|Image from RealSpankings.com|
Kelly Moran closed her eyes. Her ears twitched. A woman’s muffled voice filtered through the office door. Softer, she heard clacking heels reverberating against hard tile. Students passing, oblivious, but soon they would hear and know. The closed door offered an illusion of privacy, nothing more.
“Are you ready?” Principal Oakman asked. His tone taunted. He enjoyed the ritual. A slow pace allowed for savoring and humbling. He held the 18 inch school paddle casually beside his leg.
The answer seemed self-evident. Her fingertips pushed against the tops of her white shoes. The length of her brown hair furled on the gray carpet. Her butt stood obediently proffered in the air, protected only by tightly stretched denim jeans. Silence forced the answer from her lips. “Yes, sir.”
The wood paddle popped against her buttocks. Her hair bounced off the floor. Eyes opened wide. The office blurred into upside down focus. Sharp, hot prickles spread across her bottom. She blinked away tears. Her fingertips pressed against the leather toes of her walking shoes. The prickles faded, leaving only heat emanating from her posterior. Her legs bent and straightened one at a time, effectively wiggling her butt in the air.
“One,” Kelly counted.
Principal Oakman rested the paddle across the center of her butt. “Hurts doesn’t it?”
She closed her eyes. Did he really expect an answer? The steady presence of the paddle against her jeans and the lingering silence suggested he did. She hated the rhetoricals. Answering always left her feeling foolish. “Yes, sir.”
The paddle whooshed away from her jeans and returned with an echoing crack. Air gushed from Kelly’s lungs. Prickles. Fire. Tears stung at her eyes. Legs wobbled. Her butt wiggled. She felt her red, loose-fitting tee slip downward exposing her lower back and belly button. Her breath returned. She blinked away the tears.
“Two,” she said.
He held the paddle against her butt. “Am I getting through?”
She closed her eyes. “Yes, sir.”
He raised the paddle and brought it crashing down. Tears spilled out of her eyes. Prickles and fire exploded from her bottom. She vocalized the pain louder than the closed door could muffle. Her butt wiggled in the air. She felt her top slip farther. Her brown hair bounced on and off the gray carpet. She sniffled. Normal breath returned.
“Three,” she said.
The paddle slapped her butt. Fire and sting arced through her body like electricity. More tears. Her butt waved in the air. It only fanned the flames. Her top slipped, revealing traces of her white bra. A hot red blush colored her face. She closed her eyes and sniffled.
“Four,” she said.
Principal Oakman asked, “Am I going to catch you running on campus again?”
Kelly shook her head. “No, sir.” She sniffled.
He raised the paddle high. It swooshed down on her bottom, impacting with a thunderous crack. Her butt bounced. Tingling flames engulfed her buttocks. Tears streamed. She howled at the florescent lights overhead. Her legs trembled and her butt wiggled. The loose fitting tee slipped, fully exposing the white lace of her bra. She cried openly.
“Five,” she counted, her voice creaking.
The paddle rested across the seat of her stretched jeans, pressing firmly against her burning buttocks. Principal Oakman held the paddle in place, leaning down and forward where Kelly could not hide her face from his view. He said, “If there’s a next time, it’ll be ten. Understood?”
She blinked away tears. More replaced them, keeping her vision clouded. She sniffled. “Yes, sir.”
He said, “You have an hour detention after school today. During that time, you will write a sincere letter of apology to Mrs. Dotty and personally deliver it to her before you leave school today. If for any reason she finds it less than acceptable, you will find yourself right back here, touching your toes for another five swats. And you will write her another letter of apology and we will keep repeating the cycle until you get it right. Is that clear?”
Kelly nodded. She sniffled. “Yes, sir.”
Principal Oakman straightened and removed the paddle from her buttocks. He stepped toward his desk. The paddle clattered against the polished desktop. His oversized chair creaked under the sudden pressure of his weight sitting upon it. The top drawer rolled open. He pushed brass-framed reading glasses onto his nose and scribbled on a pink pad. His gaze drifted over the top of his glasses staring at the exposed flesh of Kelly’s back. “Stand up, girl.”
She yanked her top back into place as she rose. The backs of her hands scrubbed tears from her eyes and cheeks. She sniffled and blinked back the tears still threatening to fall. Her hands left her face in favor of comforting her backside. The rubbing satisfied the urge, but failed in assuaging the lingering heat and sting. She swallowed air and forced calm patience onto herself. Her gaze caught the paddle and quickly moved beyond it in favor of the pink pad under his pen.
He ripped the top page off the pad, leaving behind a yellow copy. “Take this home to your parents and bring it back signed tomorrow before your first class. And don’t forget the essay on the dangers of running on campus.”
Kelly took the slip. A single glance confirmed it spelled out the paddling and the reason for it, including the fact she had knocked Mrs. Dotty to the ground. Mom and Dad would not be happy. “Yes, sir.”
Principal Oakman leaned back in his creaky chair and pointed at the closed door. “Get out, girl. Ms. Lewis will escort you back to class.”
“Yes, sir.” Kelly pushed the pink slip into her front pocket and rushed toward the door. It swung open with ease and her eyes instantly contacted with curious classmates loitering in the hallway, obviously waiting for her emergence. She felt her face glow red hot. Too late to matter, she tried hiding behind the long strands of her hair.
Principal Oakman said, “I don’t want to see you back here again, Ms. Moran. Understood?”
She looked back at him from the doorway and nodded. “Yes, sir.”
The remainder of the school day dragged. Kelly discovered the firm wood seats of the student desk were particularly uncomfortable over the course of an hour long class when sitting on a well-spanked posterior. The tight fit of her jeans didn’t help matters either, keeping her bottom feeling warm and stinging all day long while she walked from class to class. In detention, she wrote the expected apology letter and at the end, she delivered it to Mrs. Dotty, including a verbal apology as she did. Fortunately, Mrs. Dotty accepted the apology graciously and even offered a little sympathy, though in parting, Mrs. Dotty slapped Kelly’s jean-clad bottom with her open hand and suggested Kelly be more careful in the future. Kelly fully intended embracing the suggestion though her thoughts were much more concerned with what awaited her at home.
Kelly entered the house and immediately came face to face with her mother. Mother’s eyes held a disappointed sternness that readily informed Kelly, Principal Oakman had called home. Kelly fished the pink slip out of her jean pocket. Mother took it from her fingers before she could finish unfolding it. Kelly bit her lip.
Mother said, “Paddled at school.” She shook her head as if she doubted the truth of it.
Kelly avoided Mother’s gaze. “I was running late for class.”
Mother nodded. “You were running.”
Mother read the slip. “You knocked a teacher down?”
“I didn’t see her,” Kelly said.
Mother glared. “I should certainly hope not or we have a much bigger problem than you simply running where you aren’t supposed to.”
“I’m sorry,” Kelly said.
“Just wait until your father gets home,” Mother said. “In the meantime you’ll do your homework and this essay Principal Oakman assigned, at the kitchen table. After dinner, I suspect your father will be reminding you what a real spanking feels like.”
Kelly nodded. She had not expected anything different. Arguing over doing her homework in the kitchen nook versus her bedroom crossed her thoughts, but the Mother’s folded arms convinced her it wasn’t worth the breath. She trudged through the living room, around the stairs and into the nook. Her backpack thudded on the tile floor. At least the kitchen chairs came with cushions. She sat and unpacked her homework on the white tabletop.
Two hours later, Mother began working on dinner. Travis, Kelly’s younger brother, came downstairs, finished with his homework. He plopped himself down in the chair next to Kelly. She ignored his presence. He tapped his fingers on the table. She glared at him. He stopped tapping. She sighed and turned her attention back toward her essay. A few more words and it would be done.
Travis said, “I heard you got called to Principal Oakman’s office.”
Kelly kept writing. “Uh huh.”
He brushed his floppy blond locks out of his eyes and leaned back in the chair. “What did you do?”
Kelly considered telling him what he could go do, but a glance in Mother’s direction revealed the impulse as a bad idea. Ignoring the pest wouldn’t do either. “I was running to get to class and knocked Mrs. Dotty over.”
Travis leaned forward, astonished. “She’s like one of the nicest teachers.”
Kelly nodded. “I know.”
“Did you get swats?” he asked.
She took a deep breath. “Five.”
“Did it hurt?” he asked, watching her intently.
“What do you think?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s why I asked.”
Mother paused from cooking. “You’ll lose the attitude if you know what’s good for you, young lady.”
Kelly met Mother’s gaze and swallowed the sigh on her lips. “Yes,” she said, turning her gaze on Travis, “it hurt.”
Travis nodded. “I bet it did. I heard the paddle is like two feet long and six inches wide.”
Kelly rolled her eyes. “It’s not that big.”
He asked, “Was it on the bare?”
“But you cried though, right?” he asked.
“Of course,” she said. “It hurt.”
He smirked. “Did you check it out in the mirror after? I bet it was like red as a tomato.”
“I wouldn’t know, I didn’t look,” she said. “I really need to finish this essay if you don’t mind.”
Travis nodded. “Sure.” He rose from the table and walked toward Mother. “How can I help?”
Mother paused her stirring at the stove. “Do you want to toss the salad?”
He chuckled. “Absolutely, but won’t Dad get upset that we’re wasting food?”
Mother shook her head, smiling. Kelly paused writing and rolled her eyes. Travis’ sense of humor never ceased being annoying. She resumed writing. At least he stopped asking her questions.
Kelly narrowly finished the essay before it was time to set the table for dinner. Dad arrived home and Mother slipped him the pink note from Principal Oakwood. They all sat at the table. Kelly used her fork to push food around her plate. Travis ate enough for two anyway. Dad cleared his plate methodically, eyeing Kelly occasionally between bites. He wasn’t happy.
Finished eating, he pushed his plate forward and laid his fork and knife on the empty dish. His gaze landed on Kelly. “I imagine you have an excuse for me.” He wiped his chin with the white napkin from his lap.
Kelly shook her head. She dropped her fork on her mostly full plate. “I was stupid. I’m sorry.”
Dad raised an eyebrow. “So you think Principal Oakman was right to paddle you?”
She met his gaze. “I deserved it. Mrs. Dotty could have been hurt.”
He nodded, laid the napkin on the table. “I’m obviously disappointed in your behavior, but I’m proud of you for owning up and accepting responsibility for your actions.”
A smile briefly visited Kelly’s lips. She lowered her gaze. “I’ll go get ready.”
Dad said, “Bring your hairbrush and leave it on the coffee table.”
Upstairs in her bedroom, Kelly looked at herself in the dresser mirror. Her clothes laid discarded atop her bed. The principal’s paddle left lingering redness, mostly pink, with deeper round marks in the center of her cheeks. It remained tender, sensitive to the touch of her fingers. She opened the top center drawer of the dresser, pulling free a faded pink tee. It slipped over her head easily, loosely fitting around her shoulders and neck, hanging just low enough to cover her bare breasts. The top covered little enough that she felt more naked than naked. She grabbed her hairbrush and headed downstairs, blushing hotter with every step.
Kelly waited in the living room corner as expected, hands on head, nose pressed to the joint of the walls. Time passed slowly. She listened intently, hearing every sound echoing out of the kitchen as her parents and brother cleaned. Drawers open and closed. Silverware clinking. The ceramic clank of plates being stacked, the hollow dong of pots being put away. Cabinets opened and closed. Water running and the gentle scratching of the scouring pad. Finally, the noises ceased. They joined her in the living room. Dad sat on the couch. Mother and Travis sat in opposite armchairs.
Dad said, “I suppose we should get this over with.”
Kelly bit her lip.
“Come here and get over my lap,” said Dad.
She dropped her arms and turned from the corner. Her hands did their best to cover herself as she hustled toward the couch and her father. He sat on the front edge of the center cushion. She carefully laid over his lap, her bottom centered over his legs, hands and feet on the carpet. The pink cutoff tee offered little if any modesty. Her face flushed hot.
Dad smacked her bottom with his open hand. The pace was quick. Her bottom bounced after each contact. Heat and sting blanketed her bottom. Never pausing, he said, “When you’re at school your behavior doesn’t just reflect on yourself, it reflects on this entire family.”
Kelly breathed through gritted teeth. Her eyes fluttered open and closed in sync with the slaps of Dad’s hand. “I know,” she said, breathing heavily. “I’m sorry.”
He kept spanking. “If you knew that, then why did you blatantly violate the school’s no running on campus rule?” He increased the pace and strength of the smacks.
She yelped and squirmed on his lap, but he held her in place with his free arm. Her butt burned. She gasped for breath. “I wasn’t thinking.” Tears stung at her eyes.
He stopped spanking and leaned over her, picking up the hairbrush from the coffee table. The cold wood patted against her hot cheeks. He said, “You’re grounded for the rest of the week.” The hairbrush slapped against her wobbling buttocks a half dozen times. He said, “You come home, you put on this shirt,” his fingers pinched the back of the fabric and pulled it before releasing, “and you sit at the kitchen table until your homework is finished.” The hairbrush delivered six swats to each cheek. “If you finish your homework before dinner, you will help your mother with chores.” The hairbrush smacked her butt a dozen more times. “After dinner, you will stand in the corner until I send you to bed.” The hairbrush rained down a dozen more slaps. “Is that understood?”
Kelly sniffled back tears. Her butt raged with sting and fire. “Yes, sir.”
He nodded. “It better be.”
The hairbrush peppered her hot backside with two dozen spanks. She kicked and squirmed throughout. Tears flowed from her eyes. Her breathing turned ragged with sobs. She hung her head low. Her arms trembled and her entire body shook. The spanking ended. She laid limp over her father’s lap, crying.
He lifted her up into his arms and hugged her, brushing strands of her hair away from her face with fingers. “I still love you,” he said.
She cried into his collar. “I’m so sorry.”
He patted her back. “I know. You need to go back to the corner now and in a little bit you can go to bed, okay?”
She sniffled and nodded. He helped her to her feet. She walked to the corner, avoiding eye contact with her mother and brother. At the corner, she raised her hands back atop her head and pressed her nose into the walls. The tears continued to flow. But the worst was over. Kelly closed her eyes.