“In a word, yes,” the Dean said.

“My ancestors have gone here for generations!” Biff said, angrily.

“And my family has given money to this school!” Carolyn exclaimed.

“I’ve discussed this with the President of the Academy, George Carter. President Carter’s words to me were, ‘You’re in charge of student discipline. Do whatever you think is right. I’ll handle the fallout’”.

The two students looked shocked. Carolyn began sniffling. “This is so unfair, especially with the Highland Festival coming this weekend. Biff and I are up for King and Queen, too. Can we at least stay on campus until then?”

“I’m sorry. If you’re expelled, you must leave immediately.”

“Is there anything we can do, any alternative?” Biff asked. He seemed genuinely distressed at his girlfriend’s tears and at the prospect of missing out on their joint triumph, which he hoped would lead to an eventual marriage and a good life together. “I’m really sorry and I swear we will both behave from here on, right Carolyn?”

“Yes, Biff, we’ll behave. Please, Dean, I’ll do anything to stay at the Academy.”

Windar sat silently for a time, like Rodin’s famous statue, “The Thinker”.

“Well, I suppose there is one possibility,” he allowed.

The two students perked up at the possibility of avoiding expulsion. “As you both know, this was once a Military Academy and it had a military code of punishments, including corporal punishment.”

Biff and Carolyn looked at each other. “Corporal punishment?” he asked, shocked. “Like whipping?”

“A punishment strap, actually. On the buttocks,” Windar said. “It hasn’t been used in decades, of course, but I checked, and President Carter confirmed that it was never actually rescinded from the Student Behavior Code.”

“You can’t be serious,” Biff said.

“We’re not little children,” Carolyn said.

“It’s a fully adult punishment, of that I can assure you,” Dean Windar said in his sternest tone. “This isn’t a matter for negotiation; it’s that or immediate expulsion. Your choice.”

Biff looked at Carolyn. Carolyn looked at Biff. “It’s gonna hurt, right?” Biff asked sounding nervous.

“I haven’t experienced it myself, but I’m guessing it will hurt quite a bit. But your behavior has been truly reprehensible.”

Carolyn looked near tears again. “I worked hard to be in a position to be the Highland Festival Queen. I’m not giving that up,” she said. “No matter how much it hurts.” She stared at Biff. It was clear that she would have nothing further to do with him if he wimped out on this challenge.

“This will be private, right?” Biff asked. “Like, none of my buddies will see it.”

Windar nodded. “Yes, it will be private. Professor Moore will observe, of course, since she is the wronged party. Oh, and one more observer.”

The two miscreants looked nervous. “Who would that be?” Carolyn asked.

“You will see,” he replied. “Now I need an answer.”

“Whatever you gotta do, as long as we can stay,” Biff said.

“Yes, let’s get it over with,” Carolyn added, not sounding so sure of herself.

Windar stood. “Very well, then, follow me.” He led them out of his office and down a hallway to a stairway that descended into the basement of Old Main. He led them down another hallway to an unmarked door, fished in his pocket, extracted a key and unlocked the door. As they passed through the doorway, he turned and switched on the overhead lights.

The room was quite bare, with a concrete floor and brick walls. A small table sat in one of the far corners, but the main furniture, the reason this room existed, was a solid oak frame bolted to the floor. There could be little doubt of what its purpose was.

“Professor Moore, would you please escort our other observer down here,” Windar said.

Barbara nodded and left the room, returning a few minutes later accompanied by Harriet. Biff and Carolyn looked shocked.

“Her?” Carolyn asked. “You’re going to punish us in front of her? No, that’s too much! I won’t stand for that!” She started for the door.

“This isn’t optional, Miss Smith. You and your boyfriend have wronged Miss Jackson as well as Professor Moore. She stays.”

Carolyn turned around, looking disgusted. The Dean brushed past her, closed the door and locked it.

“Now, strip you two!”

“What!” Carolyn exclaimed. “You never said that!”

“That’s how punishments were administered back in the day. Besides, you’ve seen both Professor Moore and Harriet naked, so it seems only right that they see you in the same state. Now, let’s stop wasting time and get those clothes off!”

“We best do as he says, Carolyn. The sooner we do, the sooner it’s over,” Biff sighed. He began unbuttoning his shirt.

Without the support of her boyfriend, Carolyn saw little choice but to comply. To show her independence, though, she left her blouse alone for the moment and bent to unlace her shoes and slip them off. Balancing on one leg, she removed one sock, then the other. It was obvious that she found the floor uncomfortable to stand on barefoot.

Biff continued, removing his shoes and socks and lowering his trousers to the floor, before stepping out of them. Carolyn had by this time, removed her skirt and was unbuttoning her blouse, which she shucked and deposited onto the floor.

They stood now, Carolyn in bra and panties and Biff in his boxer shorts. “Those, too,” Windar ordered. “Everything off!”

Carolyn muttered something under her breath as she reached behind her to unhook her bra. Windar couldn’t help but admire her shapely breasts, just the size he liked, neither too large nor too small. With her eyes closed, she quickly lowered her panties, as Biff took down his boxer shorts. His penis hung limply, shriveled by fear of the ordeal he was facing.

“Normally, it would be ladies first, but in this case, I want to start with you, Biff, if you don’t mind.”

Biff probably did, in fact, mind a great deal, but he nodded his head and said, “OK,” in a voice choked with emotion.

“Then let’s get up on the bench, then, shall we?” the Dean said, beckoning the young student over to the ominous-looking apparatus. “Knees up here,” he said indicating two padded surfaces. Biff climbed up and Windar fastened a leather strap around each calf.

“Now reach all the way over and grab the bar on the far end.” Biff complied and the Dean fitted the leather straps attached to the bar around his wrists. His torso now lay across the padded top. Windar buckled another strap across his waist, securing him in place with his posterior presented for its date with the punishment strap.

Once the young man was secured, Windar went to the table and returned with the instrument, which he showed to Biff, who looked quite unhappy to make his acquaintance with the long, thick piece of heavy leather attached to a wooden handle, which the Dean held firmly in his hand. It was clear that the strap had been well-maintained over the years in which it had sat idle. Someone had taken the trouble to oil it regularly to keep the leather supple so it would deliver its bite most painfully to the deserving hindquarters of the misbehaving students who merited punishment.

“I’m going to give you a dozen,” Windar announced.

“Yes, sir,” Biff croaked, not in any position to argue.

The Dean stepped back, lifted the strap over his head, strode forward and slammed the leather into Biff’s rear end. It made a satisfying “Thwack!” as it impacted, indenting the soft flesh, before falling away. There was a sharp intake of breath and Biff shook his head as if to deny how much it had hurt.

After about fifteen seconds, Windar struck again. The young man emitted a low moan.

Windar continued, blow after blow at the same unhurried pace. Biff’s buttocks were turning quite red and his hands were gripping the bar at the front of the frame for dear life. No doubt, he would find sitting difficult for some time. However, he had managed to keep more or less silent, no doubt wanting to look brave and manly in front of his girlfriend.

Nevertheless, at the eighth lash, his resistance broke and he groaned loudly, “OOOOH! It hurts!”

Unfazed, the Dean continued, giving him the remaining four strokes that his despicable conduct had earned him. Finally, he stopped. “That’s twelve, Biff. I’m going to let you up now.” He bent down to undo the waist strap and then the straps around Biff’s arms and legs.

He reached down to help the young man up. “Slowly, Biff. You may be a bit unsteady,” he cautioned.

Biff steadied himself and reached back to soothe his hindquarters. As stoically as he had taken his punishment, it was evident from the grimace on his face that it had hurt much more than he had let on. “Now, go stand over there while we deal with the young lady,” Windar ordered, beckoning Carolyn to come forward.

“No, please. I’ve changed my mind. You can expel me, I don’t care,” she protested, reaching down to try to pick up her clothes from the floor beside her.

“I’m afraid it’s too late for that, Carolyn,” Windar said. “It would be terribly unfair for your boyfriend to have suffered while you skip out on yours. I am certain you are as guilty as him, perhaps even more so.” He looked at Harriet and Barbara. “Would you mind helping Carolyn onto the frame.”

They stepped forward. Harriet took hold of one arm, while Barbara grabbed the other. “Get your hands off me! How dare you, you bitches?” she yelled. They ignored her pleas and moved her towards the frame.

“Up you go, dear,” Barbara said, as sweetly as she could manage. With an assist from Windar, they got the struggling girl into position and secured her to the frame.

Windar held the strap out to Barbara, who looked at it with some puzzlement. “A woman deserves a woman’s touch, don’t you think,” he said. “After all, it’s you she insulted.”

Barbara took the wooden handle into her hand. “I’ve never…” she started.

“You watched me. Just do what I did. Raise it over your head, then bring it down hard onto that lovely ass of hers,” the Dean advised.

Barbara took her position, guided by the Dean, then raised the strap and brought it down onto Carolyn’s butt. It made a dull slapping sound rather than the sharp, heavy “Thwack!” it had made when Windar had applied it to Biff. Carolyn barely reacted.

“Barbara!” the Dean exclaimed. “This is supposed to be a punishment. She humiliated you in front of the entire school. This is your chance to make her pay. Take a step back, then step forward as you raise the strap and put your body weight behind it.

Barbara took a deep breath, stepped back and did as Windar suggested. This time the leather connected with a solid and satisfying sound.

“Fuck!” Carolyn exclaimed, wriggling like a fish on a hook. “That hurt, you bitch!”

“That’s much better,” the Dean told her. “She felt that one. Give her another like that!”

Barbara raised the strap and delivered another solid swat low on Carolyn’s ass, near where it joined her thighs.

“Fucking goddamn!” Carolyn cried.

“She’s got quite a mouth on her for a Southern belle,” Windar observed.

Barbara delivered three more blows, each of which elicited further curses and fruitless motions of Carolyn’s hind quarters, which were now a deep red, with numerous purple spots where bruises were developing.

With six lashes delivered and six remaining, Dean Windar called a halt. “Barbara, why don’t you let Harriet have a turn?”

Now, Windar didn’t know whether Carolyn Smith’s ancestors had owned slaves or not. He wasn’t sure that Carolyn knew for certain, though given her well-off Southern background, the likelihood was fairly high. But, regardless, he understood the symbolism.

And so did Carolyn. “No! You can’t let HER do that!” she protested.

“Why does it matter, Carolyn?” he asked. “Because she’s a Negro?”

Carolyn shook her head, “It’s just wrong. Biff, you can’t let them do this.” But Biff just stood there rubbing his sore behind.

Harriet stepped forward and took the strap from Barbara. She didn’t look that strong, but when she wound up and delivered her first stroke, it was clear that she packed a serious punch. Carolyn wailed and howled at that one and at each of the five remaining. By the end, her ass was blistered and bruised and she was sobbing loudly.

Dean Windar was about to order her released when he looked over at Biff. The young man was sprouting quite an impressive erection at the sight of his well punished girlfriend.

“I think she’s been sufficiently punished. I think we should leave these two alone to commiserate after their ordeal. I’ll close the door and leave the key with you Biff. Please lock up when you leave.”

After all, the Dean had a hard and fast rule-he didn’t fuck students.
 
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