enforcer

THE ENFORCER

by Bill

Camp Good Health was its name, and, I thought at the time, a pretty bad one at that. The idea of the camp was to provide a healthy atmosphere for underprivileged boys from the inner city. The name was accurate enough, but it sure lacked imagination.

The Director of the camp, however, gave us more than enough opportunities to use our imaginations. His name was Anthony T. Plum - Mr. Plum to his face and Tony Plum whenever he couldn't hear us. On the other hand, we counselors were called Mr. plus our first names - Mr. Bob, Mr. Russ, Mr. Jim, etc. And, of course, Mr. Bill - that's me. It all seemed pretty corny to college kids like us, but then anything that deals with younger kids seems like, well, kid stuff when you're twenty years old and about to enter your Junior year in college.

If the kids were all coming to camp to get a breath of fresh air, we counselors were there to earn enough money to see us through at least a part of our next year at school. Tony Plum was there because… - well, I'm not really sure just why he was there. He was a businessman downtown, and it must have cost him to take off the two months and a half to run this camp. But that was his business.

At our first staff meeting, the day before the kids were to arrive, he told us about the rules of the camp and how we were to keep our charges in line. There were eight cabins, besides the main lodge, and twenty boys assigned to each cabin. 160 boys aged nine to fourteen can be a handful, and Tony Plum was a stickler for good discipline. A tight schedule was laid out for every day with a time to rise, a time to sleep, and a time for everything else in between. There would be plenty of fun for everyone what with programs in swimming, canoeing, soccer, baseball, etc. But it was going to be regulated fun… or else!

It was what came next that really got our attention. Tony Plum pulled out a large paddle from his duffel bag. It was shaped somewhat like a fraternity paddle, but it was made of black, shiny leather.

"You counselors are the front line as far as discipline goes," he said, "but I want it understood that none of you are to use physical punishment on these boys. They have a rough enough time at home as it is without having you coming down on them as well. If you have boy who just won't get into line with the rest, I want you to send him to me. This paddle is what I call the Great Enforcer, and I will use it very sparingly. A first offender will get one swat. Second offenders rate two swats. Third offenders go home where they can expect a good deal worse from their parents. Swats will be administered with their pants on. The idea is not so much to hurt them as it is to get their attention."

Don't ask me why I raised my hand. Maybe I wanted to establish myself as a sort of leader. Maybe I just wanted to show off. Maybe I was just dumb.

"Excuse me, Mr. Plum," I said, "but don't you think corporal punishment is just a little old-fashioned. Even when you don't really intend to hurt the child but just 'get their attention'?"

"Well, Mr. Bill, I've been running this camp for over ten years now, and I don't really intend to get into a discussion about the rules and their enforcement. But if you will kindly remain after the meeting, maybe I can clarify the matter a little further for you."

Oh great! Now I was going to get a personal lecture about proper discipline. Probably on what happened to smart-ass counselors who couldn't keep their big mouths shut.

"OK, counselors, staff meeting is over. Run along now to your cabins and start getting them in order. Remember the first bus load arrives at nine o'clock tomorrow morning."

I thought I'd give it the old college try and started to rise from my chair.

"Not so fast, Mr. Bill. I'd like to have a little chat with you. Come on over to my office."

With a glance toward the others and a sheepish grin on my face, I followed Tony Plum over to the corner of the lodge where he had his desk.

"Sit down, Mr. Bill, and tell me just what you know about corporal punishment and why it shouldn't be applied."

"Gee, Mr. Plum, I don't know. It just seems to me that paddling sort of went out with the horse and buggy. The idea of a paddle somehow seems more in line with some old-fashioned private school than with the way things are today."

"Well, that's an interesting observation, but just what do you mean by 'today'? For example, did you father ever spank you when you were small?"

"Oh, come on now, Mr. Plum. That's kind of personal."

"No, you come on. We're having a discussion of corporal punishment which, as I recall, you started. So if you're such an expert on the subject, let's not have any false modesty. Did your father ever spank you?"

"Well… yeah, a few times."

"But he never used a paddle on you?"

"No."

"Well, what did he use?"

"The palm of his hand, mostly. Just a few smacks on the bottom."

"Mostly? What else did he use?"

"Does it really matter?"

"Of course it matters. Now tell me, what else did he use on you?"

"Just his hand, really." Then I had to go and put my foot in my mouth by being completely honest. I lowered my eyes to the floor and admitted, "Well… once he used a razor strop on me."

"A razor strop! That's pretty heavy stuff. How old were you?"

"Sixteen." I was almost whispering by now, afraid someone might overhear.

"Sixteen! That's pretty old for a stropping. Just what had you done?"

"Now look, Mr. Plum, this has gone far enough. I don't want to get into every spanking I ever had just so you…"

"I'm not interested in every spanking you ever had, and it's not just for curiosity's sake. You raised a question back there in front of everybody else. In fact, you really were questioning my authority and the way I run this camp. Now I want to know what makes you so knowledgeable in the field of corporal punishment. So tell me what happened."

"Well… I had come home from school that day, and the house was empty. My mother was out somewhere and my dad wasn't due home for another hour or more. I had just gotten my learner's permit to drive a car, and I decided to take the car out and drive it around the block. You know, just for practice. Everything was just fine until I came around the block for the last time. The neighbors' had an old, black sheepdog, and he picked that very moment to cross the street. I hit him. And then I panicked. I put the car in the garage and went up to my room and closed the door behind me. I tried to pretend that no one had noticed, and that no one would ever connect me with the dog's death.

"When my father came home, the woman next door ranted at him and accused him of running down her dog and killing it. He was outraged. But it didn't take him long to put two and two together. When he came up to my room, he already knew what must have happened. But he asked me anyway, and what could I say? That was when he told me that I was too irresponsible for my age, and he was going to correct that situation once and for all.

"In my parents' bathroom, dad had kept a razor set complete with mug and brush, mirror, straight razor and strop that he had inherited from his grandfather. He never used any of it, of course. He always used an electric razor. He went and got the strop and came back to my room. Then he told me to take down my pants and underpants and lie across the bed. I was really surprised. He hadn't spanked me for years, but guess I still expected to be taken across his knee for the usual half-dozen smacks or so. This was obviously going to be something far more serious. And the sight of that big leather strop really scared me. But I pulled my pants and briefs down around my knees and lay down like he had ordered.

"The first crack of that strop across my bare bottom really 'got my attention' all right! The pain was super sharp, and I howled. But I didn't have any time to reflect on it for a second and third came right behind it. After that, I lost count. I only know that I hadn't bawled like that since I was a little kid.

"Well, that's about it. Except for the next day when I had to take a shower in gym class. I tried my best to keep my back to the wall and a towel around my middle, but one of the guys saw my striped butt and gave me an awful ribbing about getting spanked just like a little kid."

It was the first time I had ever told the story to anyone, and, to my surprise, I was kind of excited with the story. I tried to look at Tony Plum's crotch to see if he felt the same way, but I couldn't tell for sure.

"Well, that's a pretty interesting story," he said, "but I'm more interested in the last part than anything else. The humiliation you suffered with your friends was, I bet, as bad or worse than the whipping, wasn't it?"

"Well, yeah, in a way. I guess so. It was really humiliating"

"You know so. Physical pain passes pretty quickly, but it takes a lot longer to live down the humiliation of being spanked when all your friends know about it. And that's the point of my paddle. I don't hurt these kids with a swat or two, but everybody else in camp knows about it. It can take quite a while for a kid to re-establish himself with his group when everyone knows he had to bend over and take one on the behind. Now do you understand the method behind my madness?"

"Yeah, I suppose so."

"Good. Think about it. And now, I think you'd better get down to your cabin and start getting ready for tomorrow."

Feeling kind of embarrassed about the whole thing, I decided that for once I would keep quiet and just get the hell out. Which is what I did.

After that, things settled down into a fairly normal routine. The kids arrived, and we were busy twenty-four hours a day riding herd on them. Tony Plum gave them all his little lecture about following instructions and what would happen if they didn't, and I have to admit that his system worked pretty well. I didn't have to send even one of my boys to see him. And of the cabins, only two boys were sent up to see Mr. Plum in the following three weeks. They took their swats and settled down, and it all seemed to be fairly routine after that.

And then, of course, I had to do something dumb again. Mr. Russ, better known as Russ Campbell to his friends, of which I was one, came to see me one night after lights out. The latest Steven Spielberg film was playing in town, and he wanted me to go with him to the midnight show. Spielberg's films were always released in the middle of summer, and if we didn't see it then, we'd have to wait a long time before we'd have another chance. I argued with him and made noises about not leaving our young charges alone, but I couldn't resist the temptation. The kids were in bed and not likely to cause any commotion until dawn. The parking lot where Russ kept his car was quite a ways away from the main camp, and we rolled it downhill to start it so as to minimize the noise.

I suppose it was a pretty good picture. But I can't remember a thing about it because of what happened when we got back.

There was Tony Plum, waiting for us! I nearly crapped my pants. I knew I was in trouble. He sent us to the main lodge to wait for him while he made a last check on our cabins to see that all was well.

When he came in, he sent me outside to wait while he talked to Russ. When Russ finally came out, I tried to ask him what had happened, but Mr. Plum was right behind him and summoned me to come in.

"What happened to Russ?" I asked.

"I fired him. He has thirty minutes to pack up and get out of here."

"Are you going to fire me, too?"

"That all depends on you," he said "Russ told me that he was the one who had the bright idea in the first place. Is that true?"

"Yeah, I suppose so. I sort of tried to talk him out of it. But I have to admit that I was pretty crazy to see that movie, and he didn't have to talk too hard to get me to go along."

"Well, it's a small point in your favor, I suppose, that you were at least reluctant at the beginning. But what really bothers me is your complete irresponsibility at abandoning your charges for nearly three hours. It seems to me that you've had one other experience at being irresponsible. Maybe the remedy should be the same."

"Oh, now wait a minute, Mr. Plum. Do you mean you want to spank me over what happened tonight?"

"Can you think of any other punishment that would suit what you have done? Other than outright firing you?"

"I don't know, Mr. Plum. A spanking at my age just doesn't seem quite right. I mean, after all, I'm a little old for a spanking."

I was fighting the idea, but there seemed to be just tingle of excitement to it. I was damned if I was going to let this guy paddle my ass just like I was one of the kids, but somehow…

"Let me put it another way, Mr. Bill. Old or not, if you don't drop your pants right now and let paddle your behind good and hard with my Enforcer, you can catch up with Russ and get a ride back into town. But don't look for any salary from here or any recommendations for any other job this summer or any other summer. Now, let's get to it, shall we?"

"You mean you want to paddle me right now?"

"I can't think of a better time. Now, I want your pants and shorts down around your ankles in about thirty seconds time, and then you can bend yourself over the back of that chair and grab onto the seat. I'm sure you know the position well enough even if you've never had to assume it before."

I was trapped. I needed the job. And I wasn't at all sure that if Tony Plum told my father about what had happened that he wouldn't reacquaint me with his razor strop, and far more vigorously than before! It was a no win situation. Slowly I undid my belt, opened my fly to let my pants fall down around my ankles, and then I slid my underpants down as well. My bottom felt the slight breeze and was beginning to tingle with anticipation.

"Well, well. What a splendid boner we have," he said ironically.

"Please, Mr. Plum. This is… that is, I'm… uh, well…"

"Embarrassed? He said. "Ashamed and humiliated to have to take down your pants and be naked in front of another man to take your punishment just like a little kid? Good. Because that's part of the punishment. And after tonight, I want you to remember every detail. Now bend yourself over that chair and hang on tight. My Enforcer is going to make your father's razor strop seem like a feather duster."

He was right about that! I barely had time to grab onto the seat of the chair when the first crack of that paddle hit my tender ass.

"AIOWIeeeee…" I howled.

"Howl all you like," said Mr. Plum. "This lodge is built of logs, and I doubt anyone will be able to hear you."

And howl I did. At first. But when the tears started, the howling gave way to plain old bawling out loud as he whacked away at my poor behind. Counting while you're getting your ass smacked is kind of hard to do, but I can't believe he whacked less than sixty or seventy time. And oh, how it hurt!

And it was a good thing that the chair back had openings in it, because my throbbing cock, after the initial shock, seemed to take on a life of its own. I couldn't tell just which sensation was the strongest: my painful ass with the battering it was taking, or my cock which was just aching to be touched. Nor did I have much time to think about it.

"There!" said Mr. Plum, just as pleased as if he had created a masterpiece. "Now hold that position while I rub some salve on your poor, blistered bottom."

And I could feel his hands as they began to spread some sort of lotion all over my ass. But when I felt his fingers begin to spread the salve into the area around my asshole, I started to protest.

"Hey, wait a minute. You said you were just going to spank me."

"I've changed my mind. That erection you have plus the sight of all this red meat back here has given my own cock some ideas. Just hang on, Mr. Bill, you're about to get the ride of your life."

And with that, he slipped the head of his cock between my asscheeks and began to probe my own private rosebud. I couldn't believe that this was actually happening to me. And that I was starting to enjoy it! The pain as he plunged his prick into my asshole was totally unexpected. Equally unexpected because I responded to it and actually thrust backward a bit to try and take more of him into me. But I didn't have to wait long as he thrust deep inside me. Ahhh, that was an ecstasy that I had never believed could happen. My right hand flew to my own pulsing cock and began to stroke it with an intensity I had never known before. As I felt Tony Plum thrusting in and out, I matched my own rhythm to his. And just as I was about to come, I could feel his body tense as he shot his load into my willing rectum. One more stroke, and I was covering the chair seat with my own load.

Neither of us had expected that the night would turn out quite the way it had. To me, up until then Tony Plum had just been an older man who had some rather strict ideas on how to run a summer camp, while I was King of the Hill at the age of twenty.

I think I learned a little humility that night. And Tony? Well, I suppose he added a new and unexpected chapter to his book on discipline. All I can say is that in the remaining five weeks of summer camp, I was called to the lodge several times in the middle of the night to expand my knowledge of discipline. And the next summer was much the same. Tony never changed his mind about discipline in the camp. But I did, and I became his most willing disciple.

Tony was transferred out West a few years later. And although I was a successful businessman myself by that time, I decided to make the sacrifice and take over the direction of the camp. It's still the same camp, and the kids still get their fresh air. Before the start of camp I still give the counselors the same lecture on discipline that Tony gave.

And I always look for the counselor who's dumb enough to challenge the use of my 'Enforcer.'

June 26, 1997