Time for a Spanking

Fall of Mary Catherine’s sophomore year

“Tick . . . tock . . . tick . . . tock . . . tick . . . tock . . .” Mary Catherine swung her left leg in time to the sound of the clock like a metronome. She’d been sitting on the sofa in Dean Michaels’ outer office for the past 45 minutes, nervously waiting for her turn to see the Dean.

It was a Tuesday afternoon in late October, just before Halloween. Outside the window Mary Catherine could see the Quad. A crisp breeze was blowing and brightly colored leaves were falling to the cobblestone walk. Girls were racing across campus—some headed toward the library, others toward club meetings and team practices.

Mary should have been at JV field hockey practice right now, she was already dressed in fact, in her crisp navy and green field hockey skirt (a bit shorter than her uniform skirt) and a white polo shirt, her long hair neatly braided and tied with a matching plaid ribbon. Instead of running down the field, though laughing, enjoying the day, she was waiting to be spanked.

“SPANKED!” Mary thought to herself for the 100th time in the past hour with dismay. She wasn’t even sure why she was here, but there was little doubt that her bottom was about to be blistered. A timid freshman named Nicole brought her a tersely worded note neatly printed on the Dean’s personal stationary as she was getting changed for practice. She’d unfolded the note as she walked out of the locker room toward the practice field. “Report to the Dean’s office immediately!” the note simply said. Her knees buckled slightly as she read it.

She’d never known a girl to get a note worded in that manner that had led to anything good. Mary Catherine had to tell Coach Adams that the Dean wanted to see her and ask to be excused from practice. Coach had been angry; he didn’t tolerate girls missing practice, and was particularly hard on ones that missed practice due to disciplinary or academic reasons.

He told Mary she’d be running laps when she was done meeting the Dean until dinner and she was being benched for tomorrow’s match versus Saint Timothy’s. Mary Catherine had opened her mouth to protest, she’d worked hard to earn a starting position on the JV squad.

Unlike most sports, she wasn’t a natural when it came to field hockey. Now she was going to miss out on her first start of the season. Wisely though she chose not to argue with Coach Adams. He was known to turn girls who argued with him regarding his decisions over his knee right on the practice field for the whole team to see! Head down she’d made her way over to Old Main and Dean Michaels’ office.

As Mary Catherine waited she racked her brain for an answer to why the Dean wanted to see her. She hadn’t gotten caught making any mischief in nearly three weeks. In fact she hadn’t been sent to visit the Dean since he’d caned Mary Catherine for fighting with Veronica.

Her new business on the Plaid Market was flourishing, and she’d been VERY discreet about orders and deliveries, having learned firsthand from Brittney that she needed to be extremely careful when it came to business.

She was doing well in all her classes this term, straight A’s so far—barring that annoying B- she was currently maintaining in geometry. It wasn’t a low enough grade to warrant the Dean meeting with her for an academic review, at least she didn’t think so . . .

Mary looked at the clock again; 43 minutes had passed since Helen told her to take a seat on the sofa. The Dean was already in with someone when Mary Catherine arrived; though she couldn’t hear what—if anything—was happening behind the heavy oak door. Helen had left for an appointment in town to pick up decorations for this weekend’s Halloween mixer, leaving Mary alone with her thoughts. “. . . tick . . . tock . . . Tick . . . Tock . . . Tick . . .” The clock seemed to get louder with each passing minute and Mary’s leg swung harder, her mind working overtime.

Suddenly a new sound caught her attention . . . faint, but easily recognizable . . . a sharp whistle followed by a clear “POP!” Her eyes went wide as she heard the sound of the Dean’s paddle through the door. She closed her eyes, wincing slightly with every swat she heard through the door. “. . . two . . . three . . . four . . . five . . .”

It was hard to hear anything at all now, the swats were mingled with the muffled sound of sobs and the clock was ticking so loudly it filled her ears, each tick a reminder of her impending doom. The sound of the paddle stopped at six, but the sobs continued, mixed now with a muffled voice, the Dean’s she guessed.

By the sound of things he was really swinging hard today, and as a sophomore she knew that she’d no longer be meeting the Dean’s freshman ruler over his knee but the mighty Thor across his desk. At the moment Mary Catherine wished she were anyplace but here . . .

The door to the Dean’s office opened just as the small grandfather clock in the outer office began to chime. “Bong . . . Bong . . . Bong . . . Bong . . . Bong.” Mary’s head snapped up and looked at the door with alarm. Dean Michaels walked out of the office, his arm around a sniffling Mandy’s shoulder.

Mandy’s hands were on the seat of her skirt, rubbing her bottom frantically as tears streamed down her face. The Dean walked Mandy silently past Mary Catherine and opened the door for her. “I’ll see you Friday after class Mandy, right?” he asked as he gave her a final hug. She nodded, still red-faced, her eyes downcast, her hand working to rub the sting out of her cheeks as fast as she could. “Yyyyyyyeessssss . . . . Ssssssssirrrrr,” she said. “Ffffffrrrriiddddayyyy.”

He closed the door behind her and walked back to his office, not even glancing at Mary Catherine as he said, “My office Miss Whitney. Now,” he added as her eyes were still riveted to the door Mandy had just walked through. She quickly scrambled to her feet, wiping her palms off on her field hockey skirt as she followed him into his office. The Dean walked around to his desk and took a seat as Mary apprehensively made her way to the visitor’s chair.

She hated that chair, straight-backed, hard wood and oversized. Any girl unfortunate to sit on it knew that most likely she’d shortly be finding herself put across it for a spanking and worse that she might be required to sit on the hard wood afterward for a stern lecture from Dean Michaels.

Taking a deep breath, Mary Catherine started to take a seat, but the Dean stopped her. “Please remain standing Miss Whitney. What I have to say won’t take very long.” Mary looked at him in shock. His voice was so cold, she’d never heard him speak like that . . . not to her, not to anyone.

He pulled out a neatly typed report out of his desk and handed it to Mary Catherine. “Would you like to explain the meaning of this young lady?” he asked as she stared blankly at the cover page. It was the term paper she and Mandy had done for Sister Ruth’s European history class. “They’d turned it in, what, about a week ago?” Mary Catherine thought to herself. Confused she looked up at Dean Michaels and said, “It’s our term paper on Stonehenge Dean.”

He nods at her, “That’s right, or should I say ALMOST right young lady. It’s certainly a term paper on Stonehenge, an extremely fine one in fact. Sister Ruth gave it an A. She was so impressed that she showed it to me.” He looks at Mary Catherine. “That was unfortunate for you and Mandy, wasn’t it?”

Mary looks at him, totally puzzled. “Why?” she asks simply. Mary just didn’t get it. The Dean seemed SO angry. “Sister Ruth may not have realized it, but that paper wasn’t done by the two of you, was it Mary Catherine?” Mary’s face turns bright red, than pale with anger. Unable to contain herself, she shouts, “That’s NOT true Dean! I wrote every word of it myself . . . how can you say someone else did the work? I’m not a cheat, I’m not!!”

“You know me and you know that I . . .” Dean Michaels interjects and says, “I know you wrote every word yourself Mary Catherine.” “. . . would never . . .” she stops, flustered. “You know? Then why would you say something like that?” He gives her a small smile, “Because I know you were the only one who wrote that paper Mary Catherine. The only thing Miss Brinkley contributed to that report was her name.”

Mary Catherine flushes dully and says, “Mandy worked on it too, honest Dean and she was the one who gave the oral report to the class.” He raises his hand to stop her and says, “I know Mandy gave the oral report Mary, but she didn’t do any of the original research or the writing."

He pauses a moment and adds, “I was on the YWLC trip last summer and I remember your slide presentation and talk on your trip to Stonehenge. I recognized most of the material covered in the paper from there. I also remember that Mandy caught a cold and had to stay at Ravenhurst Prep the day we visited Stongehenge so I know she didn’t contribute to the research."

"Now, I don’t have a problem with the fact that you two used most of the same research. You were assigned the topic, you didn’t choose it yourself, I asked Sister Ruth about that. The fact remains that you did all of the work Mary Catherine. If Mandy wasn’t going to contribute to the research, she should have at the very least written the bulk of the paper."

"Needless to say I am VERY disappointed in you. Under the definition of the Saint Francis Honor Code you cheated. “CHEATED?!” she cries out. “I did do most of the work, I admit that, but Mandy helped . . .” “He shakes his head again. “Not in any of the areas that matter Mary Catherine. The purpose of working with a partner is to get you girls to work on the paper TOGETHER. Despite what you might think, what the two of you did was NOT working as a team.”

Mary looks at him, her eyes flashing in anger. “Even if what you say is true . . . who did it hurt? We each did the part that we were best at Dean.” He looks at her sadly. “You cheated Mandy and you cheated yourself.” He stands up and walks over to Mary who’s livid . . . “Cheated ourselves?!” she thinks with dismay. “That’s ridiculous!” He turns her toward him and lifts her chin up gently. “I want you to understand something Mary Catherine, and understand it well. A violation of the Honor Code is the most serious breach of the rules that you could make in my eyes and it’s one that I NEVER want to talk to you about again.”

Despite herself, and the predicament she was in, Mary Catherine couldn’t help sighing slightly. Sometimes the Dean acted a million years old with all that talk about honor and tradition and all that nonsense! He heard her sigh and saw the incomprehension in Mary Catherine’s eyes. Deep down he knew she hadn’t done anything with malicious intent. From Mary Catherine and Mandy’s perspective they were simply trying to accomplish the greatest amount of work with the least amount of effort.

Mandy hadn’t been as difficult to discipline. He simply passed sentence and sent her on her way—a stern lecture, six from Thor and the chance to research and write her own term paper. She’d be burning the midnight oil to get it done by Friday afternoon but she’d be earning her grade honestly this time.

Mary Catherine on the other hand needed to learn a different lesson. As she’d started her sophomore year he’d seen her coming to a crossroads of sorts. She was a natural born leader—not to mention one of the foremost mischief-makers on campus. She’d never really outgrown her inclination to try to get booted out of Saint Francis though. Most girls lost that by the time they finished their freshman year; if anything Mary Catherine’s pranks had become more outrageous, more daring. Typically homesickness was replaced with friends, classes, a new life that crowded out loneliness.

It was different with Mary, he knew she didn’t want to leave because she missed her family, though he knew a part of her was lonely, despite all of her friends. She wanted to leave because staying is what her parents wanted.

Discovering a few weeks ago that she was Patrick’s baby sister made him feel fiercely protective of her. She had no one looking out for her. It was his job as the Dean to look out for all the girls—but as Patrick’s best friend he felt it was his responsibility to help her along and watch over her.

He wanted desperately for Mary to reach the potential he knew she had inside her, to work within the rules instead of fighting against them—against him all the time. He knew most of the girls thought the Honor Code was an antiquated tradition but it meant a lot to him and he wanted it to mean something to Mary Catherine as well.

He looks into her eyes and says gently. “I know you don’t understand right now, but I hope you will someday soon. Honor is something I believe in Mary Catherine and it’s something I want you to believe in too. When you swear something on the Honor Code it means I can look you in the eye and know without question you’re telling me the truth. It means I trust you completely."

"Now, I’m going to discipline you very sternly for this transgression Mary Catherine because it’s an Honor Code violation,” the Dean explains. Mary pulled back from him and began to struggle, panic rising in her. She could hear the clock again from out in the reception area ticking with deafening loudness, “TICK TOCK TICK TOCK,” over and over again, but no, that wasn’t possible. Suddenly she realized it was her heart pounding! Her ears began to ring and she felt her knees grow weak.

He wrapped his arms around her carefully and hugged her until she stopped fighting him. “Shhhh, Mary no . . . listen to me. I’m going to discipline you. It won’t be pleasant and you’re not going to be very happy about it, but it’s going to be ok and once it’s over we have a clean slate.” He softens a bit, knowing how hard he’d been on Mary up until this point. He knew Mary didn’t understand about honor, how could she? She was only 15 years old. It was time to start learning though . . .

He leads her over to the sofa and sits, patting the spot beside him. “It’s time to make a choice Mary. I could punish you in lots of ways—what you did isn’t enough for expulsion, but a two-week suspension served at Saint Anne’s Convent would be appropriate. Mary hangs her head and begins to softly cry at the mention of Saint Anne’s. She’d heard what happened to girls sent to serve a suspension there, had seen firsthand the results.

A rush of vanity swept over her and she began to cry harder, her hand going to her long brown hair. It would be cut short—that happened to every girl who entered Saint Anne’s as a student and that’s what she’d be considered during the term of a suspension.

She looked at him desperately. Mary wasn’t going to beg him for leniency; she wasn’t a baby. She’d take her medicine if that’s what he wanted. She’d let them take her hair and she’d take the daily spankings and the weekly strapping girls at Saint Anne’s got as a part of their “education”.

Quietly he handed Mary Catherine his handkerchief and let her dry her tears. When her tears finally stopped and she gave him back his now damp handkerchief he patted her knee and said gently. “I’m not going to send you to Saint Anne’s Sport. Despite how disappointed I am, I know you didn’t mean to break the Honor Code but you DID break it and I do have to discipline you. It was a fine paper Mary, one of the best I’ve read in all my years at Saint Francis and you deserve an A on it. Mandy doesn’t deserve that grade though, she deserves an F or at the very least an incomplete.”

Mary opens her mouth to protest but he quickly adds, “I’m giving her a second shot to earn that A herself.” She blushes and looks at him shyly. “Thanks Dean, I’m glad we don’t both have to take an F.” “You don’t have to take the F either Mary Catherine, but a better grade is going to come with a price I’m afraid.”

She gulps hard and looks at him. “How much is it going to cost me Dean Michaels?” “It depends on the grade you want to take out of this office Mary. If you’re willing to take the F you can take a hand spanking over my knee and walk out of this office right now. We never have to discuss the matter again. You’re holding an A right now, a 96 percent from what Sister Ruth tells me. The F will hurt your average certainly, that paper was worth 15 percent of your grade, but if you keep getting A’s the rest of the semester you’d still end up with a B or a B+ most likely.”

Mary quickly shakes her head, history was one of her best subjects, and she didn’t want to drag her GPA down with a B, particularly since she knew she’d have trouble bringing up her Geometry grade. Mary needed every A she could earn so she could get into Stanford.

“What if I want to bring up my grade Dean?” she asks. Mary stiffens as he responds, “A week of office detention and three strokes from Thor for every letter you’d like that grade to go up in addition to the hand spanking.”

Quietly she asks, “May I use the bathroom Dean while I think about it?” He looks at her, he had a feeling he already knew her answer. More than likely she just needed a moment to steel herself for the decision she’d made. “Sure Sport, go ahead.”

Mary Catherine walked calmly to the bathroom door and shut it behind her. She felt dizzy and nauseous and it was getting hard to breathe. She reached up to loosen her tie, then remembered she was wearing her polo shirt. It wasn’t even unbuttoned at the collar. It just felt impossibly tight around her neck at the moment.

A month of office detention she could handle, no sweat. In all honesty she kind of liked getting to spend time alone with the Dean, she had a bit of a crush on him. A dozen from Thor though! It terrified her just thinking about it. It was only this year that she’d begun getting more than the freshman five (five taps plus one stinging swat as a reminder to behave).

The Dean had only paddled her a few times so far this term, and only once did she earn a full six from Thor. It stung much more than her senior’s floor paddle. Not only did he swing it much harder than Tricia did, but the holes drilled into his paddle made it sting a lot more. To take a full senior paddling on the bare; she just didn’t know if she could take it! Trembling she went to the bathroom and carefully washed her hands and face afterward, staring at herself in the mirror. She slowly nodded to herself and walked back into the Dean’s office.

He was sitting behind his desk again and Mary stood in front of him again. Looking him straight in the eye she said as clearly as possible, “I’d like to take the A Dean Michaels.” He gives her a small smile, “Good girl, I’m proud of your decision. Let’s get to it, so you’re not late for dinner.”

She looks behind him out the window, it was nearly dark out, girls were already streaming toward the dining hall and the bells were beginning to ring on the Quad. She’d missed all of practice, probably a good thing, she didn’t know how she’d manage to run laps after a trip across the Dean’s knee and desk. “Time to clear the slate,” she thought to herself as she walked to the Dean’s side of the desk.

He drew her quickly over his lap, raising her field hockey skirt to her waist. The hand spanking was simply to heat her bottom up a bit and put some color on her cheeks. He didn’t want to give her a dozen cold, Thor was much more likely to leave bruises and blisters if her bottom wasn’t properly heated before he put Mary Catherine over his desk. He patted her snug navy athletic briefs and said, “We’ll leave these up until you go across the desk I think.” Mary murmurs her assent just before he raises his hand to start her spanking. “Smack . . . smack . . . smack . . . smack . . .”

She closed her eyes and tried to breathe slowly. It certainly wasn’t the hardest spanking she’d ever received, not even close actually, but she knew it was meant as more of a warm-up for the paddle than an actual disciplinary act. “Smack . . . smack . . . smack . . . smack . . . SMACK!”

Mary Catherine slid across his lap slightly, her bottom high, legs bent at the knee, she was sure she looked absurd at the moment. She blushed slightly as she thought about how ridiculous it was to be spanked at 15. It wasn’t as if she was a child, she’d even started to grow and though there wasn’t much, she’d begun to fill out a bit.

She was glad at the moment that she had her hockey panties on, though she knew they wouldn’t be staying on much longer. As she pondered that thought, her face as well as her bottom began to grow hot. “SMACK . . . SMACK . . . SMMACCCCK!!!” The panties provided some protection against his hand, but not much. Before long her legs were crossing and she’d begun to wince slightly with every swat. “SMACK . . . SMMMAAAACKKKKKK!!!!!!”

Then it stopped and Mary felt the Dean reach up to put her back on her feet. He looked her over carefully. She was red-faced and he could certainly feel the warmth growing on her cheeks as he’d spanked her, but so far Mary Catherine seemed to be doing ok.

“Other side of the desk Sport and drop drawers,” he said firmly but gently as he got up to get Thor from the cupboard in the corner of his office. Mary stood facing his desk, and blushing furiously now, reached under her field hockey skirt to lower her briefs to her knees. He walked up behind her and put his hand on her shoulder. “Over the desk now Mary Catherine,” he said as he gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

She stood on her toes and went over, the Dean’s desk was so high and she was so short it was always a little awkward to go across his desk. Finally though she managed to get her fingers to the edge of the desk and she gripped tightly, turning her head away from the window so she couldn’t see her reflection or the Dean’s as he swung Thor.

Tucking in her skirt he stood back and measured his swing against the full seat of Mary’s bare bottom. As he suspected the firm, rounded cheeks were now a medium pink. They’d be much more than that soon, he knew Thor hurt and Mary’s small bottom would feel the full heat of each and every stroke.

“You don’t have to count Mary,” he said simply as he drew the paddle back and began to swing. Mary closed her eyes just as the paddle landed and she gasped slightly as she heard, then felt the sharp “POP” land across her bottom. “SWISH . . . POP . . . SWISH . . . POP.”

“Ouch!” Mary cried as the third stroke landed on her cheeks. She gripped the edge of the desk more tightly and winced. “SWISH . . . POP!!” “OWW!!!!” “SWISH . . . POP!!!! SWISH . . . POP!!” Mary bounced on her toes as the sixth stroke landed on her rapidly reddening bottom. “OH . . . owwwwchhhh!!”

At seven the Dean heard Mary Catherine begin to sniffle and at nine she started to cry. “. . . SWISH . . . POP . . . SWISH . . . POP!” By 11 Mary was sobbing uncontrollably, no longer concerned with acting brave. She didn’t care about anything but how much longer her spanking was going to last and how soon she’d be able to rub the sting out of her tensing cheeks.

She heard the paddle draw back again, the rush of air running through the holes in the paddle and the loud “CRACK!” as it met her cheeks. The final stroke was low, catching her on the tender bottom curve of her tight cheeks. The stroke lifted her up, clear off her toes, then back down again as her bottom began to burn intensely from the small blisters that were starting to form.

He gave Mary a few moments to compose herself. She laid across his desk crying as he put Thor away. Dimly she could feel the Dean’s hands lifting her off his desk and wrapping his arms around her for a hug. “All done Mary Catherine, it’s ok now, shhhhhhhh.”

Mary dropped her head onto his chest and cried, huge gulping little girl sobs as her hands desperately clutched her smarting bottom. She could feel the heat through her field hockey skirt and she stamped her feet trying to somehow put out the tremendous fire raging on her backside. The Dean gave her a huge hug, and gently rubbed the small of her back until she calmed down. He could tell when the fire began to dull, her sobs grew quiet and she relaxed her body into his, sighing slightly.

You want to step out Sport?” he asks gently, looking at her navy hockey panties tangled around her ankles. Blushing she shakes her head and moves to pull them up. Suddenly her blush deepens and she quietly asks, “Could . . . could you turn around Dean?” He looked at the shy look on her face. “Sure Mary,” he responds as he quickly turns around. She bends over and yanks up her briefs, the heat of her spanking making them feel even tighter than normal. “All done Dean,” she says quietly. “May I be excused?”

He turns around and looks at Mary. “In a minute. I’ll walk you to dinner, ok?” She nods, shifting anxiously from foot to foot. She was still rubbing her bottom, not as hard now, but it still stung horribly. Honestly she didn’t want to go to dinner. Sitting at best would be difficult, at worst, impossible.

He walks over to the coat rack to grab his jacket and walks back to Mary Catherine who’s gone over to the window. He can see her cheeks just barely peeking out from underneath her hockey skirt and from what he could see they were reddening up quite a bit. It was unlikely she was going to be able to make it comfortably through dinner, and he certainly didn’t want to embarrass her by making her go to dinner in her field hockey skirt which was so short most girls would immediately see Mary had been spanked.

He put his hand on her shoulder. “Mary, how’d you like to change and . . . well how about you have dinner with me tonight? I’m not a great cook, but I can make pasta and salad or maybe some chicken stir fry."

She shakes her head, not turning around. He frowns and looks at her reflection in the window. “You’re not going to hold a grudge are you Sport?” She drops her eyes. “No Dean, but . . . I mean it wouldn’t look right, I’m on restriction now.”

He turns her around and pulls up her chin so he can look in her eyes. “No Mary, you’re not on restriction. You have office detention, that’s true, which means you have to put in a minimum of five hours a week for the next month, but that’s the limit of your punishment, ok?”

Mary might resist him leading up to being disciplined, but she often came down on herself too hard afterward—quite often even more hard than he did when handing down her discipline. She nods slowly, and he gives her a quick smile and a wink, “I’ve got a pillow you can sit on and you can help me if you like. Do you know how to cook?” She nods again, blushing slightly as she catches sight of his wink. “Good,” he answers, “let’s go.”

By the time they got to his cottage and put dinner on the table, the Dean had gotten Mary to smile again, though it took some effort to get her to sit through the meal, even with the pillow. “I’ll wash up,” she says as they finish. “I’ll dry then Sport,” he responds.

As she hands him the last dish to dry and let’s the water out of the sink she quietly says, “I’m sorry Dean, about today. I didn’t mean to let you down like that. I just didn’t think it was such a big deal. I understand better now and I promise . . .” she pauses and turns so she can look him in the eye, “I promise on the Honor Code it won’t happen again.”

A jolt hit him—that was the first time she’d ever submitted to the Honor Code, had willingly acknowledged its value. For the first time she’d acknowleged his authority. What’s more he heard the sincerity in her voice and saw it in her eyes. He puts down the dish and his towel and gives her a hug. “Thank you Mary,” he says simply. Looking up she asks, “For what Dean?” “For giving me your word. It means a lot to me that you gave it on the Honor Code.” “I meant it Dean Michaels,” she responds. “I know Sport and that means even more . . .”

© 1999 Mary Catherine Whitney, All Rights Reserved.