Dean Windar left the VIP seating area shortly after Dr. Allison Taylor had completed her medical examination of Barb and Priya and declared them fit for another dozen. He hadn’t wanted to stick around for the interviews with the two caners. George and Mike were not his kind of people, and he figured a visit to the men’s room and the concession stand to be a far better option than listening to those two show offs preen and brag at center court.
Much to his dismay, however, Judge Powers had decided to accompany him. Windar had tried to ditch the judge on the arena mezzanine area by weaving quickly and adroitly through and around the myriad groupings of fans bearing armloads of popcorn, nachos and soft drinks back to their seats. He figured that by doing so, he might just lose the corpulent, less mobile, judge ... and it seemed as though he had succeeded. But, alas, by the time Windar was zipping up in front of a urinal, the judge had pulled up to the one alongside.
“Hold up there, Windy! I want to have a word with you!” wheezed the nearly out of breath judge.
“Can it wait, Marty? I need a refill on my popcorn, and halftime will soon be over.”
“No, I know something is eating you, Windy. It’s pretty obvious ... and keen observer of human behavior that I am, I think I know exactly what it is.”
“Okay, Marty. I’m all ears. Tell me what it is.” replied Windar as they took they ambled up to the concession stand.
“It’s that Moore woman. You’re smitten with her! And let me tell you, Windy, it’s damn easy to see why. Just watching her out there all naked, squirming and jumping about on that rack, squealing and screaming her head off ... watching those close ups and slo-mo replays ... those bouncing ass cheeks, and her inviting little cunny and sweet and dainty, puckered asshole ... my Lord, Windy, it’s enough to make any man want to grab hold and fuck the living daylights out of her!”
“Well ...”
“Here let me get that,” continued the judge amiably, as he plunked down a twenty to pay for the $6.95 tub of popcorn that Windar had just ordered from the attractive-looking young Dorsbury coed working the concession counter. “Keep the change, honey!”
“Marty, you didn’t have to do that.”
“Sure I do. You don’t think I noticed that It was me who ate most of your popcorn earlier? I owe you this one. What are friends for?”
“Okay, thanks. We’d better get back to our seats now.”
“No, wait. Listen while we head back. I’ve got an idea I want to bounce off you.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, heat me out now. You like this little Moore bitch, right? Had your eye on her. The very sight of her gives you an instant hard on ... rock hard, as they say ... and you’ve been itching to stick your cock in her, feel her warmth, feel her clamp down on it, buck and gyrate ... hear her gasp and moan as you finish her off. Maybe, after awhile, you even get to start romancing her a little, start having a nice thing going with her? Well, Windy, I can see the possibilities and I believe that I just might be able to fix things up for you.”
How, Marty? Even if what you say about me is ... um ... partly true ... how? She’s a convict now, sentenced to public corporal punishment in this very arena and probably going to have to do some time afterwards. She’ll most certainly be terminated by the College ... her academic career ruined. She’ll likely never want to speak to me again, much less fall in love with me. How are you going to fix all that?”
“I’m a judge, remember? Let’s say I decide, after this is over, to review her case, citing my suspicion that some inconsistencies were never resolved. And after careful consideration, I find that a mistake was made. That it was the Raman woman who put Moore up to that little courtroom stunt, blackmailed her somehow into doing it. It’s not inconceivable. As a matter of fact, I’ve suspected it all along ... even put a couple of detectives on to it ... although they did come up dry ... but if it’s true, then Moore should rightly be let go after today’s caning ... given another chance ... sincere apologies and all ... but, on a probationary basis, of course ... and that you, Windy, would be assigned responsibility for taking charge of her rehabilitation. Hey, I’ll bet the College might even go for a liberal do-gooder scheme like that ... and keep her and you on.”
“Well, I don’t know ... “
“Tut, tut, my boy. Say no more. Just let old Marty pull the strings.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Good, you think it over while she screams and flails her way through the coming dozen. By the way, be sure to take a gander under that frame. The way her ripe little dangling tits jiggle and bounce with each stroke is a heavenly sight to behold! Oh, and one more thing, Windy ...”
“What’s that?”
“Well, you see. I have to confess that I’m as taken with her as you. I don’t imagine, though, that she’d ever take much of a fancy to the likes of me. I lack your good looks. Windy. So, for me, the attraction is less romantic ... pure lust, as you might well imagine. But, if things go well with her for you under this arrangement, as I suspect they will, I ask but one simple favor in return ... let’s just call it a small gesture of gratitude on your part. I simply ask that you arrange ... talk her into ... say or do whatever it takes ... arrange a threesome ... just one night ... you, her and me ... you get my drift?”
“I don’t know, Marty.”
**********
Barb, who had been grimacing and wondering if and when the intense stinging sensation brought on by the rubbing alcohol Dr. Taylor had applied to her bruised and bleeding buttocks was ever going to subside, looked up long enough to catch sight, through teary eyes, of Dean Windar and the judge returning to their court-side seats. Despite her discomfort, she did wonder what it was that seemed to engage them in what appeared to be an intense, animated conversation, and undoubtedly one that concerned her, because they kept looking up at her as they talked.
Alongside her, poor Priya was sobbing softly to herself. She too was suffering the ill effects of Dr. Taylor’s liberal alcohol administrations.
And behind them, George and Mike were basking in the crowd’s adulation as they fielded questions from the Chief of Corrections about their handiwork. Barb wished she could somehow shut out what they were saying. She really didn’t want to hear a discussion of how they had ravaged her burning hind quarters, nor did she want to hear the crowd’s reactions.
Meanwhile, the Chief, after being solemnly assured by both men that Barb and Priya could both look forward to a very painful remainder of the punishment, ended the interview with the announcement, “Alright, ladies and gentlemen. We’re almost ready to proceed. There may be time for one last visit to the concession stand and the facilities before we get the second half under way.”
And at that moment, on cue, the Dorsbury College pep band, which occupied several rows of seating at one end of the arena, struck up a rousing rendition of the College fight song, just as they might have done had this been halftime at a Dervish home court basketball game. And while the band played, and the crowd got to their feet to stomp, clap and cheer, the Dorsbury all-girl spirit squad raced out in their brief costumes to perform a series of summersaults and leg-splits that took them from one end of the court to the other, and back again ... after which, they pranced about to the music with their pompoms ... much to the delight of the packed arena.
Barb recognized several of them ... as students who had attended her classes ... and couldn’t help but notice how they kept glancing curiously over their shoulders ... at her ... their former professor ... bent naked over a caning rack ... with close-ups of her red-streaked butt flashing on the overhead scoreboard screens.
For Barb, the knowing, smirking ... “would you believe it’s her?” ... expressions on their faces were almost as hurtful, in their own way, as one of Mike’s rattan strokes. Barb wondered if her humiliation could possibly get any worse?
Then it was over. As the lights dimmed, the spirit squad vacated the court, the band stopped playing, and the crowd settled expectantly into their seats. A hush cane over the arena.
The Chief gave a nod, and George and Mike took up their stations, flexing their rippling muscles. Barb looked over at Priya, who nodded grimly, shifting position slightly as she braced herself for the horror to come.
Barb too, adjusted her position, stole a quick glance in the direction of Dean Windar, who was staring at her intently, closed her eyes and muttered to herself, “Oh Shit!”