by Frank Martinet
Principal Vaughn sighed as the slender, curvy form of Rayanne Mastrianni slipped into his office. At just eighteen, she was quite mature physically, with adult-sized breasts he tactfully pretended not to notice and a surprisingly prominent bottom he daringly scrutinized when she had her back to him. She was a pretty girl, petite and pixyish, with straight brown hair down to her shoulders. Her face was pleasant, always with a smile, but so generic it was utterly forgettable.
Perhaps that was because he was far more familiar with the view of her from behind. It wasn't his fault he saw her bottom more than her front - several times a week she was in his office for petty offenses that required him to use the 'board of education' on that chubby rump. The mounds were quite a sturdy pair, firm and thrusting, overlarge for a small girl, and definitely more memorable than her mundane face.
"So what is it this time?" he asked.
"Running in the halls," said Rayanne sheepishly, handing over the pink discipline slip.
He dropped it into her file without looking at it, shaking his head. "That happens once or twice a week! What is it with you?"
"I guess I'm always in a hurry."
"You need to slow down."
"If I do that, I'd just be in here for being late to class."
Vaughn rubbed his temples at her painful logic. "Then manage your time better. So what'll it be?" he asked, knowing the answer. "Licks or detention?"
"I'll take the paddling," said Rayanne with a nonchalant shrug.
The principal stood, retrieving the blond slab of wood from above the filing cabinet. "This is really getting old, Rayanne. You're not a bad girl, but you're sure in here a lot."
"Sorry, sir. I'll try to do better."
"All right. I think you know the position better than me by now."
The teen blushed and stepped forward. She knew exactly where to place her feet, standing about twenty inches from the desk so that when she leaned forward, her rear bulged up and out sweetly as though inviting the paddle to slap it. She put her palms flat on the table and waited.
"Ready, sir!"
"I wish I could give you more than three licks, Mastrianni."
The girl froze. "Uh... sir?" she panted, staring straight ahead, her cheeks on fire. "You, uh, you... could. If you want. I mean, I deserve it. I'll take four, or five. Whatever you think is fair."
"That's a nice offer and you certainly do deserve it, but unfortunately it's against school policy. Three is the penalty for a misdemeanor and I can't change it." He hefted the long narrow plank. "But I will put some extra mustard on these."
"Yes sir," Rayanne said quickly.
There wasn't a lot of preamble. Both were familiar with the routine, so Principal Vaughn just found his spot behind and to the left of the poised butt, raised the oak paddle to his shoulder, and brought it down in a graceful blur.
There was a solid thump as the slab of wood met jean-clad buttocks. With so much experience, the man had swung square so that both rear cheeks were equally scorched. The thick board pressed in, flattening the pert hillocks for a moment, and then bounced off sprightly.
Rayanne grunted, her body jerking. She shimmied her hips for a second, then resumed her butt-out position. She stayed frozen as she waited for the second lick.
Vaughn made her wait a good ten seconds for her to feel the burn, and then he repeated the stroke. This time he swung the board with a little more force. Rayanne rose up onto her toes, her hips twisting. In the snug blue jeans she wore, the wagging tail was supremely attractive. Of course, the girl had no idea of the spectacle she was making. She hissed in pain and panted, slowly steadying her wiggling rear end.
Again Vaughn waited until she'd stopped moving, and then he counted slowly to ten. This time he took a half-step closer, raised the board behind his head, and slammed it in into those buns as hard as he could.
The bang was like a cannon going off. Rayanne's body went wild, twisting and arching, and then she threw her head back and yelled at the ceiling. Her right foot stamped twice, and then she hopped rapidly from foot to foot.
"Whoo-whee!" she cried. A few seconds later she breathed, half-resentfully. "That... that had mustard and hot sauce."
"Next time, I'll make them all like that," warned Vaughn, placing the paddle back on top of the metal cabinet. He sank into his big leather chair and quickly rolled forward so his lower half was hidden under the desk.
Rayanne had both hands on her ass and was rubbing furiously. Her grimace was so elaborate it was charming. She turned away, showing him that saucy rear again, and headed for the door.
"Uh, thank you sir."
He watched as she paused in the doorway for a final ass-squeeze. The principal thought wistfully, If only that was me fondling those full cheeks. Then she was gone, thankfully, and he didn't have to hide his flustered blush. His hands found the pole under the desk, so stiff he was surprised it hadn't poked through his trousers. What the hell was it about that girl that made him so hot?
Out in the empty corridor, Rayanne was grinning like a cat in a dairy. She rubbed her butt gingerly, wincing at the tingle, and marveling at the heat radiating from her steaming cheeks. She sighed heavily. She glanced toward the secretary's desk at the end of the hall, saw it was deserted, and took the chance to quickly slide two fingers along the line of her crotch. The teasing touch nearly sent her over the moon.
Wow, did Mr. V do good today! she thought pleasantly. Though only three smacks, they'd all been excellent: full across both cheeks, staggeringly hard, and at just the right pace. Even through the skintight jeans she'd really felt the sizzle and now her ass was glowing nicely, only a little sore, with a warmth that would keep her company for the rest of the day. Just perfect.
She began to walk to class, enjoying the way her bottom felt as it swayed behind her. She was always more conscious of it after a paddling. It felt bigger and sexier, and she was aware of every subtle jiggle and bobble. It felt so naughty. She loved the idea that her bottom was hot and red and yet no one around could tell. She could have come just by wiggling her ass against a hard wooden chair, and no one would know.
Of course, that was mostly because the paddling she'd received had been relatively mild. If it had been a real punishment, say a dozen excruciating whacks on the bare ass, she'd have been bawling her eyes out and been in so much pain it wouldn't have been sexy at all. But a few school swats were just what the doctor ordered: stingy enough to be exciting, but suitably bearable so that she could easily distract herself from the pain with erotic thoughts. While she adored the idea of hard spankings, the reality... not so much.
The problem was that it was damned tricky figuring out just how to misbehave to get herself the appropriately-sized spanking without hurting her academic or social standing. If she was too naughty, the paddling might be six or eight - too spicy. Worse, she could end up being banned from school functions or extracurricular activities.
Something simple like being caught running in the halls was ideal, but she worried she wouldn't be able to use the same offense too many times. Not only did it annoy Vaughn, but it made paddling seem ineffective. He might start insisting on detention, or suspend her from school. So she tried to vary her little crimes, but it was hard work to be naughty.
As she sat in geometry, she only half-listened to the lesson. She was already three chapters ahead, so this was old material. Her focus was on how to get her next spanking. Organized as always, she kept a list in a little notebook. Out of fear that the book might fall into the wrong hands, everything was in code. "Running in the halls" was abbreviated to just "run" - she knew what it meant, but it was innocuous to anyone else.
She carefully added today's date in the "run" column. It was crowded, as were columns labeled "tdy" (which meant "tardy," but looked like today), "uni" (uniform violation), and "sw" (swearing). There was also "cgm" (chewing gum), but it only had a few items. That was mainly because despite the rules most teachers didn't regard it as serious enough to send her to Principal Vaughn - they just had her spit out the gum. Very disappointing.
She'd experimented with other offenses that weren't in her notebook, but the results hadn't been satisfactory. Some were things she just didn't like doing, such as talking back to a teacher, or the consequences were unpleasant, such as being caught using her phone in class. Sure, both got her nicely paddled, but teachers tended to take sass personally and she didn't want to make them enemies, and she really hated having her phone confiscated.
Others things were borderline crimes, such as skipping school, cheating, or being caught with cigarettes or alcohol. Yeah, contraband earned her a really hot bottom (too hot, if she had to be honest), and they were really dangerous. If she was careful about the quantity and kind, she could get away without it being too serious, but it was dicey.
Like once she'd arranged to be caught with an empty beer can. She'd argued that she'd found it and was on her way to throw it away. When Vaughn had smelled her breath, however, he sensed a little beer and she'd confessed she'd seen a student toss the unfinished can and had taken a swig, just out of curiosity. She admitted she probably deserved a paddling for that, so he'd let her off with a stern warning and twelve sound pops with the paddle. She'd enjoyed the first six, and then things got uncomfortable. She was truly regretting her daring for the final few butt-crushing whacks.
She'd therefore settled onto a comfortable list of routine offenses that were relatively harmless. They didn't always get her as hard of a spanking as she'd like, but she had to take what she could get. So, as she often did when bored, Rayanne would daydream about various acts of rebellion. Most were pure fantasy, such as spray painting the blackboard, throwing the teacher's computer monitor through the window, or mooning the class. All would get her severely spanked, of course, and she'd try and guess how many swats Vaughn would give her for slapping Anne Breccia's smarmy face.
Of course, Rayanne would never actually do anything of these things in a million years. She didn't even want to, not truly (except for slapping Anne, but even that was only occasionally, when the bitch became insufferable). She just loved the idea of being naughty. It gave her such a shivery feeling of terror down her spine.
Though she'd never climbed a mountain, she'd once seen climbers on TV going up a sheer rock face, hanging by a single thread. It had looked insane and in a post-climb interview, one of the men had explained that it was the danger that made it so exciting. Rayanne felt she understood that, though she preferred the thrill of risking her bottom, not her life!
Somehow Rayanne's daydream ended up taking an unusual turn: soon she was picturing herself stark naked, with her bare ass bright red from a paddling, climbing up the side of a mountain.
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