Inspired by a fantasy of my spanking partner, CB. Please send feedback and don't forget to vote!
Parkwood Academy had a reputation for graduating some of the brightest, best educated young people in the region. Their alumnae list was a veritable 'who's who' of Fortune 500 company executives and also included well known heads of large non-profit organizations and educational institutions. When interviewed, many of them credited the discipline they learned at Parkwood as having been a critical factor for their success. Of course, to turn out such exceptional students, the school had to have exceptional instructors as well.
One such instructor was Kayla Windsor who taught Advanced Placement English. She had a reputation for being exceptionally strict and demanded the highest standards from her pupils. However, she was also exceptionally fair, never asking more of her students than she required of herself. Before graduating with honors from Brown University, she had spent time in exclusive private girls' academy in England and brought with her an exemplary resume from one of the finest prep schools in London.
When students spoke of the discipline at Parkwood, they weren't just talking about meeting deadlines and scheduling their time appropriately. Classroom discipline was completely at the discretion of the teacher and corporal punishment was not uncommon. In fact, a room had been set aside for just such situations. While euphemistically known as "the storage room", all it 'stored' was an old desk, a chair and a few other pieces of furniture of varying heights that happened to be waist-high for almost any age of student.
Kayla recalled hearing stories from a friend who had attended Catholic schools in Chicago for all his life. He often mentioned the nuns' theory that if you disciplined the student severely enough the first time, you didn't have to warn him not to do it again. It was this principal that she applied when she had to discipline her students and it always worked, until one fine autumn day.
The bell rang signaling the end of the period but the students knew better than to move until she actually released them. The din of the bell had barely ended when she told them they were dismissed but asked one of the students to stop by her desk.
Matt Green was an 18-year-old senior with a promising future. Tall, handsome, intelligent, witty and a gifted soccer player, he had all the attributes and skills that one needed to be successful in life. Unlike some students would have done, he didn't lean on her desk, but instead stood across from her with his books in his hands as she made a notation on her planner. Looking up, she saw him tower over her and instructed him to sit in the high-backed wooden chair next to her desk. While he was sitting, she got up and shut the door to the classroom and then walked back to stand in front of him.
"Mr. Green, I started to grade mid-term essays last night and I realized you didn't turn one in. Why is that?"
Matt's heart began to race.
"I did turn in my paper, Ms. Windsor."
"I'm afraid not. I went through my folder three times and yours is the only one missing."
"Really, I did. It was the one on Hemmingway."
Kayla had spent the past several nights burning the midnight oil in an effort to get papers reviewed so that mid-term grades could be computed. While she was normally a reasonable person, when she was sleep-deprived, as she was now, she tended to be crabby and short-tempered.
"Mr. Green, I'm willing to cut you a break here but lying to me isn't helping your cause."
"Honestly, I turned it in Friday with my test. Maybe you just misplaced it with some other things."
That seemingly innocuous comment drove her right over the edge.
"Not turning in your paper is bad enough but to accuse me of losing it in an effort to pass the blame is just going too far."
In a swift and practiced motion, she opened the bottom drawer of her desk and retrieved a wooden paddle. Though it was made of white ash, the varnish gave it a yellow hue. It measured nearly 18 inches long and 6 inches wide and the handle was wrapped in tape, similar to that used on baseball bats. What distinguished it from most paddles was the series of holes drilled through it to lessen wind resistance when she swung it. Though common in the UK, it wasn't seen much in the States.
Brandishing the implement of discipline in her hand, she pointed it first at Matt and then towards the door.
"Mr. Green, you will report to the storage room immediately."
Matt gulped but he knew better than to argue now. He'd heard the stories of Ms. Windsor's spankings. Once, in the locker room, he'd even caught a glimpse of the bruised buttocks of one of his teammates who had faced her discipline. Though the boy never spoke of what happened, Matt knew it had to be a ferocious paddling in order to leave those kinds of marks. Now, faced with the same kind of punishment himself, he sighed and stood up swiftly. He knew that if he lagged, the spanking would only be worse.
After retrieving her keys from her purse so she could lock the classroom door behind her, she followed Matt out into the hallway. The corridor was mostly empty, as the time to pass between classes was seconds away from being over. She knew that her student would be tardy for his next class, but the teachers had a pact that they wouldn't punish a student for being late if it was due to being disciplined by another teacher. So, though he may not really want to sit through the next class, at least he wouldn't be spanked again.
Moments later they were in the storage room. Kayla quickly sized him up and directed him to a three-drawer filing cabinet.
"Now, take down your trousers and briefs," she ordered.
Matt gasped and started to turn and protest. He caught himself just in time but still had to take a deep breath to compose himself before he complied. His humiliation at being spanked was made worse by the knowledge that it would be applied to his bare bottom. Slowly he unfastened his belt and unzipped his trousers then slipped them, and his briefs down to his knees. Without even being told to, he bent over the file cabinet and steeled himself for the punishment he was about to receive.
Until that day, he considered himself a pretty tough guy. One time, while playing baseball, he ended up on the bottom of a pile of three boys all going for a long fly ball and broke his wrist in a number of barely mendable places. That injury, while painful, never caused him to shed that first tear. He assumed that if he could survive a severe compound fracture, then a paddling from Ms. Windsor would be a cakewalk. He was wrong. The blows to his well muscled behind fell fast and hard. It was a pain like no other he'd ever experienced and the punishment continued for about ten seconds past the point where he thought he couldn't take any more.
Kayla had become very adept at judging when her students had reached their limits and were ready to confess to their misdeeds and she thought Matt was at that point.
"So, Mr. Green, are you ready to admit that you didn't turn in your mid-term essay?"
He wiped the tears from his eyes and tried not to let his sobs choke his voice as he answered. "No, ma'am."
"You're still clinging to this delusion?"
"I swear I did."
