Theological Discipline


[This story involves spanking, caning, and other physical punishments, including figging, as well as dealing with bodily functions. If you prefer not to read about these topics, stop reading this story now. All characters are 18 or over.]

I was able to celebrate my 28th birthday the week after I found myself standing in front of a theological history class at Friendship Seminary preparing to start teaching my first class there. I was feeling good and had put on a nice set of separates—a pale gold blouse and a smart navy skirt, combined with a gold stickpin, sheer hose, and burgundy pumps. My flaming red hair had been recently styled and I opted for very light makeup.

The students at the seminary ranged in age from 18 to 22, with a few who had opted for this field at a greater age. They were a sophisticated group, better dressed than most college students were these days, but very care-oriented and idealistic, even if their religious views ran the range from fervency to very limited acknowledgment of a Supreme Being.

Friendship was a traditional institution with close ties to the hierarchy of its denomination. Those who attended usually came from a privileged background, for their families to be able to afford the sizeable tuition. The school leadership—the Dean and the Board of Religious Advisors – believed that their students required regular physical disciplining. This was invariably provided by the faculty, who tended to be older university academics, or ordained men and women with expertise in the various subject areas. Their competence had been gained from many years either as college teachers or service as ministers or theologians. They came to teach at the seminary often after reaching retirement age.

I was interviewed by only one person, the Dean of the seminary, Rev. Alicia Frances Simmons, who had been one of the first women in the particular denomination to hold a pulpit. She held a degree from the seminary, augmented by a D.D. from an Ivy League university. Rev. Simmons seemed to be a good-natured but highly intelligent woman who exercised her authority easily without needing to impress anyone with her command.

She informed me that the seminary required graduation from an accredited high school or private independent school for consideration for admission. It set a firm requirement which limited admission to those who were 18 or older. Graduates were awarded the degree of Bachelor of Sacred Theology. There also was a small graduate program that offered advanced degrees. The seminary’s standing in the overall Protestant community was excellent. Its graduates were usually able to select from numerous attractive pastoral or other ecclesiastical opportunities.

Rev. Simmons explained to me that when she required a new member of her faculty to teach the key course in theological history and practice, she had expanded her search since few were likely to bring the expertise needed for this course. She let me know that she was looking to hire a recent star graduate of a university comparable to the one she had attended for graduate work.

She then told me point blank that she wanted a teacher who possessed the bearing and mien of an instructor who could hold the attention of a class of exceptionally bright students. The seminarians were spirited, enjoyed themselves in their free time, and were clever enough to challenge any teacher, she advised me.

While corporal punishment barely existed in any other schools in the area, the seminary retained it. Of course, it didn’t want to have the outer world aware of the practice, lest that public knowledge engender interference from the secular authorities. Traditionally, she said, the faculty exercised their authority to enforce strict discipline in their classes and in the seminary generally as well, including in the dormitories, where residence was mandatory for the students.

I started to realize that I was exactly the type of professor whom Rev. Simmons was seeking. I found it exciting that she took pains to explain the disciplinary policy to me. So, when the Dean discussed the punishment policy and that teachers tended to err on using this form of discipline more rather than less, I let myself smile. This led Rev. Simmons to ask me whether I had any experience in administering corporal punishment, adding that the teachers generally employed either spanking or caning.

The mention of those words aroused me so that I had to concentrate so I did not show my pleasure.

“I do have some experience, Reverend,” I responded coolly. “My mother disciplined us growing up using both of those. So, they are not at all strange to me.”

“Do you feel comfortable using them here and now?” the Dean followed up.

“Of course, Reverend,” I replied. “I realize it’s not common in schools anymore, but I can see that it’s part of the academic tradition here, which deserves to be maintained along with the other standards.”

“I wanted to make sure because at your age, you will be disciplining young women who may istanbul escort be only a few years younger than you are,” Rev. Simmons explained.

Without giving out any more of my family history than she deemed necessary I answered, “By the time I was in high school, Reverend, my mother had asked me to assume responsibility for administering punishment to my younger siblings. I can assure you that I bring plenty of experience to this particular responsibility.”

Rev. Simmons smiled and said she was pleased that this would not cause any problems. She even told me that she had dreaded having to instruct a new teacher in how to spank or cane either in class or when assigned to after-school duty.

“Of course, I will have to feel my way here,” I remarked, “because it’s been a while since I supervised them and now, I’m almost 28.”


I found that my rooms on the faculty corridor of the school were pleasant, well-appointed, and spacious. I brought both my blue Sunbeam Alpine and only three or four tasteful valises containing my clothing and important possessions with me when I moved in over the weekend. When I reached my rooms, I was pleased to find the expected kitchen appliances, crockery, and silverware, as well as toiletries and some expensive soap in the bathroom.

On the sideboard in the living room/study I saw what Rev. Simmons had promised would be there: a thin, crook-handled cane, a mid-sized dark leather strap, and a small French martinet. I picked up the cane, whistled it through the air, and flicked it expertly using my wrist on the couch where it landed with a reassuring quiet snap.

I realized that I already missing my boyfriend in the area with whom I had been going since we both were together in grad school. Hank had found a university faculty position at a good college that was less than an hour away. I looked forward to his visiting me for the weekend. She had spoken to Rev. Simmons after she was hired, and said she assumed she was able to have guests visit her in her rooms.

“Why, of course,” Rev. Alicia Frances said. “You bring a strong academic background to our seminary, Lesley, and we feel our faculty are mature and will conduct themselves properly. Frankly, what goes on in your rooms is your business unless you disturb the others and I’m sure that is not your intention.”

I colored slightly at that statement but thanked the Dean for her advice.

“I decided to hire you, Lesley, because you hold a good, advanced degree from one of our finest universities and your undergraduate work was equally outstanding,” the Dean went on. “I feel we have been lucky to get you to fill a very critical role in our curriculum and I hope you will inspire our seminarians to follow your example, whether or not they wish to become ordained or not.”

The next day was my first teaching day. I would have four classes, ranging from introductory religious history to more intensive classes on various historical periods. I wore another set of separates: this time I put on a bright blue blouse and textured tweed skirt, with sheer hose and burgundy pumps. My regular personal trademark was a lovely gold stickpin that had an original design that reflected no particular sect.

I introduced myself to the students as Dr. Lesley Thayer Cairns, adding that they should call me Dr. Cairns. They seemed surprised that a woman as young I was held a doctoral degree, and when in response to a question about it, I stated without any special inflection that it was from a specified highly prestigious university and where I had focused on theological studies as well as related history.

A girl raised her hand and when recognized, asked her if I had considered becoming a minister. “Many of us are headed in that direction,” she said.

“I have the utmost respect for those of the cloth,” I responded, “but my interest is in history and the underlying theology and philosophy. I’ve written on it and plan to continue to do so. I also enjoy teaching and wished to spend some time helping to give all of us a broader knowledge of the relevant theological history so those of you who assume a pulpit will leave here with a good basis in this field, which will serve you well wherever you end up.”

As I was outlining the term’s curriculum for the class of juniors—mostly 20-year-old women who had had some grounding in the general subject, my eyes fell on two girls were rather blatantly conversing quietly near the rear of the classroom.

“Might I ask why you two are not listening to this explanation of the course?” I calmly asked in a stern but not raised voice as I stared at Jill Northcott and Emily Baskins, whose records, as with the ithers, I had reviewed while preparing for this class, indicated that they were two fairly good students who rarely needed to exert themselves to receive at least grades of B in their classes.

“I’m sorry, Miss Cairns,” Jill responded, her cheeks coloring slightly at being singled out with her friend by me, this new, young escort bayan teacher. “I promise to pay attention from now on.”

“I think you’d better come up here now, Northcott,” I answered, emphasizing my keeping my cool. “And, by the way, try listening more because it’s ‘Dr. Cairns’.”

Jill now appeared to be worried, perhaps starting to think that she had dug herself in deeper. I hoped she did not like having gotten off on the wrong foot with her teacher.

When she arrived at the front, where I was standing next to my desk, I pointed to the front of the desk and said crisply, “I’m sure you know the drill, Northcott. Bend over the desk and grasp the other side. You will hold on and not move.”

Jill had pretty auburn hair she wore in bangs. Her face still showed surprise that this new teacher hadn’t wasted any time adopting the school’s caning policy as she bent across the desk but was not surprised now to feel my hands lift her skirt above the waist. Then I put my thumbs into Jill’s beige panties and pulled them down just a little below her bottom, which I had now bared.

The rest of the class looked surprised that I, a new teacher, reacted so quickly as a veteran pedagogue might. Nevertheless, they were accustomed to seeing their classmates punished in front of them regularly.

I opened the drawer of the credenza nearby and took out the thin yellow cane I had been given by Rev. Simmons. I did not swish it through the air, hating to do anything that suggested I was brandishing the cane to impress or scare my class.

I turned to Jill whom I stood behind. Then I lightly laid the cane on Jill’s bare bottom, drew it back, and flicked it with my wrist to impart a quiet but slowly stinging stroke. Then I drew the cane back again, aimed a bit lower, near the base of Jill’s ample bottom, and snapped the cane twice in succession across that more sensitive area.

Jill cried out and almost broke position to rub her throbbing red striped bottom. I waited for her to quiet down, then aimed my cane to crisscross the stripes left by the previous three strokes. I took care not to let the cane touch Jill’s bottom before I drew it back and now snapped three strokes across the others.

Jill now let out a scream and reared up almost involuntarily.

Realizing that she had risen before being told to move, Jill hurriedly bent back over and held her breath as to whether she would get extras, the normal penalty for breaking position during a caning.

I looked at the distraught girl and calmly said, “You did get up before you were permitted to move. So, you have earned extra penalty strokes. However, this is my first day and you have been punished sufficiently. Get up, put yourself together, and return to your seat.”

Jill didn’t have time to reflect on my leniency. She knew that most of the other teachers would have lashed her a few more times for her temerity in rising before being told she could. She pulled up her panties and let her skirt down, then efficiently walked back to her seat.

“Miss Baskins,” I now called out, “it’s time for you to come up here and explain yourself.”

Emily, a slight dirty-blondish girl, who always seemed to have a smirk on her face, was not smiling.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Cairns,” she managed to get out. “I forgot myself and lost track of the class.”

“Very well,” I remarked. “Bend over the desk,” she ordered, pointing to where Jill had just been caned.

Emily now was quite fearful. She could see what I wanted to convey to all of them—that I was not one to put up with any misbehavior, even though I wasn’t much older than the students in the class.

I moved behind her and lifted Emily’s short skirt, tucked it under to keep it up, and then slipped Emily’s plain white cotton panties down to her knees.

Emily sensed how exposed she now was. Most of the teachers tended to lower panties just below the bottom. I took this further and even told Emily to keep her legs apart, so her panties did not fall to her ankles. Emily was aware that her most private parts were now exposed. I was sure that this was excruciatingly embarrassing for her.

I took my time letting Emily stay in her exposed position. Then I lay the cane across Emily’s small bottom, drew it back, and fired three quick strong stinging strokes. Emily screamed and almost jumped up. Her face seemed as red as her bottom was striped in red.

Now, to Emily’s surprise, after that severe start, I quietly told her she could pull up her panties and go back to her seat.

Even after that roasting, Emily looked pleased she had escaped the number of strokes Jill had received as she walked back to her desk.

Word quickly circulated around the school that the new young teacher was no pushover. The dining hall at lunch was the scene for many whispered and not-so-quiet conversations about my severity but also how I had let one student off with three quick sharp strokes.

I joined a table in the faculty dining room and was surprised Bostancı escort when two teachers in their late 40’s, Margaret Branson and Hilda Taggart, with whom I sat down, looked at me and smiled.

“We’ve heard you didn’t waste any time establishing your authority in your first class, Dr. Cairns,” Margaret said by way of welcome. “We’re so pleased you’re here and that you have kept the side up.”

“I suspect that because I’m a bit younger, some of the students thought they could take advantage,” I answered. “And ladies, please, it’s Lesley. I hope I can call you by your Christian names.”

“Oh, certainly,” Hilda smiled in response. “I’m Hilda Taggart, and this is Margaret Branson. But everyone on staff calls me Hilly.”

“Thanks, Hilly,” I grinned. “I really didn’t like to start out caning two girls but now it seems it probably set a good example for the rest. So maybe I can focus on teaching.”

“You’ll find that these seminarians seem to think they’re too old to be disciplined,” Margaret observed. “I find I have to take one or two in hand every other day or so.”

“We also make use of sending a disobedient girl to the corner for a while,” Hilda, who was a veteran mathematics scholar who now enjoyed teaching mostly introductory calculus, told me.

I knew enough math to suspect that Hilly had a fairly easy job because she didn’t have to teach more than some basic calculus and then statistics here.

“And consider having them get up on a chair next to your desk facing the wall and kneeling there for a while with their trousers down or skirt up and shorts or panties down,” Margaret, whose subject was English Literature, added.

“Those sound like good practices,” I replied.

“Putting them up on the chair exposed is especially good for the frosh,” Margaret advised her. “Oh, and you can call me Meg. Everyone else does.”

I smiled as Meg did, too.

“Thanks for being so welcoming, Hilly and Meg,” she said, enjoying herself.

“You should know what Simmons probably didn’t bother to tell you,” Meg continued.

“Oh?” I said, surprised at what sounded like would be a revelation of some kind.

“Yes, your predecessor as the theological historical teacher was a long-serving lady named Millicent Mynverse,” Meg told me. “She had been teaching here since before any of us had even heard of the place. A true institution. She was very, very strict. Kept a birch in the classroom closet…and used it, too,” she added.

“Wow!” I couldn’t help exclaiming, “And I assume she’s retired somewhere now?”

“No,” Meg answered. “She didn’t want to retire. Simmons had to go to the board because it was getting difficult with her.”

“What had happened?” Lesley asked.

“She didn’t get along with anyone, so she kept to herself, never spoke with any of us, and Hilly and I have been here for 12 and 15 years, respectively,” Meg said. “And Simmons had been getting complaints about her using the birch, sometimes punishing four or five students a class.”

“The school has managed to maintain firm discipline, like using the cane or spanking, because parents know about it when the seminarians start here,” Hilly now chimed in. “But you can’t really support someone using the birch in this day and age.”

“Simmons called her in at the end of the term and Millicent didn’t respond well to the suggestion that she retire,” Hilly went on. “Simmons then told her that the board had already decided that if she didn’t retire, they were not renewing her contract. Apparently, she gritted her teeth, bellowed for a while about how no one respected her, and told Simmons she was a nincompoop!”

“I have to hand it to Alicia Frances,” Meg now said. “She made it clear to Millicent that if she didn’t go quietly, the board was ready to cut her off without any retirement and Simmons told her that if they went public about letting her go because of the use of the birch, she wouldn’t have a leg to stand on in this day and age.”

“I guess when she agreed to leave,” Meg concluded, “Alicia Frances decided that she’d get someone young and accomplished like you, Lesley, so she wouldn’t have that kind of problem again. We all have good degrees, of course, but not many of us have our doctorates. We’re very proud to have you as one of us.”

“Thanks for the compliment, and for the inside info,” I said gratefully. “I’m in your debt, ladies. You’ve made me feel better about how we discipline these students, boys as well as girls. I’m sure they remember the birch.”

“Oh, all of our sophomores, juniors, and seniors had it from Millicent,” Hilly declared.

“They may not think I’m so terrible then,” I posited.

“Even if you spank them,” Meg offered, “they’re going to love you, Lesley, because they know what things were like even last year. By the way, they are more embarrassed when you spank than when you cane them, and I recommend that you put them up on the chair for a while before you do either, because that really gets to them. They actually behave better for a while.”

After lunch, I returned to my classroom for a freshman class on intro history and philosophy. I loved explaining all the concepts and the historical events. I knew about church councils from her studies and research and enjoyed this work.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *


Bisexual Haitian Manhood

"Under pressure," Thomas "T.J." Julien said to himself as he walked into the office of Stephen Docker, smug-faced scheduling manager…

Stretching Pt. 03

Circa Early 2003The next morning while still in bed, Amy reached into the nightstand where the new big vibrator had…

Strawberry Summer

The sun beat down on Jerry's back. He could feel the strain of bending and twisting all morning. He raised…

New Slave on the Block (Part 2)

***“Ah, I see you have woken up. Finally.”Kirk looked to the door, startled and panicked by the sight of Rifka.…

tuzla escort izmir escort izmir escort izmir escort kızılay escort esat escort mersin escort etiler escort bahçeşehir escort bursa escort bayan görükle escort bursa escort bursa merkez escort bayan bakırköy escort keçiören escort etlik escort şişli escort sex hikayeleri gaziantep escort gaziantep escort Casibom Giriş Casibom Casibom Güncel Giriş bornova escort balçova escort mersin escort mecidiyeköy escort taksim escort şişli escort otele gelen escort çankaya escort beylikdüzü escort seks hikayeleri şirinevler escort Bahis sitesi sex hikaye muğla escort muş escort nevşehir escort niğde escort ordu escort osmaniye escort rize escort sakarya escort samsun escort siirt escort Antalya escort porno porno escort Escort Escort bayan Escort bayan escort escort escort travestileri travestileri bursa escort bursa escort bursa escort canlı bahis kuşadası escort bayan antalya rus escort kocaeli escort kocaeli escort Escort ankara Ankara escort bayan Ankara rus escort Eryaman escort bayan Etlik escort bayan Ankara escort bayan Escort sincan Escort çankaya görükle escort bayan bursa otele gelen escort görükle escort bayan porno izle Anadolu Yakası Escort Kartal escort Kurtköy escort Maltepe escort Pendik escort Kartal escort xnxx Porno 64 alt yazılı porno bursa escort bursa escort bursa escort bursa escort şişli escort film izle istanbul travesti istanbul travesti istanbul travesti ankara travesti Moda Melanj