This morning I read a news story with the headline “Cheerleader punished for a Snapchat takes her case to the Supreme Court“. I also recently saw the episode “Harmony” from Stargate: Atlantis. So you could say my brain was primed.
This afternoon, I wrote the first chapter — 3780 words worth — of an untitled-as-of-yet novella (probably) about a sorority girl who gets paddled, not by the other sisters but by her disciplinarian, as a result of something she did using her phone that broke the rules of the sorority. But that’s not where the story is going to end. At spanking parties, there’s sometimes an event called “Spanking Court” where bottoms can argue their cases and have punishments meted out. I’m planning a second or third chapter — not sure which it will be yet — where our sorority girl takes her case to spanking court because she feels her punishment was unfair.
I still don’t know if she’s going to win her case or not, but it’ll be fun to find out.
Anyway, here’s a preview:
It wasn’t long before Ken was standing in the doorway to Kristen’s room, her paddle in his hand. She felt her heart leap into her throat — had she really earned that? From what?
She decided to take charge of the situation. “It wasn’t fair,” she said. “They saw my private texts. I should be allowed to blow off steam any way I want to.” The argument hadn’t worked on Victoria and Penny, but surely it would work on Ken, right? He was much more reasonable than any sorority sister could be. “They should be the ones in trouble for reading my private messages.”
“But I’m not their disciplinarian. I’m yours. And you’re the one who broke the rules.” He wasn’t a big man — Kristen was five-five, and Ken was only three inches taller than her — but with the paddle in hand, he seemed to loom. Or maybe that was the paddle — as long as his forearm, as wide across as his palm, varnished wood with a line of dime-sized holes drilled down the middle. Maybe that was why she was so worried.
No. No maybe about it. It was definitely the reason. “Ken, come on, I–“
“You broke the rules. Yes or no.”
She folded her arms. “Yes,” she said, hating how sullen she suddenly sounded. “Section five, subsection seven. They read it to me,” she added. “Like I can’t read off a screen.”
“What was the rule?” He stepped into her room. His face was hard to read, but then it always was when she was in trouble.
Kristen sighed. “No saying bad things about sisters, pledges, or the sorority, using computers or phones.”
“And did you?”
“No buts.” He pointed to her bed with the paddle. “You know what to do.”
“Come on, Ken! This isn’t fair!”
“You broke the rules. You pay the price. That’s how it’s always been, ever since we started this.”
Kristen stood up and shuffled over to the bed. “It’s not fair,” she grumbled. “It’s not.”
Ken didn’t reply. He just waited, watching as Kristen undid her jeans and pushed them and her panties down around her ankles. Then she turned to face the bed, leaning over it, hands on the bedspread. “Please, Ken,” she said, hating the pleading note in her voice, “at least give me a warm-up.”
He rested the cool wood of the paddle against her backside. Kristen was slim, but she had curves; still, the paddle was able to easily touch both cheeks of her ass. “This is a punishment, Kristen.” He tapped it against her and she couldn’t suppress a tiny yip, which made her face flush. “You know how it goes.”
“How many?” she asked him, her throat tight.
“Section five, subsection seven. You’ll get twelve.
In that moment Kristen hated every single thing about her desire — no, her need — to be punished. She liked spanking, had secretly looked up spanking-related videos and pictures online long before she’d had any right to do so, had gotten her first serious boyfriend to spank her bare bottom over his lap. But there was spanking, and then there was discipline, and there was a big difference between the two. Still, she wished in that moment that she’d never met Ken.
At least this wasn’t the most swats she’d ever earned. That had been thirty, and she never wanted to go through that again.