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A Different Birthday
Part 42

by Graham

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Copyright on this story text belongs at all times to the original author only, whether stated explicitly in the text or not. The original date of posting to the MMSA was: 11 Nov 2017

It was impossible for me to sit at my desk and study. I laid down flat on my stomach on my bed with my materials before me, and the sandwich and apple Greta had given me.

I didn’t know when my mood had been so low, so glum, so despondent. I was stuck in a tutoring program that was going to be demanding and require almost every waking moment of my time to study and prepare. In addition, the program also imposed me a disciplinary system consisting of basic, preliminary, controlling, daily discipline, and additional, punishing, corrective penalization if and when I messed up, misbehaved, or failed to conform to the rules.

I was going to give it everything I had. I felt so bad and self-deflated about having failed part of the bar exam anyway.

Now, with Mike explicitly taking charge, and assuming control over me like a father-figure, a Dad, I was driven by several, motivating impulses to prove I could succeed, to accomplish was remained, to please him, and to lessen and eventually be free of the suffocating regimen of my stern tutor.

Yet, it was a tall order to meet. Even if I never screwed up once, I was slated to get 144 maintenance spankings, one every day, at the outset of every session.

I got better, that’s for sure. By the time I left for the second day of the bar exam in late February, I had not earned myself any additional, disciplinary spankings for over two weeks. Of course, for every one I did get over the five months of tutoring, Mike stoked the fires on my butt much higher and longer and hotter.

Another thing that happened over that time, maybe not so strange really, was how increasingly deferential and submissive I had become, in my attitude, my speech, and my actions. If somebody compared my behaviour, attitude, and mouth at the first week of tutoring with Mr. Martinet, to the last week, it looked like I’d been totally transformed.

Similarly, at Mike’s and Greta’s house, I soon gave up trying to avoid the chastening spankings Mike delivered when I had behaved badly with Mr. Martinet. I knew I had them coming, knew I couldn’t avoid them, came to accept I deserved them.

Also, I grudgingly at first, but eventually routinely, accepted being perpetually grounded by Mike. I was not allowed to go anywhere, unless he and Greta took me. My sole focus was to study, study, study  – which I did, from the time I was awakened each morning til the time I went to bed each night.

Not surprisingly, over the 5 months of tutelage preparation, and cloistered living, my wanker went into overtime use. Besides the therapeutic ritual after every rump-roasting licking, I exercised my todger in climactical activity every morning in the shower, and every night in bed.

Sometimes, when I was in my room studying, especially after supper on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, my wanker reared its demanding head, clamouring for my attention, distracting me from studying. I knew if I could get the relief it was starving for, I could get my head back into my studies and preparation.

One time in November, Mike happened to stumble in on me and caught me. He stripped off my clothes and whipped me over his knees like I’d stolen a large payroll. Ignoring my broken sobbing, he ordered me to sit back down, bare and burning, and get right back to studying.

After that, he had a random habit of just walking in on me suddenly, unexpected, to monitor me. I’m not perfect, and he did catch me and chastise me severely several times; but as time went on, I found myself heading to the bathroom for a quick toss-off, and returning to sit studiously preparing for the rest of the evening.

I had Christmas Eve and Christmas Day off. That was it. We had sessions on New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day. Mike would not let me stay up to see the New Year in, because I had a morning session with Mr. Martinet the next day.

Not surprisingly, my speed on the unending practice tests Mr. Martinet put me through began noticeably improving by late December. He continued to push me hard, which made me more anxious and nervous, but also more successful.

Finally, it was the weekend before the Wednesday when I needed to go to take the full, second day of the exam. After Friday evening’s session, Mike met me when I got back home.

He told me Mr. Martinet had called him and told him he was going to go with me, drive me and room with me, for Tuesday night before the Wednesday exam. I was floored! This was so unusual it was extraordinary.

I don’t need him, ah, that, I replied to Mike.

No one asked your opinion, Clay, Mike retorted. Once again, this man who has invested so much in you is volunteering to invest even more. You should be so grateful, so happy. Who else has had so much help and concern like you have, Clay?! Who?!

I knew my opposition was defeated. No one, I know, Mike, I conceded.

So after four more sessions, Saturday, Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday morning, I put the overnight bag I’d packed and brought to Mr. Martinet’s house into his car. In early afternoon, I got in to ride as he drove us to the exam site.

We stayed at a Homewood Suites hotel. It was large, the room was spacious with two, large king size beds, and a separate sitting and working area, and a kitchenette.

We arrive in late afternoon, unpacked, and went out for a quick dinner. As we ate, Mr. Martinet launched into an informal, more generalized, universalized lecture about the varies areas of substantive and procedural law.

As he did through almost 150 session, he interrupted his lecture suddenly to ask me quick, incisive questions. Even as stressed and high strung as I felt, I recognized my ability to think fast and answer correctly had improved tremendously.

He praised me and told me I would pass tomorrow. I just needed to stay focused, bearing down, for all 8 hours of test-taking. He promised if I did that, when it was over, I would be successful. I felt buoyed by his encouragement.

Just as I was soaring emotionally from my own perception of my improvement, and my tutor’s acclamation, he announced to me I was getting another spanking that night, before I got into bed to sleep. I was shocked! Whah-uht forrrrr?! I demanded.

To keep you humble, focused, sharp, and make sure you go quickly to sleep to rest thoroughly through the night. True to his word, he closed and locked the suite door and proceeded to divest me of all my clothes.

Standing once again nude before him, as I had every day for over 5 months, I was apprehensive about being upended over his lap again, on the very night before the exam I was to take. He had no concerns about that, however.

Taking me swiftly and rudely upside down across his lap, he painted my bottom and thighs hot, radiant red with the same brush, ending with a specially prolonged series on my sit spots until I was shrieking and sobbing, squalling and bawling like a spanked, little boy.

Into bed you go, now, Clayton! he ordered, pulling down my bed for me to dive, naked, into on my stomach and chest. It’s 8:30, young man. You will have plenty of time for a good, solid, refreshing sleep now, he concluded.

He shut off the light, closed the door, and left me whimpering and weeping in the dark. When he returned about 9:30, I had been long slumbering already.

In the morning, I was startled at being awakened by him. He was already showered and dressed, with coffee made. Come on, Clayton! Get up! he called to me.

Forgetfully, I rolled onto my back and butt only to flip back over onto my face and abdomen and slide out of the bed, my deeply-marked bottom in plain view. I raced to the bathroom to empty my bladder and was about to jump into the shower.

Just a minute, young man! We are going to make certain that you have nothing else to interfere with your concentration and distract you.

I stood staring at him, not understanding what he was getting at.

A warm, smarting bottom will bring you back to grips with what is before you and why you are here, Clayton. Come here now! he summoned me to him where he sat on the small couch in the living area.

It dawned on me he intended to spank me again, as a kind of sendoff for the test-taking that day. No, please, Mr. Martinet, I don’t, um, need this, ah-aaa, oooo-ow-ow-ow!

As usual, he was a man on a mission, in a hurry. He pulled me down and over his legs, shifting me into position, and delivered a very fast, and intense, barrage of spanks all over my rump and the back of my upper legs, ending again with the super-sensitive, curved sit-spot areas that evoked my loudest, most frantic squeals and screeched.

Finally, I forgot everything else, just lying there, subdued and submitting to the spanking from my tutor again. When he finished, he pulled me up onto my bouncing feet, steering me quickly back to the bathroom and into the shower.

I sobbed and cried hard in the shower, but soon recovered enough to shampoo and shave, and reward myself with a vigourous wank. Afterward, drying fast, I dressed and was ready to go.

He insisted I sit down (so very uncomfortably) and eat a quick breakfast of eggs, toast, and coffee. When I finished, he escorted me to his car and drove me to the exam site. Good luck, now, Clayton. You’re ready, young man. Concentrate, and you’ve got it. I’ll pick you up at the end of the day.

I twisted my sore bottom up and out of the car, waved goodbye, and entered the arena where the exam would take place. After showing photo ID, I was directed to the place where I would take that day’s test.

The exam began exactly on time, breaking at noon for lunch, and resuming at 1 p.m. I remained in the arena eating the lunch Mr. Martinet had packed and sent with me.

Sitting during 4 hours in the morning, and 4 hours in the afternoon, was anything but comfortable; but Mr. Martinet was right, it forced me back to concentrate on the questions before me. By 5 p.m., I was done, had completed all the questions with answers, and felt much better about the test than a I had 8 months earlier.

I knew only a handful of other examinees. A few, like me, were making up this part of the exam they had failed previously. A couple of them wanted me to join them to let off steam, but Mr. Martinet was standing by his car waiting.

Explaining I had to go meet my uncle for the ride back home, I headed toward him, feeling exhausted. Sitting my backside down against the seat triggered a visible wince.

Mr. Martinet waited for me to fasten the seatbelt before starting the engine and beginning the drive back home.

You did it, Clayton! Congratulations, young man! You focused your attention and energies on this test, and it paid off! he lauded me.

I am happy for you, and am certain in 3 months or so, you will be sworn in as an official attorney! he showered more kudos on me.

Although I was not as cocksure as he sounded, I had to admit I felt much more optimistic and encouraged than I had last time. I simply responded with a sudden smile and the words, Thank you, sir.

Leaning my head against the window, my eyes slammed shut and I was instantly asleep for the duration of the trip back home.

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