Clandestine Librarian

[Story Depicts Spanking]

Paige threaded the crowded hallway of Castle Rook Academy, her backpack heavy with contraband, her nerves buzzing with excitement. The girl's bathroom at the end of the 7th grade hall echoed emptily as she opened the door, but she checked the three stalls just in case. Just because she'd managed her clandestine affairs without being caught all semester didn't mean she could get careless now.

She set her backpack on the counter and ran the water in the left sink, the one furthest from the door. She washed her hands, dried them, waited. She was just about to decide her customer had stood her up when the door opened.

Paige didn't look up. She affected an attitude of calm indifference though her heart pounded. She'd gained a reputation as a cool, calm, collected type, but it was all a front.

"Hey. So, I'm kinda in a hurry. Do... do you have..."

It was Bernice Arnold, a girl a few grades older than Paige. Paige looked up at her through the mirror. Bernice was usually a shy smile away from a conspiratorial giggle. They weren't friends in the sense of hanging out on the weekends, but in stolen moments in the girl's bathroom, they'd shared their love of books, especially books on the banned list of Castle Rook Academy. But now her eyes were red-rimmed. She looked nervous.

"Are you okay?"

Bernice sort of shrugged. "I just... I have to go soon. Do you have something I can borrow?"

Paige nodded, but hesitated. She'd managed to go nearly the whole year running her clandestine library of banned books out of her backpack without getting caught by being meticulously careful. She only loaned books to girls she knew appreciated literature, girls she knew had a reputation for being honest, girls who didn't look like they were harried and recently crying.

"Uh, maybe some other time. I've gotta..."

She tried to push past, but Bernice grabbed at her, desperately.

"No!" Bernice shouted.

Paige cringed away as Bernice grabbed her backpack.

"Let go!" Paige pulled hard at her backpack and stumbled into the door. She pulled it open and hurried into the hallway right into the arms of Mr. Joseph, headmaster of Castle Rook Academy. 

He grabbed her her shoulders.

"Come with me, Ms. Quillon." He looked past Paige to the bathroom where Bernice stood, tears on her cheeks. "You too, Ms. Arnold."

Before Paige could object, Mr. Joseph grabbed her by the backpack and steered her through the halls to his office. Those students who lingered stared and Paige avoided looking at them.

In the administrators' office, Mr. Joseph pushed her into a seat and directed Bernice to sit next to her with an imperious gesture.

Paige quailed, her heart echoing in every joint.

"Is this the girl?"

Paige blinked hard, confused.

"Yes," Bernice squeaked.

"She has them in her bag?"

"I... I think so."

Mr. Joseph glowered at Bernice. "If you've lied to me, it's another paddling for you, Ms. Arnold."

"No," said Paige. For a moment, she'd felt betrayed. Now she knew Bernice had given her up only after a beating. "She's not wrong." Paige slipped her pack from her back to her lap and unzipped it. With a touch of drama, she upended it on the floor, each book tumbling from it was on Castle Rook Academy's Banned Book List. She glared up at Mr. Joseph"defiant.

Mr. Joseph glanced at the books before fixing Paige with a gimlet glare.

"Florence. Send Ms. Arnold home, then prepare a slip for Ms. Quillon."

Paige hadn't realized there was anyone else in the room. Miss Florence Gates was the administrative secretary for the school. Paige had never had occasion to meet her before.

From her desk, Miss Gates began shuffling paper. "What about the... books?"

"Catalog them. I'll want the list shortly."

"Yes, sir."

Mr. Joseph grabbed Paige by the shoulder, his thumb digging into the space between shoulder and chest, and hauled her to her feet. He propelled her into his office and closed the door firmly.

"Sit, Ms. Quillon."

A bare, three-legged stool stood before the heavy wooden desk. Paige wanted to defy Mr. Joseph, to stand, but he pushed her down onto the stool with an extra hard squeeze. Paige winced and rubbed her shoulder as Mr. Joseph opened a cabinet in the corner behind his desk. There hung three paddles: small, medium, and large. Though she'd never seen them before, Paige recognized them from rumor: the panty-patter, firestarter, and bumbuster. Rumor had it Mr. Joseph only ever used the panty-patter on girls and the bumbuster on boys, using the firestarter on either, but Mr. Joseph retrieved the largest of the three from the cabinet, closed it with a click, and set the paddle on his desk with a thump.

Said to be two feet long and nearly an inch thick, the dreaded bumbuster looked twice as big as claimed. It had a leather-wrapped handle, beveled edges, and a deep, dark shine.

Mr. Joseph sat behind his desk in his high-backed, red-leather chair, steepeled his fingers, and stared at her. "How long has this been going on, Ms. Quillon?"

Paige bit her tongue.

"If you cooperate, Ms. Quillon, this will go much easier on you."

Paige looked at the bumbuster. He'd already gotten out his biggest paddle, what else was there?

"Make no mistake, Ms. Quillon, your flagrant disregard for our rules has earned you a spanking today. But unless you cooperate, I'll write home to your mother as well."

Her mouth went dry and she met Mr. Joseph's gaze. He was serious.

"I... I started loaning books in September."

"And did you know you were lending books on our banned book list?"

She figured, what the hell? "I got books specifically on your nonsensical list to loan out."

"Ms. Quillon, our list of banned books is..."

"It's stupid. First, you're banning literature because is references sex or violence, or racism, but what is art if it can't comment on such things? Second, the quickest way to get teenagers interested in something is to ban it, so your list is counterproductive. Third, censorship of art is the beginning of the end. What are you going to do next, tell us what we can and cannot think?"

The following silence rang in her ears. Paige held her breath. Miss Gates knocked at the door and came in. She shot Paige a dirty look before handing two pieces of paper to Mr. Joseph and leaving. Mr. Joseph turned his attention to the papers.

"Hmm... Harry Potter, The Chocolate War, Of Mice and Men, Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, The Color Purple, Go Ask Alice, Catcher in the Rye, and To Kill a Mockingbird." He looked up at Paige from the paper. "I take it this is but the tip of your collection?"

Paige nodded.

"Well, I'll be confiscating the books."

"When can I get them back?"

"When your mother comes to collect them. But I was under the impression you didn't want your mother to know about this."

Paige swallowed hard and nodded.

"Eight banned books," Mr. Joseph said as he turned to the second piece of paper and wrote something. "That will be one swat of the paddle for each book, another one each for disseminating contraband to fellow students, and another one per month of dissemination." He paused and wrote a few more notes. "That's twenty-four, Ms. Quillon."

Paige felt she was about to be ill, to faint, or both.

"Now, tell me which students you loaned books to."

Paige blinked at him, trying to catch her breath and steady her vision. "What?"

"Tell me who you gave books to."

Paige looked again at the paddle. She remembered Bernice. "Why?"

"Because if you don't, I'm going to paddle you on your bare bottom."

Paige squeezed her knees tight together and hunched her shoulders. "You want their names so you can paddle them too, right?"

"That's none of your concern."

"I think it is. I won't tell on them. Paddle my bare butt, write to my mother, I don't care. You can do what you want to me. I won't tell."

They stared at each other for a while.

"I see." Mr. Joseph took a few more notes. "I'll just double the count then. Take off your dress and bend over the desk."

Mr. Joseph stood and picked up the bumbuster. Paige had never realized before how large, Mr. Joseph was. In his hand, the massive bumbuster looked practically dainty.

Numbly, she stood, and unbuckled the belt of her school uniform. She fumbled at the buttons at her neck. And though her hands shook and her fingers were numb and she could barely breathe, she pulled the green dress over her head. While Mr. Joseph watched, she folded it neatly and set it on the three-legged stool, leaving her in a cream blouse and matching socks and panties. Without looking at Mr. Joseph, she stepped up to the desk and bent over, its corner digging in to her pelvis. She reached to the far side and gripped its edge hard.

For the space of heartbeat stretched to forever, nothing happened. Paige wondered if Mr. Joseph had changed his mind, or perhaps she'd misheard him. Then his thick fingers grasped the back of her panties and pulled them down, his knuckles pressing into her bottom. She shivered and bit her lip.

It's too early to start crying, she admonished herself even as tears built at the bottoms of her eyes.

He put his left hand on her bottom and slid it up her back so that her shirt bunched, removing even the hint of protection. Then he pressed down heavily. Her throat stung. She swallowed hard and tried to catch her breath.

But the first blow of the paddle knocked it from her.

Her mind scattered. It hurt of course, but somehow she'd thought it would hurt worse. She'd never been spanked before, had never really given it much thought, but still. It was strange, however, how it made it difficult to breathe, like she'd been punched in the gut. It'd been loud too, like a gunshot in the movies. She wondered if Ms. Gates had heard, if the kids in the hall had. She wondered if she'd shouted. She thought she must have but she couldn't remember. And that was just the first, she reminded herself. She tried to remember how many she was getting: one for each book, one each for disseminating, and one"

The second swat of the paddle caught up to the first and drove her scattered mind to needlepoint focus. The pain she thought hadn't been there a moment before filled her with fire and she gasped, still trying to find her breath.

The third was like a fire on her skin and she cried out. She pulled hard at the other side of the desk to keep herself still.

Then came the fourth, the fifth, the sixth and this, she was certain, was how she'd expected a spanking to feel. It hurt more than getting a shot, more than falling off her bike, more than stubbing her toe so hard the toenail had come off. She yelped and cried, tears pooling on Mr. Joseph's desk.

And then she remembered: twenty-four. She was getting twenty-four swats of the paddle.

She bit her tongue and counted the seventh, the eighth, the ninth.

And then she remembered: he said he was doubling it.

That was when she broke.

Mr. Joseph was inexorable. He swung his mighty paddle steadily, unmoved by her tears, her wails, her bright. throbbing bottom.

Paige lost count. All she could do was sob and hold fast to the other side of the desk. Each swat pressed her into the desk, pressed her into herself, until all she knew was the fire in her backside, her throat, her hands. The spanking pounded pain into her, pounded everything else out.

There came a sudden lull.

Paige tried to gather a full breath, but Mr. Joseph shifted his weight, pressing on her with his other hand. Paige gasped through her sobs. She heard the voices of Mr. Joseph and Ms. Gates, but it was just noise. She focused instead on trying to calm the sobs, to quiet the tears.

The smack of the paddle against her bare bottom destroyed the attempt. She squealed and sobbed under a sudden, rapid barrage of blows from the bumbuster. She pulled hard at the far end of the desk, like she might be able to pull herself through it and away from the paddle.

When the weight of his hand lifted from her back, the air rushed into her chest and she choked on it. Coughing, sobbing, shuddering, she barely registered that the spanking was over until she felt Mr. Joseph drop the bumbuster onto his desk with a dull thunk. She stood suddenly and took a step back. Mr. Joseph was sitting in his chair, his fingers steepled, his glare thorough.

"Get dressed and go home, Ms. Quillon. I went easy on you. If this ever happens again, I will not be so kind."

Paige grabbed her neatly folded dress and pulled it over her head as she hurried from the room. She didn't bother with the buttons at her neck. She forgot her belt. She didn't even realize she'd neglected to pull up her panties. She hurried from the office, trying to swallow her sobs. The hallways were empty and she found the first bathroom she could, stumbling into a stall for the modicum of privacy. There, she rested her head on the cool metal door and waited for the tears to subside.

Some time later, she carefully, deliberately righted her clothes, though she couldn't cinch her waist as she'd forgotten her belt. Then she exited the stall and washed her face. She looked a wreck: eyes and cheeks cherry red, like a little girl who'd sobbed her heart out.

When she left the bathroom, the halls were dark. She walked stiffly from the school and caught the bus into the heart of the city, ignoring the looks of the other passengers. At 72nd and October street, she got off the bus and, despite the throbbing ache radiating from her backside, strode with confidence to her favorite place in the world: a little store called Books and Nooks.

"Gods, Paige, what happened to you?"

Kim was the owner of Books and Nooks and probably her best friend in the whole world. She was a large, matronly woman with buzzed short hair and an accouterment of piercings and tattoos. She loved books as much as Paige did and was the source of the books for her lending operation.

"I was found out," Paige said, her voice still raw.

"Oh. Bummer, girl."

"Yeah."

"And... you're really upset about it?"

Paige cleared her throat, embarrassed.

"I suppose they took the books?" Kim asked.

Paige nodded.

"I'm just trying to figure out why you look like your kitten died."

Paige shrugged. "I got paddled."

Kim chuckled, but quickly sobered. "You're serious."

Paige nodded. She outlined what had happened.

"How is that even legal?"

"It's an old law, but it's still allowed. Besides, mom signed the contract with the school. Corporal punishment is a highlighted feature of Castle Rook.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Well, is there anything I can do for you? Do you need, I don't know, and ice pack or something?"

Paige shook her head. "I do want to replace the books they stole though."

"You're not going to keep on with this are you?"

Paige nodded. "Most of these kids don't have access to the kind of books that change minds or show different ideas, or take us on adventures. And even if they could get access, they're afraid to do it on their own. I just... I need to be sneakier."

"And if you're caught again?"

Paige swallowed hard. She had no desire to suffer another bare-bottom paddling with the bumbuster, but neither was she prepared to let Mr. Joseph win.

"I'm gonna go upstairs and change," Paige said.

Paige's mother owned the building, buying it because Paige had asked her to. A year or so ago, Kim had been ready to shut down Books and Nooks as the rent was getting exorbitant. So, Paige had convinced her mother to buy the building and let Paige manage it. It would be good business experience, Paige had said. The building had five apartments on the second floor and two stores on the bottom floor: Books and Nooks, and a little café. The building wasn't particularly profitable, but it made enough to pay the bills with a little left over. As a bonus, Books and Nooks stayed open, Paige had her own little apartment (the smallest in the building), and Kim was her neighbor.

In her little apartment, Paige took a long, hot shower. She tried not to think about Mr. Joseph's office, the edge of his desk digging in to her hips, the weight of his hand on her back, the blow of the paddle on her bare bottom. It crowded her thoughts nonetheless. She cried again.

When she was done, she looked at her bottom in the mirror. It was dark with bruises.

Dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, she went back down to the book store. Kim helped her find replacements for the books stolen and they considered what might be added to the collection.

"Mr. Joseph threatened to write home to mom," Paige said.

They sat on a couch in one of the nooks in the back of the store.

"Well, is that so bad?"

Paige nodded. "I don't want to move schools again. Plus, she might take away managing the building. But I filled out all the school forms, so if he does 'write home', it'll come here. So, I was wondering..." Paige blushed, not sure how to ask her favor.

"You want me to pretend to be your mom if a letter comes here?"

Paige nodded.

"Sure thing."

The bell above the door tinkled and Kim heaved herself to her feet to greet the customer. Paige curled upon the couch and picked up a battered copy of Fahrenheit 451. She definitely didn't want to get spanked again, but neither was she prepared to give in. As she wove her way through Guy Montag's dystopia, she considered options. Perhaps she could start up an email list and ship books in nondescript packages. Perhaps she could meet her customers somewhere other than school. 

Perhaps...