Please not the paddle

It was like a death sentence. A physical blow to her tummy. Her terror returned. Her breathing quickened.

No. No. No. No. No……”please…no….” No. No..

“Beverly? Yes, sweetie, I said you’re to be paddled. Five strokes. Please, stand up and face my desk.”

Mrs. Buchanan picked up the paddle. Beverly remained seated.

“Please….no…..anything else…..”

“Stand up, Beverly, unless you would like to get more than five.”

More? Beverly stood, feeling that she may faint. She faced the desk.

“Bend over. Put your forearms on the desk, Beverly.”

Would she have to pull her skirt up? Her panties down? She bent over. “Keep your legs straight” she heard. Straight, so her bottom would be pushed out for the paddle.

The girl outside would hear. Her teachers would know. Her friends would know! Her parents would know! No…no….no…

“If you misbehave at all during the week, I will paddle you on Friday when you come to see me, Beverly. So, remember what this is like, and think about it the next time you decide to pass a note in class.”