Our F/M segment for this week is off to a late start due to projects that just needed doin’, primarily the completion of my Western spanking romance novel. More about that later. Today I give the floor to Pete, who regales us with a whimsical fantasy about college campus life. Pete was a prolific writer for CF Publications and there is more of his work at cfpub.com.
SWAT on Campus
In the year 1990, as one aftermath of the fiercely feminist movement of the
early ’80’s, a splinter group of NOW was formed…calling itself SWAT, for
Spanking Women Against Truancy. SWAT’s major targets were the generation of laid back idlers that comprised the majority of men in that period. Their
slogan…”The hand that wields the hairbrush, rules the world!”…pretty much
summed up their basic philosophy. That men were, in reality, little boys in long
pants…and conventional wisdom has long held that a good way to reach the minds of little boys is through their bottoms…their bare bottoms!
And so it is with the vigorous proponents of SWAT. On college campuses, in the
sophisticated watering holes of the well-heeled, even in the bedrooms of middle-aged matrons, could be heard the pervasive resonance of hard-backed hairbrushes on soft-backed masculine buttocks. Steeped in tradition, SWAT adherents joyously hoist their menfolk over their knees, strip away the frivolously masculine symbols of trousers and designer underwear, and apply good-old-fashioned, sound spankings to the chubby cheeks so delightfully displayed.
Why, one well might ask, would an entire generation of formerly macho males
submit to the humiliation, degradation and smarting pain that accrues to a form
of punishment traditionally reserved for juveniles? The answer is that the spanking process, painful as it may be at the time, equates to love, attention and care. Submission, in the final sense, means freedom…freedom from responsibility, freedom from care. For it is the women of SWAT, and their adherents, who now must face, and deal with, life’s hard decisions. Man needs only to obey.
Nowhere did the SWAT movement receive a warmer reception than on the college campuses across the country. The return to conservative and traditional value systems is exemplified by the reemergence of the fraternity as a major element of college life. On many campuses, spurred by SWAT adherents, fraternities are delegating much of their hazing activity to their sister sororities. And, campus wide, there is a strong trend toward appointing Senior women as dormitory Monitors – with total responsibility, and authority, for discipline. For
EXAMPLE #1 – JOE/MARY BETH
Joe F., beanie squared to his eyebrows, walks disconsolately across the crowded
campus toward the Tri Chi sorority house. He wears a heart-shaped red badge on his
jacket, a device indicating he has some demerits to work off. He feels the
smiles and smirks of his fellow students, all of whom are aware he is in for a
spanking. His only consolation is that he was lucky enough to be assigned to
Mary Beth J. as his sorority counterpart and disciplinarian. For although Mary
Beth takes her responsibilities seriously, and spanks him hard, at least she is
a compassionate, beautiful and sexy woman. He feels sorry for some of his fellow
pledges who have been assigned to unattractive, uncaring girls.
Joe enters the Tri Chi house and goes up to the reception desk, where Ginny M.
has drawn this afternoon’s duty. She smiles at him sympathetically as she
notices his red badge, saying, “Here to see Mary Beth again?”
Joe shrugs manfully. “I’m afraid so.” He sits down on a nearby chair to wait.
Now that the spanking is imminent, apprehension knots in his tummy.
Ginny pushes a button on the intercom, “Mary Beth, Joe’s here to see you.”
A crackly voice responds. “Again? Ask him to wait, I’m in the shower.”
Joe groans inwardly, desperately wanting to get this whole thing over with. The
minutes seem like hours. The knot in his tummy grows ever tighter, ever larger.
After what seems like an eternity, Mary Beth skips gaily down the stairs,
carrying the traditional SWAT black wooden hairbrush in her hand. Still steamy
from the shower, she wears a very short terry robe that clings alluringly to
what little it covers of her voluptuous body. Joe suspects she is wearing
nothing else. For a critical element of the SWAT program is to encourage
sexuality in spanking, rightly figuring it would make the concept more
acceptable to men.
She bounces up to him and gives him a quick peck on the cheek, noting him slyly
peeking down the gaping neckline of her robe (confirming his suspicions that she
is naked underneath). She steps back and looks at him sympathetically, asking,
“How many this time?”
Joe scuffs his shoe on the thick carpet, “uh, 18 I’m afraid.”
“18” Mary Beth squeals, “you should be afraid, that’s 72 spanks. And your poor
botty must still be sore from the spanking I had to give you the day before
Joe is touched by her concern, even though he knows it won’t mitigate the
severity of her spanks.
“You’d probably like to get it over with, wouldn’t you?” She asks
compassionately. Joe nods. “Well, let’s go then.” She turns and strides toward
the small room in the back reserved for such occasions. Joe follows, his eyes
appreciatively riveted on her provocatively swaying derriere. He wished they
hadn’t banned dates between pledges and their sorority counterparts; he plans
to remedy that condition when he becomes a Brother.
Arriving at the door, Mary Beth pauses to allow Joe to precede her. As he
squeezes by in the narrow entrance, her moist body is monetarily pressed against
him erotically. Joe is nearly overwhelmed by the conflicting feelings of fear
and excitement that gnaw at him. She walks over to the single armless chair in
the center of the room, sits down gracefully, smiles warmly at Joe and beckons
to him with a cutely crooked forefinger. Blushing, Joe moves to her side and
stands meekly, his eyes averted, as her nimble fingers deftly undo his slacks
and they slither noiselessly to the floor. She pats her gloriously sleek thighs,
totally revealed by the parted robe, and Joe obediently sprawls across them. Her
thumbs slide gently inside the waistband of his boxer shorts, and he lifts his
hips up to assist her in the process of working them down from his bottom to
their mid-thigh resting place. She softly strokes Joe’s chubby buttocks, the
twin cheeks palpitating and quaking in apprehension. “Poor Joey,” she croons
comfortingly, “I’m so sorry, but you know I have to give you a good one, don’t
“Don’t worry about me, Mary Beth,” Joe says bravely, “it’s my own damned fault.”
“I’ll try to get it over with as fast as I can, OK?”
“Thanks, Mary Beth, I’d really appreciate that.”
“Well then, are you ready?” Mary Beth asks him. Joe nods, and, S
true to her word, Mary Beth begins to spank at a furious pace. So fast and so hard it takes Joe’s breath
away, and his response is an unintelligible jumble of “oww!….wahhh!….ahhhrgh!”
“Jesus Mary Beth, how would I know? It feels like 150, but since I’m not crying,
it’s got to be less than 50, I always cry at 50.”
“I know!” Mary Beth giggles, then places a cool palm on the crest of Joe’s
already crimson and blistered right buttock. “Hmmm, I’d guess we’re about
halfway there. That sound fair to you?” Joe only grunts, so Mary Beth takes a
firm grip on her hairbrush and resumes her blistering assault on
Joe’s flaming flanks. About halfway through this salvo, Joe feels the first
tears squeeze out from under his tightly shut eyes and guesses they’d passed the
magical 50 mark. He grits his teeth, but feels the first wracking sobs surge up
inside him, then explode out in a long wail.
Mary Beth feels so sorry for poor Joe, she almost cries herself. But she knows
she has a job to do, so counting carefully to herself, she proceeds.
Joe is beside himself now, his bottom bucking and bouncing alarmingly, his feet
drumming against the densely carpeted floor, his clenched fists pounding the
chair leg, tears streaming down his tortured face…it hurt, HURT, HURT!
“That’s a stupid question, Mary Beth, I don’t think I’ve ever felt worse in my
life!” Joe sobs, “aren’t you finished yet?”
“You don’t have to get snippy about it.” Mary Beth says haughtily, “you’ve only
got 6 more coming (she never could count very well), and I think I’ll cheat a
little and just use my hand. Whack whap spat whack splat whack whap! Her palm stings Joe’s wobbling fanny.
Joe knows he should be grateful, but Mary Beth is one strong lady, and striking
as they did an already ravaged rear, even her hand spanks smart dreadfully.
“That’s 7!” He squeals in protest.
“I’m sorry Joe, I guess I got carried away,” she says innocently as she helps
him to his feet. She gently strokes his burning, blazing bottom, admiring her
handiwork at the same time. She holds him tightly, not so much to embrace him as
to help him stand on his obviously shaky knees. When he has achieved some
semblance of control, she very carefully tugs up his boxer shorts, making sure
her hands brush teasingly against his genitals. While she sincerely hates
hurting Joe, she exults in the power, the control and the erotic thrills
spanking him give her. She knew she excites him, a knowledge confirmed by the
growing bulge of his shorts, and hopes he will date her when the pledge period
is over. She takes a hankie from the pocket of her robe and tenderly dries his
eyes. She’s had many fantasies about a long term relationship with Joe…every
one including spanking as a major element.
Joe sobs and sniffles softly in Mary Beth’s warm embrace, his arms around her,
his hands wander down to gently caress her magnificent derriere. He is touched
by her warm attentiveness, thrilled as her hands moved ticklishly over his
genitals. He realizes, somewhat ruefully, that he is beginning to look forward
to these spanking sessions, and worries that there might be something
“unnatural” in these feelings. He, too, has fantasized about Mary Beth, and is
mortified that all of these involuntary fancies include spanking as a central
As it turns out, all of Mary Beth’s and Joe’s dreams come true. Mary Beth
continues to soundly spank poor Joe’s bare behind throughout his pledge period.
Following his initiation, they begin to date and in short order became pinned.
The rapid spread of the SWAT movement legitimizes the inherent masculinity
involved in accepting spankings from a member of the fairer (and psychically
stronger) sex. So throughout his college career Joe is a frequent (and willing)
visitor to that little room at the end of the hall, there to be put over Mary
Beth’s matriarchal knee and soundly spanked on his bare bottom with her
hairbrush. Married soon after graduation, the couple lives happily ever after,
with Mary Beth firmly in control.