I was supposed to publish the sequel to last week's story today, but due to being busier than usual, I haven't had time to write it. Instead, I've taken one from my buffer, and will finish the other story in time before next weekend.
“I’m glad you could come, Laura,” Charles said, waving the teacher into his office. There was something about the principal's tall, slim form, his hook-nose, and his thin mouth that gave the suggestion of cruelty, but this was more than made up for by his kind eyes. His dark hair had begun to turn grey at the temples, and he was always impeccably dressed, a sign of his belief in being a good role model for his students and staff.
Laura was almost as tall as her boss, had long, curly red hair, and the dimples suggested that she laughed loud and often, which was true. She had never even attempted to match his dress sense, preferring a more casual look. She gave Charles a bright smile as she entered. “I always have time for the principal. You know that.” She sat down in the chair in front of his desk. “What was it you wanted?”
Returning to his seat, Charles looked thoughtfully at his newest employee. wondering how to begin. “You’ve sent a lot of students here to be paddled in the months you’ve been here.”
She nodded. “I do not tolerate disrespect, and it’s important to establish your authority when you’re new. These girls are always trying to get you to lose control.”
“I understand that, but I think you’re relying too much on the threat of the paddle in order to secure your legitimacy," he said, opening the discipline journal and giving it a quick glance. “What was it – three this week? How many last week? Looking at it, I’m not sure there’s a single girl in your class who hasn’t been sent to my office at least once during the autumn.” He closed the journal. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t get them to respect you – these teenagers can be very ill-behaved and are always trying to push you – but I think you need some other ways to achieve it, and some alternative punishments when needed.”
“Like writing lines and sending them to the corner? Please, Charles. They just roll their eyes at that stuff. They don’t roll their eyes at a paddling – at least not afterwards,” she said with a grin. “It’s quick, harmless, and effective.” She shrugged. “I’d prefer to paddle them myself – it would be a good lesson for their classmates – but since that’s not an option…”
Charles looked thoughtfully at her. “Laura, were you ever paddled in school? Or at home?”
Laura shook her head. “My parents didn’t believe in it, and it wasn’t allowed at my school.”
“I thought not. If you had, you probably wouldn’t treat it so lightly. It might not be a big deal for you, but it is for them, I can assure you.”
She scoffed. “What, a few pops of the board on their panties? Oh, please. There’s no permanent damage – just a brief sting. You don’t think I could have taken ten swats without crying when I was eighteen?”
He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think you could do that NOW, never mind when you were a hormonal teenager.”
“Of course I could,” she insisted.
“Laura, you’re talking with great confidence about something of which you have no experience whatsoever – which is exactly my point.”
She grinned. “Then I have a bet for you. My suggestion: I take ten swats of the board, just like one of the misbehaving girls here. If I can do it without sobbing, you’ll let me use the paddle in the classroom whenever and however I wish.”
He pondered the strange idea, and eventually nodded. This was unorthodox, but it would give Laura a much-needed wakeup-call – if she knew what the paddle felt like, she probably wouldn’t be so eager to sentence students to it. “As you wish,” he said. “But I have one condition – you’ll take all ten swats. No backing out once we’ve started.”
“Deal!” she said breezily. They shook on it. “So, how do we do this?” Laura asked, sudenly feeling a little uneasy despite her bravado. She knew roughly what happened when students were sent here, but did not know all the details.
Charles opened a cupboard at the back of the room, picking up a large, wooden paddle that he began to tap against his palm. The sound of the hard wood striking flesh made her rear end tingle, and she had to force herself not to shiver. She began to wonder if this was such a good idea after all – the paddle looked scarier than she’d expected.
“Lift your skirt, bend over the desk, and grab the other side,” he told her, still infuriatingly calm about the whole affair. “I will give you ten strokes on the seat of your panties. If you can take them all without crying –“ Which he considered about as likely as her becoming Queen of the Netherlands – “You’ve won.”
Laura bent over the desk, resting her stomach on the wooden surface as she reached back to raise the hem of her smart business skirt. She blushed as she suddenly remembered that she was wearing a pair of sheer satin panties. When she'd put them on that morning, she hadn't been opposed to the idea of being seen in them by a man, but by her boss? That was embarrassing!
She reached forward to place her hands on the other end of the desk, biting her lip as she thought about what was happening. She was bent over her employer’s desk, with her sexy panties on display, and he was about to paddle her. And it had been HER suggestion! She felt the cool air against her scantily-clad backside. Well, it wouldn’t feel cool for long!
She shook her head, dismissing those thoughts. It would be fine! After all, it was only ten swats. How bad could it be?
Charles stepped up behind her, rubbing the hard wood of the paddle against her quivering posterior. “Are you ready?” he asked.
“Yes, Charles,” she said, trying to sound confident. He lifted the paddle in the air to begin her punishment.
When the first stroke of the paddle landed, crashing down on her soft rear end with a loud crack, Laur’s eyes widened, a yelp escaping her lips. Ouch! She hadn’t expected it to be THAT painful!
Calmly, Charles lifted his arm, raising the paddle for the second stroke.
The second swing had her wincing. To her horror, she could already feel tears at the edges of her eyes, but she furiously blinked them away. She was going to win this little contest, no question about it!
“How are you feeling?” he asked, rubbing the paddle in circles against her sore flesh.
“I’m fine,” she snapped, trying to keep her voice from trembling. “Keep going!”
The third swat had her kicking her legs, as if she was trying to run away from the awful sting.
A howl escaped her lips as the paddle landed for the fourth time. Almost halfway there, she told herself, trying to ignore the fire rising in her beaten buns. You’re brave, you’re strong, you’re –
The fifth stroke landed, and the tears began to stream down her face. The pain was so great, it took a few seconds before Laura had the presence of mind to realize she’d lost.
“Five strokes. You lasted longer than I expected,” Charles admitted. “But we agreed you’d take all ten, didn’t we?”
“Y-yes,” Laura affirmed, nodding reluctantly. Her bottom was burning like she'd sat in a fire, and she still had five swats to go – and she'd get NOTHING out of it! She'd already lost!
Was it her imagination, or was the sixth stroke harder than all the rest? She squirmed, watching the teardrops splash down on the desktop below her face.
At the seventh swat, she jumped to her feet, both hands clutching her burning buttocks.
“Bend back over the desk,” he instructed, gently, but firmly.
“Please, Charles!” She turned to face him, tears running down her face as she looked pitifully at him. “You’ve won! Do we have to do this? I’ll do better from now on, I promise!”
“Do you have any idea how many tear-faced schoolgirls have begged me for leniency in this office?” he said, still calm. “Quite a few of them sent here by you. Do you really think you deserve mercy more than they did?”
She bit her lip, rethinking some decisions she’d made.
“Bend back over the desk,” he repeated. “I don’t think you want to earn extras.” He was certainly right about that! Reluctantly, she did as he ordered.
The eighth stroke had her screaming like a banshee. She clutched the edge of the desk, determined not to rise to her feet again.
The ninth swat burned like hellfire, causing her to whimper pitifully.
She looked over her shoulder at him, hoping that the sight of her pleading eyes would soften his heart. To her dismay, she saw him lift the paddle for the tenth and last stroke.
The paddle cracked down on her soft flesh with a sound like thunder, and a fresh wave of fire spread over her blistered cheeks. She buried her face in the desktop and sobbed like a little girl.
Charles took the opportunity to study the landscape outside his window. It was not appropriate for a man in his position to comfort the sobbing schoolgirls the way a disciplining father would, and he didn’t think it was any more acceptable when the girl in question was his employee. Nevertheless, he could give the offenders a bit of privacy as they collected themselves, even though he wasn’t sure any of them ever appreciated it.
It probably took about ten minutes before Laura rose to her feet, rubbing her burning buns. Eventually, she remembered that she was still showing off her panties, so she quickly lowered the skirt. She found the principal still staring out the window. He only turned around when he noticed that she had calmed down. “How are you feeling?” he asked gently.
“Sore. Tired. Wiser,” she admitted.
He nodded. “Then it worked as intended. I expect you’ll send fewer students my way in the future?”
“Definitely,” she said, rubbing the seat of her skirt with a rueful look on her face. “You won’t see ANY of my students in here – I guarantee it.”
He sighed. “Laura, the point wasn’t that the paddle is NEVER appropriate. If it was, I would throw it out. The point is to know when to use it and when to use something else. Is a kind heart and an open ear more effective than a punishment in this case? If not, would another punishment be more fitting or achieve better results? Sure, there are some troublemakers who can only be reached through their backsides – and there always will be – but you can learn a lot from listening to the girls.” He opened a drawer. “For example, some of them recommend a particular brand of lotion for a paddled butt. I can give you the name, if you want.”
Laura accepted the suggestion with a grateful smile. “See you on Monday, then, principal.” Hopefully, the swelling would have gone down by then, so the girls wouldn’t be asking why the teacher spent the entire lesson standing up.
Laura was almost as tall as her boss, had long, curly red hair, and the dimples suggested that she laughed loud and often, which was true. She had never even attempted to match his dress sense, preferring a more casual look. She gave Charles a bright smile as she entered. “I always have time for the principal. You know that.” She sat down in the chair in front of his desk. “What was it you wanted?”
Returning to his seat, Charles looked thoughtfully at his newest employee. wondering how to begin. “You’ve sent a lot of students here to be paddled in the months you’ve been here.”
She nodded. “I do not tolerate disrespect, and it’s important to establish your authority when you’re new. These girls are always trying to get you to lose control.”
“I understand that, but I think you’re relying too much on the threat of the paddle in order to secure your legitimacy," he said, opening the discipline journal and giving it a quick glance. “What was it – three this week? How many last week? Looking at it, I’m not sure there’s a single girl in your class who hasn’t been sent to my office at least once during the autumn.” He closed the journal. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t get them to respect you – these teenagers can be very ill-behaved and are always trying to push you – but I think you need some other ways to achieve it, and some alternative punishments when needed.”
“Like writing lines and sending them to the corner? Please, Charles. They just roll their eyes at that stuff. They don’t roll their eyes at a paddling – at least not afterwards,” she said with a grin. “It’s quick, harmless, and effective.” She shrugged. “I’d prefer to paddle them myself – it would be a good lesson for their classmates – but since that’s not an option…”
Charles looked thoughtfully at her. “Laura, were you ever paddled in school? Or at home?”
Laura shook her head. “My parents didn’t believe in it, and it wasn’t allowed at my school.”
“I thought not. If you had, you probably wouldn’t treat it so lightly. It might not be a big deal for you, but it is for them, I can assure you.”
She scoffed. “What, a few pops of the board on their panties? Oh, please. There’s no permanent damage – just a brief sting. You don’t think I could have taken ten swats without crying when I was eighteen?”
He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think you could do that NOW, never mind when you were a hormonal teenager.”
“Of course I could,” she insisted.
“Laura, you’re talking with great confidence about something of which you have no experience whatsoever – which is exactly my point.”
She grinned. “Then I have a bet for you. My suggestion: I take ten swats of the board, just like one of the misbehaving girls here. If I can do it without sobbing, you’ll let me use the paddle in the classroom whenever and however I wish.”
He pondered the strange idea, and eventually nodded. This was unorthodox, but it would give Laura a much-needed wakeup-call – if she knew what the paddle felt like, she probably wouldn’t be so eager to sentence students to it. “As you wish,” he said. “But I have one condition – you’ll take all ten swats. No backing out once we’ve started.”
“Deal!” she said breezily. They shook on it. “So, how do we do this?” Laura asked, sudenly feeling a little uneasy despite her bravado. She knew roughly what happened when students were sent here, but did not know all the details.
Charles opened a cupboard at the back of the room, picking up a large, wooden paddle that he began to tap against his palm. The sound of the hard wood striking flesh made her rear end tingle, and she had to force herself not to shiver. She began to wonder if this was such a good idea after all – the paddle looked scarier than she’d expected.
“Lift your skirt, bend over the desk, and grab the other side,” he told her, still infuriatingly calm about the whole affair. “I will give you ten strokes on the seat of your panties. If you can take them all without crying –“ Which he considered about as likely as her becoming Queen of the Netherlands – “You’ve won.”
Laura bent over the desk, resting her stomach on the wooden surface as she reached back to raise the hem of her smart business skirt. She blushed as she suddenly remembered that she was wearing a pair of sheer satin panties. When she'd put them on that morning, she hadn't been opposed to the idea of being seen in them by a man, but by her boss? That was embarrassing!
She reached forward to place her hands on the other end of the desk, biting her lip as she thought about what was happening. She was bent over her employer’s desk, with her sexy panties on display, and he was about to paddle her. And it had been HER suggestion! She felt the cool air against her scantily-clad backside. Well, it wouldn’t feel cool for long!
She shook her head, dismissing those thoughts. It would be fine! After all, it was only ten swats. How bad could it be?
Charles stepped up behind her, rubbing the hard wood of the paddle against her quivering posterior. “Are you ready?” he asked.
“Yes, Charles,” she said, trying to sound confident. He lifted the paddle in the air to begin her punishment.
When the first stroke of the paddle landed, crashing down on her soft rear end with a loud crack, Laur’s eyes widened, a yelp escaping her lips. Ouch! She hadn’t expected it to be THAT painful!
Calmly, Charles lifted his arm, raising the paddle for the second stroke.
The second swing had her wincing. To her horror, she could already feel tears at the edges of her eyes, but she furiously blinked them away. She was going to win this little contest, no question about it!
“How are you feeling?” he asked, rubbing the paddle in circles against her sore flesh.
“I’m fine,” she snapped, trying to keep her voice from trembling. “Keep going!”
The third swat had her kicking her legs, as if she was trying to run away from the awful sting.
A howl escaped her lips as the paddle landed for the fourth time. Almost halfway there, she told herself, trying to ignore the fire rising in her beaten buns. You’re brave, you’re strong, you’re –
The fifth stroke landed, and the tears began to stream down her face. The pain was so great, it took a few seconds before Laura had the presence of mind to realize she’d lost.
“Five strokes. You lasted longer than I expected,” Charles admitted. “But we agreed you’d take all ten, didn’t we?”
“Y-yes,” Laura affirmed, nodding reluctantly. Her bottom was burning like she'd sat in a fire, and she still had five swats to go – and she'd get NOTHING out of it! She'd already lost!
Was it her imagination, or was the sixth stroke harder than all the rest? She squirmed, watching the teardrops splash down on the desktop below her face.
At the seventh swat, she jumped to her feet, both hands clutching her burning buttocks.
“Bend back over the desk,” he instructed, gently, but firmly.
“Please, Charles!” She turned to face him, tears running down her face as she looked pitifully at him. “You’ve won! Do we have to do this? I’ll do better from now on, I promise!”
“Do you have any idea how many tear-faced schoolgirls have begged me for leniency in this office?” he said, still calm. “Quite a few of them sent here by you. Do you really think you deserve mercy more than they did?”
She bit her lip, rethinking some decisions she’d made.
“Bend back over the desk,” he repeated. “I don’t think you want to earn extras.” He was certainly right about that! Reluctantly, she did as he ordered.
The eighth stroke had her screaming like a banshee. She clutched the edge of the desk, determined not to rise to her feet again.
The ninth swat burned like hellfire, causing her to whimper pitifully.
She looked over her shoulder at him, hoping that the sight of her pleading eyes would soften his heart. To her dismay, she saw him lift the paddle for the tenth and last stroke.
The paddle cracked down on her soft flesh with a sound like thunder, and a fresh wave of fire spread over her blistered cheeks. She buried her face in the desktop and sobbed like a little girl.
Charles took the opportunity to study the landscape outside his window. It was not appropriate for a man in his position to comfort the sobbing schoolgirls the way a disciplining father would, and he didn’t think it was any more acceptable when the girl in question was his employee. Nevertheless, he could give the offenders a bit of privacy as they collected themselves, even though he wasn’t sure any of them ever appreciated it.
It probably took about ten minutes before Laura rose to her feet, rubbing her burning buns. Eventually, she remembered that she was still showing off her panties, so she quickly lowered the skirt. She found the principal still staring out the window. He only turned around when he noticed that she had calmed down. “How are you feeling?” he asked gently.
“Sore. Tired. Wiser,” she admitted.
He nodded. “Then it worked as intended. I expect you’ll send fewer students my way in the future?”
“Definitely,” she said, rubbing the seat of her skirt with a rueful look on her face. “You won’t see ANY of my students in here – I guarantee it.”
He sighed. “Laura, the point wasn’t that the paddle is NEVER appropriate. If it was, I would throw it out. The point is to know when to use it and when to use something else. Is a kind heart and an open ear more effective than a punishment in this case? If not, would another punishment be more fitting or achieve better results? Sure, there are some troublemakers who can only be reached through their backsides – and there always will be – but you can learn a lot from listening to the girls.” He opened a drawer. “For example, some of them recommend a particular brand of lotion for a paddled butt. I can give you the name, if you want.”
Laura accepted the suggestion with a grateful smile. “See you on Monday, then, principal.” Hopefully, the swelling would have gone down by then, so the girls wouldn’t be asking why the teacher spent the entire lesson standing up.
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