Unconditional Submission

Bridgette's Punishment

Professor Adams wasn't an unattractive man, much to my displeasure. He had a classic look about him that made him charming, despite his sinister demands as a dominant. This unsavory combo left me feeling wary because deep down, I didn't like him. But something closer to my surface reached out to him as if there was a chance he wasn't as awful as I felt convinced he was.

I wondered if he had a submissive, and if he did, I wondered how she survived his displeasure.

Down the hallway of the Dominant's Academy, the four of us trailed behind Professor Adams. Bridgette clung to Dawson who gripped her tightly to his side. Her sniffles filled the silence and I felt truly bad for her. I hoped that professor Adams' idea of a "lengthy caning" wasn't more than twelve or fourteen strikes at most. And I hoped he would allow Dawson to deliver it, but I had a feeling that just wasn't the professor's style.

Beside me, Clark walked with long, determined strides. Unlike Dawson, who wore his emotions openly, Clark's face was set in stone. As usual, he gave nothing away. With his head high, and his eyes forward, I couldn't tell if he was upset with the professor like Dawson was, or if he was upset with me, or... if he was upset at all.

I wanted to reach out to him, and with the professor's back turned, there was only one, subtle, method I could readily think of at that moment.

Walking close to Clark's side, I slipped my hand in his, interlocking my fingers through his, and, to my relief, his hand tightened around mine, almost painfully, and that told me enough.

With a swift turn, the professor marched us down an adjacent hallway that would take us to his classroom. I was surprised, to say the least, when we entered the room full of science equipment and the old fat projector that was busy collecting dust in the center of the room. I was sure the professor was leading us to one of the punishment rooms. In fact, I expected there to be some semblance of privacy between Dawson and Bridgette, and Clark and me.

But, as the professor closed the door firmly behind him, trapping all of us in together, it was clear this was going to be a rather public affair, and I immediately felt sick to my stomach. I didn't want to see Bridgette's caning. I had a feeling that it wasn't going to be anything like the punishment I had peeped on a few days earlier.

"I imagine this won't be Miss Bridgette's first caning?" Professor Adams asked Dawson in passing as he rolled the projector to the corner of the room; clearing up a wide space in front of his desk.

"Actually," Dawson drawled, not bothering to hide his contempt for the professor. "It will be her first from me."

"Is that so?" The professor returned, his lips pursed. "Then, you have never delivered a caning before?"

"Not outside of class."

"I'm glad I can walk you through it then." He moved towards a cabinet behind his desk and upon opening it, he withdrew a cane that wasn't the smooth rattan wood that I was accustomed to seeing in most dominant's cupboards. The wielding end was wrapped in leather, providing a place for the disciplinarian to grip, and the wood had some discoloration and ridges along the length of the cane every eight inches or so.

It looked positively awful.

"This is a bamboo cane." He held it out with both hands and gently placed it into Dawson's upturned palms as if it was a very precious item. "It bites a little more than the oak canes you likely studied with. I only recommend it for severe infractions, and I think you can agree that Miss Bridgette's behavior was quite severe."

The second Dawson held the weight of the cane in his hands, his entire demeanor changed. No longer was he the fuming dominant that disagreed with the professor's methods. He was resolute as he held the implement in his hands. He held himself with a responsibility that said it was his duty to discipline his submissive carefully with a weapon that could either teach her or torture her.