“Grace, would you deliver this pack of art paper to Miss Bruce, please?” Mrs Campagnard asked me as I worked my usual Tuesday afternoon in the school secretaries’ office. Several of us eleventh and twelfth grade students helped out in the office after school and whenever we had several hours without classes, and Tuesday after school was my time.

“Sure,” I replied, and took the large parcel of paper from the senior school secretary.

The Art Department was at the far end of the school complex, and it took me along a hall with eight classrooms on either side. As I walked, I glanced casually into each classroom through the glass in the door and through the internal window. Most were empty, but I saw my Math teacher, Mr Schubach, through the window before I reached the door to his home room. Mr Schubach is one of my favorite teachers, so I was about to give him a wave as I passed when I suddenly froze. He was holding a wooden paddle and he had a girl bending over the side of his desk, her jean-clad butt towards the door. Another teacher, Ms Cartone, was also in the room. She’s a more junior Math teacher.

I watched as Mr Schubach delivered what looked like a mighty firm swat across the seat of the girl’s jeans. I saw her jerk sharply as it hit. Then, as he was about to go for a second swat, Mr Schubach started to turn his face towards the door. I quickly faced front and continued along the corridor.

Having handed over the pack of art paper to Miss Bruce, I returned back along the corridor, but stopped as I was about to pass by Mr Schubach’s room. Before I could proceed, I heard voices and then the door opened. Out walked an eleventh grade student I knew slightly, Julie Donaldson, and she was in tears. Her turn to freeze when she saw me standing there.

“Are you okay?” I asked as we stood face to face.

She didn’t answer.

“Come with me,” I said, and took her by the arm.

I walked her slowly back towards the secretaries’ office, because there was a ladies’ bathroom just before the office, and this girl needed work on her make-up smeared face if nothing else.

“What happened?” I questioned, thinking that would suggest I knew nothing about what happened to her in Mr Schubach’s room.

Footsteps from behind stopped Julie from answering, and Ms Cartone caught up with us.

“Are you looking after Julie, Grace?”

“I guess.”

“That’s fine. Y’all carry on.”

When Ms Cartone disappeared from sight, I asked Julie again what happened. By then, we were about to enter the ladies’ bathroom. Inside, finding ourselves alone, Julie started to explain.

“Mr Schubach caught me drawing a cartoon of him.”

“Okay. So, what? Did he shout at you?” I didn’t want her to know what I’d seen.

I filled a sink with warm water so Julie could rinse her face.

She shook her head and squeaked a tearful, “No.”

“So, what caused all these tears?” I asked innocently.

“H-he p-paddled m-me.”

“Sorry, what did you say?” I pretended. I just wanted her to say it again.

Julie bent over the sink and splashed water over her face. I looked at her ass and it looked cute in those tight-fitting faded blue jeans. She pulled her face out of the water and I handed her a paper towel.

“I said he paddled me.”

“Paddled you? What? I never knew Mr Schubach had a paddle.”

“I can assure you he does.”

“Yes,” I muttered, wondering how to phrase the question I wanted to ask. In the event, I blurted it out, “So, do you want to drop your pants so we can check the damage?”

Julie turned and looked at me like I was some kind of pervert.

“Up to you,” I quickly added.

“I need to get home,” she threw at me before storming out.

As I made my own way home, my mind raced with so many thoughts about what had transpired. I always thought we knew which teachers paddled and which didn’t, unless you really broke the rules and got sent to the VP’s office. How did Mr Schubach not get on the ‘known paddling teachers’ list? To my knowledge, he was hard to get on the wrong side of, and even then he would only assign you a detention if you really tried his pateince. More likely, he would smile at you and tell you not to do again whatever it was that you’d done wrong.

It sounded like Mr Schubach had done everything correctly. There was at least one person of the same sex as the spankee in the room, in this instance Ms Cartone serving as witness. Julie hadn’t been made to undress in any way; I’d seen for myself the paddle landing on Julie’s denim jeans. The swat looked firm but not excessive. No, everything seemed in order.

Throughout that evening, I couldn’t put what I’d seen out of my mind. Mr Schubach is one of the older teachers, gray/white hair, beard, not tall, not slim, kind of like a grandpa who you love but wouldn’t hesitate to put you over his knee to spank you if you were naughty. That last bit was always something in my dreams, now I knew it wasn’t so far from reality.

The following day late morning I had a class with Mr Schubach, and Julie was also in the class. I tried hard to watch both Mr Schubach and Julie, and to check out the interaction between them. Yet there was nothing to spot. Mr Schubach appeared to treat Julie the same as the rest of us, and Julie seemed equally unperturbed, answering Mr Schubach’s questions along with everyone else. It all just made me even more intrigued.

Over the next few days, I tried to put it all to the back of my mind, but it just would not go away. During one of Mr Schubach’s classes, I even fiddled around with my cellphone, trying to make it as obvious as possible. Mr Schubach reprimanded me three times and then, after the class ended, he called me to his desk.

“Is anything wrong, Grace?”

“No, sir.”

“You seemed distracted, not your usual self.”

I shrugged.

“Is anything the matter, Grace?”

“No, sir.”

He left it at that. Just his usual caring self, no hint of disciplining me. As I went to my next class, my heart was pulsating. I hadn’t a clue what I’d been trying to achieve. The sensible me would have left it there, but some inner demon made me persist. Thus, at every class of Mr Schubach’s that I attended, I always did something to attract his attention, something I should not have been doing. A couple times I got called to his desk, but always for him to ask whether there was something bothering me.

Then one day he stopped me as I was leaving the class and said, “Ms Andrews, Grace, would you stop by after school so we could have a word?”

“Yes, sir. No problem.”

I left the room with a sense of achievement, but also shivering with trepidation. I had moved him beyond plain simple concern, or so I thought. I wasn’t even sure what I was trying to accomplish. For the remainder of the school day I was looking forward to my after-school meeting with Mr Schubach, but also fretting over how it would go.

My excitement was a waste. Mr Schubach simply sat me down for an even longer session of him being concerned something was bothering me. It was all care and concern, not a hint of discipline. Later, I had a good think about my objectives, and decided it wasn’t worth it. I reverted to simply being my usual good student. Mr Schubach probably thought his counseling was a success!

Three weeks later, the school’s football team had an unexpected victory in a tournament at the state capital, and the following day we held a big homecoming celebration. All went well until the middle of the afternoon when things began to get out of hand. Around fifty students took it upon themselves to ‘redecorate’ parts of the school with streamers and stickers, paint, etc. Even three of us known as little-miss-goody-two-shoes got involved. We saw several teachers taking notes, but didn’t think too much of it. We were having fun like many others.

When Mr Schubach asked me to see him after school the following day, I was a little surprised and totally puzzled about the reason.

When I attended as he requested, I found my two compatriots from yesterday arrive with me. Mr Schubach got us to sit at the front row while he moved to the front of his desk and sat on the edge.

“Just so you all know,” he began. “In the hijinks of yesterday, damage was caused to parts of the school, and known offenders had their names noted by members of our teaching staff. Your three names were among the list.”

“We did not cause damage, sir!” Elaine Benson, sitting in the center of our small group, retorted.

“I’m sure you didn’t intentionally cause damage, Ms Benson, but clearly you did enough to get your name noted. The same goes for all three of you. The thing is, anyone on the list is down for five licks, and Mr Armitage has been assigned to carry out most of the spankings.”

All three of us groaned. Mr Armitage was renowned for being a hard hitter. He even boasted that few came back for a second dose. I bit my lip. Getting paddled by Mr Armitage would be awesome and not in a good way.

“Now you three strike me as well-behaved A-grade students who don’t usually cause anyone much trouble,” Mr Schubach went on. “So, if you ladies want, I’m prepared to paddle you three in place of Mr Armitage.”

“Do you even have a paddle, sir?” the third of our group, Sara Cooper, asked. She, like me, found the thought of Mr Schubach paddling students astonishing.

I was reminded of my shock when I happened upon Mr Schubach paddling Julie Donaldson. He just didn’t have that reputation.

Mr Schubach smiled. “Actually, I do, Ms Cooper. I’ve always felt it better to have that option and not use it, rather than face a situation where it’s warranted and I don’t have the facility.”

The irony of the situation didn’t escape me. A while back, I’d been trying, sort of, to wheedle myself into where Mr Schubach would at least threaten to paddle me, and given up after several attempts. Now, I’d gotten into this position without even trying. Then a kind of panic set in. I could in minutes find myself bent over his desk while he spanked my ass.

“Would it still be five licks, sir?” Elaine asked.

“It would, Ms Benson. That’s been determined by the VP.”

Elaine stared blankly as she considered Mr Schubach’s response.

“And you’d do it, like, now, sir?” Sara questioned.

“No time like the present, Ms Cooper.”Elaine and Sara appeared undecided. I guess we all could refuse to be paddled, but what would the school do then? Surely, neither of them were thinking they’d prefer to take their spankings from Mr Armitage? I knew darn well that didn’t appeal to me one iota.

“I’d certainly prefer you to do it, sir,” I spoke up before they could say anything I didn’t want to hear.

The other two girls both looked at me, like they were trying to read something from my face.

“Thank you, Ms Sanders. How about you two?”

“Me too, sir,” Elaine added, looking at me like it was my fault she was in this situation.

“Ms Cooper?”

“Okay, yes, sir.”

“Good! Now you girls wait here while I go get me a witness.”

“I never thought of Mr Schubach as a teacher who paddled,” Sara said when we were alone.

“Me neither,” Elaine agreed. “I only hope he knows what he’s doing.”

“What? Like, you’re worried he might not spank you hard enough?” Sara asked. “Or that he might not hit the target?”

We all chortled at that.

“This dress won’t give me much protection, Elaine said, looking down at her slim-fitting blue cotton dress that ended four inches above her knees, just about within the dress code.”

“Nor my black leggings,” I agreed. I’d worn very brief panties underneath to avoid showing a pantyline. “At least you’re wearing jeans, Sara.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better,” Sara argued.

“Do you think we’ll have to bend over and touch our toes?” Elaine sounded concerned. “I’m not good at doing that.”

“I doubt it’s a precise science,” Sara said. “As long as your butt makes a good enough target, I’m sure that will be enough.”

Elaine didn’t look convinced. It was apparent none of us had experience of being paddled in school.

“I did once see him paddle a girl,” I offered as a kind of reassurance. “She was bent across his desk.”

“You never said!” Elaine glared at me.

“I didn’t think you’d be interested.”

“What? Are you kidding?”

The sound of footsteps approaching ended the conversation. I guess we were all gripped by some degree of fear. The door burst open and Mr Schubach returned with Mrs Campagnard from the secretaries’ office.

I like Mrs Campagnard, having worked as an assistant in the office. She’s mid-forties, a married lady with shoulder-length mid-brown hair, and a pleasant but business-like disposition. I immediately felt embarrassed. It was awkward enough that she knew I was in trouble, but she was also going to watch while I got spanked! That was not good!

“Okay, ladies,” Mr Schubach addressed us. “You need to wait outside in the hall. You will be called in one at a time. Any questions?”

We all three shook our heads and were invited to leave the room. We could hear Mr Schubach and Mrs Campagnard speaking, but they kept their voices low so we couldn’t make out what was being said.

“Why are they whispering?” Elaine asked.

“So we don’t hear?” Sara replied.

“Why? What shouldn’t we hear?”

The door opened before anyone could advance ideas.

“Elaine, would you come in, please?” Mrs Campagnard asked nicely, like she was inviting Elaine in for a friendly little gathering.

I saw the startled look on Elaine’s face as she hesitated. Mrs Campagnard was holding the door open patiently while Elaine gathered together her nerves. When Elaine’s delay began to feel embarrassing, she tottered into the room and the door closed.

Five loud pops later, spaced out with five second intervals, and we knew Elaine was due back out any moment, which meant either Sara or I would be next. That didn’t help our nerves.

When Elaine did emerge, she had tears in her eyes and she had both hands clutching her behind. The door closed without Mrs Campagnard requesting Sara or me to enter.

“How was it?” I asked.

Elaine shook her head and went past without speaking.

Sara and I fretted some more.

I began to consider how I would approach it when I was called into the room. I reminded myself a while back I was trying to get myself into this situation, only it was more of a game back then. This was serious. I was about to get paddled for real.

“Sara, please,” Mrs Campagnard called, holding the door open.

I jumped. I’d been lost in my thoughts. Sara, too, looked surprised. Her face went white, but she went in robot-like, as if following a pre-determined script, and the door closed.

The following events mirrored closely what had happened with Elaine. There was a little hard to hear conversation, a pause, and then five loud pops. A minute or two later, the door opened and Sara came out, clutching the seat of her jeans. She, like Elaine, was teary-eyed.

“That smarts!” she said before I could ask.

She brushed past me, which avoided any further chance of conversation.

Mrs Campagnard had closed the door after Sara, leaving me waiting alone. I kind of wished they’d hurry up and call me in so I could get it over with, at the same time not wanting it to ever happen. The excitement I’d felt weeks earlier when I was half wishing to get spanked by Mr Schubach was non-existent. All I felt now was fear.

The wait seemed interminable. The desire to get it over with evaporated the moment Mrs Campagnard appeared in the doorway and invited me inside. I felt her hand on my shoulder, not really forcing me up to the desk, but making me feel like I was a prisoner, and one that was being led to the execution block. Mr Schubach stood by the side of his desk holding a wooden paddle.

“Okay, Grace, you need to check any back pockets you may have. Make sure they’re empty, then bend across the end of my desk here.”

I placed both hands on my butt cheeks, knowing that my leggings didn’t have back pockets. It seemed appropriate to show that I had nonetheless checked. I looked down at the desk, aware that as soon as I bent over I would be getting my first school paddling. The fun we’d had the previous day now felt rather sour.

Neither Mr Schubach nor Mrs Campagnard tried to hurry me, but I still felt pressured to get into position. A tiny part of me also kind of wanted to get it done so I could get away and console myself with whatever after-effects there would be. I bent over, rested my forearms on the hard wooden desk, lay my head on my hands, and waited.

The spanking was hard, fast and hurt. Tears sprang into my eyes and my vision became cloudy. After the five pops, my backside felt raw and sore.

“Thank you, Ms Sanders. You may leave when you are ready.” Mr Schubach’s voice had a little tremor in it like he regretted doing what he had to do.

I raised myself up off the desk and rubbed my behind with both hands.

“Here’s a couple of tissues,” Mrs Campagnard offered me.

“Thank you, sir. Thank you, ma’am,” I blurted out through my tears as I took the tissues with one hand and comforted my rear with the other.

“I will amend your records to show you have been punished, so the matter is now closed,” Mr Schubach confirmed.

“Thank you, sir,” said while I stood and contemplated the paddle he was still holding.

“I’ll take you back to the office,” Mrs Campagnard offered, putting her hand back on my shoulder.

I realized I’d been staring at the paddle for longer than was comfortable, so I allowed myself to be led out of the room.

“Thank you, sir,” I repeated over my shoulder as I was wheeled through the door. I seemed to saying ‘thank you’ a lot, more than was appropriate.

“I was truly amazed when I heard it was you three I was going to have to witness being paddled,” Mrs Campagnard said as we walked slowly along. “I guess Mr Schubach offered to do it so you didn’t have to face Mr Armitage, huh?”

“I believe that’s correct,” I replied, coldly.

“Grace, you did the crime. You have only yourself to blame for having to face the consequences.”

“I get that, ma’am. I know I kind of deserved my spanking. It’s just that my butt’s hurting more than I expected. That’s all. I wasn’t intending any disrespect.”

“And none taken, Grace.”

The End

© Ann Jeffries 2026