I remember sitting - a bit nervously - in the small waiting area of the college’s medical clinic. This was a bit of landmark. I was a freshman and this was my first solo visit for medical care. I had been alone with a doctor or nurse before - but always my accompanying parent had been nearby in a waiting area. One of my friends had gotten pretty sick - it was something contagious but anymore I don’t recall exactly what. Students that had been in close contact with her were encouraged to go to the clinic to get checked out. I had only waited a few minutes when Nurse Wickstrom ushered me back to an exam room. She did a quick exam and concluded I was not showing any symptoms but as a precaution she recommended I get two preventative shots. I nodded my agreement. She left to get the mediation prepared and the impending shots caused me to remember scenes from my youth when a trip to the pediatrician always seemed to conclude with a shot. Back then, those shots were always in the butt, painful and embarrassing. As I sat on the exam table waiting, I assumed that as a young adult I had fully graduated to getting shots in the arm. I tried to recall the last time I had laid prone with my pants down awaiting for the pediatrician to jab the needle into my bum and figured it was probably a decade or so ago.

My trip down memory lane was interrupted by the nurse’s returning and holding two syringes. I began to pull off my long sleeved sweatshirt and she clucked her tongue and noted, “It’s so adorable you think these are going in your arm. Sorry to disappoint but these are meant for your tushie.” I gulped at the notion and also got a bit stiff. Nurse Wickstrom was an attractive somewhat older woman, totally age inappropriate for me but the idea of baring myself for her was both scary and arousing. “I need you to lay face down and lower your pants and underwear.” I was feeling both anxious and stimulated by the prospect of exposure and the imminent shots as I knelt on the table, unfastened my pants and shrugged them part-way down exposing the tops of my cheeks. I lay face down as instructed and waited, thinking about that last memory of being in a similar situation but as a much younger me. She set the syringes down on the table right in front of my face. Was this conspicuous presentation of the shots part of her tactic? “I think while we’re at it, I will get a good core temperature,” she announced and yanked my pants fully off my ass to about mid-thigh. “Somebody’s been a naughty boy,” she observed seeing the residual bruises on the lower portion of my bottom.

“One of my friends who’s in a sorority dared me to take a few swats,” I offered. The explanation was only minimally true.

“Uh huh,” she replied with obvious disbelief. She parted my cheeks and slid a thermometer into my rectum and then began to swab the first injection site with alcohol.

The origin of the bruises was more involved. On each floor of a dorm resided a ‘Dorm Fellow’ or DF- an upper classman to help students navigate college life and provide on-site authority if any student mischief arose. It was the season when the school began to recruit for the upcoming year and all across campus were signs “We want you for the Dorm Fellow program.” I had pilfered a few of the posters, used cut-out letters from one to slightly alter the message of another and was going to slip the revised poster under my friend Mary’s dorm room door.

Just as I slid it under Mary’s door, I heard an unexpected soft voice behind me, “Are you lost?” I turned to see Mary’s DF, Kate who was returning from the bathroom with her toothbrush in hand. I was agog at her appearance. She was a clad in just a thin short robe seemingly bare underneath. “Come on, you deviant,” she beckoned, heading back to her room. Once the door was closed her voice became only slightly louder, “Wandering a girls floor after-hours is a reportable deed,” she scolded. “Do you want me to report you?” I shook my head vigorously ‘no’ while I attempted to get a better view through the gap in her robe. “Well then, “ she mused, retrieving her sorority paddle from a hook on the wall. “I think an appropriate warning is a few swats.” I nodded my acceptable and turned away, happy to accept a paddling rather than get reported to campus security. “On the bare, mister. Drop those pants!” I complied and braced for the swats. She was an athletic girl and did not hold back, giving me three very hard strikes that I later realized had resulted in a nice bruise on each sit spot.

Nurse Wickstrom seemed unconvinced by my fib but did not pry more. “A little pinch,” she announced as she sank the first needle into my rump. The needle stick itself was no worse than a minor bug bite but the real discomfort was only just beginning. The influx of the serum deep in my glute felt like a combination of fire combined with extraordinary pressure, almost like a deep muscle cramp. Oddly, I found myself liking it and was very pleased that I would get a similar dose in the other side, too. When the first syringe was empty, she rounded the table and repeated the process on the other side. I realized that the initial stiffness had now transformed into a full-fledged hard-on. She patted my bare butt and instructed me to lay there, just like that, for a few minutes in case I had any reaction to the medication. She disposed of the syringes and made a few notes in a folder. She then announced, “You’re good to go and if you ever want a ‘real’ spanking, give me a call.” She handed me a folded slip of paper with a phone number inside. My ass was throbbing but in a most wonderful way as I made my way back to the dorm pondering the idea of giving her a call.

Later that evening, I was hanging out with Mary. We weren’t exactly a couple but did spend a lot of time together and did some casual fooling around. “So, I’m guessing this is from you,” she said pointing to the poster that she had unexpectedly hung on the wall. I admitted to her that I was indeed the source and shared the sacrifice I had made to deliver it. Hearing about both my paddling and the shots I had received, she demanded to see the damage. I briefly protested but then rolled facedown on her bed and lowered my pants. She lightly prodded the bruises on each cheek and the dark dots where the needles had punctured my skin. I started to pull up my pants but she blocked me. “Roll over,” she ordered and then added, “I want to interview for the program.”

“Huh?” I replied but rolled over nevertheless, my erection springing free as I turned on to my back.

“The DORM F-E-L-L-A-T-I-O program,” she explained pointing to my revised poster. Given our previous discussions of sexual experience, this was a first for us both. My more experienced friends had shared how unbelievably pleasurable getting a blowjob was and Mary did not disappoint. At first she licked and kissed the head but then took me part way and then fully in to her mouth. Her head began to bob up and down and it was not long before I was on the brink of release.

“I’m gonna cum,” I warned, thinking she would pull away but she did not subside.

She locked eyes with me as I emptied mostly into her mouth but some onto her chin and cheeks. She smiled, showed me the generous white pool in her mouth and swallowed. “Do I get the job?” asked giving me a kiss.

I tasted the tangy, salty residue on her lips and agreed with my friends. “Absolutely,” I replied.