Assistant Principal (Jon series)

A random discussion with a friend led to my writing this short story:

“Mr. Huckleberry was looking for you, Lizzie.  He wants you to stop by his office after school.”  The casualness of my teacher’s statement did little to settle my unease.  My brother took his appointment as Assistant Principal entirely too seriously for my tastes, but he did take care to separate his job from his personal life.  My teacher may think his request was natural, but I knew I was in trouble.  The question was only ‘for what?’

“Where were you at 2:15 today, Lizzie?”

His first question left me with no doubt as to the problem, but I hedged, “Why?”

“Answer the question.”

“Well see…the thing is…my schedule has a little overlap…”

“I discovered the anomaly in your schedule today when I was looking for you.  Now where were you?”

“So you know the computer class I help with at the junior high goes until 2:20, but my music class starts here at 2:00…”

“Lizzie, I’ve seen your schedule.  I also know that you leave the junior high at 1:50 every day, so you can get back here for your music class.  But Mrs. Engler says you arrive at her class every day at 2:30, owing to the fact that you are helping at the junior high.  So I repeat my question – where were you?”

“Shit!”

“That’s hardly an appropriate response.  Where were you?”

I remained silent.

“Shall I turn this over to the principal?  You’ve been skipping out for half an hour every day this semester.  He’ll give you a paddling and suspend you from school, you have to know that.”

“Come on, Jon…you…”

“You will use a respectful form of address, young lady.”  He interrupted me.

I rolled my eyes, “But you’re my brother, why should I?”

“I am also the Assistant Principal.  And I didn’t miss those eyes, brat.  Do you really think that’s going to help your situation?”

“Johnny!”  I knew it wouldn’t help, but if he could use childish nicknames, so could I.  Without warning, he took a ruler from his desk and took my hand in one motion.  The ruler struck my palm three times in rapid succession before he repeated the performance on my other hand.

When he released my hand, I pulled back, rubbing my palms lightly together.  I took a quick breath, changed my mind and let it out.  When I spoke my voice shook, “You wouldn’t tell the principal, would you?  He really doesn’t like me much.”

“Meaning you’ve seen entirely too much of him this year?  You know you’ve earned more than the few swats over your jeans that I’m authorized to give.”

“Please?  If I’m suspended again, I’ll lose my scholarship.”  I couldn’t bring myself to call him ‘mister’, but I could stop goading him.

He considered me for a long time before offering, “You take a real paddling from me, and tell me where you’ve been spending your stolen time and what you’ve been doing…and I won’t report it.”

I rubbed my fingertips across the palms of my hands, alternating as I considered his offer.  Unfortunately, I knew my brother could deliver a good spanking.  And he had mentioned nothing about what would happen at home.  Even knowing he would give me a good strapping at home, there was no choice to be made.

“I want you to paddle me.  Please?”

He made me stand in the corner while he ensured that his secretary had left for the day.  I think he knew just how much I would rather get right to the spanking.  When he returned, he followed the school protocol, having me empty my back pockets and bend over his desk.

“We’ll start with the ten I will record.  You’re up to my max, you know.”

The horrible Spencer paddle made an impression even through my jeans.  But I knew the principal could, and probably would, have given me a solid twenty swats on my panties.  I was less sure what to expect from my brother.  He paused, helping me to my feet.  As I had expected, he had me pull down my jeans, revealing the blue girdle I wore instead of panties.

“No wonder you didn’t react to the first set.  But even with that protection, I think I’ll get a response from these.”

He had me back over his desk and he began another series with the paddle, depriving me of the ability to think.  I am sure that I reacted this time, though I am less sure what my reaction was.  I didn’t count; instead I focused on staying in position.  When he finished, I fell gratefully into his hug.  After standing there for a few minutes, I let him pull me onto his lap.  I nestled comfortably into his shoulder, safe.

Too soon, in my opinion, he broke the safety by asking, “And where have you been spending your time?”

With a sigh, I admitted, “At the park.”

“At the park,” he repeated, “What do you do at the park?”

“Hang out, I guess.”

He could tell I was hedging, though.  He pushed, “Exactly what do you do at the park?  What did you do today?”

“Talked to some friends.  Maybe smoked a bit.”

I could feel him shift as he sniffed at my hair, “These friends of yours smoke pot?”

“Maybe sometimes,” I answered as softly as I could.

“Drink some too?”

“Sometimes,” I answered again.

He shook his head, “Get on home, brat.  Tell Mom you’re coming over to my place for dinner tonight.  You can spend the night if you want.  You’re probably not going to feel like driving home after I’m finished with you.”

“But you just…”

“If I call your mother, as I would according to school policy, you know she’s going to ask me to come over and deal with you.  You want to get her all upset and have her watch while I strap you?  Or you want to come to my house directly?”

I snuggled into his shoulder for a moment before popping off his lap.  “I’ll be over tonight.”