Lana's Bad Day
It was already a bad day; I had spent yesterday when I should have been at school trying to prove that Clark Kent was Superboy. I had failed again.
I had slept badly, and dragging myself to school was an effort. I arrived to find that a test had been announced yesterday, for which I was entirely unprepared, and I was sure that I was going to get an F on it.
To top off everything Clark sat 2 desks away from me, and through the window I could see the blue and red blur that was Superboy speeding across the sky. I was fed up!
"Lana" called Miss Williams, our teacher. "The Principal wishes to see you in his office. Now"
The Principal always called pupils to see him during the middle of class, in order to increase the embarrassment of being called to his office like a naughty child. I walked to the door, head bowed to hide my blushes.
Miss Clearly, the Principal's Secretary, sat outside his closed office door. She smiled up at me.
"Knock the door, Lana. He's expecting you."
I did as she bid, and on his gruff command I entered the room. He sat, stern and massive, behind his desk.
"Ah, Miss Lang. Please sit down." He indicated a chair before his desk. I sat and he continued to read the paper that was in front of him. After a minute he looked up again.
"Ah Miss Lang, you were absent from school yesterday. Can you please tell me why?"
Obviously I had no good excuse. "Umm, I was ill…"
"No you were not. I have spoken to your father. So now, truant and lying. And I understand from Miss Williams that you have an F on today's test. This is not good enough."
He stood up, towering over me.
"Miss Lang, I intend to paddle you." I gasped in shock. Only a handful of students a year were paddled!
"Stand." I remained where I was. "You will receive five strokes. If you do not obey me instantly you will receive additional strokes. Stand and bend over my desk."
I shot to my feet and threw myself across his desk, clutching the far side. I imagined his view of my behind, green tweed skirt stretched tight across it. From the corner of my eye I saw him take the school paddle down from the wall; it was ten inches of severe looking wood, with small holes drilled in it.
My father had, occasionally, employed a hairbrush on my behind to punish me; surely the paddle could not be much worse?
There was a brief pause, broken by a whooshing noise. The paddle slammed into my bottom, covering it's width in one go. I shrieked, but before I could react further the paddle fell again, spreading fire across my rear. This time I let go of the desk and began to rise.
The Principal placed his large palm into the centre of my back and pushed me down. "Remain where you are, Miss Lang"
From necessity I obeyed. The paddle struck again. SMACK. My bottom throbbed. I felt another smack, and one last one. Tears bucketed down my cheeks, whilst my other end stung like it had been in a wasps nest.
"You may stand. Take a few moments to compose yourself. Dry your eyes, and then return to your class."
My red and damp eyes, and difficulty sitting made it plain to my classmates what had happened, and the rest of the schoolday was torture.
I arrived home much chastened, to be greeted by the anger of my father.
"Lana, I have spoken to your Principal. I am most angry. I will see you in my study in 5 minutes."
I had no doubt what that meant, and my rear still throbbed. Catching sight of the evening paper where my father had dropped it, I ran upstairs to the bathroom, where I folded it and placed it within my drawers.
The interview with my father was brief; he detailed my faults and his disappointment, and then, hairbrush in hand, he placed me across his knees.
"Wait, Daddy. Last week you said I was too old to spank now."
"Clearly I was wrong. If you will act like a child I will treat you like one." With that he commenced to swing the hairbrush against my upraised rear.
It had made contact several times when I realised how effective the paper was proving. Unfortunately my father had also realised something was wrong; I think that the noise of his spanks differed from what he was used to.
In any case he put down the hairbrush and patted my bottom with his hand. I felt the paper crumple against me.
He snorted, and then I felt the catch on my skirt being unbuckled, followed by the zipper being drawn down. Lifting me slightly he pulled down my skirt, followed promptly by my slip. I imagine that the newspaper was quite obvious at that stage, and, to my shock, he pulled down my underpants, and threw the paper to the floor.
Saying nothing he again grasped the hairbrush, and recommenced the spanking. This time I genuinely howled as it smacked mercilessly against my already sore and now completely unprotected bottom. Each blow was a fresh explosion of pain, and after very little time I sobbed with my whole heart.
"I hope you will think twice before misleading me again, Lana. In view of your childishness you will be spanked each time you err for the next month."
I could not imagine a month of potential spankings. It was all Clark's fault! I'd get him.
Just wait until I showed he was Superboy!