So, you’re having a lousy day in high school. We’ve all been there, right? So, you were late in, which gets reported to your home room teacher. And she’s aware this is the third time that semester. That means you pick up a referral to the vice-principal who will offer you the choice between an after-school detention lasting one hour, or three swats with his trusty paddle. And your mom is going to pick you up straight after school because she wants to take your down the mall for some new sports clothes.

Then you have a run-in with a math teacher who was boring the pants off you, and you pick up a second referral. So now you’re facing five swats or a Saturday detention which lasts four hours and gets you fired from your Saturday job when you don’t turn up. Can your day get any worse?

You soon find out when you turn up to the secretaries’ station when you have a free period and find the secretary you were hoping to see wasn’t there. And just to round it all up, the only person there is a twelfth grade student called Angie Gilmore who is, like, your worst enemy. I mean, was it my fault her boyfriend found me more appealing? Did I really mean to trip her up on the soccer field when she was running at full speed past me? So we have history. And she just has to be working part-time as an extra hand for the secretaries out of the eight or nine students who do that.

“Is that a referral slip you have there, brat?” she asks me before I can put the two referrals back in my bag and turn away.

“Um, it’ll keep,” I say. “When’s Mrs Braddock back?”

“Probably not until tomorrow. The secretaries are having a meeting with the principal over a pay rise. That’s not likely to get settled anytime soon. So, I’m staffing the station for the rest of the day. You need to give me your referral slip.”

Reluctantly, I hand over my two referral slips.

“Two! Wow! Doesn’t this just make my day now! So, what will you do? Are you going for Saturday detention, or are you going for the swats?”

“Um, er, um.”

I’m thinking. My brain is working like it’s about to explode. I don’t need to tell her. That’s a decision I make when I’m standing in front of Mr Meredith. But, if I go for the swats like I’m thinking, will Angie be able to hear? Mr Meredith’s office is, like, just twenty yards away. She’s bound to hear. And the vice-principal wouldn’t have her serve as witness, would he? I mean, he’d find a female teacher to do that, right?

“Hey, brat,” Angie continues as she taps the keyboard of a computer. “Mr Meredith is free now. And, yes, he’ll see you now.”

I turn towards his office, just as another twelfth year student arrives back at the secretaries’ station.

“Can you look after the desk, Rachel? I have to take this brat to see Mr Meredith.”

“Sure.”

“I can manage,” I say.

“Mr Meredith likes a female present when he interviews female students,” Angie gloats.

True, or not? I don’t know. I haven’t had much dealings with Mr Meredith. Anyway, Angie is soon ahead of me and knocking on Mr Meredith’s door. We’re called in. I stand in front of his desk and Angie stands next to me as she hands him my two referral slips.

“Two referrals in one day, Ms Stevens? Not having a good day, are you?”

“No, sir,” I readily agree.

“Do you wish to contest either of these referrals?”

“No, sir.” I mean, they weren’t wrong or anything. Why make things worse by arguing? Could things actually get worse? I hear Angie licking her lips. Well, I don’t, but I bet she would be if she thought she would get away with it.

“So, Ms Stevens, I have to offer you the choice between a Saturday detention and five licks. What do you want to do?”

I take a deep breath. “I’ll take the swats, sir.”

I’m surprised Angie didn’t let out a loud ‘Yippeee’. I’m sure she wanted to, but I guess she didn’t want to take a turn bending over after me.

“Are the secretaries back from their meeting with the principal, Angie?” Mr Meredith asks.

“No, sir. Not yet.”

“That’s a pity. That means I’ll have to ask you or one of the other students helping staff the secretaries station to act as witness while I paddle Ms Stevens. It’ll need to be a female student. Would anyone do that, do you think?”

“I’d be happy to, sir,” Angie answers, trying to sound cool about it.

I’m sure she’d be over the moon just thinking about it.

“That’s very kind of you, Angie. It means I can deal with Ms Stevens straight away. I never like to let a paddling hang over a student. Best to do it as soon as possible.”

I’m not sure I agree. Tomorrow would be fine with me, or even next year.

“The secretaries station is being staffed, sir,” Angie continues. “So, I’m free now.”

“Brilliant! Okay, let’s get to it.”

Mr Meredith reaches down into the bottom drawer of his desk and brings out his paddle, which he holds firmly in his right hand as he stands up. From what I can see, it’s about twenty inches long, three inches wide and half an inch thick. It’s pretty similar to the one my pa made a few years back when hand spankings weren’t quite doing the job any longer. Thankfully, I’ve only ever felt it the once.

“First thing, Ms Stevens, check your back pockets are empty,” Mr Meredith requests as he stands up.

I do so and come up with a thin leather wallet and a piece of folded paper, which I place on his desk. Angie comes behind me, looks into the back pockets of my faded blue jeans and finishes with a pat on my behind that Mr Meredith doesn’t see. Naturally, she wanted to be sure I didn’t have any more padding than that provided by the jeans. She is sure going to enjoy the next few minutes, but I can’t think about that now.

“Stand a little back from my desk, feet about a foot apart.”

I do so, after leaning my bag on the carpet against the desk.

“Bend over and put your forearms flat on the desk. Give me a good target, Ms Stevens. Get your head down low and look straight ahead.”

All I could think of at the time was trying to comply with the instructions. I bent over. I placed both forearms flat on the desk, my hands about eight inches apart, and put my head down so my jaw hovered just a half inch or so from the hard wooden surface.

“Straighten your legs, please Ms Stevens.”

I did that and felt my jeans tighten around my behind. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Angie move around to stand by my right side, back a bit so she can see my butt, but also view the side of my face not covered by my long blond hair. Then I feel Mr Meredith rubbing the paddle in a circular motion on my backside. Any moment now!

Bam! The paddle slams into my butt and I feel serious pain.

An age, well twenty seconds later, I get the circular rubbing followed by the briefest of pauses before Mr Meredith slams the paddle hard across my backside, and I’m two strokes into my five. I’m feeling sore and my butt is tingling.

I look sideways and see Angie with a big satisfied kind of smile on her face.

“Look to the front!” Mr Meredith commands, and I do so.

More rubbing, and a third swipe of the paddle blisters my butt. It makes me fidget around a bit, until I’m told to hold still. I brace myself.

Bam! I give a girly squeak as the paddle connects with my smarting backside. Just one more and I’m done. I bet Angie will be disappointed for it to end. Myself, I just keep as still as I can so Mr Meredith doesn’t have to bark at me to get my head down, or stop wriggling or any of that stuff. I just want him to slam the paddle and let me get up from this humiliating position. The wait seems to go on forever. Well, longer than the twenty seconds of the previous pauses. I feel tears in my eyes, and I sniff them back.

Then crack! The final swat feels harder than all the others, or was it just that my butt was now so sore? It hurts! Can I get up now? I feel I should wait until instructed.

I hear, “Thank you, Ms Stevens,” from Mr Meredith, and I look to my left and see him putting the paddle back in its drawer. I slowly push myself up from the desk and rub my butt through the seat of my denim jeans. I look at Angie, and she’s clearly enjoying the display.

“Don’t let me see you back in this office, Ms Stevens,” suggests Mr Meredith wants me out so he can get back to other vice-principal stuff.

I collect my things that were in my back pockets, pick up my bag and head for the door, open it and walk through. Angie is hot on my heels.

“Wow! That’s the first time I’ve witnessed a paddling,” she comments.

I try to think of some witty remark, but just then nothing comes to mind.

The secretaries’ station is to the left. I turn right. I need the bathroom to check the damage to my butt, wash my face, re-do my make-up, and just catch my breath with what’s just been done to me. Annoyingly, Angie turns right with me.

“He really pounds that paddle against your backside, don’t he?”

I grunt.

“You know, brat, I almost felt sorry for you back there.”

“Yeah?” I tried to convey my doubt at her sincerity.

“Almost. I mean, I don’t like you, and there’s no one I’d sooner witness getting a paddling than you. But, I respect you for taking that spanking with hardly a murmur.”

“Really?”

We reach the ladies’ bathroom. I push the door open and feel Angie following me.

“May I see your butt?”

“Do what?”

“Look, I’m sorry there’s been bad blood between us in the past. It’s stupid. What’s done is done, and it’s all in the past. I’d like to make up with you. Okay?”

“And you’ll do that by looking at my butt? How does that work?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I can put a cold towel on it or something?”

“I think I might manage that all by myself.”

“I’m sorry. Yes, you’re right. You don’t want me hovering around you just now.” She turned to leave.

“Hold on. It’s okay.” Mad, right?

I unzipped my jeans and unclipped the top button before sliding the jeans and my brief white panties down in one motion. I turned to show her my backside.

“Wow! That looks sore!”

“It feels sore too.”

I half turned so I could see for myself in the long mirror that ran behind the seven sinks that ran the length of the wall. I saw red soreness, a couple of bruises and two purple-brown circles on the peaks of my buttocks.

“They say Mr Meredith spanks real hard,” Angie observed. “It sure looks like that’s correct.”

I ended up pulling paper towels out of the fixture on the wall, wetting them and patting them on my own butt, with Angie still watching with some enthusiasm.

“You seen enough?” I ask tersely.

“Oh, sure,” she replies, still looking at my butt but at least sounding slightly embarrassed.

I can’t say we ever became friends, but the snide remarks certainly came to an end and I steered clear of her current boyfriend. Hey, I didn’t even trip her up on the soccer field next time we played!

The End

© Carol Christensen 2025