A change of procedure for a girl’s school paddling
By Paul Tecres
My name is Charlotte, and this is a story from my high school days. Some may call me strange, and I will gladly accept that as I tell the truth here. I’ve been fascinated with corporal punishment for as long as I can remember. I used to hear my parents and grandparents tell stories of how spankings were a part of growing up for them. I’d hear them tell of the pain from a belt, switch, wooden spoon etc. They’d talk of being bent over someone’s lap, a table, a chair, or even standing up and touching their toes. These tales always made me immensely curious.
That curiosity went unsatisfied for some years, as my parents chose not to spank me. I didn’t experience my first corporal punishment until my freshman year of high school. I went to a nice private school which I enjoyed very much. The school had an interesting disciplinary policy. When a student was sent to the principal, they’d be given a choice of punishments. Minor offenses would usually earn a half-day Saturday detention. More major ones could lead to suspension from school. In either case the student could opt to be paddled by our principal, Mr Branson, instead. The minor offenses would usually get between three and five licks, at the principal’s discretion. Three was the minimum number any student got. Someone might get four or five if they had been sent to the office before. The more serious offenses would usually get between six and ten. Ten was the absolute maximum allowed by school policy.
My first visit with Mr Branson was for being late to my first class of the day four times. The choice was laid out for me, and I had until that Friday afternoon to decide. That Friday, my curiosity was satisfied with three hard swats from the paddle. Later that evening, as I lay on my stomach in bed, I analyzed the experience. I even closed my eyes to let it replay in my mind. I found the whole thing very intriguing. It wasn’t really the pain that I enjoyed so much. It was being punished in that way. It really sent a loud and clear message that I had stepped out of line, and was going to be corrected in no uncertain terms. This brought about a strange cathartic release.
My fascination continued after that, and I made semi-regular trips to the principal’s office. I’d usually find some minor offense to get sent there. I didn’t do this every day, just two to three times a year. Whenever I felt ready to do it again. I didn’t smile my way through the paddlings as one might think. I was always respectful towards Mr Branson, and apologetic for what I’d done. On a few occasions, I had even thanked him, and told him that I appreciated his willingness to discipline me. He had my deepest respect.
He wasn’t mean about things either. He was very kind and understanding. Even though he paddled me very hard, I always suspected that maybe he went a little easy on me. At one point I even thought that he might have enjoyed these paddling sessions as much as I did. After all, I was quite attractive. I stood five feet and nine inches, with long blond hair and very perky 36 C cup breasts. Add to that, long legs, a slim waist, and a very well rounded backside for my slender frame. The sight of me bent over his desk must have brought him some enjoyment. So I thought. Sadly it seems this was not the case. There came a day when my fascination backfired on me, horribly.
At the beginning of my senior year, someone decided to play a prank by drawing all over an educational poster just outside the classroom where I had my physics class. Our teacher, Mrs Reynolds, was furious. She told everyone that if she found out who was responsible they would definitely be going to see Mr Branson. Although I was not the responsible party, I seized the opportunity to start this school year the way I wanted. I went to Mrs Reynolds after class and made my confession. I got a good scolding while she wrote my referral. I went immediately to see Mr Branson, and he laid out my options as if he didn’t already know which one I was going to pick. This had happened on a Tuesday, and the excitement stayed with me all week.
I had done this enough times before that I knew the whole routine. I’d be summoned to the office during my last class on Friday afternoon. When I arrived, I’d sign a form indicating which punishment I’d choose. Then I’d wait outside his office door until I was called in. When he called for me, I’d enter and close the door. He’d already have the paddle out, and a section of his desk cleared off. I’d be told to bend over with my elbows resting on the desk. He’d walk around behind me, tap the paddle on my bottom a few times, and tell me to, “get ready.” Then I’d take my licks, he’d ask if I was okay, and I’d be dismissed.
This particular Friday didn’t go at all as planned. When I arrived at the office, I was one of four students waiting, and the only girl in the group. We each went in and signed our forms. I, of course, signed the part indicating I’d accept corporal punishment. Five licks as indicated on the paper. One of the boys opted to take his Saturday detention and left. The remainder of us sat outside waiting to be called in as Mr Branson set up his office. After a few minutes, Mr Branson opened the door and called me in. I was delighted to be the first one up. An interesting idea crossed my mind as I stood and walked toward the office door.
Usually, I took my paddling with very little fuss. Maybe a whimper or a soft grunt here and there. This time, I thought of putting on a little show for the boys waiting outside. Maybe I’d yell out a loud, “Ow!” or “Ah!” at a couple of the licks. I might even be able to muster some tears that they’d see on my face as I walked out afterwards. I could be such a silly girl sometimes.
I stepped in and closed the door behind me as Mr Branson had instructed. At that point, everything deviated from the norm. Next, I was expecting to be told to bend over the desk, so it took me by surprise when instead he said, “Have a seat.” I sat down in the chair across from him, as he sat down behind his desk. My excitement faded quickly as he began to speak.
“Charlotte, there’s something we need to discuss before we proceed today,” he began.
“Yes sir?” I replied with slight confusion.
“A memo came in yesterday from the school’s board of directors. There’s been a change in our corporal punishment policy.”
I tried to hold out hope that maybe this would be a good thing. Maybe he had to use a different paddle now, or something along that line. I’d have been willing to accept that. My hopes were quickly dashed as he continued.
“The policy now requires that corporal punishment be administered by a school official of the same gender. You’ll still get the paddling you opted for today, but I won’t be the one to do it.”
As he was saying that, he pulled another form out and started filling in its blanks. When he finished, he slid the form across the desk to me and spoke again.
“You’ll need to take this to Coach Lee’s office. She handles paddling for the girls now.”
I had never had Coach Lee as a teacher before, but I knew of her. She coached the girls volleyball and tennis teams. I was horrified at the thought that the tennis coach would be the one wielding a wooden paddle as it slammed into my posterior. I had to get out of this, so I said the best thing I could think of.
“Mr Branson, I’d like to take the Saturday detention instead.”
“I’m afraid it’s too late for that, Charlotte. You’ve already signed the form where you chose paddling.”
In desperation, I made the mistake of trying to backpedal.
“Mr Branson, um, there’s been a misunderstanding.”
“I, I didn’t do this. I didn’t draw on that poster.”
His face scrunched slightly in a look of disappointment.
“Charlotte, you admitted to Mrs Reynolds that you did this. Then you were sent to my office and admitted it to me.”
“No, I made a mistake.”
“You’re right. You have made a mistake. Everyone knows that my biggest pet peeve is dishonesty. And clearly you are lying about something. I can see only one of two things going on here. Either you are lying now to get out of punishment, or there’s a more troubling possibility, that you lied in order to get sent to my office. Possibly with the intent to get paddled. You always choose that when you get sent here for some minor infraction. I don’t even want to think about that.”
He took the piece of paper from my side of the desk, threw it in the trash and wrote out a new one.
“I’m going to fix this right now,” he said. “I’m prescribing the original five licks for defacing school property, plus an extra three for dishonesty. Now, take that form to Coach Lee, and she’ll administer your well-deserved paddling. You’re dismissed.”
I left the office distraught, with the paper in my hand. I took a moment to read it over. At the top it read, ‘Female Corporal Punishment Referral.’ The form listed my name, details of my offenses, and the prescribed eight licks. I walked fast through the hallways, wanting to just get this over with. It took me about five minutes to reach Coach Lee’s office, which was right next to the girls gym locker room. I paused for just a moment, then knocked on her door.
I heard a muffled, “Come in,” from the other side, and opened the door slowly. I walked in, gently closing the door behind me as Coach Lee looked up from her desk and asked, “How can I help you?”
I nervously stammered my response. “I, uh, I was…”
She pointed to the form in my hand. “Is that for me?”
“Um, yes ma’am.”
I handed her the form, and watched her expression turn to a scowl as she read it over.
“So you’re the one who drew all over that poster? I designed that poster myself.”
I froze in fear. I wanted to say something to try and mitigate the circumstances, but no words would come out.
“You’re going to regret that decision,” she said as she put the form back down.
Coach got up and walked over to a corner of the room to my right. There she retrieved a chair and set it in the center of the room facing away from me. The back of the chair came up to about the height of my hips. She then opened a desk drawer and pulled out a paddle that was identical to the one Mr Branson used. In her hands, it somehow looked ten times more menacing.
She didn’t give the same gently spoken instructions that Mr Branson did. Instead, she barked her orders sternly.
“Bend over the back of that chair, and put your elbows down in the seat.”
When I hesitated for a moment, she followed up with, “Be quick about it. Let’s go!”
I complied and found myself in a hideously uncomfortable position. The back of the chair dug into my abdomen. My elbows rested in the seat, with my head hanging down over the edge, and my hair hanging in my face. I became acutely aware that my khaki pants and underwear were stretched incredibly tight across my backside. They would provide even less protection now. From there it only got worse.
I felt Coach Lee line up and tap the paddle on my bottom a few times. I braced for the impact, but she tapped it a few more times instead, as if to taunt me. Finally, she drew back and landed the first lick, with a lot more force than Mr Branson ever applied. I gasped in response. Maybe I had been right, and Mr Branson really did go easy on me. Maybe she just hit harder. I wasn’t sure. About ten seconds passed before lick number two landed, and I yelled out in agony. Another ten or so seconds elapsed before number three had tears streaming down my face. The timing intensified my suffering. Mr Branson always delivered the licks with no more than two to three seconds in between. He could have given me this entire spanking in the time the coach had taken to make it this far, and I wasn’t even halfway done yet.
I began sobbing at the fourth lick. I’m not sure, but it seemed like she slowed down a little after that one. Coach was clearly determined to make this the worst paddling I ever had to endure, and she was succeeding. The next four licks felt even harder, possibly because I was already so sore. There was no asking if I was okay when it was done either. All I got from the coach was, “Alright, we’re done. Get up and leave!”
I stood up and got out of her office as quickly as I could, eyes still filled with tears. I went into the restroom inside the girls locker room to wash my face, and collect myself. When I finally calmed down some, I decided to inspect the damage. I stood facing away from the full length mirror and lowered my pants and underwear, then looked over my shoulder. I was shocked at how bad it looked. The entire lower half of my backside was dark red, and I had two bullseye shaped bruises on the sit spots. There was another small purple bruise a little higher up on my right side. It all took about a week to heal.
I made sure that was the last paddling I got at school. I kept on the straight and narrow until I graduated.
© Paul Tecres 2022