Here’s part two of the winning entry for March’s ‘School Daze’ spanking story contest….
What’s REALLY Missing?
It was Thursday afternoon, 3:55 p.m. to be precise. Always ahead of schedule, Rebecca stepped in to the lab. She now used her full name of Rebecca, and so did everyone else. It reflected her new maturity and grace. She turned to her disciplinarian, a woman she had come to regard with a curious mixture of warm regard and trepidation. “Good afternoon, ma’m,” she politely greeted the formal woman before her. The even tone of her voice belied the butterflies in her tummy: Rebecca was here for a regular discipline session.
By now, their polite greeting had become an ingrained pattern… every Thursday, precisely at 3:55; she turned the key, entered the room, greeted the woman, then took her place across this woman’s knees. The woman quickly evaporated all gracefulness with a firm spanking. She’d come to like and respect the disciplinarian immensely, and in some respects, Rebecca looked forward to their weekly meetings even though she always left with a sore bottom. Each session made her more aware of her place in the world and how she could be a better person. Now, she was thinking, just the right amount of extra courtesy and respect might spare her bottom a tiny bit. It couldn’t hurt to try.
The woman rose from the desk and strode over to greet her charge. Slim and elegant, with raven hair, she was both beautiful and intimidating. “Good afternoon to you, too, Miss Rebecca,” she cordially greeted the young professor with a charming smile, meeting her at the door. Despite their mutual regard and warmth for each other, the woman was fully committed to her responsibilities. She placed a hand on Rebecca’s arm and firmly directed her away from the door, walking her towards the armless chair at the front of the room. As always, it was placed in front of the teaching desk, facing the classroom. Her voice was cheerful and pleasant. She sat down upon the chair and directed Rebecca across her knees with a couple of pats upon her thigh. “I’ve been looking forward to talking to you,” she smiled. “You know what to do by now, I expect you to be quick about it.”
“Yes, ma’m,” Rebecca shyly mumbled. “I’ve been looking forward to seeing you as well,” and that was true enough. Her weekly discipline sessions with this woman had a certain rhythm. She was first given an over the knee maintenance spanking. Then, it was over to her special spot at the opposite side of the first bench and bent over to address the week’s accounting. Rebecca liked the firmness and control with, and after a thorough accounting review, she felt peaceful and even. Still, it was a spanking, and spankings hurt. Especially from this woman. Rebecca shuffled her feet nervously, and then haltingly folded herself across the woman’s lap.
Rebecca recalled with chagrin that the door latch had not clicked closed. Again. As usual, anyone walking by the lab would hear the noisy sounds of her humiliation. It would do no good to ask this woman to close the door all the way; she never did. Rebecca sighed and settled herself carefully and the woman raised her skirt. She liked the beginnings of her spankings well enough, they were kind of dreamy and warm. It was the middle and end she dreaded, that was where things hurt almost unbearably. As the spanking continued, the lecturing began, “In order to teach? First, one needs to learn…” the woman intoned. Rebecca found it harder and harder to hold still, and it seemed like her spanking was taking much longer than usual. It was certainly much harder than the one she’d taken last week. Tears welled in her eyes as she gasped and sobbed.
Finally, the smacks stopped. The spanking had ended not a minute too soon for her. Or had it? Rebecca attempted to rise.
“Miss Rebecca! Get back down where you belong, immediately.” She placed a firm hand across the young woman’s shoulders and forcibly pushed the professor back down. “Did I release you yet?” the woman sternly asked, and emphasized her question with another push on Rebecca’s shoulders. Rebecca realized her mistake too late and sadly shaking her head, she slumped back down. “Today, I’d planned to teach you a lesson about finding your place quickly…” the woman tapped her lap next to Rebecca’s face, “I am a little annoyed with your stalling. You certainly know what is expected of you. Don’t you. ” She leaned forward, her face close to Becky’s face. She grabbed Rebecca’s hair, lacing her fingers through the long strands, and pulled. Their eyes met. Rebecca tried to look away, but this woman would have none of it.
“Look at me when I’m speaking,” she commanded with another tug of Rebecca’s long hair. The woman’s happy smile was gone, replaced now with a look of sternness. “You certainly ought to know by now that you WILL,” she tugged Rebecca’s hair for emphasis, “you WILL do as expected. You are going to be spanked. You know it. I know it. You will get over my knee for your spanking without hesitation. Always. And you will NOT get up until I release you. Is that clear?” She paused, but Rebecca’s voice caught and she could not speak. “You seem to be having a little trouble learning today…” The woman said casually, almost absently. She abruptly adjusted Rebecca’s head with a deft tug of her hair, and she hissed into her ear, “I have a little solution for that problem.” With that, she abruptly released Rebecca’s hair. As Rebecca flopped forward, the woman reached a hand into her skirt pocket and pulled out a frightening, wooden paddle. “See?” She held the paddle down to Rebecca’s face so she could see the holes drilled throughout the bit of well varnished wood. Rebecca’s heart dropped as dismay spread throughout her. She had heard that holes made a paddle hurt more, and she was about to collect some data points on that hypothesis. A lot of data.
The woman gave her bottom a few warning taps with the paddle. “So. Let’s talk. Shall we?” Her voice was sweet but laced with impending danger. This question did not need to be answered.
Rebecca knew she was in for it. Still, she found herself agreeing.
“This is going to sting, Miss Rebecca,” the raven-haired woman said, understating the consequences. She adjusted herself in for a much longer stay in the chair. She threw a leg over Rebecca’s, trapping the professor.
As usual, the disciplinarian was right.
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After a particularly hard volley, the strokes abruptly stopped. The woman set the paddle across her lower back and gave Rebecca’s bottom a couple of pats with her hand.
The paddling had been firm and thorough. To her embarrassment, Rebecca had screamed and howled and kicked and finally cried. To no avail. Paddled through her tears, she was spanked until her disciplinarian was satisfied. It had taken a long time to satisfy the woman and Rebecca’s bottom and thighs burned.
“I think that was a good lesson, don’t you?” the woman asked expectantly.
“Yes, ma’m, thank you,” choked the sobbing professor. As soon as the words had tumbled out, Rebecca dissolved in a fresh gale of tears and wailing.
The disciplinarian let her cry it out. Slowly, she stroked the sobbing professor’s bottom. “There, there, now… you took that quite well…” Rebecca brightened at the praise. She shuddered a little as she recalled what had just happened here. When the second spanking began, she had quickly bolted forward, like a scalded cat. It burned and hurt immediately. There was no escaping the relentless swings and the vigor of the woman who held her firmly in place and there had been nothing to do but take the scalding as it was given. Rebecca had made the mistake of putting her hands back to protect her bottom and her thighs had taken a good thrashing for her trouble. The holes had made it hurt more, and Rebecca’s posterior was dappled with burning round spots.
The smile had spread back across the woman’s countenance as she continued stroking and quietly praised her student. Rebecca choked back some sobs, and relaxed. “Very well then, I think we are done here.” She set the maple torch down upon the desk.
With couple of pats to Rebecca’s thoroughly hot and reddened bottom, she released the young professor. She was no longer irritated but no less resolved to see this session through to its logical conclusion. “It’s time for your accounting, Rebecca. Let’s get on with it, please…” she gestured towards the cold lab bench. As if in a dream, Rebecca stood, knowing better than to adjust her skirt. Skirt tucked up into her waste band and panties above her knees, she walked awkwardly but quickly to the bench.
Still trembling, she bent over to await her fate. She could not help but notice that not only was the door ajar, it was actually wide open. At least nobody was standing there. Ashamed, she blushed deep red and buried her face in her arms.
The woman smiled as she approached, her sternness melted into a fond warmth. She gently readjusted the professor so that her face was up and her eyes were forward. “Now, now, Miss Rebecca, that won’t do at all. Hold your head high. You should be proud to be receiving discipline from me.” She peered into the eyes of the bent form. “Your friend Lisa will not be the beneficiary of my attention.” She stroked the professor’s shoulders somewhat absentmindedly and patted her head. “Only the junior professors likely to be offered full professor positions are referred to me. My darling protege, you are doing quite well here. I’m quite proud of your progress.”
Rebecca glowed at the compliment. It made her feel good to have this woman praising her. She straightened her head, arched her back, and pushed her bottom up higher.
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The safety light went on in the window of the adjoining lab behind the Freshman Science Teaching Lab. As Dr. John Lewis stepped up to the window, he quietly agreed with his woman friend’s assessment of the young teacher. Eventually, it would be time to take her back under his wing and attend to disciplinary duties himself. However, the young professor needed additional instruction. John Lewis would see to it that she received all appropriate instruction.
With satisfaction, he watched his lady friend step behind the young professor, a heavy strap in her hand. “That will leave a mark,” he thought, as the first heavy stroke fell.
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The strapping had made her jump and start but as with her paddling, there was nowhere to go, and no escaping the relentless woman behind her. Rebecca was grateful that her weekly accounting had been minimal. A dozen solid strokes, no more.
She laid the strap on the bench. “Now, you stay right there Miss Rebecca…” Glad for the break but dismayed this no longer seemed to be a quick ending, she obediently did as commanded. Rebecca was not eager to incur extra penalties. She waved her butt through the air in a desperate, futile attempt to cool herself.
The woman walked to the front desk and rummaged through her travel kit. Rebecca shuddered at the sound of wood against wood knocking against each other and god only knew what else was in there. It sounded like a sack full of baseball bats.
Pulling out a large frat style paddle, she held it up and inspected it. “This will do,” she thoughtfully considered. Rebecca stopped breathing, terrified. What had she done to deserve that? She reviewed her accounting, and there was nothing omitted, no serious infractions.
The woman walked from around the desk, the frat bat in hand. As she paused by the doorway, her arm rapidly snaked through it. She reeled in her victim, tugging her by the ear.
“Why Jeanne, how delightfully of you to stop by,” she smiled with a look that said she was not delighted at all. “Do come in.” A large mop of unruly red hair was attached to the unfortunate ear. Rebecca’s eyes widened as she recognized the woman from chemistry. Her old professor, Dr. Gooding. Rebecca blushed scarlet but Jeanne did not notice one bit.
Under any other circumstances, Jeanne Gooding would have dearly loved to admire the tear-stained face of her former student. Jeanne had thought Rebecca a little Miss Know-it-All, and in her eyes, Rebecca’s round bottom begged for a sound spanking. Sadly, students were not spanked at this school. Unlike the professors.
Jeanne Gooding concerned herself with saving her own hide. “I-I-I’m missing my laptop, I thought I m-m-m-might have left it in here when I was done t-t-t-eaching.” Jeanne was a strong, confidant woman, but her composure had evaporated. The disciplinarian let go of the ear she’d pinched, and Dr. Gooding snapped upright.
She gently clucked a few times. “Jeanne, Jeanne, Jeanne. There is no need for you to make up stories. You don’t teach any freshman classes, your lab is across the hall, isn’t it,” to which the large buxom woman reluctantly nodded, caught in her lie. Jeanne straightened her clothing and tried to look dignified but failed. “You aren’t missing your laptop at all, are you,” the woman thoughtfully inquired. She took a step back to watch Jeanne Gooding’s reaction. As she expected, Jeanne’s eyes dropped to the floor to hide her mortification, and a quiet “no” whispered its way past her lips. The woman slowly appraised Jeanne, as the woman twitched uncomfortably, eyes still cast down.
Finally, she broke the silence. “I believe you ARE missing something Jeanne, but it isn’t a computer. Is it.” Her voice became even quieter. “What you are missing, Jeanne, is DISCIPLINE.” She enunciated each syllable clearly. “Isn’t that right? Jeanne.” When Jeanne Gooding whispered, “oh yes,” Rebecca’s eyes widened. The disciplinarian pointed the large paddle towards Rebecca’s bench. “Right there, Jeanne, across from Miss Rebecca, face-to-face. I want Miss Rebecca to see how we deal with nosey snoops here. Privacy is important to all of us.” Rebecca gasped in amazement as she slowly comprehended what was about to happen. Jeanne Gooding was about to be paddled, right in front of her.
Jeanne, meanwhile, knew her fate was sealed and she stepped over to the bench to collect what she was truly missing. She looked into Rebecca’s eyes with anger and resignation. It was this brat’s fault, she thought, but she said nothing, because she knew the woman holding the paddle was right. She shouldn’t have snooped, and she knew better yet she’d done it anyhow. She was caught, from the moment she stepped into the windowed rear lab and joined John Lewis at the window to watch Rebecca’s first punishment. It was also a mistake to come back, week after week, to listen at the door. She had earned what was coming, fair and square.
Jeanne roared as the woman began her work. Perhaps she had craved a good spanking, but maybe not this much. The woman behind her did not seem to agree and continued swinging away. Rebecca was fascinated as she watched the face across from her flush and scrunch, then bellow, beads of sweat breaking out across the larger woman’s forehead as she was driven forward with each blow. Finally, she stopped. “Is this what you were really missing, Jeanne?” she asked, more to herself than the bottom in front of her. She admired the florid red and purple bruises on Jeanne’s welted behind.
Jeanne let out a breath, and panted, glad for the end. Even though this had been a painful punishment, in all honesty, she had needed it. Jeanne felt a sense of calm wash over her as the heat pulsed through her backside.
“Miss Rebecca, stand up and come over here, this is something I want you to see.” The woman was pointing at Jeanne’s bruised bottom.
Rebecca stood and joined her disciplinarian behind Jeanne Gooding. She stared at the bottom before her. There were two white-hot bull’s eyes centered low on her bottom, and her large bottom was mottled and welted. Those white spots looked incredibly painful, and Rebecca resisted the urge to poke them. She did not like Professor Gooding any more than Jeanne liked her. She smiled a little, satisfied that this former nemesis had gotten her comeuppance. Rebecca’s own shame in having her punishment witnessed paled in comparison to the delight she took in seeing Jeanne’s swollen behind.
Sensing Rebecca’s glee and her unspoken desire to touch the professor’s bottom, she took Rebecca’s hand and placed it on Jeanne’s bottom. “Miss Rebecca, are you satisfied that Jeanne has been appropriately punished?” she sweetly inquired.
Rebecca marveled at the heat radiating into her hand, and she traced a few marks with her fingertip. She poked the white bull’s eyes and Jeanne moaned a little. “These spots here look like they hurt so much,” Rebecca whispered. Finding her voice, she said more clearly, “but these spots here look pretty light.” She brushed her hand across a wide expanse of Jeanne’s bottom. She swallowed a smirk and continued confidently, “I think she needs some more attention HERE,” Rebecca pointed, “and here…and HERE,” patting the ample bottom repeatedly. The woman smiled. Rebecca did not notice: the sight before her transfixed her.
“You heard the girl, Jeanne.”
Jeanne groaned. “Yes, ma’m,” and the disciplinarian resumed her fierce work, Rebecca standing at her side. Rebecca watched and winced as the paddle found a solid target every time. Perhaps it had been a mistake to wish this on her former teacher. Then again, Jeanne had lied to the disciplinarian. She deserved the extra punishment.
Dr. Gooding’s bottom waggled from side to side, and she struggled in vain to suppress her hopping. A particularly fierce blow crumpled the woman’s knees. She scrambled back into place for the next swat, which arrived faithfully.
When the woman stopped this time, there was no question remaining about coverage. “I think that will do, would you agree, Jeanne?” The chemistry professor shook her head violently and called out loudly. “Yes, ma’m!” She had no desire to take any more swats with that paddle and she wanted that clearly known. There were not many in the department who could take a paddling quite like Jeanne Gooding, but even she was well spent.
“Very well, then, Jeanne, you may stand up,” the woman said, but she did not set down the paddle. Jeanne wobbled to her feet. The slender woman turned her around to face the young professor before her. Jeanne resisted the temptation to rub herself, and her hands hung at her sides, her fingers twitching. The woman ran her eyes up and down Jeanne, then turned and rested them upon Rebecca.
“Resume your place, Miss Rebecca,” she addressed the surprised professor. Rebecca’s mouth dropped in protest, but she wisely decided to not speak. Instead, she returned to her spot at the bench and mutely bent over. This was so unfair! A sob started to rise in her throat as the disciplinarian once again took position behind her poised bottom, this time armed with the heavy paddle. “Jeanne, over here,” she pointed with the paddle where she wanted Jeanne to stand. Jeanne gingerly stepped towards Rebecca and admired her rounded butt. Rebecca’s bottom was crimson red already, and small bruises from her earlier paddling speckled her bottom beneath the broad swaths of overlapping red stripes.
“Jeanne. Did I miss anything here?” the dark haired woman inquired innocently. Jeanne relaxed and smiled. She knew exactly where this was going and she answered carefully.
“I don’t see much marking at all, ma’m. Perhaps a proper paddling is in order to be certain. I’ll leave that to your discretion,” said the now gleeful woman from chemistry. Jeanne Gooding would enjoy this dance show from the front row.
Rebecca’s heart fell as the disciplinarian spoke. “Yes, Jeanne. I agree. Miss Rebecca needs to learn a proper lesson here, and a punishment paddling is completely appropriate.”
Turning to Rebecca, she said quite firmly. “I thought we had dealt with your annoying habit of instigating trouble for other people. Apparently, you have not learned your lesson yet at all because you are still at it. By the time I am done here today, it will be a very long time before you cause anyone else trouble, I think. ” She raised her voice. “DO YOU HEAR ME?”
Rebecca shrank down into the bench as her heart skipped in fear. “Yes, ma’m,” she whispered.
“Louder, Miss Rebecca. Tell me… and Jeanne here… exactly how you think I should punish you.”
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The young professor looked so very small and defeated. She withered into the bench at the humiliation of begging for her punishment. “Yes, ma’m. I should be paddled, like Professor Gooding.” She started crying before the first smack fell. They were solid, hard smacks, John Lewis noted with great satisfaction. He smiled, enjoying the impressive fireworks display. He was thrilled that he would not have to listen to any complaining from Rebecca about his staff for a long time to come.
Still, he felt a little sorry for her as she watched her bottom quickly darken and the large bull’s eyes appeared. Almost.
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The clock turned to 4:59. Nick walked in the room for his 5:00 caning session. He took one surprised look, and quickly dashed back out lest he join this unhappy professor duo.
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The thoroughly chastised professor had lain across the desk for sometime after the punishment had ended. Never again, she thought to herself. Never like that, she resolved to herself. As Jeanne and the disciplinarian approached her again, she quickly considered how she should apologize to the senior professor. But she did not get her chance.
“Miss Rebecca, today you learned… again… that your instigation will not be rewarded. I hope you learned that for the last time.”
Rebecca nodded quickly. She had no desire to experience a hard paddling like that, ever again. “Yes, I’ve learned my lesson and I am so very sorry, ma’m.”
“Still, you need to understand the hierarchy here.” She looked at Jeanne, then back at Rebecca. “Miss Rebecca, what is your full title?”
Unsure what the real question was, she simply answered. “Junior Professor, ma’m.”
“And Jeanne Gooding, what do you think her full job title is? Think carefully, please.”
Sensing a trick, she considered. There wasn’t much question here, so why the careful thought? “Professor Gooding is a Full Professor,” she finally replied.
“That is correct. Professor Gooding is, indeed a FULL professor here. You seem to know her title but you do not seem to understand that she is senior to you…as in, your superior.” She waited for Rebecca to consider the implications, then held up a rulebook and began to read a flagged page. “‘Section 24.1 A: Any Full Professor in Good Standing may order or execute the discipline of junior faculty, as appropriate….” she moved on to the next section. Section 24.1 B: Junior Faculty do not have disciplinary privileges and are expressly forbidden to request or provide the discipline of senior staff members. ‘”
She closed the damning book, looking puzzled. “Miss Rebecca , I was sure you had read the Code of Conduct thoroughly. Dr. Lewis assured me that if anybody knew the rules here, it would be you. But today, you requested the discipline of a senior staff member, did you not?” She set the rulebook down.
Rebecca hung her head in embarrassment. “Yes, I did do that,” Rebecca obediently replied. This was not going to end well, she could tell.
“Very well, then. You admit to your violation of the Code of Conduct, and I shall remand you to Professor Gooding for punishment.” She turned to Jeanne. “Have you considered how you would like to deal with Miss Stewart?”
Jeanne smiled. She remembered very well her agony at the end of this disciplinarian’s arm during her days as a junior professor. She particularly recalled a fierce paddle. “I think Miss Stewart would do well with a strict Spencer paddle punishment. Cold. No warm up. ” She smiled at the thought of bouncing Miss Stewart’s bottom up off that cold lab bench. She would not show her any mercy, and the disciplinarian knew it, too. “Would you be able to bring that paddle of yours next week? I’d like to clean the slate with Miss Stewart promptly.”
Rebecca blanched as her fate was discussed. She fully understood what Dr. Gooding meant by “strict”, and being paddled on top of today’s bruises would hurt a lot more.
Jeanne leaned back and folded her arms across her full bosom. She smiled a smile that was self-satisfied and menacing. Rebecca would be getting a second dose of her medicine and the second dose was sure to be stronger and much harder to take. Jeanne would be sure she took it all. She tried to resist gloating but failed.
“Yes, Jeanne, I think I remember exactly which paddle you would be thinking about, I seem to remember you needed a healthy dose of it yourself when you were a junior professor, if I am not mistaken.” Jeanne Gooding blushed, remembering her humbling days of tutelage with this compelling woman. “You’ll take her at 4:00 p.m. Thursday for me.” She considered Jeanne carefully. “As for you, I think we need to spend some one on one time, reminiscing, to see if we can’t find exactly what it is you are missing. I checked your calendar; you are free at 6:00 pm on Thursdays. I will expect to see you in your lab sharply at 6”
Jeanne did a double take. The woman had set a trap for her, knowing she was listening in, and Jeanne had fallen right into the trap. Very well, then, so be it. The woman was right; she yearned for the control and safety of knowing her discipline would be attended to by a skillful hand. “Yes, ma’m,” she spoke. “6:00 p.m., Thursday.” Her hands went to her full bottom and rubbed instinctively, despite her composure training. The disciplinarian pretended not to notice the lapse.
“All in good time,” she thought. Jeanne Gooding would be getting a firm reminder next week. Starting with the exact same Spencer paddling she administered to Miss Rebecca. She would watch to be certain. Don’t these professors ever learn? She suppressed a smile and dismissed them both.
==========================
She sat in Dr. Lewis’ office in the odd, armless chair. The cold hard surface was both comforting and harsh. John Lewis noticed her shift uncomfortably several times, and asked solicitously, “Is everything all right, Rebecca?”
Rebecca squirmed, tormented by her bruised bottom and the embarrassment she felt. Dr. Lewis certainly knew about her 4:00 discipline sessions. Her disciplinarian was well informed of issues prior to her weekly accounting. She had addressed omissions swiftly: all accountings were to be full and complete, and omissions were the same as lies, she’d said. The only way for her to get the accounting information was from Dr. Lewis himself.
Despite the discomfort, Rebecca had learned to appreciate her new routine and especially the likeable woman who attended to her, and she noted with satisfaction that she was growing more poised and confidant as her discipline increased. Still, sometimes, when the dark haired woman worked her bottom, Rebecca imagined instead that it was Dr. Lewis. His large hands across her bottom, his broad shoulders swinging the straps and paddles and canes that landed across her bottom every week without fail. “I wonder if she tells him what she does to me each week,” Rebecca thought. She had not noticed the little light in the adjoining lab, coming on each week. She did not know about John Lewis’ weekly pilgrimage to the window.
She looked deep into the cold blue eyes of John Lewis and a little quiver trembled through her. “Yes sir, everything is fine,” she replied, politely and serenely, but still, she shifted her weight to the right side. It had taken just a little less punishment.
John Lewis smiled, knowing quite differently. Rebecca was a great hire, and his friend was bringing her along fabulously. The firm hand she was dealt had brought out something wonderful hidden inside. Same with Nick. For some reason, Nick’s harshness toward his students evaporated once he had begun his weekly humbling at the end of the cane. And although he liked Jeanne, but he had noticed her edge towards Rebecca. It had offended him when she joined him in the lab that first week, interrupting his private viewing.
John considered the reason for her squirming and asked. “So. Are there any issues requiring my attention this week?”
He knew, and Rebecca knew it.
“No sir, there are not.”
Satisfied, John entered a note onto his meeting ledger. “Professional Staff Training: $$” read the note for his only task. His disciplinarian would be receiving a very large performance bonus this week.