Spanking Detention

She shouldn’t even have been assigned the stupid detention anyway, Beth fumed. She and Mr. Jenkins were usually on the best of terms. She had idolised her history teacher from the first day of classes and had always done her best work for his class. She had never had trouble getting along with him before, and they had spent many hours after school in animated discussions which although started on the topic of the day’s lesson somehow always wound up somewhere else.

Whatever relationship they had developed, it hadn’t saved her from his no-tolerance tardiness policy. It was all Jacob’s fault really. If she hadn’t been nice enough to help him with his chemistry homework, she wouldn’t have been scrambling to finish her own as the last minutes of the lunch hour had ticked away. She knew she would be late, but had assured herself that by concocting a good excuse she would escape any sort of reprimand. Her plan had failed, and failed miserably. She cringed at the memory of Mr. Jenkins’s disappointed scowl as she had bustled into the classroom. His disappointment was bad enough, though the wordless issuance of the detention slip was truly embarrassing. Worse still, being more than five minutes late, she had earned herself not just a detention but a spanking detention.

Beth glanced over her shoulder one more time before drawing the file out of the drawer. At least, being a senior student, she had the luxury of choosing her detention date. The policy was designed to allow those with academic or athletic commitments to mitigate the impact of the punishment on their other oblgations, though some of the cross country athletes had been known to purposely choose to serve detentions on dates for which the coach had scheduled the longest runs.

Beth, however, had other considerations. She had served as a student assistant in the school office for the last four years, and planned to use the position to her advantage in this case. With a quick guilty look around the office to ensure she was alone, she opened the file and scanned down the list of detention supervisors for the coming week. The teachers rotated the duty randomly, the idea being that no teacher or student would know who else would be there until the day came, thereby ensuring that any punishments could be administered with a degree of professional distance. Of course that didn’t always happen, but the randomisation did help. It was very rare that the same teacher who assigned the punishment would also administer it, and therefore there was some level of checks and balances in the system.

Wednesday, Beth decided with a small smile as she saw Miss Betcher’s name. Miss Betcher would certainly see this whole spanking thing for the nonsense that is was. She couldn’t be more than five or six years older than Beth, and would certainly understand that eighteen was far too old for such things. Even if she didn’t, Beth couldn’t see her administering more than a token chastisement. With a nod of resolution, she ticked the Wednesday box on her slip, quickly folded it, and left it in the bright orange tray on the secretary’s desk before scampering home.


Predictably, Wednesday approached far faster than Beth would have liked, and she approached the door of the detention room with a degree of trepidation despite her preparation. “Relax,” she whispered to herself outside the door. “How bad could it be?”

She listened at the door for a moment. No rustling reached her ear and she sighed with relief. Detention was rare enough that generally only one student at most served on any given day. Occasionally two or more students would serve detention together, though such situations were hardly typical. At least no one else would witness her shame today.

Squaring her shoulders, she tried her best to look grown up and reasonable as she prepared to explain the situation with Miss Betcher.

Her plan may have have worked, had Miss Betcher actually been there. Instead, seated at the teacher’s desk, she found Mr. Jenkins.

“What are you doing here?” Beth asked, slipping into a whiney tone completely unsuited to a girl under punishment and forgetting her attempts at appearing grown up.

Mr. Jenkins was unphased by her lack of outward contrition, simply raising an eyebrow at her.

“But I thought that. . .” Beth trailed off, realising that to say more would reveal her illicit attempts to evade proper punishment.

“You thought what, exactly?” Mr. Jenkins asked evenly.

Not knowing how to dig herself out of the hole she’d stumbled into, Beth merely blushed and stared at her feet.

“If I read your surprise correctly,” he continued, “you did not expect to see me here. I’ll admit that this situation is unusual, though you seem more shocked than perhaps you should be.” He let the silence draw out, giving Beth time to confess or refute his assumption. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, she nodded.

“Yes, I was not supposed to take this afternoon’s detention, though you already knew that didn’t you?” Beth nodded again, deciding that her best hopes at this point lay in a clean confession.

“Miss Betcher was called away from school for a personal issue this morning, and I was asked to step in,” he continued. “I’ll admit I was less than pleased, though I suppose this bit of happenstance may make for a more effective punishment for you. I suggest you take what you have coming without complaint or argument; I have it well within my authority to take you to account for manipulation of the disciplinary system as well, so I suggest you give me no further cause to make this experience less pleasant for you than it need be.”

Beth nodded again, truly grateful for the reprieve and determined to make the most of the opportunity.

“Take a seat,” Mr. Jenkins instructed.

Beth sat in the far corner of the front row, as far from the teacher’s desk as she felt she could reasonably get away with in the otherwise empty room. Mr. Jenkins returned to his desk and drew a stack of papers from his bag to begin grading.

“Sir,” Beth asked cautiously, “what is it that you would like me to do?”

“You have homework, do you not?” Beth nodded. “Then I advise you get started on that. I see little value in lines and the like, and I trust you will find the experience you have coming sufficiently punitive.”

Shuddering at the reference to her impending spanking, Beth bent to draw a textbook from her satchel and attempted to lose herself in the simple world of ions and solutions. The distraction helped, though the ticking of the classroom clock served as a constant reminder that her spanking loomed ever nearer.

As she worked, she stole the occasional glance over to Mr. Jenkins, trying to again see the friend she thought she had in him. He seemed so calm as he sat grading, as though this were just a typical after school visit, made different only by the silence and setting. Surely he couldn’t actually spank her. Perhaps this had worked out for the best after all. She knew Mr. Jenkins far better than Miss Betcher anyway, she probably stood a decent chance of convincing him that she was suitably contrite and didn’t require the spanking bit.

He looked up and caught her eye. “Back to work,” he admonished sternly, and Beth quickly lowered her eyes to her book. No, she decided, this was definitely worse. It would have been bad enough to be spanked by any other teacher, but with Mr. Jenkins, it would be much more personal. He wouldn’t just be going through the motions of the spanking, he would be punishing her. Thinking back to the stern glare he had shot her, she was sure that there would be no hiding from his disappointment while she was over his knee.

“Your hour is up,” he finally declared. “Over to me and we can finish this.”

Beth took as much time as she dared putting her books away before approaching the teacher. Just out of arm’s reach she paused, and fixed him with a pleading look. “Sir, I. . .” she started.

“Beth,” he said, using the same stern tone he had earlier, “you know what you need to do. You may not have been spanked before, but I know students talk. I’m sure you’ve worked out what happens. Let’s not stall; over my knee.”

Beth hesitated still, deciding to launch one desperate attempt on behalf of her bottom. “But Sir, there really is no need. I’ve never been late before, I won’t be late again, we don’t need to do this.”

“I’m afraid we do. Punctuality is very important, and it is best to learn the consequences of tardiness early on.” When Beth still didn’t move, he continued. “Beth, you’re one of the best students I’ve ever had, and as much as I don’t want to see you in pain, I cannot make an exception in this case. I expect you to set an example, to be a good influence on the rest of the class. I can hardly let you get away with certain things while holding others to account. It wouldn’t be fair to them, and it wouldn’t be fair to you. I’ve seen that you have a high regard for rules. Now that you’ve broken one, it wouldn’t’ be fair to simply let that pass. Can we get on with this, or do I need to resort to sterner measures?”

Blanching at the thinlt veiled threat, Beth quickly scrambled over and allowed Mr. Jenkins to help her onto his lap. Glad that the position at least hid her blush, She grasped the lower rung of the chair and pretended to be elsewhere. It would be over soon enough, she assured herself.

Try as she might, she couldn’t drag her mind away from the heavy hand resting on her back. She felt as though she could see Mr. Jenkins lifting her skirt, so attuned was her awareness to that area of her body.

He began quickly, applying sharp, regular swats to her bottom. He kept a steady rhythm, almost a direct continuation of the ticking of the clock that had held her attention for much of the past hour. Beth tried to relax. It was humiliating, though not quite painful. A bit of a sting, but that was it. The stories she had heard of other spankings must have been quite embellished. Either that, or he was going easy on her. Her heart warmed at the thought, but such illusions were dashed as the spanking continued. The rhythm and strength of the swats remained unchanged as the sting built to a burn that made Beth wriggle on Mr Jenkins’s lap. Try as she might to hold still and take her punishment well, a deeper instinct for self preservation could not completely be denied. Beth grunted with the effort as she grasped the chair legs more tightly. Her grunts gradually shifted to whimpers and then sobs long before Mr. Jenkins stopped.

With one final, loud spank, Mr Jenkins brought the punishment to a close and helped the sobbing girl to her feet. Beth tried to turn away to hide her tears, but Mr. Jenkins held her squarely in front of him. “This is part of the punishment,” he told her gently. “You’ve been naughty, and you’ve been spanked. There is no shame in tears. It is over now, and once we leave this room it will never be spoken of again.”

Hiccoughing, Beth nodded, relieved that he didn’t think her weak or silly. He gave her shoulders a quick squeeze before handing her a box of tissues from the desk. Beth accepted one gratefully as she struggled to regain control of her emotions. Mr. Jenkins gave her a measure of privacy by turning to gather his things. By the time he had finished, Beth had returned to normal save for the flush in her cheeks. With a small smile, Mr. Jenkins handed he satchel to her and held open the classroom door. “I think we’ve dallied enough at this point. Ready to go home?” he asked, the same way he had ended so many other, more pleasant, after school chats. Beth smiled back and followed him out.

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