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The Templeton Briefs

This story is within the section concerning reluctance and submission. It concerns humiliation, embarrassment, and a bit of spanking, mostly involving guys as the recipients (but some with girls as well). If you do not like such stories then you really should not read it. There is also a bit of group and exhibitionism, but the story does fit best within the section for reluctance. I also want to acknowledge that aspects of this story were inspired and/or suggested by Ingen Ingetson and Gocarty, Literotica members. I certainly want to thank them for their ideas and suggestions, which were really very helpful. Of course, all the characters in this story are at least eighteen years old, as this is a minimal requirement for admission to Templeton College.

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Miss Harding was pleased to help her colleague, Mr. Peters, with the enforcement of the Templeton College dress code (see “Mr. Peters and the panties”), but she had her own concerns, and her own way of doing things. Well, it wasn't really her own way. She was also well trained within and a strong advocate of the New School method of student discipline. It was just that each professor within the New School of pedagogical discipline was encouraged to provide minor variations of its application.

Plus, whereas Mr. Peters specialized largely in the discipline of young ladies (see “Disciplining Young Ladies”) Miss Harding tended to specialize in the discipline of young men (see “Disciplining Young Men”). So, it was only natural for her to address in particular the responsibility of ensuring that the young men of Templeton College adhered to the dress code.

At Templeton, all of the girls had to wear white blouses with black ties, plaid skirts that reached below the knees, white socks, black shoes (Maryjanes were preferred), and, of course, white panties and brassieres. None of the girls were allowed to wear perfume, or excessive jewelry or substantial make-up. And certainly none of the young ladies could have tattoos! Just the thought of that was simply abhorrent to the Board of Trustees.

The administration felt that the uniform requirement was important to instill a sense of pride, duty, and discipline, as well as to avoid the presence of distracting outfits that many college students were wearing these days. Goodness, at some colleges girls would arrive to class wearing a chemise as if it was in fact a blouse! The parents of Templeton girls appreciated the emphasis on proper, respectful dress and decorum.

Not surprisingly, however, Templeton College had been under considerable pressure to amend the college uniform requirement. No college, not even one as conservative as Templeton, wanted to be perceived as sexually discriminatory, and it was blatantly discriminatory to have an underwear rule for girls but not one for boys.

The boys' uniform requirement had been confined to simply white shirts, black slacks, black ties, and black shoes. Nothing was said about their underwear. The rationale for the further requirement for the girls' undies had seemed at the time reasonable to the college administration: there was quite a bit of fashion statement to be made in a girl's choice of panties and brassiere, much of which was explicitly licentious and intentionally enticing. This was not, however, the case for the underwear of most young men.

Plus, the girls' underwear was not even necessarily well hidden from view. Boys, and even faculty, will get occasional peeks at what a girl was wearing beneath her skirt, due to a sudden breeze, the need to pick something up, or a less than modest manner of sitting within a tiered classroom. None of this was the case for young men.

But, these arguments, compelling as they might be, fell on the deaf ears of the U.S. Department of Health, Education, and Welfare, enforcing Title IX. The arguments were rejected in any case by the outspoken female faculty at Templeton College. Miss Harding in particular had raised a number of objections against the clear sexist double-standard, and with the full support of Mr. Peters, had been able with her colleagues to get the uniform code amended to address boys' underwear.

The struggles to adhere to Title IX had been very difficult and costly for many colleges. For Templeton, Title IX required either the elimination of football or the addition of multiple girls' sports in order to equalize the number of boys and girls who were supported by athletic scholarships. The Board of Trustees opted for the latter, despite the considerable expense this entailed.

With respect to the school uniform, they decided to amend the rule for boys, requiring that young men also wear black belts and white briefs, just as the girls were required to wear white cotton panties. It was either that or allowing girls to wear whatever panties they preferred, a liberal permissiveness that was supported by no administrator, by none of the faculty, by few of the parents, and by even fewer of the alumni. This was not the time to loosen the morale fabric of college life. It was precisely the time to instill a stronger and stricter sense of virtue, integrity, and temperance.

The enforcement of the new code though was another matter. The white panty policy was not itself well enforced.

There were spot panty checks in the student center or at other well-traveled locations. The Dean of Women would require a passing girl to briefly lift up her skirt (e.g., see “Just a little peek”), which was not particularly disruptive to the flow of traffic as the students proceeded to their next class or academic responsibility (albeit at times a crowd of boys would naturally gather around a respective check point).

The penalties though for a violation were rather weak, if not in fact ineffective. The first offense was met with just a warning. The second offense was met with a grounding for a week (a punishment difficult to enforce for students who lived off campus). The third offense was met with having to write a paper on the importance of wearing regulation panties, and periodically visiting personally the Dean of Women to have her panties checked.

The President of Templeton, Dr. Chalmers, recognized that the college was not fulfilling its responsibility to provide sufficient enforcement of the white panty policy. All of the students at Templeton College were at least 18 years old but they still relied upon the faculty to provide in their lives a helpful, if not necessary, guidance, discipline, and structure. If it became apparent that the college was lax when it came to some rules, others would be treated with comparable negligence and disrespect. It was a slippery slope that needed to be nipped in the bud.

President Chalmers therefore empowered Mr. Peters and Miss Harding to apply the New School approach to this central and important Templeton code of conduct.

After she had helped Mr. Peters within his class (see “Mr. Peters and the panties”) Miss Harding wasted no time applying the New School approach to her own class.

“Students,” she announced, after they had taken their seats and quieted down, which did not take long in any of her classes, “as you are aware, the Templeton dress code for young men has been expanded to be comparable to that required for the young ladies.”

A number of boys squirmed in their seats. They were, of course, fully aware of the change in policy, as it had been posted on all of the major campus bulletin boards and discussed within the student newspaper. A student would have had to have been in a coma to have missed it.

However, many did not much care for it. A requirement to wear black belts was not particularly bothersome, as they went well with the black dress pants. But, quite a few of the boys felt that briefs were simply too childish (as well as too uncomfortably tight). Briefs were for junior high school students; whereas boxers were for men.

On the other hand, quite a few of them were already wearing briefs, particularly those enrolled in the classes of Miss Harding, where something tight within loose slacks did at times come in handy.

What was troubling to all of them, whether they were wearing briefs or boxers, was the suggestion that they might be subjected to routine inspections, an invasion of their personal privacy that they found rather objectionable, and a bit embarrassing; actually, very embarrassing if it were to take place in public.

Of course, somehow that hadn't seemed to bother them when the girls had to submit to an inspection. Many of the boys who raised objections to the new policy were precisely the same boys who had appreciated the sight of girl after girl strolling up to the Dean of Women to briefly lift her skirt to display her feminine undergarment. Of course, in all fairness, knowing how embarrassing it was to the girls helped the boys to truly appreciate how embarrassing it might be for them.

“Your President, Dr. Chalmers, has empowered me to enforce this new policy at my discretion, and today I intend to do precisely that.”

That didn't sound good. That didn't sound good at all.

“Now, I am of course hoping that the whole matter will be over in just a few minutes, as I assume that all of you young men are in full adherence to this new regulation. You have been given due warning, so there will be no excuses for any violation, but I have always prided myself in having the most well behaved, disciplined, and dutiful students within my classes. However, I would not myself be doing my duty if I did not at least confirm this to be the case. I'm sure you all understand.”

They did indeed understand, but that didn't mean that they had to like it. They all waited, boys and girls alike, to discover how Miss Harding intended to enforce the rule.

The boys looked around the room. Perhaps there was some sort of a partition behind which they would reveal what they were wearing beneath their pants, but they could see no sign of any potential privacy for the inspection, if that was in fact what Miss Harding intended to do.

“Alright then, we're all in agreement, now, if you would boys, stand up, pull down your pants, and lift up your shirts.”

Shocked exclamations of “What?!” “You're kidding!” “No ma'am.” “You can't be serious!” swept through the room.

Mr. Peters had conducted his panty inspection in a more discrete manner, inspecting each young lady's panties one at time, with all due privacy behind his desk, as Miss Harding inspected each boy's underpants, one at a time, each boy only having to open up his trousers for her eyes only. All due privacy was respected, at least for the boys (and girls) who had not violated the uniform code.

Miss Harding, however, had no intention of taking up so much time. It seemed much more efficient and effective to simply have all of the young men drop their trousers together. But, not surprisingly, none of them immediately stood up.

“Now, boys, don't be so modest. White jockey briefs are now standard college dress. You will not be revealing anything other than what is part of your uniform, hardly much different really than a cheerleader exposing her uniform panties when cheering on our school.”

That was not a particularly compelling comparison for many of the boys, as they enjoyed immensely when a cheerleader exposed her panties during the course of a cheer. The boys all remained seated.

Miss Harding was not a patient woman, or at least she did not tolerate dawdling or procrastination. “Alright then, if you prefer, I will have each one of you come to the front of the class and have one of the girls pull your pants down for you.”

The boys immediately began to stand up, albeit still with very apparent reluctance. Each moved rather slowly, looking furtively around. They became particularly nervous when catching the eye of a girl. They would have to do this in front of the girls!? That just didn't seem fair or right, on many levels.

And, the reaction of the girls did not help. The boys could all see the delight in their eyes. Most of the girls were in fact openly smiling. Some were whispering, pointing, even giggling.

Miss Harding did not put a stop to it. Yes, a few of the girls would find this amusing, and they might even belittle the boys a bit. But, embarrassment and shame were fundamental components of the New School approach. This would only bring the lesson further home.

Of course, the boys who were troubled most were those who were not in fact wearing regulation briefs. There were only three of them, but they knew who they were and they wondered what they could possibly do to avoid getting caught.

Alan Parker had a good idea. He suddenly exclaimed, “Miss Harding! Please!” bending over in pain. He added, “I'm going to be sick!” clamping a hand to his mouth, as if to try to avoid throwing up.

“Alan! Really?! Oh my!”

“Yes, yes, I need to get to the nurse right away!”

“Well, I would surely hope so, Alan,” Miss Harding agreed.

Other boys cursed themselves for not thinking of this. Tony considered joining in, suggesting perhaps that it was some sort of sudden virus, but he knew that Miss Harding was unlikely to believe that. She might then simply accompany them to the clinic, and once it was discovered that they were faking, their punishment would surely be worse than whatever they were about to experience.

Alan began to make his way up the aisle, clutching his stomach.

When he reached the front of the room, Miss Harding said, “But, actually, I just realized that the clinic is temporarily closed this morning.”

“What?” Alan replied. Could that really be true?

The clinic was never closed, but Alan wouldn't know that.

“Yes, yes, afraid so. But, I suspect a nice enema will go far in relieving some of that pressure and discomfort. Here,” she said, reaching into her bottom desk drawer, “I just happen to have everything that we would need. I'd be very happy to administer it to you. In fact, this might be a nice demonstration for the whole class: the proper way to administer an enema.”

Every single pair of eyes in the room was bugging out. Miss Harding was a fairly radical and provocative teacher of biology. Everyone knew that, but nobody could imagine her ever doing anything like this!

Alan, of course, was shocked most of all. This could not be real! This wasn't happening. It was worse than any nightmare he had ever had. He once dreamed that he came to class without his pants on, but he never dreamed that his teacher gave him an enema, in front of the whole class! His heart sank to his stomach. He now in fact did feel sick, faint, even nauseous. “Oh, um, actually, I think I'm fine, Miss Harding. It was just a brief stomach ache. I'm fine now.”

Miss Harding smiled. She had figured that there was nothing actually wrong with the boy. The coincidence of such an attack coming on precisely when he had to pull down his pants was just too ridiculous. “Well, it did look pretty bad, Alan. You appeared to be in quite a bit of pain there.”

“Oh yes, yes, I know, but it's all fine now.” He knew he was taking a bit of a chance in saying he was all better. It did suggest that he had been grossly exaggerating how sick he was, or perhaps even simply lying.

“Well, let me at least take your temperature. If you don't have a fever then we can skip the enema.”

Alan breathed a sigh of relief, having escaped certain mortification. What could be worse than being given an enema in front of all of your classmates? He tried to think of something, but nothing came to mind. He almost smiled at his good fortune. He stepped up to Miss Harding to get his temperature taken.

Miss Harding reached again into that same bottom desk drawer and extracted a thermometer.

Alan noticed though that it was a rather big one, like some sort of industrial thermometer. There was something wrong here. He looked nervously at his teacher.

“Now, you just get those pants and briefs down and we'll get a good reading. If it's normal we'll forgo the enema.”

The shock that had dumfounded the class was now replaced with a few titters and giggles. Pretty much everyone realized that Alan had been faking, and now he was clearly between a rock and a hard place.

“No, really, um, I don't need that. Honest, I'm fine.” He was now quite willing to risk getting caught faking. A rectal temperature reading was not half as bad as an enema, but it was still pretty darned horrific, particularly in front of the class!

“Well, now, Alan, I really can't take that chance. You were clearly in very severe pain. I need to be assured that there is nothing serious going on, and if there is, well, I will really need to provide that enema.” She stepped up to him, slowly waving, back and forth, the big thermometer. “But, if there is something you want to tell me, something that suggests that you know full well you were never sick in the first place…” She paused, then added, “Is there anything you would like to tell me?”

Alan naturally hesitated, and then decided he should just confess the truth.

“Because,” she added, before he could do so, “I will be very disappointed in you, young man, and there will then be more in store for you than just having your temperature taken.”

Well, the rock, if that was the thermometer, appeared to be less bad than the hard place. “Yes, ma'am,” he quietly replied, feeling now very lonely, very much hoisted on his own petard. There was really no escape.

Miss Harding could simply have let him take his own temperature, in the privacy of the restroom. But, he did need to be punished for faking the illness, and this was a very appropriate means of doing so. It's always best when the punishment fits the crime. He was most definitely unlikely to try such a ruse again after having his temperature taken. “Excellent! We're all in agreement. Now, please, if you would, down with your pants and underpants.” She added, clapping her hands, “Hip hop!”

Alan rolled his eyes and turned to face away from the class as he slowly began to undo his belt. He couldn't believe he was doing this. This was just so weird. He would never be able to live it down. How could he have gotten himself in such a mess. He cursed himself for lying. His mother, once again, was right: you do weave a tangled web.

Miss Harding had difficulty restraining from chuckling as she watched the young man slowly undo his pants. She stepped back to the desk to retrieve from that same bottom drawer a jar of petroleum jelly.

Alan watched with apprehension his teacher unscrewing the cap and dipping the thermometer deep inside to bring out a big glob of lubrication. He undid the pants button, his heart sinking as he pulled down the zipper. This was not going to be good, not good at all.

Miss Harding held up the thermometer, the thick wad of slippery jelly hanging off the bulbous tip.

A few of the boys grimaced in vicarious sympathy. However, the girls, to the last one, felt like breaking out in a big laugh.

Well, the moment of truth had arrived. Alan hooked his fingers into the waistband of his slacks and boxers, and pulled them down.

A few of the girls did now break out in a laugh.

Alan scowled at them over his shoulder, albeit few of the girls actually noticed, as their eyes were fixed on the lower cheeks of his pale butt (Alan's shirttail hid the rest of his bottom). Of course, even if they had seen the grimace, they would not have cared.

Miss Harding did now shush them. It was important to keep the embarrassment and shame at an appropriate level, and it was also generally useful to maintain a degree of discipline and decorum within the classroom.

Miss Harding did notice that Alan was wearing boxers, as she had suspected. She decided though to not call attention to it, at least not yet. “Okay, then, Alan, now be a good boy and bend over.”

Updated: December 17, 2016 — 12:36 pm
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