Not so long ago, I got into a bit of a tussle with another girl. It wasn’t any kind of a big deal, but in the current world it was deemed violent behavior and got me sitting inside the office of the vice-principal, Mr G, who deals with years 8 to 10.

Mr G is a nice man, always smartly dressed in a dark blue suit, white shirt and tie. He had me sit down while I put my side of things, and he listened carefully, but still found me guilty of violent conduct. He awarded me a Saturday detention which in our school is from 8.00 am to 12.00 noon.

Now I have a regular Saturday job in a local store which I enjoy and gives me some half-decent pocket money without having to ask my parents for cash. So, getting a Saturday detention really sucked.

I remembered something from the many pages of the long-winded students’ handbook that I was entitled to ask for an alternative punishment, so that is what I did. I had in mind several other students who had been allocated menial tasks like sweeping hallways and stuff in place of after-school detentions, so figured something like that might be arranged for me. Apparently, the alternatives to Saturday detention are different to after-school detention.

Mr G offered me five licks with the paddle! I’m kind of a studious kind of girl, so it was hardly surprising Mr G seemed to assume I would not want to consider that option. He didn’t really know me, but I’m sure he was aware I’m not one of the sporty-type girls who suffer anything ‘for the team’.

I tried to think quickly. I weighed up losing my Saturday morning in the store and the enjoyment I got from doing it against the discomfort from getting my butt paddled. I asked if I chose the spanking, how soon would it be done? Right then and there, before I left the office! I thought some more. The spanking would hurt and it would be quite humiliating. Against that, I trusted Mr G to not make it worse than it needed to be. Then, having to tell the owner of the store that I couldn’t make next Saturday would also be humiliating because he would want to know why, and even if I made up some lie to save my face someone else, probably my younger brother, would tell him.

After what was becoming an embarrassing long silence while I thought, I told Mr G in a very hesitant voice that I would like to take the paddling. I remember using the word ‘like’ and immediately thinking it was not the most appropriate word I could have used.

He looked surprised, and asked if I was sure. I confirmed I was. He still looked doubtful. I repeated, without being asked, that I would prefer the option of being paddled. He then left the office and I sat there thinking whether I could still back out, or would that be even more humiliating?

Mr G soon returned with one of the secretaries in tow to act as the required witness of the same sex as myself. He asked me again if I still wished to be paddled. I looked at the secretary, a middle-aged, motherly type of woman. Looking at her face, I kind of felt she would be annoyed if I wasted her time by changing my mind, so I sealed my fate by confirming I wanted to take the spanking.

Mr G then went over to a filing cabinet and opened the bottom drawer. The secretary told me to stand up, then she took the chair I’d been sitting on and moved it out into the center of the room with its back towards me. No prizes for guessing what that was for! To confirm, she beckoned me over.

I looked around and saw Mr G coming to join us with a paddle in his hand. It was made of light-colored wood, maybe hickory. I’d say it was two feet long in total and about four inches across along the blade. Eight inches at one end had been whittled down into a handle, and that had been bound with blue tape. It was such a pretty blue!

On that day I was wearing faded blue denim jeans with some mix in the material that made them stretchy. At least they had back pockets. I was asked to ensure the back pockets were empty, which they were. The secretary then double-checked me. Had some before me tried to cheat? Having her check my back pockets felt a little weird, and made me wonder just how bad this spanking was going to be.

Mr G reminded me I was getting five swats before asking me to bend over the back of the chair. I said something like, “Okay,” and lowered myself into position. I grabbed hold of each side of the seat, bent my elbows and pushed my head down low so my butt stuck out. I really don’t know why, but something instinctively made me want to offer up my backside as a good target. Was I afraid he might miss my butt? Surely not. Was I thinking he might go a little easier on me if he sees me cooperating? That doesn’t seem to quite fit either. Maybe someone can explain it to me.

Anyhow, after a few gentle pats of the paddle against my butt, there was a pause that seemed to last a long time, but probably was only a second or two, and then a mighty crash resounded around the room and my backside was on fire!

Four more loud bangs quickly followed, and my butt was severely scorched. It hurt and I felt tears in my eyes. Someone was saying it was over and I could stand up. I think it was the secretary. I took my time straightening up, by which time Mr G had returned the paddle to the filing cabinet, and the secretary was handing me kleenex to dry my eyes.

And that was pretty much it.

When I got home, my brother was not there, presumably out with his friends. Mom came home about an hour later, and I told her what had happened. She agreed it was probably best to take the spanking, but thankfully she didn’t ask to look at my butt, which was well bruised, especially a large round bruise on my right bottom cheek.

And I did my shift at the store on Saturday!

SR