Room Six

Note: This is the story of what happened to me over thirty five years ago. Since the school is still in business I have changed its name and done my best to disguise its location. I doubt that this sort of thing still occurs there, but I have no way of knowing for sure. I have also changed the names of the participants, because it's unlikely any of these women would want their children, or grandchildren in some cases, to know everything they did as teenagers. After all, I still get Christmas cards from some of them.

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I went to an expensive university on a partial scholarship that didn't pay all the bills, so I had to work to make up the difference. I worked dawn-to-dusk on a construction project during the summer between high school and college and earned a big chunk of what I needed. I had to find a part-time job during the school year to earn the rest, but the university's placement office didn't have any jobs above minimum wage. My experience on the construction job, plus the years that I worked after school at a hardware store, helped me land a job as a handy-man. I would have preferred something closer to the university campus but there was regular bus service to get across town, so I was able to save some money by not needing a car.

My employer was the Southside Academy, a small private college for girls. It was a boarding school that offered freshman and sophomore level classes in an environment that was more personal than at the huge university I attended. I was one of only eight men on the staff. There were two male professors on the faculty, plus a night watchman, a gardener and his assistant, and two maintenance men who worked on weekdays. I lived in a small room in the basement of the administration building and took my meals in a dining room for non-faculty staff members.

My job didn't have any set responsibilities. I just had to be there in case something broke down and had to be repaired on short notice. The evenings were usually fairly quiet, giving me plenty of time to study. The weekends weren't quite as slow, since it seemed like everything that broke did so on a Saturday or a Sunday.

When I wasn't fixing something or studying, I was watching the girls. Being a leg-man, I had plenty to watch, too. About 150 girls were enrolled at Southside, all from well-to-do families. And there wasn't a black, an Asian or a Hispanic among them (after all, it was still the early seventies). There weren't many fat girls, either. Athletics and physical fitness were stressed at the school, and just about every student was a member of one or more sports teams. The tennis team, the gymnastics team, the swimming team and the diving team were competitive on the junior college level, but the girls also played interscholastic volleyball and softball. The result was a campus full of fit, attractive female bodies.

Normal attire for the students was a uniform of sorts consisting of a white blouse and a skirt, which could be any solid, dark color. A school sweater or blazer was added on cooler days, and the girls were allowed to express their individuality with a scarf or shoes of their choice. The Academy dress code did not permit pants or slacks, and even the women on the faculty were required to wear skirts or dresses. Short skirts were fashionable, so the hemlines were several inches above the knee. I liked it best when the women and girls wore knee high boots with their short skirts, which they often did. (Gas was cheap, too, so life was good.)

I had just turned eighteen when I started working at Southside and, although I wasn't a virgin, I was eager to expand my sexual horizons. Socializing with the students was discouraged, of course, but all of them were of legal age, so I considered them to be fair game. I set about getting to know them, beginning with their names. Privacy laws were not as important in those days, so getting my hands on a roster was easy; there were copies of the student directory in most of the offices, including mine. Then I got a yearbook from the previous semester and started to put names to faces, concentrating my efforts on the best looking of them. The Academy's athletic events were an especially good place to watch the girls, because the coaches frequently asked me to be there to fix broken equipment on short notice. I especially liked the gymnastics and swim meets, for obvious reasons. I love a form-fitting leotard or Speedo, but the tight micro-shorts the volleyball players wore were also quite revealing.

A few of the two dozen women on the faculty were nice-looking, too, including the President. Everyone called her "Dr. B" since she her multi-syllabic last name was hard to pronounce. Too bad all forty-year-old women didn't look that good. She was a well-endowed brunette and I always watched her when she was around since she usually wore high heels that showed off her superb legs. In fact, on my second evening on the job, I looked out the window from the basement workshop and saw up her dress as she spoke to one of the professors. Under her skirt she wore stockings and garters, and I watched her from then on, hoping to get another glimpse like that first one.

Then, late in my first month on the job, I learned something that made my life very interesting: Southside Academy used corporal punishment to discipline their students. I learned of this one weekend when I saw three members of the staff leading a girl to Room Six. Room Six was at the opposite end of the hall in the basement of the admin building where my workshop and sleeping area was. Curious, I went down the hall and listened at the locked door. The shrieks and cries I heard told me a very serious spanking was in progress. The sound of leather on bare flesh was unmistakable.

Not wanting to be discovered, I left before it was over. I went to check out Room Six after they were gone but I discovered that I didn't have a key for that lock. In fact, not counting the girls' dorm rooms, Room Six was the only door on campus that I couldn't open with my master key. After listening to two similar spankings, I was determined to learn more.

By listening discreetly and asking just a few questions I learned that, sometime during their first month as a student, every freshman was taken to Room Six to witness the punishment of an older girl. It was supposed to impress upon their young minds the consequences of breaking the rules. Among the students, Room Six was the most dreaded place on campus. Some of them called it the Dungeon, the Torture Chamber, the Punishment Room or the Whipping Post, but most everyone usually just referred to it by its room number.

Punishments usually took place in the evening on weekdays, and in the morning on Saturdays and Sundays. That way the student had at least one night to recover before classes began the next day. The offender had to strip totally naked before she was shackled in position. A professor or other staff member would administer the punishment with some kind of a leather whip, and the school nurse was always there to keep an eye on things. The punishment strokes were not counted. The event was timed, usually by Dr. B, but sometimes by one of the school secretaries or by Dean Adams (Dr. B's assistant). Punishments lasted from as few as one minute to as many as five minutes and usually, but not always, resulted in uncontrollable crying by the miscreant.

Having learned all I could and seeing the regularity with which Room Six was put to use, I set about finding a way to observe the proceedings. Planting a camera was out for a variety of reasons: I didn't have that kind of money, I couldn't get into the room, and the TV cameras of the day were way too big to be easily concealed. Room Five, next door, was full of air conditioning and heating equipment but drilling or cutting a peephole in the concrete wall was impracticable, as well as far too obvious.

The ventilation system was my answer, but it was going to take some work to modify one of the ducts as a peephole. I needed an excuse to work in there, so early on a Saturday morning I put some road kill in one of the ventilation ducts. The call for maintenance boomed over the PA system after lunch. With Evelyn, Dr. B's secretary, following me around the building, I traced the odor to Room 5 and then told her that I could see a dead animal in the duct work. I told her I would have to dismantle a few things to remove the corpse and clean up the blood and guts, and that was all she wanted to know. She went off to report to Dr. B, leaving me alone to put my plan into effect.

Altering the metal duct work so I could see the interior of Room Six took less time than I thought. I cut a hole through the bottom of one of the air registers and fabricated a hinged panel to cover the hole. The register was fourteen inches wide and the grill that covered it would prevent anyone in Room Six from seeing my face on the other side. The grill was about eight feet above the floor so I had to come up with something to stand on. Anything permanent was out of the question since I didn't want to leave any evidence of my voyeurism. I solved the problem by building a small platform that I could hook onto one of the sturdy electrical conduits that were attached to the wall. The platform was large enough for me to stand on but small enough to hide under an air handler when I wasn't using it.

When I finished my spy hole I rearranged the boxes and furniture stored in Room 4. I wanted to be able to pass unobserved from my workshop in Room 3 to my spy-hole in Room 5, and I wanted my perch to be concealed from the door to the hallway. That door was kept locked, but I knew I had to be careful.

The next morning, a Sunday, my preparations paid off in a big way. I had finished breakfast and was on my way to the workshop when I saw some women go into Room Six and close the door behind them. Quickly but quietly, I made my way to Room 5 and climbed onto my platform. I got my head into the air duct in time to watch Rebecca, a pretty brunette, removing her bra. Evidently she had been on a date the night before and she had stayed out past curfew.

Three women were in the room with Rebecca: Dr. B, Maria, the school nurse, and a math professor named Yvonne. Dr. B was her usual well-dressed self, but from my high viewing angle I couldn't really admire her legs. Maria was kind of frumpy-looking in her all-white uniform and flat shoes, but having seen her in the dining room I knew not to dismiss her charms so quickly. She was rather pretty with her hair down and I had also observed that, although slender, she was built very well. Yvonne was a tall blonde with nice legs, but she was flat-chested and not especially pretty. She was an intriguing woman however, because there was a rumor going around campus that she spent one month of her summer vacation on a nude beach in Europe.

Rebecca stepped out of her panties and allowed Yvonne to shackle her wrists to a sort of trapeze bar hanging from the ceiling. Maria then turned a crank to raise the bar high enough to lift the girl's hands above her head, but not so high as to lift her feet off the floor. Rebecca's naked body, including her nicely developed tits, was completely on display to my hungry eyes. I wondered if I would be able to keep a straight face the next time I saw her on campus. With Dr. B. and the nurse (and me) watching, Yvonne tucked a Bible under her right arm and proceeded to turn the girl's wonderful round ass an angry red color.

I wondered if her date had been worth those two minutes of pain she endured. She screamed and kicked her legs and twisted around as much as her restraints allowed. I was looking at her right side most of the time but her movements allowed me several good views of her back and her front. I particularly liked it when she raised either knee, since that made her thighs and buttocks look especially good. Yvonne kept up the whipping, following Rebecca's twisting motions so the girl would know she could do nothing to escape her stinging punishment. Sometimes the foot-long strip of black leather at the end of the whip would slap noisily across both cheeks and sometimes just the tip would hit, delivering an especially painful sting.

Halfway through the whipping Maria examined Rebecca's buttocks and declared there was no permanent damage. Then she did something I didn't expect; she rubbed the girl's ass for at least ten seconds. I thought it might just be to add some humiliation to Rebecca's ordeal, especially when her face flushed and she shivered a little. She also bit her lip, squeezed her thighs together and opened her eyes a little wider, as if she was feeling something she did not expect. I found out later that the massage treatment kept the girl's butt from going numb and therefore lessening the intensity of the punishment, but I also wondered if Rebecca had become sexually aroused. Horny or not, she endured another twenty-five or thirty lashes before Dr. B called a halt to the punishment. Yvonne hung the whip on the wall and then freed Rebecca's wrists from the shackles.

"No rubbing yet," Yvonne told her. "You don't want any more."

"Yes, Miss Smith," Rebecca replied. "I know what to do."

She flexed her fingers as if forcing herself to keep her hands away from her burning buttocks. Then, instead of going to the corner to retrieve her clothes, she bowed to Yvonne and thanked the professor for whipping her. She actually sounded sincere. Then she got down on her knees in front of Dr. B. and apologized for her behavior. Once again, I could tell from the muscle tension in her arms that Rebecca was doing all she could to not reach back and rub away the sting she must have been feeling. Dr. B. let the girl babble on for a moment before she let her get up and get dressed.

Rebecca's departure was not the end of the show as another professor came in, bringing a student with her. I recognized Dr. Johnson, a blonde biology professor, and Sara, a tall brunette upperclassman whose tits were among the largest on campus. Dr. B announced that Sara was guilty of a curfew violation just like Rebecca and, not surprisingly, the punishment was the same. Sara undressed (Wow!) and then she stepped up to the bar so Dr. Johnson could fasten the wrist cuffs. I got the feeling that Sara had a lot of experience in Room Six.

Sara gritted her teeth and closed her eyes tightly when she heard the first lash on its way. Her big round ass flattened under the whip and then rebounded and shook as she clenched her thighs and wiggled her hips. I got a real eyeful as her grapefruit-sized boobs flopped and jiggled while Dr. Johnson was whipping her. Her endowments were magnificent indeed, but for some reason I wondered if someone with such voluptuous curves at a young age might not have trouble keeping weight off later in life. It was a weird thing to think about while I was watching her dance at the end of a whip.

Even a novice like me could Dr. Johnson hit harder than Yvonne had. The pace was about the same but the whip just seemed to move a little faster in her hand. But Sara was also tougher than Rebecca had been. She didn't move around quite as much and her feet rarely left the floor. She kept her legs farther apart as well, but her pubic hair was thick and I couldn't see much of her pussy. So I just concentrated on watching her bouncing boobs.

The two minute whipping probably seemed like a long time to Sara, but it was all too short for me. My erection was uncomfortable in my pants and I wanted to take it out and jack off, but I was afraid I might get caught. Room Six was a quiet place right after a whipping, and I figured that if I could hear Sara's soft apology to Dr. B, then the women might also hear me if I made any noise at all. I learned quite a bit of self-control while I was watching naked girls get spanked in Room Six.

I wanted more, and when Sara got dressed and left the room I got what I wanted. Dr. Allen, a mousy history professor, came into the room with Teresa, one of the freshmen. Teresa hadn't done anything serious but she had evidently accumulated a number of minor violations. Twice during the week she had made too much noise in her dorm room and she had also neglected to do some assigned homework. Those things were enough to earn a trip to Room Six, but then she ended her week by failing a test in Dr. Allen's class.

Watching the offending students strip was one of the best parts of my voyeurism. Of course, the actual whippings were a true spectacle for a horny teenager like me, but when the girls were taking off their clothes it seemed like I was getting to know something about them as individuals. The way they moved and spoke, the expression on their faces, their attitude, and their choice of underwear all told me a little about their personalities. Some girls shivered and had goose bumps, while the naked skin of others glistened with perspiration. Their nipples were sometimes erect or there was moisture between their thighs that wasn't perspiration, so I knew at least some of them were turned on by the thought of a spanking, at least some of the time. As Teresa got naked I decided I should keep a journal of what I saw and learned. I would have to keep it well hidden, of course, but it might come in handy if I ever managed to pursue a relationship with any of the girls.

Teresa had a nice figure. Her legs were well-developed but when she took off her bra her B-cup tits sagged more than I expected. Her pubic hair was dark, and I wondered if she colored the hair on her head. She had a very nice ass to go with her legs, and I figured she would take the whipping well. Her multiple infractions had earned her a five-minute whipping, so I was about to find out.

Dr. Allen was a short woman and Maria had to lower the trapeze so the professor could fasten Teresa's wrists in place. What Dr. Allen may have lacked in height she made up for when it came to the force of her lashes. Her technique with the whip was masterful. Each lash ended with a crisp snapping sound on Teresa's bare ass, and the poor girl was shrieking louder and louder with each one.

Dr. Allen took longer between her strokes than Yvonne or Miss Johnson had. She got in less than twenty lashes before Dr. B called an end to the first minute. Maria took a quick look at Teresa's rump and saw that Dr. Allen wasn't drawing blood, or worse, and then the nurse did her little butt rubbing trick. That was a part of her job I envied.

As Teresa's punishment continued, her cries became more subdued with each lash of the whip. Dr. Allen kept the same steady pace, and the way Teresa's body flinched under the blows told me she felt the sting of every stroke. She started crying towards the end of her second minute, causing Maria to take an extra few seconds to massage the feeling back into her ass cheeks. Teresa continued to cry through the third and fourth minutes, but she stopped crying before her last minute was over.

Seeing how limp she was as she hung from the bar, Maria and Dr. Allen left her there until she was standing on her own. When they did release her from the shackles, Teresa stood with her head down for at least another minute before she composed herself enough to thank Dr. Allen for spanking her. She also took longer than the previous girls with her kneeling apology to Dr. B. In all, I got to ogle Teresa's naked body for about twenty minutes. It was great.

The next student to enter was way too skinny for my personal taste. I didn't really want to watch her get whipped, so I climbed down and put things back the way they belonged. Then I made my way back to my room where, with visions of naughty naked women filling my mind, I spent the rest of the morning masturbating. It was a remarkable beginning to a very stimulating year.