Bunk off work

You have tutorials this afternoon and know you ought to be getting back to college, but you don't really want to go. It's not that you hate your job; you love expanding young minds and find it an honour to help shape the next generation. However, it doesn't excite you as it once did. Of course, being able to spank the female students should spice things up, but the majority of undergraduates are male and most of the rest aren't exactly glamour models. On the other hand, you don't want to lose your job by simply not turning up, so you open the Rulebook once again and write the name of your university on the top of a new page.

Old Rule: Professors' Trinity Term undergraduate tutorials are taken by teaching assistants.

Simple, yet effective. A quick check of the diary on your smartphone confirms that the afternoon is now free. In future, maybe you'll use the Rulebook to make you a millionaire man of leisure, but no point in burning your bridges so soon. It's time for you to explore the new world.

After paying cash for your coffee using some of the money you collected earlier, you exit the café at a jaunty pace. To begin with, you don't see many obvious changes. Women of the right age all carry spanking implements as required, but there are no delectable lasses bending over in the street for a dose of corporal chastisement. In fact, there aren't even any young ladies showing signs of having received a recent spanking. You do notice that all the women you see—of every age—are in good physical condition and clearly take care of themselves in terms of diet and exercise. However, that doesn't necessarily make them good looking and after ten minutes you haven't seen anyone as attractive as the barista you saw earlier, let alone the stunning cheerleader.

You're wondering whether you need to try a different tack, when you reach the corner of the thoroughfare up which you're currently ambling and see a busker some way down the road to the left.

You see rather than hear her, because she's not currently playing the violin which she holds in her left hand and the reason for that is that a balding gentleman of maybe forty-five is whipping her bare breasts with a heavy tawse.

A few dozen paces bring you close enough to see the final stages of the punishment. The busker looks to be in her early twenties, with frizzy purple hair down to the bottom of her shoulder blades and dark, heavy make up, apparently waterproof as it's not streaking despite the tears running down her cheeks. She's barefoot for some reason, black leather platform boots placed neatly side by side near the open violin case containing a scatter of coins and notes. Her jeans are torn (probably deliberately) and her leather bustier is currently pulled down to expose the heavy tits that are even now being slapped from side to side with the thick leather tawse.

The man finishes and inspects his handiwork, bruises already turning black. With a shuddering sob, the first audible sign of her suffering, the busker thanks him for disciplining her and promises not to hit so many bum notes in future, then she bends down and collects as much cash as she can grab quickly from her violin case and offers it to her chastiser. Several of the onlookers toss a few more coins into the case while she's doing this and she dutifully collects these as well. The two participants in the impromptu display of performance art exchange tawse for money and the man leaves, well satisfied. The woman pulls her bustier wincingly back over her battered tits, lays the spanking implement with equal care over her boots and, stamping one bare foot on the pavement to give herself a beat, puts bow to strings in a sprightly rendition of the theme tune to an old science fiction television series.

You drift away with most of the others, the spanking obviously more interesting than her performance. This tells you that spankings (or at least public ones) aren't terribly common and are still quite a spectacle.

Continuing along the new street, you glance in the shops you pass and eventually spot a young shop assistant bending over for a bare bottom strapping from a middle-aged female customer, just inside the entrance to a department store. This is somewhat unexpected, as your rules only require women to submit to chastisement from older men, but you never explicitly outlawed others from administering discipline and taking a few lashes from a customer is no doubt preferable to being the subject of a formal complaint. Walking on, you turn down a side street and surprisingly quickly find yourself away from the bustle of the town centre.

A little way further on, you end up near a small public park and decide to cut through it rather than continue towards a residential area. There are only a few people in the park, mostly older, sitting on benches or wandering beside the flower beds. The bigger park on the other side of the university is always heaving with students, joggers and courting couples at this time, so you find it a pleasant change.

A fairly attractive brunette, who looks to be quite close to the thirty year cut off for compulsory spankings, is standing by the gates through which you intend to exit the park. During your approach, your eyes take in the curvaceous form encased in a neatly tailored black pencil skirt and matching jacket over a French blue blouse, but you're obviously not subtle enough in your appreciation, because she gives a start and steps towards you in a pretty pair of kitten heels, a nervous smile playing about her lips.

"Rigid right hand?" she asks, tentatively.

"I'm sorry?" You think you must have misheard, or at least misunderstood.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm waiting for someone to spank me and I thought you were he. I'm so sorry to have bothered you."

"No, no, not at all. Who is it who's supposed to be spanking you?"

"Just a gentleman I met on spanker." Your face must give away that this means nothing to you, because she takes out her smartphone and shows you what she's talking about. On the screen is what looks like a dating app called Spankka, except that instead of matching potential partners, it pairs naughty young ladies with mature disciplinarians. Before she puts the device away, you manage to see that her latest (so far unfulfilled) request for punishment concerns her spending habits and her profile picture, presumably visible to anyone accessing the service online, is a full length nude. You wouldn't mind inspecting that photograph a little more closely, but the 'phone is already on its way back to her inside jacket pocket. "On Spankka, we don't see which member has chosen to spank us, we just get instructions where to go to meet him. The volunteers get all the information about us though, so whoever it is ought to be able to recognize me."

Just at that moment, a grey-haired black man in a yellow polo shirt comes through the gate and interrupts.

"Excuse me, you're Frances, yes?"

"RigidRightHand?" she repeats herself.

"Yes, I'm sorry I'm late."

"Oh no, that's quite alright. I've set aside the rest of the afternoon, because in the meeting instructions it said you prefer to take your time with punishments. And that you'd probably want me to tip you with sex." She does her best, not entirely successfully, to hide her discomfort at this latest fact and in the awkward silence that follows you say goodbye and take your leave.

It might be worth joining Spankka, you muse. If Frances is representative of the sort of women available on there, then you could surely find one you wouldn't mind taking to task.

Suddenly, you're broken out of your reverie by the unmistakable sound of a young woman's scream of agony. It's some way off, but you follow the pleasing melody of her shrieks and soon arrive at a community centre. In the glass-fronted noticeboard is a printed poster carrying a picture of a freckle-faced teen in a school uniform and the following legend:

Private Function:
Green Lane Community Centre booked for the Assessment of
Siobhan Maureen O'Kelly
Spectators Welcome
All spanking places filled prior to the Assessment, so no volunteers on the day, please.

Now this looks interesting!