by Frank Martinet
"Welcome to Middlesbrook Academy," said Principal Devonhart, extending a friendly hand and greeting Elsa Stuart with a wide smile.
"Thank you, sir," said the young woman. She was small and slender, with a lovely, serious face and earnest eyes. Her dark hair was trimmed short and neatly arranged in tight curls. She wore a tight-fitting knee-length gray skirt and a white blouse partially covered by a forest green sweater. Though conservative, the outfit did more than imply that she possessed a voluptuous body dying to escape. The breasts were large and obvious, and when she moved, her generously rounded hips rocked.
"With the year already started, it's going to be trial by fire, I'm afraid," sighed the principal. He rubbed the back of his neck ruefully. "But I'm sure grateful you could accommodate our emergency."
"It's not a problem at all. I was only subbing. I'm honored you've given me this opportunity."
"You know it's only until the end of the year, then we'll evaluate the situation. If things work out, perhaps we'll offer you a more permanent contract."
"I would love that, sir."
The man checked his watch. "I wish I could give you more time to discuss your duties, but I'm afraid I've got a critical meeting with the board in twenty minutes. I hope you understand."
"Of course, sir. Not a problem. I'll muddle through."
"If you have questions, talk to Mr. Marigold. He's been here forever and is our resident expert. He'll be working with you on CP training after school for the first week or two." The principal checked his watch again and grabbed his jacket and slipped it on. "Of course, contact me if you need anything. I've got to run."
Elsa watched the man go, only realizing after he'd gone that she'd forgotten to ask him the most obvious question of all: where was her classroom?
That proved to be the awkward start of a long and awkward day. There were times the twenty-three-year-old wanted to break down and cry she felt so overwhelmed, but she didn't dare, especially with so many watching. It felt like the whole school was staring at her. That was one of the things that happened when you replaced a legendary favorite like Mrs. Garrison. Elsa felt like the students were judging her every move, comparing her to the previous teacher, and there was a slight coldness from the faculty as though it was Elsa's fault Mrs. G had the heart attack.
Elsa tried to pretend she knew what she was doing, but she was just out of school and everything was foreign. She didn't know the Middlesbrook ways, nor did she have her own teaching style defined yet. Plus, she'd had no time to prepare as everything had been arranged in just a few days.
At least the students were better behaved than at a public school, but she was still suspicious that she might be missing something. The whole day she went around feeling like a fool, as though a 'kick me' sign had been unknowingly stuck on her back.
She didn't get a chance to relax until nearly four o'clock, when the hectic day finally slowed. She still had a massive pile of work to do - there were Mrs. Garrison's lesson plans to read through, previously turned in essays and tests to be graded, and a billion students' names to memorize - but she stretched out in her chair and practiced her breathing for a few minutes. She felt as dizzy as if she'd gotten off a high-speed merry-go-round. The whole day had been non-stop.
The sharp rap on the door startled her and she jerked up guiltily, her face going pink. Had someone seen her napping? She shook off the guilt as pointless - it wasn't during school hours and she had every right to a little nap if she wanted.
"Come in," she called, and when the hefty, gray-haired man rolled in she suddenly remembered her after-school training. "Are you Mr. Marigold?"
"I am. You're Miss Elsa Stuart. Age 23, fifteenth in your class at Ohio University, you completed your student teaching at Sally Ride High School, and this is your first real teaching job."
"Uh, yes, that's right," Elsa said uncertainly, the man's abrupt manner throwing her off. She'd felt off-kilter her whole day and now it was continuing. She wished she'd remembered he was coming and she'd been better prepared. "What do you teach, Mr. Marigold?"
"Mathematics," he said crisply, making her heart sink. She'd always hated math, preferring words. But she smiled encouragingly as though delighted to hear this news.
"Principal Devonhart said something about you training me after school. I assume that's why you're here?"
"That is the case." The man set a large case on her desk as he said this, momentarily confusing the young woman who briefly worried he was making a pun. I'm really loopy today, she thought.
"We're going to work all this week on your CP training."
Elsa was too embarrassed to admit that she had no idea what 'CP' meant, so she played along, nodding as though she understood.
"I assume Devonhart explained to you about Middlesbrook's CP policies?"
"Actually, he had to run to a meeting, so I didn't have much orientation. Perhaps you can explain?"
"Have you ever spanked a child?"
Elsa's eyes went wide. "What? Of course not. I- Oh! Is that what CP means? Corporal Punishment?"
"What else would it mean?"
"Oh, I... I don't know. I didn't realize Middlesbrook used corporal punishment. Is that legal?"
"Of course it's legal. We're a private institution and all parents are required to sign a CP permission slip before their child is admitted. But there are rules to CP and it's your job to learn them."
"Of course."
"We'll begin your first lesson with the paddle." Mr. Marigold produced a narrow pine board from his case. The implement was about 18 inches long and a quarter of an inch thick. Its ends were rounded and the whole thing was heavily shellacked. He explained that prevented splinters.
"The paddle is used for more serious discipline. There are other implements we use for minor infractions. Save the paddle and cane for repeat offenders or grave violations. Of course, really serious offenses, such as drug use or fighting, get sent to Mr. Devonhart."
Elsa reached out a hand and tentatively touched the paddle. It was hard and its glossy surface was smooth as ice. She wondered what it felt like. She hadn't been spanked since she was a little kid. It must be awfully embarrassing to be paddled at high school age.
"I can't imagine ever having to use this, Mr. Marigold. It seems... primitive, and so far my students are well-mannered."
"It's only your first day. You'll need to be administering several spankings a day if you want to keep the respect of your pupils."
"Really?"
"But not until you pass my CP lessons," said Mr. Marigold sternly. "That's very important."
"I see."
"As I said, today we'll concentrate on the paddle. You'll administer the paddling with the victim facing your desk, bum to the class. Here, get in the position."
Elsa complied, leaning forward with her forearms on the surface of her desk. Mr. Marigold used the long paddle to tap her legs, encouraging her to separate them as much as she could in the tight skirt she wore. The position was certainly humiliating. Her face flushed as she imagined a whole classroom of students staring at her butt. Bent over like she was, her ass was thrust up and out, as though trying to draw attention to itself. Quite embarrassing.
"I'm supposed to paddle kids in front of others?" she asked. "Can't I do it in private?"
"That depends on the situation. If the need for punishment is urgent, then you need to do it right then, even if that's during class. If you're punishing a child for something non-timely, such as a late homework assignment, you can make arrangements for the kid to meet you after school or during break."
"That sounds more reasonable."
"During a paddling, the child is not to move out of position. Doing so invalidates the swat and adds another to the tally."
Elsa gulped as she felt the heavy wood tapping her rump. It didn't hurt, it was just a light pat, but it was disconcerting. It made her feel like a naughty little girl. She thought it was a little rude of the man, but didn't want to make a fuss about it. Instead, she tried to distract him by asking a question.
"How many swats do I give?"
"That depends on many factors: the crime in question, if this is a repeat offense or not, and the age of the perpetrator. Typically you'd give a first-time freshman four swats for a minor offense, such as repeatedly talking in class or being tardy. A senior would get ten."
"Ouch."
"You, of course, are even older than a senior, so I'm giving you twenty," said Mr. Marigold. The words hadn't really registered when the pine came down across Elsa's butt. She gasped. The sting was amazing. She started upward, reaching back to grasp her tingling rear end.
"What did I say about moving?" roared the stern math teacher. "Get back in position at once!"
Without even thinking about it, Elsa obeyed, her heart racing with alarm. Only when she was back in position and heard the man saying the swat wouldn't count because she'd gotten up, did she realize what was happening.
"Mr. Marigold! What is going on? You hit me!"
"I didn't hit you, I paddled you. Now stay down. You've got twenty-one to come now, as I'm adding on an extra."
"Twenty-one!"
"Keep silent and stop repeating everything I say. You're here to learn, not comment on the lessons."
Elsa's mouth was still hanging open when the hard board spanked her again. This time she was a little more prepared for the sting and she didn't jump up, but her face went hot and fury churned in her belly.
"Ah! Stop that! You can't paddle me! I'm a teacher!"
"Not yet you aren't. Not unless I approve you for CP."
Doubt assaulted Elsa. Everything was so different and unexpected at Middlesbrook Academy. Was the man serious? Was she not officially a teacher here until she passed his bizarre training course? There was a certain sense to it: it clearly wouldn't do to hire a teacher that didn't know how to administer discipline, especially if the school had special customs and rules, but she didn't understand why she was the one being spanked. Shouldn't she be doing the spanking?
The paddle landed again and again, warming Elsa's rump. The spanks weren't too vigorous, and the fabric of her skirt and slip protected her bottom from the worst of the sting, but the burn grew as the toll mounted.
"Please, Mr. Marigold, I don't understand this," she choked out. "I'm supposed to spank, not be spanked!"
"You cannot learn the former without the latter," said the mathematician. "It is vital that you understand the implement. How else can you be expected to administer it? You need to learn how it feels to receive the paddle, otherwise you might spank a pupil excessively."
"I... I guess," muttered Elsa, still bewildered. The pause in the spanking had cooled her bottom and it didn't hurt nearly so much when she wasn't being spanked. It actually felt rather good, warm and tingly. It was the strangeness of the situation that really bothered her: surely teachers being spanked wasn't normal?
The paddle roared, Elsa's rear burning. She gritted her teeth and tried not to think about how humiliating this was. "Please, how many more?"
"You aren't keeping count?"
"No, I thought you were."
"And who counts when you're paddling a student?"
"Uh, I suppose I would?"
"That's correct. And since you weren't, we'll just have to begin from the beginning."
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