The Mind’s Ride to Punishment
My stomach swelled and turned. I trembled.
But oddly enough, a certain part of my mind was comforted.
A odd “cozy” and “smooth” feeling entered a section of my brain, and I was ready to accept this inevitable event, which I knew would eventually come.
I made my way past the sickly green-colored cinder blocks of the school hallway. I saw my face in the faux marble floors that were scrubbed every evening by the custodian.
I sat on the bench outside the office with my head down, glowing red.
I sat and waited. People went in and out of the office. Some motioned over to me, whispering to each other. None dared mock me here, as the risk would be too high of joining in my fate.
Finally the door opened. I didn’t even look him in the face. I just staired at the strong hands, and the big wooden paddle, with at least 40 tiny little holes drilled into it.
He may have ordered me to come in, but the rush in my brain was so strong that I didn’t hear it.
I simply walked in. I leaned across the desk, and the thumps began.
He didn’t even hit me that hard, but he did it many times. Thump, thump, thump. I got ten swats that day.
I stared at the wall on the other side of the room, my vision obscured by salty tears of blind agony.
But before I left his office, I hugged him. He was the first one who was tough enough, and cared enough, to give my bratty little self what it had needed for a long time.
I strolled back to class slowly, oddly relieved. I ached, I was sore, but I felt like a weight had been lifted from my back.
But one thing was for sure. I needed to figure out a way to my butt spanked again, and again, and again.
I would be just as terrified each time, but the thrill would be worth it.