Cynthia's Education

A little over ten years ago, while I was still in college, I met and became friends with a brilliant, vivacious young woman, Cynthia, who was a top student in one of the science majors. We hit it off really well and often found ourselves drinking beer together, or seeing a movie, or enjoying a meal, or throwing a Frisbee out on the lawn. I have to say, in movement she was one of the most graceful people I have known.

In fact, I was deeply attracted to her. However I never acted on this. In those days I was almost pathologically shy with women. Also, her friendship really mattered to me. I didn't have so many friends. I was afraid if I tried to date her and it didn't work, I would lose the friendship, and I wasn't willing to risk it. Furthermore, I was not such a great student myself, and she seemed just a bit out of my league.

So we continued in this way for our junior and senior years, with the expectation that we both would likely go elsewhere after graduation. In the fall of our senior year, she announced she was going to go to graduate school, and likely would go to a top university several states away. Surprisingly, I fell into a very pleasant, decently paid, and undemanding job in town right after graduation.

We continued our friendship through the summer, and then off she went to graduate school as she had said. There were tears at our parting, and we made heartfelt promises to keep in touch. We did in fact exchange a number of letters and cards, but there was a change. Her graduate program was very intense, and I could tell she was almost being devoured by work in a way that had not happened when she had been at school here. Her letters took on a more serious tone, and there were fewer of them as the months went by.

My life couldn't have been more different. My job, as I said, was undemanding, and though fun, just a little bit boring. As a result I had plenty of time to play. I began to find a few friends, and lost some of my shyness with women. But none of these women moved me as Cynthia had, and none of the relationships lasted long or became serious.

It was more ironic because Cynthia as an undergrad had had her pick of men and dated frequently while at the time, I was very passionately lonely, and my only real outlet was occasional masturbation. We had explored this topic at great length at the pub, on the lawn, and everywhere else we went together, and cried on each others' shoulders numerous times. So in this way we knew each other fairly well.

Now things were different between us. She was so absorbed by work she didn't really have any time for a social life. She also became critical of my free and easy lifestyle and what she wrote was a juvenile approach to life. I admit I was a little flippant in some of my replies, and in retrospect I think that really hurt her feelings. We talked on the phone less and less.

Also she didn't like any more hearing about my social life or my dates. About a year after graduation, she announced she was completing a masters' degree where she was, and returning to our university to finish her doctorate. I'd really missed her and I was thrilled.

When she got back to town, she asked me to help her to move into her new apartment, and I was only too happy to help. I offered to bring a couple of other friends, but she said no, she just wanted me. This was sort of exciting. I spent two days moving her in, and found I was doing about 90 percent of the work, and she was directing me in great detail.

The first day, we worked until nearly midnight, and she allowed me to crash on her couch. Then the next day, we finished about mid-afternoon. She looked really good in her small shorts and tied-off shirt, but I could tell there was something on her mind.

I confess I was thinking a lot about how to talk her into taking the relationship to the next level, but she preempted me. "Gregg," she said, "I don't think you are a serious enough person to have a real relationship with me." I started to protest, but she said, "Hush. I do care for you a lot, and I want you in my life. But you're not serious enough.

"Also," she continued, "I really don't have time for a full-blown relationship right now. The Ph.D. program is going to be even more demanding on me than the masters' was. But you were an enormous help to me today and yesterday, and I do truly enjoy your company.

"Are you open-minded?" she asked. "Yes," I sort of stammered. I had told her in my letters about some fairly wild times with a couple of the women I'd been out with, and so I think she knew this would be my answer. "Have you enjoyed helping me these two days?" was her next question. I was never particularly fond of physical labor, and so I was surprised to hear myself muttering another yes. She had a very interesting twinkle in her eyes, and was smiling for a change while my own face was hot, and I was even sweating a little.

But something about what was happening felt good. "Can I be honest with you?" she asked. "Of course," I said. "I don't need a boyfriend, but I do need someone close to me who can run my errands and take care of my apartment and cook for me sometimes and even rub my back when I need it. Would you be willing to do that for me?"

I wanted nothing more than to be close to her, and before I could think it through, I found myself saying softly, "Yes." By now I was blushing even harder. She uttered a yelp of happiness, jumped up, and hugged and kissed me. There were tears running down her cheek. "Thank you. Thank you so much," she said.

Then she smiled and stepped back. "Since you have so much time, I'll be able to get a lot of use out of you," she said. She sat silent for a couple of minutes, and then she asked me if I had email at work. Email was a pretty new thing in those days, and so she was surprised when I said yes. Even a ne'er do well like me had email.

"That's great," she said. "Here's how it's going to work. Every morning I need your help, I will email you a list of what I need you to do, and then you'll be expected to reply back and to do what I ask in the next 48 hours or so. This seemed exciting, and I thought it might be a novel way to go with her to the next level. So I agreed. I reached over to give her a hug and a kiss but she put her hand up. "I think this is enough for one day. I think it's time for you to go home," she said. I started to protest, but she wouldn't hear it. "Look. It's for the best. It's important we get started on the right foot."

The very next morning at work I had my first list of chores. I wrote back immediately, and suggested a timetable for me to get the work done. Over the next several weeks I found myself cooking, cleaning, doing dishes, driving her places when she wanted to go shopping, and giving her the occasional backrub. As I said a couple of times before, my job was relatively undemanding, so if I needed to take time away from the office to accomplish something for her or drive her somewhere, it was not difficult. However other than my work for her, we really were not seeing much of each other. Once in a while, I'd meet her for lunch on campus, but that was about it.

About three weeks in, she stopped me one day when I was vacuuming the floor. "I'm very disappointed in the job you're doing," she said. "I don't see anything wrong," I replied. She then proceeded to show me several areas where the work was considerably shy of being ideal. "I'm really upset with you," she told me. "And it isn't just this time. It's like you don't care, And I hate that. I thought you really cared about me."

"But I do," I replied, frightened of losing her, but with a growing sadness at seeing her look so disappointed. I felt guilty, too. She was my best friend in the world, and I was letting her down. "It really does make me angry, you know," she said. In order to lighten the mood, I said, "Well I suppose you could spank me."

She had a dark look in her eye, but there was just the hint of a smile now. "You know, that might be just the thing," she said. "What?" I said, beginning to resist the idea. "I think it's necessary," she continued as she sat down in a nearby chair. "In fact you have two choices. You can either get over my knee right now, or you can walk out of here. But I can't guarantee I will ever let you back in."

This really scared me. I'd gotten to a point in my life where I really felt like I needed her Also I'd noticed I was paying more attention and being more effective at work. "I thought you told me you were open minded," she teased. "This is your chance to prove it," With that I surrendered and presented myself over her knee.

It was nice. Even in this humiliating posture, it was great to be so close to her. "Gregg, you know I can't really make much of an impact through your jeans. I'm going to have to ask you to pull them down." I think it surprised us both when, without comment, I reached up, undid my belt, and did as she asked. But I was a bit clumsy about it and my underpants came down, too. "I'm sorry," I apologized, blushing. "No. this is fine," she said. "I think it makes my point even better."

She then proceeded to spank my bare bottom for what seemed like hours. I confess I was crying by the end. When she saw my tears, she stopped. She asked me to kneel on the floor in front of her and, my pants still down around my ankles, she hugged me closely. "Thank you for that," she said. "It really means a lot to me that you were willing to accept responsibility for your mistakes the way you just did. Promise me you'll do better from now on." I nodded. We talked a bit more. Then after a few minutes she sat back, and told me to pull up my pants and go home.

I really did work harder at my chores now. I began to see how to do the tasks really well, and I noticed she was smiling more. This was by no means the last spanking, but it seemed like we were communicating a lot better, and were more comfortable together.

In the meantime her own work was coming together very well. In spite of taking a full course load so she could concentrate entirely on her research in coming semesters, she had already made a major breakthrough. She told me she felt having me as her servant allowed her to relax and truly concentrate on her work in a way she had not been able to do at her previous graduate school. She said it wasn't just that I was taking care of so many time-consuming tasks for her, but that my presence in her life and my willingness to help her whenever she desired gave her a strong sense of emotional security.

As I grew more proficient at the household chores and more aware on a gut level of what she needed when, the spankings grew a lot less frequent, but her mood began to darken. By now, when I had completed my chores for the day, I would kneel in front of her and let her know which tasks I had completed, and what my plans were to complete any others still on the list. If she was satisfied, she would pull me to her, and we would embrace and talk softly for a few minutes before she gently pushed me away and sent me home. If she was not satisfied, of course, I would be spanked, a ritual I have already described.

One afternoon a couple of months after she began disciplining me, I had just finished giving my report. She sat still for a moment and looked thoughtful. "You know you did your chores perfectly well today, and I'm impressed how much more attention you're paying, but I'm not sure it's enough," she said. I must have looked panicked because she laid her hand on my cheek and began to stroke me softly. "No, I don't mean to throw you out of my life, but I think I need a little more from you." I was confused and told her so.

"You know, Gregg, I care for you very much, but in all our years of knowing each other, I've seen you be flippant and even cruel, sometimes without knowing it," she said. "And what I hear from you nowadays shows me you haven't really changed." I started to protest my good intentions to everyone, but she put a finger to my lips. "Hush now, and listen to me. I know you can do better and I can help you."

"What do you have in mind," I asked, getting worried again. "What I would like you to do," she answered, "is tell me every instance in which you think you even might have been cruel, or broken your word, or failed to do something you said you would do, or shirked at work I'm particularly concerned about how you treat women, and about your behavior at work, but I want to hear it all."

"When? Now?" I asked.

"Yes, now. Right now," she told me. I was frightened, but I believed in her, so I told her. Two things that stood out were a young woman whom I had dated, and in whom I had lost interest about a month before. The young woman had been bitterly hurt, and in the excitement of my new service to Cynthia, I had ignored her. Also about two weeks later I had done something mildly dishonest at work.

"That's quite a little litany of bad behavior," Cynthia said. "Most of it, though, I can let slide, at least for now. But these two things. What were you thinking?" I hung my head and answered that I didn't know. "I think you need to be punished. Don't you?" The guilt I felt as I confessed these lapses to her was intense. I told her I did need to be punished. She nodded, not saying a word, and motioned me over her knee.

The spanking she gave was the longest and most severe I had received to date. I was crying out loud by the time she was done. This time there was no comfort afterwards. She told me to get off her lap, pull up my pants and go home. For three days there was no email from her. Then on Thursday, there was a note saying, "Come over to my apartment on Saturday morning. We need to talk."

Saturday I showed up at her door and she let me in without a word. She sat down in the chair she usually used when she spanked me. "Come over here and kneel in front of me," she said. Immediately I did as she asked. She looked at me for a moment with eyes that were both hard and sad at the same time.

"The behavior you confessed the last time you were here really appalled me," she said. "I had no idea you could be so cold and uncaring, and I don't like it one bit." She paused. "But I thought about it, and thought a lot about you all week, and I think underneath it all you're a good person, and in spite of what you told me, I do enjoy being around you. Still, this is going to be more difficult than I had thought, and you're going to have to do quite a bit of work.

"What I want us to do is this. Once every two weeks, I want you to kneel in front of me and confess your wrongs. We'll set a specific day and time. After you confess, if I deem the offenses serious enough, you will be punished.

"There is something else I want. Before you kneel to confess, I want you to remove all your clothes. I really want you naked in body and naked in spirit when you do this, so that you don't even think about lying."

I was overjoyed. I had been certain she was going to get rid of me, and my relief was immense. I admit I had some hope that once my clothes were off, I could persuade her to reciprocate, and then we could get to the next level. So I agreed. The following Monday the list of chores arrived on my email, and my service began again.

So two weeks later I presented myself nude at her feet, and made my second confession. This time she said, "There's nothing here that rises to the level of needing punishment," she said. "Have you told me everything?" I assured her I had.

"There is something else, though," she said. "I am disappointed at all that hair on your genitals, and on your legs, too. It looks unsightly and crude. And you don't really smell that good. The next time I see you, I want you to be clean shaven down there, and you need to be clean besides. Is that too much to ask?"

I guess it was the effect of me being nude in front of her, she looking as sexy as she ever did, and the look in her eyes that expressed her need for me to do this, and I said yes without a murmur. Two weeks later, I presented myself bathed and clean shaven at her feet.

Once again, as my behavior improved, the frequency of spankings decreased, but this time she did not seem to be getting the dark look in her eyes. I got in the habit of bringing flowers, and potpourri and such to brighten the atmosphere, and she seemed delighted by these touches.

She seemed more content. After the semester ended, she kept right on working in the lab, and continued to express surprise at how much easier the work seemed with me there to serve her in her personal life.

Since Cynthia really wasn't spending any strictly social time with me, I started dating a woman. I sort of fell for her, but she could tell, I think, that I was a little bit too tentative about the relationship as such, and so she broke it off after about a month.

About a week before this second woman pulled the plug, Cynthia called me and asked me to come over. Of course I did so right away. "I really like the way you're progressing in your life, and how well you have begun to take care of me and what I need," she said. "I'm going to give you a special treat, if you want it." I told her I did.

She asked me to take off my clothes, and then led me by the hand into her bedroom. It was the first time I had been in this room with her. She led me to the foot of the bed and asked me to kneel there. Once I was in place, she circled around behind me and tied a black silk cloth over my eyes. "Just trust me," she said as she stroked my cheek. I only nodded and let out a soft moan.

I then heard her walk back around me and sit on the bed. I heard what seemed like her pants being removed. My sense of smell was heightened, and it was a beautiful smell. After a moment, she put her hand on the back of my head and slowly guided my mouth to her sex. I had never been particularly good at cunnilingus, but by the way she moved her body, and the instructions she whispered, she taught me what I needed to know.

She quickly got excited, and after what seemed like only a few minutes, she bucked and screamed and pushed my head back. "Thank you," she said. "That was wonderful." She sat up, pulled her pants up, walked around behind me, and untied my blindfold. She motioned me to get up, and said, "Let's go back in the other room." I noticed by the clock in her bedroom nearly two hours had passed.

"But isn't there any more?" I asked, bewildered. She came around in front of me and slapped my face. "Do you realize how many men would give their very lives to be where you just were?" she said sharply. "You need to learn to be grateful for what you have, and not worry about what you can't have." She led me to the other room, pointed to my clothes, and told me to go home.

The next morning, my list of chores was there on my email. By now I had gotten a home computer and could receive her instructions seven days a week. A few days later, after I had completed my assignment, she had me strip, led me into the bedroom, and we repeated the ritual.

This time I did not complain, but instead wept with gratitude. I felt a wonderful, almost spiritual feeling come over me as she experienced her pleasure. This time, after she pulled her pants back up, she drew me onto the bed and held me for a few minutes before she sent me home.

I may have given the impression by the way I've written this that we never talked. Nothing could be further from the truth. When I was at her apartment, she encouraged me to tell me all that was up with me and to pour out my troubles to her if the need was there.

The following week, the woman I was seeing broke up with me, and partly because it was a surprise, and in spite of the quality of my continued interaction with Cynthia, it really did get me down. A couple of days later, I was at Cynthia's doing my chores, and I was so listless, it was obvious even to me.