From: Daarriaa@aol.com Date: Thu, 5 Sep 1996 19:22:33 -0400 Subject: Jennifer's Dilemma This is a fictional story. It has spanking and a young lady. Please donít read if that is not of interest to you or you are under eighteen. I canít believe it! I finally wrote a story with out my obnoxious nose stuck in there somewhere. Do I smell the suspicious odor of a new series here? Depends. On if the members of this fine community wish this shaky story line to continue. You tell me. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ JENNIFERíS DILEMMA or COLLEGE DAZE ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ You would think that now, since I am twenty years old I would have gotten over it. Or at least be able to reason it out better. I mean itís so silly really when you think about it. But ever since I was a little girl I have always been cursed with an overly active conscience. Not like my friends, whose idea of a conscience was fear of being caught. If I did something that was wrong it bothered me. I just couldnít let go of the thought I was wrong and the feeling followed me like a dark cloud. Isnít that something you should be able to grow out of or at least apply some common sense to? Well not me. And always, Mom or Dad found out. Usually Mom, it was like I had a red neon sign on my forehead flashing my guilt when ever I did something wrong. She knew. If I didnít confess in a short period of time the punishment was always more than would have been the case had I ìfessed upî. So I learned to admit my crimes and get it over with. Added to the equation was the relief I felt when it was over and I was forgiven. But this is the sort of thing youíre supposed to out grow. Isnít it? Well friends Iím still waiting for that growth spurt. Before I get to my current problem let me give you an example of what I mean from my childhood since it relates so much to the present. I was eleven (and a half as I announced proudly to anyone that would care to listen at the time) and starting to consider my self quite the grown lady. Certainly I was too old for spankings any more. This feeling ignored the spanking I had received just before my eleventh Birthday and two more a month previous to this. But that was a long time ago and I was a young lady now, much too old to be spanked. But I didnít factor in my conscience. As I said I was eleven and in the fifth grade. Along with Billy from down the street I had (mind you at his urging) on the spur of the moment, in a flash of madness taken some cigarettes from one of his Momís packs. To make a long story short Billy got caught and punished. But he didnít give me up as being involved with him. At first I was worried about my parents finding out, then as that worry eased I was gripped by guilt. Billy had been punished and I just couldnít let it go that I was going to get away with it, I felt so guilty. ìI know, I know what an idiot.î But there it was I couldnít shake the feeling. ìJennifer, is everything ok dear?î Mom asked as I sat down for breakfast the following Saturday Morning. We were alone my brothers and Dad had gone fishing at four in the morning and my sister was still at a slumber party. ìSure Mom everythingís fine.î I answered too hastily and knew that I was not convincing. And why should I be convincing? Everything was not fine, it wasnít fine at all. Mom went back to what she had been doing and didnít say another word. Moms know everything, itís kind of unsettling to a kid. You can never be sure of what theyíre thinking. ìDoes she know? I wondered. ìShould I tell?î I pushed my self back from the table and yelled over my shoulder. ìGot to go Mom, Iíll be back later.î I scampered out, letting the screen door crash behind me. The guilt washed across me and finally I could stand it no longer. ìMom, can we talk?î ìOf course Jenniferî was her simple reply as he placed her hand on the sofa seat next to her where I was to sit. I confessed my crime and was soon crying and holding on to her. She informed me that she had known for two days and was waiting to see if I told or tried to hide it. ( With Mothers, you just donít have a chance to get away with anything). She comforted me and ask what I thought my punishment should be. I responded that I thought missing TV tonight should cover the bill. This didnít wash with her. She told me that had I lied or continued to keep quiet Dad was supposed to ìtalkî to me that very evening. I knew with a shudder what ìtalkingî meant with him when it came to stealing. We had a discussion on what I had done and possible punishments and soon I was across her knee with my dress up and panties down. She gave me a very through hand spanking that soon had me bawling like a baby. Thoughts of being a grown up lady had vanished from my mind. When it was over and my clothing back in place she hugged me and all was forgiven. I was so relieved. I was free of guilt, I wanted to sing and dance. All was right in my small world. I was forgiven. And that is my problem in a nut shell guilt. Just old fashioned plain guilt, I canít get rid of it. So here I am twenty years old just beginning my Sophomore year in College, two thousand miles from home and I have the guiltís. What do I do? I canít fly home for a spanking. I canít shake the feeling. I canít sleep. Damn, what do I do. What do I do? I try to rationalize that it wasnít a big deal, I shouldnít feel this way. No luck. I tell myself. ìBut Jennifer, You couldnít have known the calling card that you ìrentedî to make all of those long distance calls was stolen.î The problem was, I suspected it. It was just too good of a deal to pass up. It was stealing and I knew it. What could I do about it now? Find the guy with the stolen card and pay him the fair price for the calls? Not likely. Try and pay the phone company? Good idea if I wanted to be the center of an investigation. I didnít. My ìcrimeî was done and couldnít be undone. And I had the guiltís something terrible. Miserably I wondered what to do. I couldnít let school start like this Iíd never be able to concentrate. I thought to my self ìOh, if Daddy were here, and then relief would only be a spanking away. It was then, as I lay in on my bed in the dorm. that the first seeds of an idea was to begin to sprout. There was one way to get rid of the guilts. But who would help me? It was Saturday afternoon. My crime was now one day old and I didnít want to miss another nightís sleep. My friends from last year would be arriving tomorrow. I didnít want this hanging over my head when I greeted them and we began the registration process. There wasnít anybody I could think of. Nobody. As I lay there pondering my dilemma a name, a face began forming in my mind. Yes maybe, just maybe. I sprang off the bed and picked up the student school directory. His name was there! He was teaching again this year. Did I have the nerve for this? Did I have a choice? No not really I thought as my shoulders slumped in resignation. I had to get up the courage and call him. ìWhy yes Jennifer, I remember you very well.î Professor Snyder said after I introduced myself. ìYou were one of my favorite students last year. How are you doing? Getting all settled in for the new year?î I ignored the small talk. ìProfessor, may I come over and talk to you? Do you have some time available?î He seemed a bit taken back by my forwardness. ìOh, well Uh, yes Jennifer, if itís important.î A minute later I had his address and was walking out the front of the dorm, ìWas I nuts?î I wondered. ìHow did I tell this nice unassuming man that I wanted him to spank me? And would he do it?î I wasnít sure but I did remember some references in class that gave me reason to think I might succeed. Nothing much, just some teasing to the girls about late assignments earning a warmed bottom. Just that. Not much to go on. I almost lost my nerve and turned back several times. And then there I was, knocking on the door of a small well kept home just a few blocks from the campus. I pulled nervously at the legs of my cut off jeans and looked down at my college T-shirt bought only that morning at the bookstore. ìWas I too casual?î I wondered. ìWhy? Was there a dress code for this sort of thing?î I asked myself in a facetious tone. He opened the door and greeted me warmly. Sensing that something was concerning me from our short phone conversation I was ushered in and soon I was sitting on the couch. He looked at me from his large easy chair and indicated with a wave of his hand that I should start. I began talking. I told him everything. Even the childhood spanking I mentioned earlier. While looking him in the eye believing the direct approach was best, I soon got to the point. He gaze was steady, he gave no hint of his thought process while I talked. He was in his early forties, normal enough in height and weight. He had the distinguished look that you would expect of an English professor. Dark hair with a touch of gray at the edges that you knew he would never cover up with hair color. He wasnít that sort of person. His steady gaze and lack of expression unnerved me. I had no idea what he was thinking. ìAnd thatís it professor, itís just that I feel so guilty. I didnít know what else to do.î All of a sudden I felt foolish. ì Was I an idiot? What was I doing here?î I started to get up. ìProfessor Iím sorry to have bothered you, this is really not your problem. Please forgive me for bothering you.î ìSit back down young ladyî He ordered in a stern voice that brought me back to the couch with out comment. ìStealing is a serious matter anytime, and you are quite correct to feel guilty. It is a sign of a solid values and a good upbringing. But I am afraid that you will have to be punished.î The knot that always forms in my stomach when I know I am about to get a spanking came to life. At the same time I felt a sense of relief. It was all going to be over soon, I would be able to relax tonight. As he stood up a million thoughts zoomed through the empty space between my ears. Some of the half asked in my head on the way over here. Still others had been formed while I talked and now some new one ones surged forward. ìWould it hurt? Of course it will hurt you dummy.î I answered my self. ìIs he going to do it right now? Is he going to spank me right this minute? Couldnít he wait? I know he might make me take down my jeans but no more right?î But I wasnít sure and I knew I was in too deep to be asking questions like that. I had made all the choices available to me by coming here. I was going to do as I was told and with out complaint ìWould he use his hand? Well then What?î I wondered. The questions just would not stop. He reached out his hand and took mine. He turned and I followed him, much like a small child will follow a parent. I felt like a child at that moment. I had never been spanked by anyone other than my parents and was scared and felt so out of place. A man I really didnít know very well was going to give me a spanking, and because I had asked him to. ìAmazingî I thought to myself. ìJust amazing what you can get yourself into Jenniferî We entered a den at the back of the house. I noticed a small gun rack and some duck hunting decoys on the wall. There was a large stuffed brown leather couch and a matching easy chair. Both were worn with age but still looked impressive. The light from the window illuminated the room nicely. It was very masculine, clearly without a softening feminine touch. He pulled a chair away from his desk where his computer was. He turned it and the seat of the chair pointed to the middle of the room. It was clear now where the spanking was to take place. He still had my hand in his, and I turned when he turned. Letting go of my hand he sat down on the chair and spoke for the first time since we left the living room. In a soft but firm voice he said. ìJennifer please drop your jeans.î I was on his right side. I nodded and looked down and fumbled with the button. I got it undone and placed my fingers into the jeans and slid them down. He patted his knee and I placed my hands on his left leg and lowered my self into place. He moved me slightly more forward and put one arm lightly on my back and patted my bottom a few times with his right hand. A crazy thought flashed through my head as I remembered I had worn a new pair of panties today. When I was shopping a week earlier for clothes and had picked out this pair of White and pink panties it would have shocked me to think the first time I wore them I would be getting a spanking in them. CLAP the first sound rocked through the small room and caught me by surprise. I wiggled on his lap and tried to think of other things. The next two spanks brought me back to the reality of my situation. I tried once more to focus my thoughts. Nice carpet I like the soft tan color. ìOOWWî My focus was lost again and for the rest of the spanking my mind didnít wander from the sting in my bottom that was turning to flame. I felt his hand as it impacted each time and the sting that seemed to flow through my body. Tears were beginning to well up in my eyes. I gripped his ankles with my hands and tried to squeeze as tight as I could. ìooooî ìooooî I cried softly. The crisp spanks echoed in the room and the pattern of swats seemed to pick up from the previous pace of one every two seconds or so. SMACK, POP, SMACK SPANK, SPANK, POP, POP SMACK POPSPANKPOP SPLATSPANK. I was frantic. This was one of the harder spankings I had ever gotten. I tried to place my right hand over my butt for protection, he grabbed my wrist and pinned me against him. I tried to wiggle free. No luck I was stuck. I had nowhere to go. I was crying with out reservation. My left hand, now a fist was banging against the carpet almost in time to the swats on my bottom. ìooOOî ìooooOOOOî was all I could manage through the sobs and the tears. And quick flurry and he stopped. My trembling slowing subsided as he held me across his lap. I heard him talking softly to me and it had a calming effect. A few gentle pats on the seat of my panties and a hand on my shoulder signaled me it was time to get up. The spanking was over. It was more than I had expected, but I knew as I stood there in front of him rubbing my bottom that it had done the job. My guilt had vanished. I felt punished for my mistake and forgiven. Back in the living room with my jeans back in place I sat gingerly on the couch at his direction. ìJennifer, I am teaching a sophomore class in Literature this year. I expect you to sign up for it.î I nodded my head in acceptance. ìAlso I will be monitoring your progress this year. I expect you to report to me any problems you have, do I make my self clear?î I thought for a second about what he was saying and I was getting myself into. I looked down at the floor and nodded my head again. ìYes sir.î I said softly. ìI understand.î He continued. ìYou should also expect that the punishment will fit the crime, if your misdeed warrants it you will be punished accordingly and as I see fit.î For the third time I nodded my agreement. He took my hand once more, and walked me to the door. Soon I was back in my room like it was all a dream. Later I examined my bottom in the mirror. Damn, he sure could give a spanking. My fanny was red and splotched with white areas among the red. I thought about if there would be a next time. I suspected there would be. I slept good that night and was refreshed and excited to see my friends as they checked in through out the morning. Only a dull sting remained when I sat down. A pleasant and warm reminder that I had paid the price and was forgiven.