Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Titans, nor do I claim rights to any of the affiliated characters.

Warnings/Notes: I'll put this as plainly as I can: what you are about to read contains corporal punishment (spanking) of a minor by an adult. It may also come across as out of character, any constructive criticism you have, especially in that regard, is completely fine. That being said, please do not read on if your sole intention is to leave blatantly ignorant commentary. Thank you.

Victories

Strained cries echoed through the vast space of the library, seeping through crevices in bookshelves that'd been artfully arranged to give the illusion of corridors. "What do you want with me, let me go!" She shrieked, struggling futilely against the bonds of metal at her wrists.

"Now, now love, there's no sense fighting it really." He appeared to her then, red hair a sharp, unflattering fringe across his forehead.

"You will release me." She ground her teeth as she spoke, skin burning as she pulled more forcefully against the unyielding restraints.

" 'Fraid not love." He replied, a coy smile splaying itself across his features, accentuating his broad chin. "You see I've come to realize a few things with age." He took a seat in a brown leather chair that had materialized behind the oak headmaster's desk at the font of the library. "Children just need…guidance." He propped his elbows on the desk, lacing his fingers together to rest his chin on them mockingly, "A firm 'and is all it ever takes."

"I do not care."

He clicked his tongue, obviously perturbed by her interruption, "That much I know." He replied, rising to full height, which seemed much more menacing from her seat several feet below his towering frame. "You see dearie, the best thing about getting older." He stooped to her level, his hand reaching out to lift her bowed head, "Is realizing that things can change."

The cane he kept tucked close to him leaned against the wooden surface of the chair, brushing against her hands as she still fought to free herself, "It is not I who needs to change." She shot back, unfazed by the malice creeping into his expression.

"We'll see." A vice grip brought calloused hands to her cheeks, squeezing so painfully she bit back a cry of protest, jerking as much as she could to be rid of the hold. "We'll see." He repeated under his breath now as he lurched her chin up, letting go.

It came in hisses of metal, two mechanic replicas of her captor shot out from behind bookshelves, which now encircled the two. When her surroundings had changed she could not say. In the heat of their conversation, and against the panic of being separated from her friends, it was the furthest thing from her mind. Claw-like metal gripped her arms as her wrists were miraculously released. She felt herself being drug gracelessly to the front of the room, and tried to set her feet.

"Stop this!" She dug her heels into the polished checkerboard floor tiles, a horrendous squeak resounding as she was pulled closer and closer to the desk.

"Quite the mouth on this one, that'll never do." He twirled the cane slowly around his fingers, tapping it impatiently as his machines, with their spider-like appendages, tossed her over the desk. A hand slammed down inches from her face, causing her to jump despite her best efforts to seem collected, "I'll have to beat it out of you."

Unaccustomed to earth's methods of discipline, she had no clue what awaited her, she only knew the surging anger that had created a knot in her stomach. "You are nothing but a clorbag worblernilf!" She bucked across the smooth wood, trying to kick her legs to either side, hoping to damage one of the levitating scrap heaps that kept her pinned down.

"Enough!" Cold spit and hard steel lined her arms, but she could stand that. It was when his hand, intrusive and unexpected, came down with a crisp, resounding smack against her bottom, that she let out a mew of protest.

"Stop this at once!" She cried, kicking her legs and twisting her torso as two further smacks connected with the fabric of her skirt. "You disgusting –" His long leg pressed against her own at the knee, and with no hesitation he shimmied her tight skirt up, revealing a cotton clad bottom.

"You keep talking love." He replied, chorusing his words with a round of quick, harsh swats, "You'll tire out before I do."

"Ee.' She squealed as he set down a rhythm, right to left across her sit spots and thighs. "This is unthinkable." She gasped, squirming as much as her positioning would allow, "You cannot do this, it is filthy –"

"Not at all," he countered, his hand laying harsh swats across the fabric of her panties, warming the flesh beneath them, which seemed to glow pink against their stark, light fabric. "Pretty young girl with a mouth like yours." He continued, stopping to rest his stinging hand for a moment as he tore down her last shred of modesty in one swift pull, "That's filthy." His words stung nearly as much as the weapon he raised to further his assault.

Had she been expecting it, she might've been able to hold back the cry as it connected with her tender flesh, "Ahh, sto-o-op." She wiggled, fighting with the pain as the cane was raised again and brought down with just enough force across the same hot welt it had just formed.

" 'Ad enough 'ave we?" He mocked, raising the cane and laying down three more strokes, one below the other in quick succession. "Feisty little thing like you, I think not." The pain built in numerous, unbearable lines across her punished cheeks, which bounced slightly on impact.

"Please." She found herself regretfully choking, overcome by her helplessness, and more importantly her nakedness in front of a man she barely knew. Though her clothing wasn't the most modest, she had never been so exposed to anyone, even her sister, and it was painful beyond anything she could imagine to be in this position, completely at his mercy and scrutiny. "Please." Tears stung behind her eyes, and though she fought to hide them by pressing her forehead to the desk, they did not go unnoticed.

"Right then." He noted with a particularly nasty crack of the cane across her thighs. "Six more of the best." She chewed her bottom lip, her feet twisting to cope with the relentless burn and anticipation of further pain. He tapped the wood twice in warning, then brought it down swiftly. "That's one." He chuckled softly under his breath, grabbing tuffs of her red hair and twisting them around his hand, jerking her head to the side to see the steady flow of tears staining her cheeks. "You'll count the next five or lay here until you comply."

"You will not get away with this." She spat, because she had not felt so much hatred for anyone as she did for this man, who made a show of his dominance over her.

"I already have, love." The cane bit into her bottom, breaking the skin of overlapping red and purple streaks.

She clenched her fists hard on impact, opening and closing her mouth soundlessly as she tried to force the tears away. The stream of water blurred her vision as two more quick strokes came, flaring white-hot agony over her thighs.

"I'm waiting." He called, tapping the cane twice, thrice before thwack.

"T-two." She panted, her cheeks flushed a shade close to that of her hair.

"I didn't quite hear you." Another flash of pain, this time considerably less harsh, his hand, she guessed. "Two, what?"

Her teeth grit together so fiercely she thought the impact would shake them from her mouth, "Two sir." She forced from her constricted throat, trying unsuccessfully to open her eyes enough to glare at him. Through the tears obscuring her vision she sucked in a breath. It was a mistake. The next two strokes came with no warning and she could no longer suppress the sob that passed her lips. "Three sir, four sir." She wheezed, her voice a hiccup of defeat and pain.

"Good girl." She flushed anew with shame, a sticky mess of sweat, both from exertion and fear.

Crack. "F-five." She sputtered, crying without restraint now, too embarrassed and ashamed to stop herself. Not only because she had submitted to a villain, but because her friends would eventually free themselves, and then they would see her this way. She needed the torment to end, but she knew as well as her abductor that half the punishment was the humiliation, and he intended to drag it out as long as possible.

She kept crying, hair still twisted loosely in the fingers of his free hand, clinging to it in matted strands. She had some small hope that a break from the pain would do her good, but there was no adjusting to the damage that had already been done. The sting had built to such intensity that it was hard to distinguish strokes from intermissions, except for the sharp smart of impact. She felt a rush of cool air before the tremendous pain of the final blow, which brought her to shrieking, sobbing hysteria all over again.

Shuddering breaths heaved from her chest quicker than they ever had before, she wished her hands were free so she could do her best to rub the sting away. "Let it be a lesson." She heard him say as he tugged her panties over her swollen, scorching flesh. The fabric felt unbearably tighter now, especially against the skirt, which he also brought down.

She tried to swallow her anger as the machines lifted her limp, heavy limbs from the desk. This time she did not have the will, nor the strength to fight them as they drug her back to her seat, tossing her down despite her obvious discomfort from contact with the hard, wood surface.

"STARFIRE!" His voice rang out like a bullet, and she threw her head upward in search of him.

"Robin." Her voice was hoarse and she tried quickly to collect herself, unwilling to be seen a crying, snotty mess in front of her friend. "Robin." She could not scream, she could barely whisper as her captor approached her again, his hand brushing sweaty tresses of hair from her face.

"Now, now love." His voice crept inside her like anxiety in a child, bubbling over until she thought it would spill from the vents of her ribcage, "There's much to learn before recess."

His dark eyes locked on hers, his hand preventing her from pulling away, and she wanted to hit him, wanted to knock the teeth out of his mouth and leave them, bloody trinkets of victory on his ugly floor, but she did not. She met his gaze, gave a feigned whimper, and stared above his head at the fast approaching yellow of Robin's cape. Because the damage was done. She had already let him overpower her, already given him the satisfaction of winning, and the only way to undo it was to be his undoing.

As for the rest, she could hide it. Oh, she could hide it.

And when – if – she reminded herself, the two met again, she'd be sure to let him know just where to shove his opinion of her smart mouth.

I have no idea where this came from, it was sort of a nagging thought in the back of my head. I'll leave Mod's intent to your imagination.