Julie's pov

Finally the bell rings. It's last period on a Friday and I can't get out of Mr. Kemp's class fast enough. He told me at the beginning of class, when I walked in two minutes late, that I earned myself detention after class with him today.

"You're staying for after school detention today, Julie," I hear my teacher say, as soon as I get up from my seat.

"No, I'm not. We have an away game today and I can't miss the bus," I say, knowing I have to get out of his classroom before he physically prevents me from doing so.

"Yes, you are," he states angrily.

"No, I'm not!" I argue loudly, while snaking my way into the middle of about ten of my fellow students so I can make it out the door undetected. Thankfully my plan worked.

I can still hear Mr. Kemp yelling, "Julie, get back here," and I'm already halfway down the hall, about twenty feet from my locker.

I know I'll pay for this later but right now my only concern is making the bus for the away game with the rest of my basketball team. I quickly grab everything I need out of my locker and literally sprint the rest of the way to the gym locker room. I finally breathe a sigh of relief when the bus pulls out of the parking lot with me safely on board.

At least I have the entire weekend before I have to face the music, unless of course Mr. Kemp calls Mike or Shane before Monday.

I spent the weekend waiting and worrying when the shit would hit the fan. My stomach was in knots the entire time. I was wracked with guilt. Not a great weekend, to say the least. What was I thinking, deliberately defying Mr. Kemp? I'm constantly on that man's shit list as it is but this definitely elevated me to a whole new level.

Monday afternoon

Julie's pov

Well, I made it through the entire weekend without Shane and Mike finding out about what happened in Mr. Kemp's class but now it's time to pay the piper. I take a deep breath before entering his classroom, on time for once.

As soon as I cross the threshold, I hear Mr. Kemp say, "You have three referrals," in a smug, singsongy voice.

He hands me the three referral slips with a nauseating, pompous grin on his face. I so cannot stomach this man. I manage some self restraint by taking the slips and walking out the door without saying a word. Once I'm safely out of view, I read the referral slips.

The first one lists all the dates and times I've shown up late to his class. That mother fucker actually kept track. I cannot believe he wrote down every single time. I also can't believe how many days I was actually late. There are over thirty dates listed on this paper and school's only been in session for a little over two months. Wow, that does not bode well for me and more specifically my behind.

The second referral states that I continually refuse to sit in my proper seat in class. After just the second or third week of school, Mr. Kemp changed my seat to one of the lab tables in the back of the classroom. Everyone else sits at desks in the front of the class. He didn't want me sitting in my original assigned seat because in his words, "I distracted the other students, thus creating an environment that was not conducive to learning." This has got to be the stupidest referral ever created. What a joke. Why should I sit way in the back, where I can't even see, because he's so boring no one wants to listen to him?

The third referral was for deliberate disobedience for defying his order to stay after class for detention on Friday. I saw this one comin' a mile away. Drop an f in the chat. Dean Banfeld is going to whip my butt for this one and when I get home, Shane will too. I'll have to deny ever having heard him say I had detention, although there was a room full of witnesses including Lisa. I couldn't put her in that position. It wouldn't be fair asking her to lie to Shane and Mike for me, especially after Mr. Kemp wouldn't let me wake her up the other day when she fell asleep in class. He threatened to paddle her himself if I woke her and God knows I would never want that pervert to physically discipline her. I'm just gonna have to suck it up and take the L on this one.

I sit nervously waiting for Dean Banfeld to call me into his office after handing his secretary my referral slips. I don't have to wait long before he opens his office door and beckons me in with a stern look and a subtle head tilt. I swallow hard and walk slowly into his office, keeping my head lowered so as to avoid his harsh gaze.

"Sit down, Julie."

He does not sound happy. I sit down and anxiously rub my hands together as I stare at the floor, still too afraid to make eye contact with Dean Banfeld.

"Care to explain why Mr. Kemp felt the need to send you down to my office with not one, not two, but three referrals today, Julie?"

I can feel his judgmental eyes boring holes in my head as he glares at me, eagerly awaiting my response to his loaded question.

"I don't know, sir," I reply feebly, meeting his gaze. Damn if he doesn't look especially hot today.

"Do you know which of these three referrals upsets me the most?" Dean Banfeld continues without waiting for a response to his apparently rhetorical question. "Why aren't you sitting in the proper seat in class?"

My jaw drops in disbelief. I'm sorry! What now? Are you freaking kidding me? If it wasn't for the deathly serious look on his face, I would swear he was joking. I've been late to Mr. Kemp's class like 90% of the time and I blatantly disrespected the man by defying his order to serve a rightfully deserved detention but the fact that I don't sit in the proper seat is what upsets you the most? I have no idea how to respond to that.

"I expect an answer, Julie. Why do you refuse to sit in your assigned seat?"

I find this so truly preposterous, ludicrous, and asinine that I cannot possibly wrap my head around an acceptable or appropriate response. Who the fuck cares where I sit? Seeing the extremely pissed off expression on Dean Banfeld's face, I have my answer. He does. God knows why.

"It's just hard for me to see the board from the back of the room," I stammer, desperate to hide my complete and utter lack of concern for this non-issue, in my opinion.

"You will sit in your assigned seat from now on. IS THAT CLEAR?" Dean Banfeld states coldly.

I swear if he wasn't exuding sex out of every pore, I would be upset AF with him right now.

"Yes sir," I respond, as a chill runs through me upon hearing the authority in his voice. I cannot understand why but he is without a doubt genuinely upset by my wanton disregard for Mr. Kemp's seating chart.

"As far as the other issues are concerned, try to get to class on time. Okay? Also, you'll be serving three days of office detentions in place of the detention you failed to serve on Friday." Dean Banfeld pauses as he reaches into his desk drawer and pulls out his disciplinary paddle.

Fuck! I knew this was coming but it still sucks actually seeing it come to fruition with my own eyes.

Dean Banfeld gently places the paddle on his desk before standing and placing his hands on his hips.

"You're going to receive twenty strokes today for your disobedience and twenty strokes for your tardiness. Be grateful I'm being extremely lenient regarding the number of strokes I've calculated for your excessive disregard for punctuality. Assume the position, Julie," he says grimly.

Knowing this could have ended much worse and the fact that this punishment won't even be a drop in the bucket compared to what I'm facing from Shane when I get home, I quickly get into position.

Dean Banfeld picks up the paddle and walks around to my side of the desk. He lightly presses his left hand against the small of my back. His right hand holds the paddle flush against my bottom. "Count them followed by sir."

My entire body tenses in anticipation of the first stroke. He draws the paddle back and taps it on my behind twice before administering the first punishing stroke.

SMACK

"One sir," I say, after regaining the breath that first harsh stroke took from me.

SMACK

"Two sir." My knees buckle a little, involuntarily as he's not holding back.

SMACK

"Three sir," I hiss through my clenched jaw, as the pain is really beginning to set in.

Dean Banfeld continues to spank me with the paddle, bringing tears to my eyes by the eighth stroke. I struggle to stay in position as the pain radiates through my bottom. Dean Banfeld spanks with the same excruciating intensity throughout. The temptation to reach back and rub my ever reddening behind becomes great enough to distract me from the count.

"I'm waiting, Julie," he says, tapping the paddle against my bottom.

"Thirteen?" I guess, unaware of where he's at in the sequence. It's difficult to keep count when I'm distracted by my impure thoughts.

"Fifteen actually, but have it your way."

SMACK

"Fourteen sir."

Dean Banfeld sighs and gently rubs my back with his left hand.

"No, that was a repeat of stroke thirteen since you lost count. Pay attention, Julie, or we'll start from the beginning."

"Shit," I mumble under my breath, or so I thought.

Dean Banfeld cracked the paddle rapidly against my left butt cheek, delivering three punishing strokes for my profanity.

SMACK SMACK SMACK

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that and you're not going to count those three."

"Ow, yes sir," I say, through the tears now streaming down my cheeks. Those three phantom, "un"countable strokes were much harder than the previous tangible, countable ones.

Dean Banfeld proceeds to spank me ruthlessly twenty-seven more times with his unforgiving hard wooden paddle. He really is inexplicably pissed about this stupid assigned seat bullshit. I thankfully manage to keep the count through the burning intense pain he inflicts on my bruised, inflamed buttocks. Although he's strict, I never feel his punishments to be unfair or unfeeling. He's always treated me with respect and I try to do the same in return. The paddling now over, Dean Banfeld returns his disciplinary weapon of choice to its rightful place in his desk drawer. I can't help wondering if he has one in his nightstand as well.

I remain standing on the other side of his desk, facing him while silently waiting to be dismissed.

Dean Banfeld addresses me with a distinct dominance in not only his body language but also his inflection, "As per protocol, I will be telephoning your guardians to inform them of the corporal punishment you've received today."

Since school policy dictates that anytime corporal punishment is administered to a student, the parents/guardians of said student will be immediately notified, this did not come as a surprise to me.

"I expect you will immediately return to class and sit in your proper seat now, Julie. You're dismissed."

"Yes sir." Out of respect for him and his position of authority, I wouldn't respond any other way to Dean Banfeld.