A follow-up to The Experiment
“Are you comfortable?”
Jess gaped at the absurdity of the question. Professor Croyle was under no illusions about the experience to which she had recently been subjected. Thirty spankings in about as many days. . .and had the audacity to invite her to sit on a hard plastic chair in his office? At least he had given her a glass of water, which Jess now sipped slowly to allow herself time to school her emotions. She had a feeling, a particularly sore feeling in her buttocks, that an outburst in this particular lab would be a terrible idea.
“Comfortable?” Jess replied, managing to keep her voice neutral.
The professor chuckled good-naturedly. “I guess I don’t need an answer to that particular question, or, rather, I already have it.” A
“We realise, in hindsight, that the questionnaire we’ve been asking the subjects to fill out after each session focuses solely on the physical aspects of the experience- pain, flavour, te
“Do you ask all of your subjects these sorts of personal questions?”
“I honestly don’t know. You’re the first to to complete the experiment.”
Jess was at a loss for words yet again. “What do you mean? I thought I had joined late? Trish seemed to go to such trouble to get me registered. . .”
“Well, yes, you were the last applicant. However, none of the other applicants have taken to the trial with such. . .zeal.” Professor Croyle rustled through the papers on his desk as Jess flushed more deeply. “I believe subject 27 is on track to be the next one finished, and she has a full eight sessions left.
“In ways, we are grateful for your dedication,” he continued, seemingly oblivious to Jess’s increasing discomfort. “I see you’ve had a session nearly every day. Spacing them so closely together doubtless has allowed you to make a more thorough comparison between each mouth-soaping, with the memories of previous sessions still fresh. However, we have noticed a few trends in your responses that we would like to investigate.”
“Investigate how?” Jess asked, eyes flickering toward the office door.
“Nothing too painful, I can assure you,” the professor said with an expression which he probably thought was a reassuring smile, but which spectacularly failed to have the desired effect as Jess warily fidgeted with the skirt hem. “Certainly nothing like your other sessions. I just want to ask you a few questions.”
“Questions about what?”
“About your feelings for your assigned researcher.”
“I have no feelings for Jim,” Jess scoffed, turning to examine the books lining the professor’s office in an attempt to hide her reddening face. She’d gotten used to her roommate cheerily joking about her supposed love for the scientist. She’d never even admitted to Kim that there might be some truth in her assumption, and certainly had no intention of discussing the subject with a professor she’d only just met.
Professor Croyle, realising that no response was forthcoming, continued softly, “Even in a detached, scientific atmosphere, the procedure is both invasive and intimate. It would not be unexpected for emotional attachments to arise. Perhaps we should have considered varying the researcher for each session-”
“Emotional attachments?” Jess interrupted. “You think I’ve developed emotional attachments to Jim? After what he’s done to me? That’s ridiculous!”
“The data seem to indicate otherwise. Look here,” Professor Croyle paused to turn his monitor. “These are your responses to question 6B, which, as you may remember, asked you to rate your agreement with the fairness of the simulated “punishment”. I thought it an odd question as the trials were hardly true punishment, but now that the results are coming in, I’m glad we asked. You see there is a clear trend in your responses. As the study progressed, your responses became more favourable.
“And what I find particularly interesting is if we overlay these results with the number of penalty swats you had incurred in each session for failure to cooperate.” A few clicks later and a series of bars appeared along the bottom of the graph, each marginally taller than the last.
“That means nothing, it’s just one question,” Jess replied defensively.
“I might agree if this were the only trend we saw, but look at this.” Another series of clicks brought up a new chart, showing a similar slow but steady trend in each of three lines. “These are your responses to questions 7A, 7B, and 7C, which asked for you to rate the sting, burn, and overall pain of the post-soaping spanking. Again, you’ll see that on all three counts you seemed to find the experience less and less severe, despite the increasing number of strokes.”
“Maybe I was just getting used to it. After so many sessions, I probably toughened up.” Jess shifted uncomfortably and winced, an expression that Professor Croyle noted with a raised eyebrow.
“Perhaps, but look at 2F, your rating of your respect for your ‘disciplinarian,’”
By the time the graph had been called up, Jess was gone, the door slamming behind her.
She turned with a huff for the exit.
“How did it go?” Jim asked.
Jess gaped as she spun to face him, lounging casually against the wall a few doors down from the office.
“Judging by the slam, I’d guess not well. Care to talk about it?”
“I most certainly do not.” Jess nearly shouted. “I’ve had enough of your stupid lab and you stupid tests. Piss off!”
“Such language! I almost wish you hadn’t finished your trials, I’d say you could use another dose. Then again, I’d hate to see what it would do to our data. I doubt I could maintain the professional detachment necessary while administering a real punishment.”
Jess paused in her tirade, the sudden realisation of her childishness catching up with her. She took a deep interest in her shoes. “I suppose. . .”
“You suppose what?”
“I suppose. . .I mean, you punished me enough for nothing, I guess I would trust you to do it.”
“Are you saying you deserve punishment?” Jim asked cautiously.
“Of course no . .I mean, I guess I shouldn’t have run out on Professor Croyle like that. I did agree to this. The whole thing has been embarrassing, but talking about it was worse than getting it, you know?” Jess looked up, pleading look in her eyes.
Jim gave her a small smile and reached out for her, pulling her into a hug. “I understand. All the same, you’re an adult now, and should well able to control your emotions for the length of a brief conversation. Moreover, you’re a scientist in training, and should understand the importance of data analysis. You know the results of this study are subjective, and part of the agreement you signed on to was to provide additional feedback if requested.
“Yes, I’m sorry,” Jess muttered into his shoulder.
“Not as sorry as you soon will be, assuming you want to go through with this?”
“I guess,” Jess replied quietly.
“I’ll need more than that. This exercise isn’t covered by your consent forms. I need you to ask me.”
“I . . . I think you should punish me.” Jess stammered.
“Punish you how?” Jim’s gaze was hard, and Jess couldn’t hold it for more than a moment.
“I deserve. . . a spanking.” Jess replied.
“I agree. Come.” Jim turned briskly and led her into an all-too-familiar examination room. “I think we can dispense with the hospital gown on this occasion,” he told her as he ushered her inside.
The door had only just clicked closed behind them when Jess found herself face-down over Jim’s knee, a maneuver which had become very well-practiced. A moment later, Jess felt the peculiar sensation of her skirt being raised and her panties lowered and she squirmed awkwardly. Though this was hardly the first time he’d seen her bare bottom, the experience of the area being undressed while over his lap was more uncomfortable than she would have imagined.
That particular discomfort was quickly dispelled as Jim delivered a sharp, painful swat with the hairbrush conveniently at hand for the experiment.
“Hey!” Jess protested. “Aren’t you supposed to start with your hand?”
“The hand spanking is a courtesy to the volunteer subjects. No need to make the trials more traumatic than they need to be for the study. This, however, is punishment, and I see no reason to soften the experience. From what I heard outside Professor Croyle’s office, you sorely deserve this.”
Jess bit back her reply, unable to argue with him. She’d been so proud of herself, taking regular spankings from him over the last month without complaint, all in the name of science. She’d even begun to think he might have respected her for it, though that dream had been dashed by his reaction to her earlier outburst. Any respect she may have earned had been wasted in that moment.
It was this realisation, more than any pain, that had her sobbing long before Jim let her up off his knee and gathered her into a hug.
“Better now?” he asked. Jess only nodded. “You’re in no condition to continue on today, but do you think you could continue your conversation with Professor Croyle more civilly tomorrow.”
“I guess so,” Jess replied shyly.
“Good girl,” Jim answered, and the smile he gave her made the whole experience worthwhile.
Jim helped her to her feet, and as she adjusted her clothing he reached for a sheet of a stack of papers on the table.
“I am NOT filling one of those out,” Jess nearly shouted at him in her shock, all warm feelings toward him quickly dispelled. Was this just another experiment to him? She felt silly for thinking it was something more, and silliness was a feeling she had learned to best purge through anger.
Jim quickly grabbed her around the waist, tipped her forward and applied three more firm swats to her stinging behind.
“I wasn’t going to ask you to. This is not part of the study.” He helped her up again, folded the questionnaire in half, and scrawled something across the back. “I was going to give you my number. I thought that perhaps you might want to meet for coffee sometime, unless you prefer the soap?” he asked with a wink.
“I guess,” Jess replied, blushing still more deeply. They experiment may be over, but she was only beginning to realise how much she had yet to learn.
“I’d usually expect a more eloquent reply, but I’ll let you off this time.” Jim replied with a quick kiss to the top of her head. “ Hope to see you again soon.”
Jess left in a daze, a trance broken as she stepped into the reception area.
“Oh!” Trish exclaimed as she saw Jess. “I thought I recognised the screams. I thought you had finished though?” Trish bent to shuffle through the files on her desk.
“Er.. . no, I don’t think I’m finished.” Jess mumbled as she quickly made her way to the door. Even if things went well, she would no doubt have plenty more opportunities to get herself in trouble, and had no desire to court another spanking that afternoon.