Wednesday, 26 March 2014

Wednesday, March 26, 2014 -

The Semester of Standing for Supper

by DJ Black
Published: Feb 06, 2014
Words: 17,639
Category: general
Orientation: M/F
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Hilary Cline had always been fascinated by her aunt's alma mater. Set among the rolling woodland of New England, it had a proud tradition of educating women that went back to 1879. It took its motto seriously: respiciunt futura praeteritis ad honorem, which meant something like respect the past to honour the future, or maybe the other way about, Hilary was never too sure. But Clyburn had always pursued progressive thinking while maintaining traditional methods of discipline. It had been one of the first ladies' colleges to advocate the vote, one of the first to admit black women and boasted one of the first lady state governors among its graduates.

Hilary's young aunt had graduated back in 1965 and it had always been her and the family's wish that her niece follow in her footsteps. Hilary had been in her teens back then and more than a little impressionable. Not that she had been immediately convinced that she even wanted to go to college. Then one Thanksgiving she had come to find her aunt had come to visit on her way back from Clyburn.

Hilary had flown up the stairs to the guest room and had swept in without knocking.

Aunt Clarice was lying half naked face down on the bed with an ice pack on her tail end. Even obscured by the ice bag, it wasn't hard to see her aunt's purple rear and for Hilary to work out that her heroine had been very soundly spanked.

"Busted," Clarice blushed. "You won't tell your mom will you? She will just have to tell mine if you do."

Clarice rolled her eyes as she spoke and then winced.

"But you're... you're way too old to be spanked," Hilary had said with something like awe.

"Not at Clyburn kiddo, there it is practically mandatory," Clarice said ruefully.

"But what did you do?" Hilary had asked with wide innocent eyes.

"Best you don't know kiddo, let's just say I had it coming." Clarice grimaced.

"Was it a paddle?" Hilary asked as she came nearer. She had seen the girls at high school's backsides after a trip to see the principal. She couldn't take her eyes from her aunt's tail end.

"This time it was, but they can use just about anything at Clyburn," Clarice told her. "They have some very quaint traditions."

That had been a turning point for Hilary. After that, and for reasons she could not then or since fathom, studying at Clyburn was all that she ever wanted.


A dozen troublesome thoughts ran through Hilary's head, all competing for her consideration. But only one of these notions came with free tummy-butterflies and that was the one she tried to suppress. Well she couldn't say she hadn't been warned beforehand and she certainly should have known better now, Hilary thought as she picked her way between the trees back to her block house.

The block houses at Clyburn were like small mansions set higgledy-piggledy among the trees.