The Hard Choice

A school principal offers his students a choice

By Kenny Walters

In stunned silence, we exited the assembly hall with the other thirty odd year 12 students.

“Oh my god,” Mary Miller spoke as soon as we were out into the main thoroughfare.

There were a whole lot of things I wanted to say, but somehow nothing came out of my mouth. We drifted rather aimlessly in the direction of our year homeroom.

“I mean, we weren’t actually involved, were we Annie?” Mary continued.

“No, we didn’t do a thing.”

“So, we don’t need to do anything?”

“Well, I don’t know.”

“But if we didn’t do anything wrong, why should we be punished?”

“The thing is, we were there. We will undoubtedly show up when they check the security cameras.”

“But they wouldn’t show us doing anything wrong, would they?” Mary asked more in hopeful desperation rather confidence. “What do you think we should do?”

Good question; I wish I had the answer.

*          *          *

There had been a school dance last Friday to celebrate our winning a girls’ soccer tournament, heavily supervised of course, yet somehow a group of us had left the dance floor and gone outside to chat more freely, maybe smoke a little, but mainly just to have time together without the presence of staff listening in on every word we spoke. And there was a little alcohol, but only for the cool girls and boys. Mary and I were not in that elite.

Unfortunately, a small number amongst us got a little rowdy and decided to decorate the doorway with streamers and balloons, spray a little foam around, and, well, maybe use a little superglue to gum up the doors. When I say ‘the doorway’, I mean a fair part of the front of the building, with particular attention being shown to the principal’s office window and also the secretaries’ office. It seemed like fun at the time.

Then Monday morning came. The whole year was called into the assembly hall and Mr Johnson, our Principal, gave us the ultimatum.

“Anyone who knows they were part of the group responsible for damaging the school fabric may go wait outside my office. Those that do are in for a five swat paddling. Any one who doesn’t voluntarily attend and who are subsequently found to have contributed to the damage will face five swats immediately, plus a special Saturday detention where another five swats will be administered. Does everyone understand the deal?”

There was a general mumbling of assent and slow nodding of heads.

“Good. It makes sense for those involved to voluntarily come forward and take your spankings. If you don’t, we will find you and you will suffer the greater punishment.”

*          *          *

“I mean, we were allowed to go outside, weren’t we Annie?” Mary continued.

I nodded. “Sure, we were.”

“And we didn’t do anything except sit around and talk, right?”

“Right.”

“So, we don’t need to go along and get paddled, right?”

“Ah, well, I guess that depends on how you view things,” I replied, really wanting to get my own head together rather than keep answering Mary’s questions. “I mean, we were there. That might be enough to put us in line for the paddling, in Mr Johnson’s view. The thing is, I really don’t need to get a Saturday detention plus a second paddling. I’m thinking, it might be better not to risk it.”

“You mean you’re going to take the one paddling, even though you don’t really deserve it? That’s crazy!”

“We need to ask.”

Which is how, with a whole load of trepidation, we walked along the hallway towards the growing small crowd outside the principal’s office. There were six small chairs, known as the naughty chairs, lining the hallway opposite the door to the principal’s office, but they were all taken. Another five or six students, male and female, were standing around talking quietly, very quietly. As we arrived on the outer rim of the group, a couple more followed me. After just a few minutes, no one else arrived. We were it.

“Annie, shall we ask in the secretaries’ office?”

“Hold on, does anyone know whether Mr Johnson meant just the guys who caused damage, or is it anyone who was outside?” I asked the assembled throng.

I got shrugs, some pulled faces, a fair amount of indifference, but no real answer.

“Well, that clears things up,” I spoke sarcastically to no one but myself.

“The secretaries?” Mary said desperately.

Before we could do anything, the door of the Principal’s office opened. The man himself, Mr Johnson, led two female teachers and one male teacher out into the hallway.

“Okay.” He looked around. “Seems there are about twenty of you. Thank you for being honest and having the integrity to come forward and accept responsibility for your actions.”

I wanted to ask, to clarify, whether those of us who were simply in the area needed to actually be here. I put my hand up.

“Just bear with me for a moment, Miss Henderson.”

I put my hand down. Mr Johnson continued.

“Now, it looks like there are fourteen guys and seven ladies. Mr Evans and myself will deal with the boys and we’ll use my office. Mrs Brookes and Miss Traynor will take the girls off to the spare equipment room next to the gymnasium to deal with the girls. Okay, let’s get to it.”

I put my hand up again.

“Take it up with Mrs Brookes, Annie. Okay?”

It kind of had to be okay, because Mr Johnson started herding the boys to one side and we were left with the two female teachers.

“Okay, girls, you know where you need to go.” Mrs Brookes allowed us to pass by her and then she and Miss Traynor followed.

I hung back.

“Mrs Brookes, I’m not sure whether I should be here. I mean, I was there but I didn’t do anything to cause any damage or anything.”

“Annie, honey, you’re going to get paddled. Best thing, just accept it. It’ll be easier for you, okay?”

I wanted to say it wasn’t okay, but a couple of the girls were looking round and giving me irritated glares, like they thought I was chickening out or something. I caught up with Mary.

“Well, that went well – not!” I said.

Before Mary could say anything, another girl, Aimee Moreno whispered in my ear, loud enough for the whole county to hear: “Getting cold feet? Scared to get your pretty little butt spanked?”

“Actually, I wasn’t talking to you,” I snapped. “Go mind your own business, brat.”

“You calling me a brat?”

“Girls! Don’t you think five swats is enough? I can give extra if you really want.” Mrs Brookes had closed in behind us.

We both shut our mouths and kept walking.

The spare equipment room Mr Johnson had referred to was, as he said, right next to the gymnasium. I’d only seen inside a couple of times, and it was simply a dumping ground for old and broken equipment. Someone had been inside recently, though, because when we arrived outside and Mrs Brookes unlocked the door, it had been kind of tidied up and a lot of the junk had been piled against the side walls. Plumb in the centre, though, was one of the old leather covered vaulting horses set to quite a low height.

“You girls, line up against the wall here.”

Mrs Brookes pointed to the white painted wall in the hallway outside the door. It meant we could no longer see inside, and that suggested we would be invited, one by one, to enter the equipment room and take our spankings unobserved by the others. It also meant there was a bit of jostling, because no one wanted to be the closest to the door.

“Stop shoving, girls. You’ll all get your turn soon enough.” Mrs Brookes said. Then, turning to Miss Traynor, she added: “I’ll just check everything’s okay and then I’ll call you in with the first one. Okay?”

“Okay, Sheila.”

Miss Traynor is nice, and very blond with long wavy hair, and a figure to die for, and height, at five feet nine. I’m in her Geography class, and I used to have a bit of a crush on her. I say ‘used to’, but she still is a bit special as far as I’m concerned.

“You want to bring the first one in, Emily?” We all heard Mrs Brookes call from inside the room.

“Does anyone want to go first?” Miss Traynor asked hopefully.

I looked pointedly at Aimee Moreno, on the basis that if she was accusing me of chickening out then she would be keen to show us how it’s done. However, another girl, Susie Schmidt, presumably felt it would be good to get the ordeal over and done with. Susie was blond, with collar length hair, a trim figure and just five feet two inches of height. Faded blue jeans that hung down on her hips and revealed she was wearing just a black thong underneath suggested minimal protection.

“Check your back pockets, Susie.” We heard Miss Traynor say after she’d followed Susie in. “Make sure they’re empty.”

I guess they were, because almost immediately we heard Mrs Brookes’ voice. “Get yourself right across the horse, Miss Schmidt, and keep your butt still.”

Within just a few seconds, five loud bangs came from within, separated by maybe five seconds between each swat and several shrill cries. After, few words were spoken before Susie emerged with tears dripping down her face. As she walked away from us back down the hallway, we saw the back of her left hand smooth down the seat of her jeans.

Then Miss Traynor looked round the doorway. “Who’s next?”

I wasn’t moved to volunteer myself, and it was Aimee Moreno who took a pace towards the door. She stopped and looked round at me, and then continued inside. Aimee was wearing a quite tight fitting pale pink skirt and tights. Without back pockets to her skirt, the spanking seemed to start pretty much immediately. Five pops, with a few seconds in between, and Aimee emerged. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, glanced nervously at me, and went back down the hallway. She covered a good twenty yards before succumbing to running a hand over the seat of her skirt.

Now we were down to five, and Mary and I were getting nervous. I’m sure the third girl, Helen Dorchester, was too, but she was almost at the doorway before Miss Traynor had poked her head out. White jeans that looked good with her black hair meant she was subject to the check of her back pockets, but the sounds of her spanking could soon be heard. She came out not long after in floods of tears. Although she started off back along the hallway, Mrs Brookes came out and followed her, putting an arm round her shoulder when she caught up.

Then Miss Traynor came out.

“Sorry, girls. There’ll be a bit of a wait. Mrs Brookes is concerned about Helen.”

I smiled weakly.

“Hopefully, it won’t be too long.” Miss Traynor added, I guess trying to be helpful. “I expect you want to get it over with?”

I saw Mary shrug.

“I’m not actually sure we should be here,” I said, seizing the opportunity. “I mean, we were there, but we didn’t do any damage or anything.”

Miss Traynor frowned. “So, why are you here?”

Mary butted in. “We didn’t want to risk getting the five swats, then a Saturday detention, and then another five swats. We just didn’t know what constituted being one of those Mr Johnson considered responsible.”

Miss Traynor nodded. “Yes, I see the logic. But then, if you didn’t do anything, it seems harsh.”

“Should we, I mean, do you think we should maybe get back to our classes and take the risk?” I asked.

“Too late. You’re getting paddled.” She replied, with a grim smile.

“Maybe if we asked Mrs Brookes?” Mary peered up at the teacher.

“Well, you could. But then, she might feel she needs to refer to Mr Johnson who is probably still busy dealing with the boys. She might have to wait for a bit before she could talk to Mr Johnson. Then they’d have to discuss it. That would mean you two hanging around here for maybe twenty minutes or so before you learn your fate. If it was me, my nerves would be really totally shredded by that time.”

“Maybe we should just take the spankings and hope Mrs Brookes doesn’t hit too hard?” I suggested to Mary.

Before she could answer, Miss Traynor said: “That’s what I’d do. I think Mr Johnson and Mrs Brookes have both pretty much decided you’re getting paddled, so you shouldn’t hold out much hope.”

I nodded thoughtfully.

Mary looked close to tears.

“Besides,” Miss Traynor continued. “It’s me that’ll be spanking you two. Mrs Brookes did the first three, now it’s my turn.”

“And we wouldn’t want you to miss out.” I said without thinking.

Miss Traynor smiled. “That’s a good way of looking at it,” she answered.

“Could we not just get on with it?” Mary asked, looking now quite scared.

“Sorry, there needs to be a member of staff witnessing.”

“Do we just bend across that vaulting horse?” I asked, looking into the room.

“Yes, it’s as easy as that.” Miss Traynor said, also looking in. “Get yourself right across it, and then your bottom makes a great target. Five sharp whacks and you’re done.”

I made a face. “Just remember we didn’t actually cause any damage to the school when you bring that paddle down, okay?”

“Nope,” she said. “If you get paddled, I spank you good.”

Before I could think of a suitable reply, Mrs Brookes returned.

“Right, sorry about that. Helen got herself all worked up and upset. She’s okay though.” Mrs Brookes seemed genuinely sympathetic. “So, who’s going next?”

I looked at Mary, and she looked despairingly back. I took a deep breath.

“Okay, let’s do it.”

Miss Traynor beckoned for me to lead the way, so into the room I went with the two teachers following. I stopped maybe six feet short of the brown leather, heavily padded, vaulting horse.

“Miss Traynor will be administering, so I’ll be witnessing,” Mrs Brookes explained. “Okay?”

Did I really think I was being offered a choice? No, of course not.

“Fine,” I said.

I kind of preferred Miss Traynor to do the spanking. She was much younger than Mrs Brookes, maybe in her mid-twenties, no more, so she was much closer to my own seventeen years, and that made it better somehow. Or would it be better to be punished by the more mature, more motherly figure? My mind was working overtime at that point and so many thoughts, plus sheer terror, rattled through my brain.

“Okay, Annie, bend over.”

I looked up and saw Miss Traynor holding a light coloured wooden paddle, maybe maple, and patting it across the palm of her left hand. It looked innocuous enough, perhaps eighteen inches long and four inches wide, plus a handle of about eight inches. The blade was smooth and varnished. At least it wouldn’t snag the seat of my black leggings.

“When you’re ready, Annie.” Miss Traynor prompted after a full minute had passed and I hadn’t moved an inch.

My leggings were thin, really thin. And tight. They really showed off my fine figure. Good for walking around the school; not so good when you’re about to be spanked hard with a wooden paddle.

“I-I haven’t been paddled before,” I said truthfully, not sure why I even bothered to mention it.

“I know, Annie.” Miss Traynor put a comforting hand on my shoulder. “But you’re getting paddled now, so you need to bend over and let me do my job.”

It sounded a strange way of putting it, but it was enough to cause me to step up to the vaulting horse and place myself across it. The padding felt comfortable on my tummy as I extended my arms and grasped the two legs that I could reach.

“Well done, Annie,” I heard Miss Traynor say. “Now, hold very still.”

Stretched across the vaulting horse, my black leggings felt very tight across my bottom. I must be presenting a pretty good target to my punisher.

Bang!

Wow! That nice, smooth paddle, whipped down across my bottom and stung like nothing I’d ever experienced before.

Bang!

Oh my god! The pain, that sizzling, smarting pain that seared my entire butt.

Bang!

“Uuh!!” I couldn’t help but make that odd grunting noise. My bottom was now on fire.

Bang!

“Unh!!”

I was just conscious of the tears that now rolled down my face. My bottom hurt like anything. Even my knuckles felt sore where I was gripping the vaulting horse’s legs.

Bang!

“Ooww!!”

Another wave of salty tears flowed down my face. I’d totally lost count of how many swats I’d had, and how many were to come. A nice, sweet voice murmured somewhere in the background. I was calling for me to do something. Then a hand started tugging at my shoulder.

“Come on, Annie, get back to your feet. Here’s a couple of tissue hankies to wipe your face.”

I slowly pushed myself back to my feet and my left hand instinctively rubbed against the seat of my black leggings in an attempt to mitigate the soreness, while my right hand rested on the vaulting horse and helped support me on my wobbly legs.

“It’s soon over with, isn’t it Annie?”

I nodded agreement, although I was in so much turmoil I could have been across that vaulting horse for seconds or even half an hour, for all I knew at that moment.

I blew my nose several times and that stopped the flow of fresh tears. I looked around and saw Mrs Brookes standing with arms folded, just watching me.

“Try and get yourself together, Annie. I guess Mary will be petrified listening to you get your spanking.”

I nodded. Annie was dreading this anyway and the delay plus the loud bangs as the paddle walloped my bottom must have been mighty awful.

“Would you be up to having a couple of words with her, Annie?” Miss Traynor suggested.

“Sure,” I said, still flinching as gently rubbed my bottom to try and ease away some of the pain.

“Thanks, Annie.” Mrs Brookes waved me towards the door.

I went out and closed the door behind me.

“Me?” Mary looked scared out of her life. Neither of the other two remaining girls seemed keen on pushing ahead of Mary though.

“You’ve got a couple of minutes.” My words seemed to offer more relief than they really warranted.

“How – how was it?”

“It hurts!” I answered with more concern for my sore bottom than Mary’s feelings. I quickly added: “But the waiting for it is pretty much as bad as getting it.”

“Really?”

“Pretty much.”

Just then, Miss Traynor looked out. “Ready when you are, Mary.”

“Oh my god,” Mary looked stunned.

“You’ll be okay,” I reassured. “Just do what they tell you and it’ll be over in less than a minute.”

Mary looked less than encouraged, and I guess it was Miss Traynor’s continuing presence that persuaded Mary she had no choice but to surrender herself for punishment.

“Will you wait for me?” Mary said desperately as she was about to disappear into the room.

“Of course,” I replied as I saw the back of Mary’s loose white dress with its pink and green floral pattern.

I didn’t mind being alone in the hallway. It was a chance to get myself together before getting back to class. I’d have been even happier if my bottom was feeling less sore and smarting, of course.

I could hear some muffled conversation coming from inside the room, but I wasn’t that interested in what was being said. I knew the rough gist from experience!

Then the bangs started, and I knew Mary was getting her bottom spanked. It all seemed to happen very quickly, quicker than I got my spanking. And then the door opened and out stepped Mary, tears flowing down her face and hands clutching her backside.

“Y’okay?” I said stupidly. She clearly wasn’t at all okay.

“It hurt!” Mary croaked.

“Yes, I know.”

I saw the two teachers still inside, just talking. ‘That’s it, leave me to deal with Mary,’ I thought.

Mary and I embraced and held each other for a couple of minutes, then I said: “Come on, let’s get cleaned up and get back to class.”

“They didn’t like my dress,” Mary said as we started walking very slowly, leaving the two remaining girls to it.

“What?” I looked down. “Well, it’s almost knee length and it’s not low cut at the top, that’s all within the dress code. And the pattern is pretty and in no way offensive.”

“No, not that. It was just that it was loose-fitting. They worried that the flowing material would interfere with the swing of the paddle and, and…”

“And what?”

“I wouldn’t get spanked hard enough, I guess.”

“So, how did they get around that?”

“They helped me lift the dress up out of the way so I could be spanked on my panties.”

“Oh, okay.” I’d heard of that happening from somewhere in the past.

“It really hurt!”

“Yes, I can imagine.” And I was thinking I was hard done by having leggings on and not jeans.

“And my panties,” Mary blubbed. “My panties were pretty brief. I reckon most of the spanking landed on my bare bottom.”

It took a few minutes in the ladies’ rest room to wash our faces, put fresh make-up on and generally sort ourselves out, ready to get back to class. We never did find out what the CCTV showed. For sure, though, no one ever got the more severe punishment for not owning up.

The End

© Kenny Walters 2018

To view Kenny’s Amazon Author Page and his ebooks for sale: please click here