SpankLit

By #ClementineAshe

When an old birthday custom is revived in a very off-limits location, two students at Marlebridge College find themselves unexpectedly observed, and even more unexpectedly instructed. What begins as a cheeky tradition ends with a lesson neither of them saw coming. After all, some traditions are best upheld under expert supervision...

It was 9:30pm when Edie Carlton ushered Lorna Bell from the bottom of the rear dormitory staircase and into the shadows behind the hydrangeas.

“Come on,” Edie whispered urgently, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “If we’re going to do it, it has to be tonight. Otherwise we'd have to wait another twelve months!”

“I never said I actually wanted to go through with it,” Lorna hissed, clutching her cardigan. “I only mentioned that there’s this silly tradition for marking birthdays. We don’t have to—”

Edie cut her off. “It’s just a bit of fun. Besides, if we don’t do it, everyone will think we’re chickens.”

Lorna’s breath caught. The idea of backing out now sent a shiver of anxiety through her. “Fine,” she muttered. “But if we get caught, I’m blaming you.”

“Twenty-one birthday swats. Plus one to grow on,” Edie said with a grin. “It’s practically folklore. They say it’s a tradition that’s been known to leave a lasting impression.”

“It’s childish.”

“It’s cute,” Edie countered. “And I won’t let you graduate from Marlebridge College without a few respectable shenanigans under your belt.”

They darted across the courtyard, shoes whispering over the flagstones. The main building loomed ahead, a square Georgian edifice with ivy-clad walls. The only light still visible came from the upper floor: the faculty corridor.

Miss Mortimer’s study sat directly above the archway. No student entered without a summons, and nobody wanted one of those. The thought of being caught sent a shiver down Lorna's spine.

“Come on,” Edie said. “I saw her leave at six. We’ll be in and out.”

The study was dark and academic. Bookshelves lined one wall, their spines indistinct in shadow. A green-shaded lamp cast a warm pool of light over the desk. A clock ticked softly, counting down to either glory or doom.

The armchair sat in its usual place, upholstered in burgundy leather and, they suspected, deliberately uncomfortable. A green-shaded lamp cast an inviting glow across Miss Mortimer’s desk. It was the only light they dared to turn on.

Lorna hovered near the door, her arms folded tightly across her chest, her knuckles white.

“This is wrong, Edie. We shouldn’t be here.”

“It’s a celebration,” Edie said, drawing the curtains. “A symbolic moment to honour your twenty-first birthday. We’ll raise a toast to your dignity later. In the meantime, I’m toasting your backside.”

Lorna swallowed, her heart pounding. “You’re insane,” she whispered, but there was a hint of laughter in her voice despite her nervousness. She took a deep breath and stepped forward, her eyes fixed on the armchair. “Okay, let’s get this over with.”

Edie patted the armchair, her eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and anticipation. “Up you get. Assume the position. This is your big moment, Lorna.”

“Yeah-yeah. Make the most of it. I know when your birthday is too, you know.”

She turned, kneeling on the edge of the seat and dramatically placing her hands on the chair’s arms, leaning forward with exaggerated solemnity.

Edie surveyed the scene like a master of ceremonies.

“Go on,” she prompted. “Stick your tushie out more. How am I meant to give you a birthday spanking like that?”

With a playful wiggle, Lorna obliged. There was tension in the room now, as if it too was sharing in their forbidden thrill.

“Right then. By order of age and friendship, I hereby decree the following: twenty-one swats, applied with due ceremony. Plus one more to grow on.”

And she began, her movements deliberate and theatrical. The smacks of her palm against the seat of Lorna’s leggings echoed loudly in the confined space, punctuated by Edie's playful commentary. She was clearly enjoying her role, her voice filled with a mix of mischief and glee.

“That one was for your abysmal poetry assignment.”

Smack.

“And I’d better give you a couple extra hard for daring to suggest that Miss Mortimer dyes her hair.”

Thwack. Thwack.

“And this one,” she declared, delivering a particularly resonant Smack, “is for hiding the best biscuits during tea week.”

Lorna squirmed and laughed. Her mind raced, thrilled, but tense. Her heart leapt at every creak and rustle of movement. The fear of discovery still nagged in the back of her mind.

“I did not hide the biscuits,” she protested with a giggle. It was a less than convincing denial.

“You certainly did. And since you’re not squirming enough, these last few will be the hardest of all.” Edie was joking, mostly, but she intended to leave her friend with a memorable buzz to mark the occasion.

Lorna giggled, her voice breathless with a mix of excitement and nervousness. “Oh, really? I hadn’t actually realised you’d started yet. I thought you were just warming up.”

“Oh, you’re in for it now,” Edie chuckled. “You have four to go, so brace yourself. These are going to be the ones you remember.”

She delivered the next four swats with more force, each one marked by a loud smack that echoed through the room. Lorna grimaced, trying to suppress her laughter, her cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and exhilaration.

“And one to grow on,” Edie teased, her voice dropping to an excited whisper. “This one’s for good luck. Trust me, you're in for a lot of good luck!”

She landed a final emphatic smack with a loud crack, just as the door handle turned and the door swung open.

“Well, well, well. Miss Carlton. Miss Bell. How very unexpected.”

Miss Mortimer stood in the doorway, framed in the hallway light, her expression unreadable.

Her dark skirt suit was as sharply pressed as ever, her silver pince-nez glinting at the bridge of her nose. Under her stern gaze it felt as though the office temperature dropped a couple of degrees.

Edie straightened like she’d been caught stealing silverware. Lorna turned crimson and buried her face in the chair. Both girls shared a tremble of embarrassment and fear.

Miss Mortimer stepped forward and closed the door behind her. Even the click of the door sounded ominous.

“I have always suspected the two of you would make academic history. I hadn’t expected it would involve unauthorised entry and an impromptu disciplinary pageant.”

Edie opened her mouth, but immediately closed it again.

Miss Mortimer circled the desk, eyeing the burgundy armchair as if it had betrayed her trust.

“You are both aware these offices are out of bounds after six o’clock?”

Lorna, still flushed and half-bent, said faintly, “Yes, Miss Mortimer.”

“And yet?” Miss Mortimer's voice was harsh, cutting the silence like the crack of a whip.

“I’m sorry, Miss Mortimer. It was… well, kind of a birthday tradition,” Edie said quickly. “We weren’t mocking anything. Just... marking the occasion.”

Miss Mortimer raised an eyebrow.

“I hope you realise how seriously I take this kind of disgraceful intrusion into my private study. This is not a game, Miss Carlton. And you, Miss Bell, should know better than to participate in such foolishness.”

The girls winced, braced for academic doom.

Miss Mortimer's gaze swept over them like a searchlight in an old movie. The girls dreaded what might follow. A stern lecture? An even more severe punishment?

But then, slowly at first, something flickered at the edge of Miss Mortimer’s mouth. A betrayed smile. First a twitch, then a barely suppressed laugh.

“You two are incorrigible,” she declared. “Whose birthday is it anyway?”

With a sigh of relief, Lorna indicated it was hers.

“So. Twenty-one swats, was it?”

Miss Mortimer's smile grew wider, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Well, happy birthday, Miss Bell. I dare say, this is one birthday spanking you won't forget in a hurry.”

Lorna gave a mortified nod.

“And Miss Carlton took it upon herself to conduct the ritual? Without any proper training, I presume?” Miss Mortimer asked, her voice teasing.

Edie blinked. “Miss…?” she asked, uncertainty creeping in.

“Well, I mean, just look. Your technique’s all wrong. Lorna’s not in the correct position at all. I shouldn’t have to intervene, but if something is worth doing, it’s worth doing well. Tradition should be observed correctly.”

She turned to Edie, her eyes showing the gleam of a secret thrill.

“Miss Carlton. Come here.”

Edie blinked, her voice betraying just a touch of apprehension. “But, it’s not my birthday, Miss. I can watch and learn, if you want to give a demonstration with Lorna.”

“Don’t keep me waiting, Miss Carlton,” Miss Mortimer interrupted, her voice firm but playful. “You started this little game, and now it’s time for me to show you how it’s really done.”

Lorna gave Edie a gleeful shove, her eyes full of mischief. “You’re in for it now, Edie.”

“Quiet, the pair of you,” Miss Mortimer said, laughing now. “If you’re going to go around performing unsanctioned birthday spankings in a restricted space, I’d better give you some first-hand experience. Consider it an early celebration.”

Before Edie could object, Miss Mortimer had seated herself in the armchair, smoothing her skirt with elegant precision. She extended one hand, tapping her lap.

“Over my knee, please. I will demonstrate proper form.”

Lorna let out a delighted squeak.

Edie groaned, her heart pounding. She could feel her friend's eyes on her, and could sense her glee. After just a moment's hesitation, she obeyed, bending with theatrical reluctance. Surely Miss Mortimer was teasing her, she hoped, but there was an edge of tension. She felt a momentary shiver.

“I don’t think this is strictly necessary,” Edie murmured, feeling Miss Mortimer's hand take a reassuringly firm grip around her hips.

“Nonsense,” said Miss Mortimer. “The correct method involves even tempo, good posture, and firm contact. You may consider this... educational. I’ll decide later whether you require some additional, more advanced training.”

The demonstration began, each spank measured and deliberate, without malice but with enough snap to keep Edie squirming. Miss Mortimer's hand moved with a rhythm that was almost hypnotic, the sound of each impact echoing through the room.

“A well trained spanker should always remember to keep their hand flat, Miss Carlton. A firm, even surface ensures maximum... impact. And don't neglect the follow-through.”

Edie, initially tense, began to relax into the rhythm, her body adjusting to the steady cadence of the spanking. She let out a soft gasp with each impact, her cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and something else. Something that felt almost like... relief.

Miss Mortimer delivered a brisk dozen, then paused, her hand resting lightly on Edie's back. “Remind me again. Twenty-one, was it?”

“It’s still not my birthday,” Edie protested, but another crisp swat landed before she could say more.

Miss Mortimer chuckled. “Ah, but traditions are traditions, Miss Carlton. And I do love a good tradition.”

She continued, her hand moving with renewed vigour, each spank resonating through the room. Edie's protests turned into soft moans, her body wriggling. It was playful, but Miss Mortimer's demonstration was beginning to leave an impression.

“Now do you see how it's done, Miss Carlton?” Miss Mortimer asked, her voice laced with amusement. “Precision and purpose, but never be afraid to add a bit of flair every now and then.”

And with that, she delivered a series of firm spanks with an almost musical rhythm.

“And always remember, the goal is to leave a lasting impression. So it's ok to deliver the last one with a bit more... impact!”

With that final smack still seeming to echo around the study, she released Edie, who stood up, pink-faced but grinning.

“Lesson duly noted, Miss,” Edie confirmed with a cheeky pout.

“And I should hope so.”

Miss Mortimer rose, smoothing her sleeves in the manner of a job well done. She looked from one girl to the other.

“Now. If you must trespass in my study again, do so with better technique. And next time you decide to perform a birthday spanking, I expect an invitation.”

She opened the door and gestured grandly.

They ran.

Outside, the courtyard air was cool and sweet with the scent of night-blooming jasmine, a stark contrast to the charged atmosphere of the study. Lorna clung to Edie’s sleeve as they half-skipped, half-tripped toward the dormitory, their giggles drifting through the quiet night.

“You actually got a birthday spanking from Miss Mortimer,” Lorna gasped, her eyes wide with disbelief and amusement. “She’s not quite so terrifying as I thought. In fact, I think she was almost... enjoying it.”

“You know, Lorna, I think we just got a very hands-on lesson in tradition.”

She was laughing, but Edie could feel a prickling warmth in her rear, a reminder of the unexpected turn of events. The sensation was both embarrassing and exhilarating, a mix of emotions that left her breathless.

Lorna paused at the dormitory door, finally triumphant.

“So… same time next year?”

Edie smoothed her skirt, trying to regain some semblance of dignity. “Only if we’re very, very lucky. And maybe, just maybe, next time we'll be the ones who get an invitation.”

They shared a conspiratorial grin, the weight of the forbidden thrill still lingering between them. They shared a secret, a bond forged in the heat of the moment.

Epilogue

As she closed the door to her study, Miss Mortimer couldn’t help but chuckle softly to herself. The evening had taken an unexpected turn, but a rather delightful one. There was something satisfying about guiding young minds through the nuances of tradition.

From her study window above the courtyard, she watched Edie and Lorna scampering across the flagstones. They were as breathless and giggly as schoolgirls who had just pulled off a delightful prank.

She smiled — dry, fond, and just a little dangerous.

Yes... there was definitely something to be said for birthday traditions. Perhaps next year’s would be even more enlightening. A pity faculty aren’t eligible for birthday swats, she mused. I daresay a few of my colleagues could benefit.

With a final, satisfied smile, she let the curtains fall back into place, the room once again bathed in the soft glow of the green-shaded lamp. The night was quiet, but her mind was alive with the thrill of the unexpected, and the possibility of more adventures to come.

#FF #OTK #Hand #BirthdaySpanking

“Tradition, properly observed, may occasionally be permitted to sting.” — Miss Mortimer, on the matter of institutional memory