Friday, June 22, 2007
The Tutor, Second Part
Go To Part One
Presented here, for your reading pleasure, is part two of the story of how I dealt with a young lady whom I was helping with her college studies when she began to behave poorly.
She was waiting for me when I returned from work the following day. I invited her in, and she proceeded to spend the next 20 minutes or so explaining all of the problems in her life that caused her to be so careless at times. I thought for a bit, and realized that I knew people who had similar, or even worse, problems, and yet they all managed to properly handle their classes. So I held firm. Finally, out of frustration, she asked, “What do I have to do get you to keep being my tutor?”
“You have to start taking this seriously,” I responded. “You have to get your priorities back in order. You have to show up when you say you will, and do what you say you will. You have to start taking responsibilities for your actions.”
She retorted by telling me how hard it was to do all of those things. Well, I thought, been there, done that, and yet I managed to graduate with pretty good grades. I even got a job, albeit with the school I’d just graduated from. Finally, she stated, “I can do all those things you said, but I need you to help me. I need…..”
“What you need,” I said, interrupting her, “is a good spanking.”
“Okay.”
I was ready to tell her that it was time for her to go when I realized what her response had been. I determined that I should eloquently request her to repeat herself, so that she would make her intentions clear. For those of you who are regular readers (and you know who you are), you know how eloquent I really am when under pressure.
“Huh?” I said.
“I said, okay, you’re right. I’ve been behaving like a little girl. I do need a spanking.”
Were I a real person, at this point I would awaken from my dream. Since I’m not, I bit the inside of my lip to make sure that I was awake. The pain that followed assured me that I was.
I considered for a second. Was this a ploy? Was she trying to make me feel sorry for her? Was she trying to trap me, blackmail me somehow so that I’d have to continue working with her? Or perhaps to discredit me so that I would be unable to tutor again? I decided to explore her intentions.
“Okay,” I said, “convince me.”
“I’m an only child. I’m cute. My parents have money. I never had to work at anything in my life. High school was easy. I could always get some guy to do my homework or write part of my papers. When I got here, I was lost. No one could help me because they were too busy with their own studies. When I almost flunked out my first year, I thought my parents would be mad, but they said that they understood, that college was hard, and said they’d pay for me to have a tutor. I figured that would work because the tutor could do my work.
“Then I got you. You showed me that this wasn’t really that overwhelming, that I could do it if I was a little organized. So, last semester, I did pretty good. But I didn’t have any fun. So this semester, I decided that I’d work less and have fun. After all, I figured that, if I was having trouble, that you’d help me.
“The problem was that your style was to just point me in the right direction rather than do the work for me. So I figured that if I pouted and looked pathetic, that maybe you’d be like the guys in high school. But you never were. That’s because you’ve already done your classwork and you don’t want to do it again.
“Rather than acting like an adult and putting aside the fun for a while to do my work, I went out and partied and then pouted and cried like a little girl when I didn’t get my way. I deserve to be spanked like a little girl.”
Again I considered. She had analyzed the situation correctly. The good Frank, the rational part of me, thought that perhaps she had learned her lesson, that she would re-dedicate herself to her studies, and that a spanking was not necessary.
The bad Frank, the spanko part, wanted to take this pretty blond twit over his knee, take her pants and panties down, and whale on her cute little butt until my arm was tired.
So I did what anyone in my situation would do. I rationalized. If I let her off, it would be just like how everything else had gone in her life. I would allow her to do exactly what she had just told me had worked for her all her life up until now. She still would not have to take responsibility for her actions. But if I paddled her, she’d have some reinforcement, something that would not allow her to actions to be excused.
“All right,” I said. “I’m going to spank you.” She startled me by letting out a huge sigh of relief. “But,” I continued, “it’s not going to be like a little girl. You’re going to do exactly what I tell you. I’m going to use a wooden paddle. I’m going to paddle you hard and it’s going to hurt a lot. This is going to be a good, long spanking, and it’s going to get worse as we go along.”
“I understand,” she said. She nervously looked at her feet. She was obviously having second thoughts, which is what I wanted. If she still chose the spanking, then she was finally showing some resolve. “Go ahead,” she said. “I deserve it.”
I stood up and retrieved a small stool that I stored in the kitchen. It was perhaps a foot high. I came back into the living room and placed it into an empty corner. “I want you to come over here and sit in the corner for a few minutes and think about what is about to happen while I get everything ready.” Silently, she obeyed.
Thus ends part two. The next installment will have the details that you are all awaiting.
Go To Part Three
Presented here, for your reading pleasure, is part two of the story of how I dealt with a young lady whom I was helping with her college studies when she began to behave poorly.
She was waiting for me when I returned from work the following day. I invited her in, and she proceeded to spend the next 20 minutes or so explaining all of the problems in her life that caused her to be so careless at times. I thought for a bit, and realized that I knew people who had similar, or even worse, problems, and yet they all managed to properly handle their classes. So I held firm. Finally, out of frustration, she asked, “What do I have to do get you to keep being my tutor?”
“You have to start taking this seriously,” I responded. “You have to get your priorities back in order. You have to show up when you say you will, and do what you say you will. You have to start taking responsibilities for your actions.”
She retorted by telling me how hard it was to do all of those things. Well, I thought, been there, done that, and yet I managed to graduate with pretty good grades. I even got a job, albeit with the school I’d just graduated from. Finally, she stated, “I can do all those things you said, but I need you to help me. I need…..”
“What you need,” I said, interrupting her, “is a good spanking.”
“Okay.”
I was ready to tell her that it was time for her to go when I realized what her response had been. I determined that I should eloquently request her to repeat herself, so that she would make her intentions clear. For those of you who are regular readers (and you know who you are), you know how eloquent I really am when under pressure.
“Huh?” I said.
“I said, okay, you’re right. I’ve been behaving like a little girl. I do need a spanking.”
Were I a real person, at this point I would awaken from my dream. Since I’m not, I bit the inside of my lip to make sure that I was awake. The pain that followed assured me that I was.
I considered for a second. Was this a ploy? Was she trying to make me feel sorry for her? Was she trying to trap me, blackmail me somehow so that I’d have to continue working with her? Or perhaps to discredit me so that I would be unable to tutor again? I decided to explore her intentions.
“Okay,” I said, “convince me.”
“I’m an only child. I’m cute. My parents have money. I never had to work at anything in my life. High school was easy. I could always get some guy to do my homework or write part of my papers. When I got here, I was lost. No one could help me because they were too busy with their own studies. When I almost flunked out my first year, I thought my parents would be mad, but they said that they understood, that college was hard, and said they’d pay for me to have a tutor. I figured that would work because the tutor could do my work.
“Then I got you. You showed me that this wasn’t really that overwhelming, that I could do it if I was a little organized. So, last semester, I did pretty good. But I didn’t have any fun. So this semester, I decided that I’d work less and have fun. After all, I figured that, if I was having trouble, that you’d help me.
“The problem was that your style was to just point me in the right direction rather than do the work for me. So I figured that if I pouted and looked pathetic, that maybe you’d be like the guys in high school. But you never were. That’s because you’ve already done your classwork and you don’t want to do it again.
“Rather than acting like an adult and putting aside the fun for a while to do my work, I went out and partied and then pouted and cried like a little girl when I didn’t get my way. I deserve to be spanked like a little girl.”
Again I considered. She had analyzed the situation correctly. The good Frank, the rational part of me, thought that perhaps she had learned her lesson, that she would re-dedicate herself to her studies, and that a spanking was not necessary.
The bad Frank, the spanko part, wanted to take this pretty blond twit over his knee, take her pants and panties down, and whale on her cute little butt until my arm was tired.
So I did what anyone in my situation would do. I rationalized. If I let her off, it would be just like how everything else had gone in her life. I would allow her to do exactly what she had just told me had worked for her all her life up until now. She still would not have to take responsibility for her actions. But if I paddled her, she’d have some reinforcement, something that would not allow her to actions to be excused.
“All right,” I said. “I’m going to spank you.” She startled me by letting out a huge sigh of relief. “But,” I continued, “it’s not going to be like a little girl. You’re going to do exactly what I tell you. I’m going to use a wooden paddle. I’m going to paddle you hard and it’s going to hurt a lot. This is going to be a good, long spanking, and it’s going to get worse as we go along.”
“I understand,” she said. She nervously looked at her feet. She was obviously having second thoughts, which is what I wanted. If she still chose the spanking, then she was finally showing some resolve. “Go ahead,” she said. “I deserve it.”
I stood up and retrieved a small stool that I stored in the kitchen. It was perhaps a foot high. I came back into the living room and placed it into an empty corner. “I want you to come over here and sit in the corner for a few minutes and think about what is about to happen while I get everything ready.” Silently, she obeyed.
Thus ends part two. The next installment will have the details that you are all awaiting.
Go To Part Three
Comments:
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Carry on!
~~(^_^)~~
She deserves it, I'd say!
(Take down those britches, and panties, and give her a good, swift, paddling, she'll never forget!
~~she asked for it.)
Can't wait to read the "end" results!
Grade for this story: a+
Cheers,
b.
~~(^_^)~~
She deserves it, I'd say!
(Take down those britches, and panties, and give her a good, swift, paddling, she'll never forget!
~~she asked for it.)
Can't wait to read the "end" results!
Grade for this story: a+
Cheers,
b.
Great so far, I knew some people when I was in school just like her. I was one that was always getting asked (even if I wasn't a guy).
Please hurry with the next part, I'm breathless with anticipation!
Please hurry with the next part, I'm breathless with anticipation!
Cool story, though I'm not personally a huge fan of wooden paddling stories or images for some reason. Now a good strap or brush...or...? ;)
Keep up the great bloggin'
Dave
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Keep up the great bloggin'
Dave
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