Speeding in her new car has consequences

By Paul Tecres

When the final bell rang at school I was so excited. This was my first day driving myself, as my wonderful parents had bought me a car for my seventeenth birthday. Not just any car either. This was a nicely equipped Mustang.

I had decided to take the long way home via the interstate to test what the car was capable of. I had looked forward to it so much that I didn’t even bother to change clothes. I was still fully dressed in my school uniform of a white blouse, royal blue slacks, and matching vest, which bore the school’s beautifully designed logo.

I left the parking lot and drove carefully all the way to the nearest on-ramp. Once I entered traffic and got up to speed, I decided to really push the gas. I didn’t pay attention to the speedometer.

I noticed I was passing cars left and right, and exits seemed to fly by as I wove in and out of traffic. Eventually I started to see fewer cars around me, and also realized I had zipped past a few convenient exits and was headed out of town.

I saw a sign indicating an exit in three miles. That was a relief. I could get off there and turn around to go home. Before I could even think about it, though, I saw another sight that I didn’t want to see. Red, and blue lights flashed in my rear view mirror, and they were gaining on me fast. I slowed down and carefully pulled over to the shoulder.

Police Lieutenant Harper asked for my license and vehicle registration papers. As I reached into the glove compartment she noticed my uniform.

“You’re a student at Pine Grove Academy?” she inquired.

“Yes ma’am,” I replied nervously.

“I graduated from there. Very prestigious school.”

That was true in many ways. Pine Grove Academy was a private school, but it didn’t cost anything for students to attend. It was well funded by a non-profit, and was a school for exceptionally talented students. I had worked very hard and gone through a great deal of testing to be admitted.

Lieutenant Harper checked for any outstanding warrants, which of course came up clear. She handed my ID documents back to me then.

“We’ve got to talk about your speed,” she said.

“I clocked you in the triple digits. The speed limit on this stretch of highway is seventy. Now, here in Florida, I can arrest you for exceeding the speed limit by twenty five miles per hour or more.”

She must have seen the horrified look on my face before she continued.

“Don’t worry. I’m not gonna do that. I do have to write you a ticket though. At the speed you were going, that gets pretty expensive. But since I went to your school, I’m gonna cut you a deal. The minimum I can write a speeding ticket for is eight miles over the limit, so that’s what I’m writing this one for.”

She wrote the ticket and handed it to me. $120 in total fines. Thankfully, I had money saved up that would be enough to cover the ticket. She went over my options for payment as well. Which included paying the ticket online. The Lieutenant sent me on my way then.

When I arrived home and pulled into the driveway, I sat in the car for a minute. I took out my phone and paid the fine, so I wouldn’t have to worry about that part. Then I contemplated what would happen next.

My parents had signed up for a service that would email them a copy of my driving record every thirty days. I decided to just tell them about the speeding ticket, since they were going to find out anyway. I knew it was possible they might take the car away. As much as I didn’t want that, I’d understand if they did.

There was also a chance that they’d choose to deal with it in some other way. Maybe my having already paid the fine would work in my favor. Dad’s car was in the driveway, so I decided I’d go inside and tell him what happened. I hoped he was in a good mood.


I cried loudly as tears streamed down my face, with some of those dripping onto the carpet of my bedroom floor. My left hand rested on that same carpet as did my toes. My right hand was in the small of my back, being held in place by my dad’s gentle, yet firm grip. My upturned, panty-covered bottom felt like it was on fire. Dad posed another question.

“Cherise, are you going to observe posted speed limits from now on?”

“Yes sir,” I croaked out tearfully.

He followed that with another flurry of hard swats, which elicited more loud sobs from me.

“Are you going to practice safe driving?”

“Yes sir.”

Yet another rapid barrage of swats added to the suffering.

“Alright, we’ll finish this up then.”

Anytime he said that, I always felt very mixed emotions. On one hand, that phrase meant the spanking was almost over. On the other hand, there was the ‘almost’ part to contend with.

I braced myself and dad began what I called the ‘dreadful dozen’. He first delivered three final swats to my left sit spot. These were delivered a little slower, and a little harder than the rest of the spanking. I cried out at each one. He then did the same on the right side. The swats striking only one side always hurt more.

After he finished on the right, he moved his aim to the center to deliver a final six. Afterwards, he let go of my right wrist, gently pushing it away. He told me the spanking was finished and I could get up.

I stood up slowly, and glanced at the clock, just as I had done when I got into position at the beginning. The time was 4.48 pm. It had been 4.41 when I bent over. I felt like this one had been more difficult to endure than previous spankings, and I now knew why. I had never been over dad’s knee for more than about two or three minutes, as opposed to the seven minutes this time. He had a serious point to make, and I could still feel it being made across my entire backside. I was not looking forward to sitting down later at all.

Dad stood up and hugged me. He told me once again that he loved me, then kissed me on the forehead. I did a little bit more crying after he left the room. I always did though. The tears were brought on by knowing he disciplined me with a loving heart, and a very firm hand. I dried my eyes and changed into a t-shirt. I decided to forego pants for the time being, and just lie on my bed front side down to do a little reading.

The following morning as I was getting dressed, I checked my backside in the mirror. It looked the way I had expected. Every part from just below the tailbone to about an inch and a half down the backs of my thighs was cherry red in color. It was only mildly sore to the touch, but I knew that sitting in those unforgiving wooden seats at school would not be fun.

I opted for a skirt with my uniform that day instead of slacks. Loose-fitting clothing felt like the best option. My school day started well, save for the dull throbbing when I sat down. While not excruciating it was quite uncomfortable. I did find solace in knowing that it was Friday, and at the very least the soreness should be gone by this weekend if my bottom didn’t completely heal.

When I arrived at my second class of the day, my teacher informed me that our principal, Mrs Fontaine, needed to see me in the office. I went straight to the office, unsure of why I was summoned. I checked in with the school secretary and waited outside for only about five minutes before Mrs Fontaine called me in. I sat in the chair across from her desk.

“Cherise, there’s an important matter that we need to attend to. I got a phone call this morning from Lieutenant Harper with the city police. I believe you met her yesterday.”

“Yes ma’am,” I replied.

“And I believe she told you that she graduated from this school as well.”

“Yes ma’am, she did.”

“She told me about your encounter yesterday. She said that she could have arrested you for exceeding the speed limit by as much as you were, though she didn’t give me the exact speed she clocked you going. She did take into account that you were a student here, and wrote the ticket for eight miles per hour over the limit. Will you have to make a court appearance in regards to this matter?”

“No ma’am. I’ve already paid the fine.”

“That’s good. Now there is something that I need you to understand. Our school has a reputation for academic excellence, and exceptional student behavior. It is a reputation that has been earned in our community.

“When you are off-campus outside of school hours you are, in effect, an ambassador of our school. How you conduct yourself in the public eye reflects on us. We can’t have you acting in a manner that would embarrass the school.

“Yesterday, when you took this little joyride, you hadn’t even bothered to change out of your uniform. What if you had made the news for this? How would that make us look, Cherise?”

“Not good,” I answered nervously.

“That’s true. Not good at all. As you well know, admission to this school is highly competitive, and we only have so many openings available. Students from other schools are always waiting to take someone’s place here. That’s part of the reason we have such high standards. I’m afraid what that means is that when a student does something like this in public, the normal response is for them to be expelled.”

My jaw dropped at what I’d just heard. I had worked incredibly hard to be here, and now it looked as if it would be taken away because of a bad decision on my part. I wondered to myself how I would be able to face my parents, and tell them that I had thrown away everything I had worked for. After giving me a moment’s pause to reflect on this, Mrs Fontaine spoke again.

“To be honest, Cherise, I don’t like the idea of expelling you from school. You are a superb student with a bright future ahead of you. I know for a fact that recruiters from many prestigious universities have their eye on you. I don’t want to see you lose that. However, I can’t let this act go unpunished. There is a very unpleasant alternative that I can offer you. One that will deal with the matter satisfactorily, and still allow you to continue your education here.”

I was afraid to ask, but I had to.

“What would that alternative be, ma’am?”

“Cherise, your second option would be severe corporal punishment.”

I sat for a moment in stunned silence. I was already so sore, but didn’t want to lose my place at this school. I was also perturbed by her use of the word ‘severe’.

“Are those my only options?” I asked nervously.

“I’m afraid so.”

“Mrs Fontaine, when I got home yesterday with the ticket, I told my dad about it, and he turned me over.”

“Turned you over?” she inquired curiously.

“Yes ma’am. It’s the expression my dad uses. As-in turned me over his lap, and taught me a lesson. I’m still sore from that today ma’am.”

“That is unfortunate. But, it has no bearing on your options for disciplinary action at school.”

I had to ask another uncomfortable question then. Except when asking I was so nervous that I struggled to get the words out.

“How do you, um…?” Was the best I could manage.

“How do I administer corporal punishment?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Well first off I prefer to do so discreetly and privately. To that end, I don’t give corporal punishment during school hours. I do it after school, here in my office.

“My implement of choice is a yardstick. The one I use is very sturdy, and does the job quite effectively. You should also know that I would require you to follow all instructions to the letter, and since this is an alternative to expulsion, you will be required to take your punishment in its entirety. That includes any additional penalties assigned if you are uncooperative.”

I was even more afraid now, but had to ask one more uncomfortable question.

“Um, how many would I get?”

“Let’s see. I think the punishment should fit the crime, and I know that speeding fines are calculated with a base fee plus a certain amount for each mile over the limit.

“I would structure this punishment similarly. Your ticket was for exceeding the speed limit by eight miles per hour. So, I think a strike for each mile over plus two for doing this in school uniform is appropriate.”

Ten strikes with a yardstick on my already sore backside, versus expulsion from school. Either one sounded horrible. I took a breath and was going to speak, but I was so nervous that the words escaped my brain before I could. Mrs Fontaine interjected.

“I know this is a difficult decision. You don’t have to decide right now. I’ll give you until the end of the day. After the last bell rings, come to my office. You can let me know your decision then.”

I spent the rest of the day nervously contemplating my future. I thought of how much I enjoyed my classes. I thought of the friends I’d made, and the opportunities afforded by my attendance at this school. For me there was only one choice.

I settled my anxiety about it in the best way I could think of. I told myself that I deserved much worse, and that I appreciated how lenient everyone had been.

I deserved to be arrested, but instead I was given a ticket with a much lower fine than I should have to pay. The Lieutenant who pulled me over was kind to me.

I deserved to have my car taken away, but dad decided to spank me instead. He was being a great father once again. In fact, I decided that when I got home that day I was going to tell him what a great father he was, and how much I appreciate him, because I probably didn’t say it enough. I was even going to thank him for the bottom blistering he gave me yesterday.

As for Mrs Fontaine, she was being incredibly gracious. I deserved to be expelled, and instead she was going to punish me with a yardstick. While this didn’t completely alleviate my anxious feelings, it at least took some of the edge off.

The final dismissal bell rang and I lagged behind a little as classmates filed out. On my walk all the way to the main office I kept telling myself that, although this would be excruciating, I would take it and be grateful for every strike. I arrived at the front office, and told the secretary that Mrs Fontaine was expecting me. After she left, Mrs Fontaine called me into the office, having me close and lock the door behind me. Then she told me to have a seat.

“Well Cherise, have you reached a decision?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ve decided to accept corporal punishment.”

“In a way, I am glad to hear you say that. It’s not that I take any joy in doing this, but I’m glad that you’ll be able to remain enrolled here. Are you ready now, or do you need a moment?”

“I’m ready.”

“Very well. Cherise, is there anything you’d like to say before we begin? Bear in mind this isn’t a requirement, but I prefer to give you the opportunity just the same.”

I thought of something very important just then.

“Yes. When we spoke earlier today, I forgot to apologize. Mrs Fontaine, I am truly sorry for my reckless behavior, and for the way it reflected on the school. Also, I want to thank you for offering me this alternative to being expelled. I’m really glad to be here.”

She looked at me with a smile then.

“Cherise, I accept your apology. This won’t be easy, but I know that you’ll take this lesson to heart, and you’ll end up a better person for it.”

With that she reached behind her filing cabinet and produced the instrument she was going to spank me with. She laid it on the left side of the desk, and I felt a cold shiver. The yardstick was about an inch and a half wide, and at least a quarter of an inch thick. My gaze fixated on it for a moment before she began with instructions for me.

“Stand up, and remove your vest. Fold it neatly, and set it in the chair.”

I followed her instructions exactly, then I was horrified by what came next.

“Now, remove your skirt and underwear, and place them in the chair as well.”

I froze for a moment. I hadn’t realized that I’d have to take this on my bare bottom. I reminded myself of what I’d said earlier about everyone being so lenient. I didn’t want to seem unappreciative, and that helped me to comply. I stood naked from the waist down as she explained how to position myself.

“Bend all the way over the desk, and grab the opposite side with both hands. Keep both hands on the desk and both feet on the floor until I tell you to get up. There will be consequences for getting out of position.”

I bent over accordingly, and held onto the desk with white knuckles. Mrs Fontaine walked around to my side of the desk.

“I see that your father was quite thorough,” she remarked. There seemed almost a slight tone of sympathy in her voice. As she picked up the yardstick she delivered her final instructions.

“You’ll need to count each strike out loud. If you fail to count a strike, it will be repeated. The spanking will continue until you have counted all ten. Do you understand?”

“Yes ma’am.”

I took a deep breath and braced myself as I felt her line up the yardstick in the center of my backside. I then felt her pull it back, and silently thought to myself, ‘oh no.’

The first strike landed with a sharp crack. It re-ignited the pain I felt from the previous day’s thrashing. It was such a shock to my system that I gasped in response before uttering the count.


The second strike landed with another crack just a few seconds later. I opened my mouth as if I were going to scream, but no sound came out. I still managed to count though.


The spanking continued and I counted along.


“Uuuuhhhh! Three.”


“Nnnngh! Four.”

Tears began streaming down my face.


“Ahhh! Five.”

There was a definite quiver in my voice now.


“Ohhh! Six.”


“Owww! Seven.”

Even though it was almost finished, I wondered how much more of this I could take. I reminded myself of what Mrs Fontaine told me, that I’d have to take the entire punishment. I was breathing heavily as the tears continued to flow.


“Yahhh! Eight.”

The one that followed was even worse.


“AAhhhhh! N-N-Nine.”

That strike had landed directly on my already sore sit-spot, and it was excruciating. I should have felt somewhat relieved at only having one left, but I was terrified. It turned out that I had good reason to be, as the final stroke would land directly on top of the previous.


“UUuggghhh! T-T-Ten. Ten.”

I struggled to speak so much that I counted twice to be sure I was heard clearly. I clutched the edge of the desk so tightly I was certain that my fingertips would leave permanent indentations. In my distraught state I didn’t even notice that Mrs Fontaine had put away the ruler and returned to her side of the desk.

“Cherise, you can get up when you’re ready. There’s no hurry.”

It took me a moment to partially collect myself. Then I let go of the desk and slowly pushed myself up to a standing position. My backside burned even worse than it had the day before. Mrs Fontaine set a box of tissues on her desk and slid them over to me. No explanation needed.

I dried my eyes. I was so shaken by the whole experience that as I stood there I realized I was still naked from the waist down. I think Mrs Fontaine understood the situation. As I began getting dressed, she said, “Cherise, I’m sorry that we had to do that, but I’m glad that you’ll be able to continue your education here.”

“Thank you,” I replied.

Once I was dressed and found my bearings again, we said our goodbyes and I left the office. Before leaving to go home, I stopped by the restroom to survey the damage. I pulled my panties down and lifted my skirt, checking my backside in the mirror. It was, to me, a truly horrific sight. The lower half had gone from cherry red to crimson, and was dotted with several purple bruises.

I was thankful when I remembered I had a jacket in the car. I took off my uniform vest and rolled it up with the jacket to use as a makeshift cushion to sit on. It may have helped some, but I still became acutely aware of how rough the roads were in my neighborhood.

When I got home, I walked right up to my dad and gave him a big hug, and told him, “Thank you.”

“For what?” he asked.

“For turning me over yesterday.”

I have to admit that the shocked expression on his face was priceless.

The End

© Paul Tecres 2023