For reasons that escape me now, back around 1970 I found myself adjunct-teaching a course at Boston University as I finished my graduate work. The course covered what has now evolved into Geographic Information Systems (GIS) and how it applies to municipal government.
The class met evenings and the dozen or so students were a mix of working people, graduate students, and most notably two attractive undergraduate seniors, who were good buddies and excellent students. Maria was slim, quietly beautiful and reserved, while Sherri was quite the opposite: extroverted, active in class discussions, and prone to wearing short skirts and tight tops, which showed off her sensuous body.
My course was easy to pass: show up, demonstrate interest, join discussions, and do the readings. There was a brief final take-home paper, which I graded to return at the last meeting.
Although there was a teaching assistant to help with grading, when we split the take-home papers to assess, I happened to get both Maria’s and Sheri’s. Despite their demonstrated intelligence and participation, I was surprised to find that their papers were very similar. In fact, when I went through them side-by-side, there were entire sentences and paragraphs that were identical, even carrying over spelling errors from one to the other.
Our final session was hardly a class; basically I handed back the papers and chatted briefly with students when they showed up to pick them up. When Sheri and Maria came in, I asked them to wait until the last couple of other students had left.
I closed the classroom door and handed back the papers, where I had circled in red the many places where copying was evident. I said that I was surprised by this; it wasn’t a difficult assignment, they had seemed to master all the material in the course, and – oh yes – there was a University Honor Code that both students and instructors agreed to.
The two girls reacted with a flurry of explanations and excuses, ranging from running out of time with all their final exams to thinking that the (rather lame) assistant would grade all the papers and notice nothing.
I replied that this put me in a dilemma: the Honor Code obliged me to fail them, although all their coursework and participation had been excellent. They were obviously dismayed at the prospect of failing a course they needed to graduate in the last semester of senior year.
I offered them an alternative. “If you agree to accept a mild corporal punishment that I administer, you will get an ‘A’ for the course, and I will not report an honor infraction. Think about it and come to my office B205 in an hour with your answer.”
An hour later they knocked on my office door with their answer. “Does ‘mild corporal punishment’ just mean a spanking? If so, we accept your offer.”
I told them that was what I meant and instructed them to bend over face down on my desk side-by-side and hold the far edge of the desk in their hands. They complied and I told them I would administer a dozen spanks to each, starting with Maria.
Eager to get this over with, I stepped up behind Maria and gave her a first medium stroke on her buttocks.
It didn’t feel right; it seemed that there was something under her skirt shielding her buttocks. I asked what was going on and didn’t get a reply.
I reached down to the hem of Maria’s skirt and lifted it up over her waist. Sure enough, she had a magazine under her panties to protect her behind. I moved over to Sheri and lifted her skirt. Same result: a magazine under her panties too.
I stood there a moment thinking what to do. “It appears that not only did you cheat on your final paper, but you are cheating on our agreement not to report your honor violation.”
It was clear that I couldn’t report this to the university; I was involved in flouting the Code as much as the girls were. I came to a quick conclusion.
“I’m going to remove those magazines, and you’re going to get two dozen swats each instead of one.”
I started with Maria and pulled her panties down to mid-thigh, then did the same with Sheri. I waited a few moments, then removed the magazines, exposing the two most beautiful behinds I had ever seen. I marveled at the sight, then snapped back to the job at hand. Maria first again.
Maria started quietly sobbing as it dawned on her that the punishment was to be administered to her naked buttocks.
I moved into position behind her had gave her a hard slap to her left buttock. She jerked at the sensation as I counted “One”. The slap left a pink impression of my hand. I continued alternating side to side. Within a few strokes Maria’s sobbing was no longer quiet. She flinched in anticipation of each spank, giving me a firmer target for each stroke. The individual handprints congealed into a uniform pink tone, revealing as yet untouched territory for my next strokes.
By the halfway count, Maria’s sobbing had grown to full-fledged bawling. She gave up on her flinching and my hand slapped louder on her relaxed buttocks. By the time we approached two dozen, the pinkness had progressed to a dark red on the apex of each perfectly-shaped mound.
I stepped back and Maria started to control her crying. Shortly she reached down and pulled up her panties, wincing as the fabric touched her inflamed bottom. She stood up, shook her skirt down without a word and practically ran out the door and down the hall.
I turned to Sheri, who had been watching the entire procedure. I asked her about Maria’s reaction. “Maria’s quite religious and I think she was overcome as much by the shame of having a man other than some future husband see and touch her ass. Plus you beat her pretty hard and there was more pain than she expected.”