Quicie: a Simple School Punishment

Hello Readers,

I needed a break from writing a longer story about something entirely different and this just popped into my head. If you're looking for a real quick read, here is a story in three very short parts, about an 18-year-old high school senior who receives her first school paddling.

Enjoy!

- Toastywarm

PART 1. THE LEAD-UP

I'm one of the good girls. It's not that I have never done anything wrong. I just never got caught. I almost made it through four years of high school without any disciplinary action. Today that ends.

I'm sitting in the school office on a Wednesday learning about my options, and there aren't any good ones. Punishments are always loose-loose situations. My options are three days suspension or a paddling. I'm a senior with college plans that are dependent on my upcoming exam grades. I readily agree to the paddling.

Whackings, as the students call them, take place Fridays during seventh period, the last period of the day. Rumor has it that they do it at this time to ruin your weekend. I vow not to let it mess with my weekend as my best friend, Annie, is having what is expected to be a blowout party on Friday night.

I will myself not to worry about the punishment. I have lots to do over the next few days and I'm not going to let it get in my way.

Thoughts about the punishment won't leave my mind, however. I've never been spanked and I've rarely been punished at all. I find myself in a rare situation where I have no control over what is going to happen. I don't like the feeling. There is a knot in my stomach that won't go away.

In school on Thursday I tell Annie about it, making her promise not to tell anybody. My parents know because they had to sign off but I don't want anyone else to know. Getting whacked is not only scary, it's embarrassing too.

I don't sleep at all Thursday night. I'm tossing around in bed wondering what it is going to feel like having some stranger hit my bottom with a wooden instrument. Is it going to hurt badly? Will it make me cry? I rub my smooth bottom trying to imagine it. I even try slapping myself under the covers of my bed to feel the sensation.

On Friday, I'm not only overtired; I'm amazingly distracted. I can think of nothing else than what will happen during seventh period. I get called on in my English class and I have no idea what I am being asked. The teacher gives me a surprised look. Normally I am on track with the conversations in class.

I don't eat my lunch. I give most of it to Annie who is trying hard to be supportive. Like me, she made it this far through school without a paddling so she's not much help. I appreciate her attempts to calm me though.

By sixth period my legs are beginning to shake. I feel like I might throw up. I want to run from the classroom. The bell rings and I jump up as if it is the starting gun at a track meet.

It's time.

PART 2. THE PUNISHMENT

A secretary comes to get me from the little chair I'm sitting in at the office. She delivers me into a room and explains what will happen. I am to lean over the desk and keep my elbows and forearms flat against it. I am to receive six snacks with the wooden paddle that she holds in front of me.

She tells me that she will stay in the room as a witness and asks if I have anything in the back pockets of my jeans. I don't.

A man appears at the door and asks if we are ready. She responds that we are. Apparently, I get no say in the matter.

The secretary looks at me as if to say, you know what to do. I bend over the desk and put my arms in position. I realize that my butt is now sticking out behind me, the target for the pain that is to be inflicted on my body.

I hear silence, then the sound of the paddle flying toward me. It lands flat against the center of its target. I feel nothing at first. Then all of a sudden the pain arrives and takes my breath away.

I try to breathe normally but then I hear the swishing again and my breathing stops. The paddle lands in the same place and I cry out. I vow to stay silent but it doesn't work.

By the third strike, I am crying. I feel the tears on my cheeks. My head swings up so fast that it hurts my neck.

The fourth swat is lower on my butt, close to where my ass meets my legs. It's a relief that it isn't in the same spot as earlier swats but it hurts in a whole new way.

Number five starts me sobbing and begging for him to stop. I don't even think about people hearing me outside the room. If I thought about that I would be mortified.

After he hits me the sixth and final time I just lay with my head on the desk and sob. I don't even hear the man leave the room.

The secretary lets me lay on the desk for a few minutes, then gently pulls me up by my arms. She tells me that my punishment is over.

PART 3. THE AFTER-EFFECTS

The punishment is far from over. My ass is on fire. My jeans feel as if they have melted into my bottom. My hair is a mess and tears smudge my face.

The halls are quiet as classes have yet to end. I rush to the girl's room and try to clean myself up. I want to pull down my pants and look at the damage made to my bottom but don't dare. I'm better off not knowing.

The bell rings just as I come out the door. The halls fill with kids excited for their weekend. I feel like I have a giant sign on me that says "I've been whacked." I will myself not to start crying and head home.

I'm not going to Annie's party tonight. I'm going to lie face down on my bed with my sore bottom exposed to the air and cry. It's all I can do.

I've been well punished.