Kristy is a Creative Writing major in college and she has problems with procrastinating, skipping classes, and in general, not taking care of herself. Her mentor, Heath, tries to help her correct those problems. Will Kristy learn?
“So what are you going to do?”
Heath’s words played through my mind on repeat as I sat in front of my computer screen, facing yet another blank page at 2:00 in the morning.
“Tell me”, he said, as he smacked me with that damn paddle over and over again. “What are you going to do?”
“I’ll do my homework on time! I won’t procrastinate!” I promised, screaming at the top of my lungs.
“And?” he asked, slapping me again with that damn thing. “What else?”
“I’ll take care of myself.”
“And how are you going to do that?” I didn’t answer, but sobbed instead. I don’t think he liked that. “How are you going to do that?” he asked again, this time enunciating more harshly. I still remained silent. “Hmm, Kristy? Tell me, what are you going to do?” He smacked me again with the paddle. “Do I have to get the belt?”
“No!” I screamed, “No!”
“Then tell me what you’re going to do.” He hit me again.
“I’m going to do my homework on time! I won’t procrastinate! I’ll go to sleep at a reasonable hour! I’ll eat healthier!”
“That’s what I want to hear,” he said, slapping me again and again. “Just a little more to drive this lesson home. I don’t want to do this again. Do you understand me, Kris?”
“If I find out that you haven’t improved, the spanking you get will be much worse. Do you understand me?”
“Good,” he said, slapping me one more time with the paddle. “Get up. Stand in the corner. Don’t come out until I tell you to.”
It had been about 2 weeks ago that I’d gotten that spanking. And as I sat there in front of my computer at 2:00 in the morning, with a 7-page paper due in less than 10 hours and nothing written, I realized that if Heath found out he was going to kill me, which he would probably do anyway, as I’d been ignoring all his calls and e-mails checking in on me.
I mean, it’s not like my first drafts are that awful, and it’s not like it takes me that long to write a paper once I get started. I’m an English major. I’ve mastered the art of bullshitting. I can write just about anything for a class and still end up with a C on it when I’m at my worst. The problem was, I was capable of being a 4.0 student. If I was actually motivated, I probably could have gotten into an Ivy League college. I could have gone to Brown or Harvard or Yale. But instead I ended up going to college an hour away from home. It wasn’t a bad school, but it wasn’t Ivy League. Like I said, motivation issues. And Heath, my mentor, was determined to turn me into the student and person that he knew I could be, that I knew I could be. So why was I sitting here at 2:00 in the morning with nothing written for a paper that was worth a fifth of my grade?
At least he doesn’t know that I’ve been skipping classes, I thought. Then I shuddered, thinking about what would happen if he did. My spankings were bad enough as it was. I didn’t want to think about how Heath would react if he knew that I was also skipping classes almost every week.
“You know you can do better,” Heath told me. “You’re an intelligent young woman. Why aren’t you acting like it?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered.
“Don’t you want to be successful? Don’t you want to write for a living? Isn’t that why you came to college? So you’d understand your craft better?”
“Yes, sir,” I whispered again.
“You can do so much better than this. I want you to forget about what everyone else has ever told you and listen to me. You are an intelligent young woman and if you’d just put your mind to it, I guarantee you that you could be one of the greats.” He paused, looking me in the eye, “But what have you been doing instead?”
“Slacking off,” I said.
“And in the process you’ve jeopardized your future and your health. Well, we’re going to fix that today, Kristy. Over my knee, now, and no whining. You don’t want to make this worse than it already is.”
My phone vibrated. I looked down at it to see one text message, from Heath. Why hadn’t I noticed that before?
We need to talk. ASAP. Call me in the morning.
I groaned, for two reasons. First, because I now realized that within the next 24 hours or so (because it was a weekend), I’d inevitably be receiving a far worse spanking than I’d gotten 2 weeks prior to this date. Second, because it dawned on me that with this new revelation, there was no way I was going to be able to get this paper done. So I opened my e-mail, sent one to my teacher asking for an extension and hoped for the best, going to bed afterwards because I knew that if I showed up at Heath’s place the next day also sleep-deprived, I would be in even worse trouble than I already was.
I woke up the next morning to the sound of my phone vibrating. “What?” I groaned, half asleep. Then I looked at the clock; it read: 12:30; and picked up my phone. Heath. “Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.” Not only had I overslept for my class but I’d also forgotten to call Heath. “Hello,” I answered, trying to sound as awake as possible.
“Didn’t I tell you to call me this morning, Kris? Why didn’t you?”
“Because I overslept.”
“How late did you stay up last night?”
“Um… not too late?”
“Kristy, how late did you stay up last night?” he said again, this time with more authority in his voice.
“I didn’t fall asleep until about 3:45, okay?”
He sighed, exasperated. “What time was your first class?”
“You’re gonna be furious,” I whispered.
“I’m already furious. You may as well tell the truth.”
“I missed it, okay. It was at 11:00.”
“Didn’t you have a paper due for that class?”
“How do you just sorta have a paper due for class?” He waited for me to respond and when I didn’t, “Wait, did you just not do it?”
“I asked for an extension,” I whined.
“And did she grant it to you?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered. “I haven’t checked yet.”
“Kristy, I want you to come here tonight, straight after your next class. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, sir,” I muttered.
“And don’t even think about missing your next class. Do you understand me, young lady?”
“Okay, I’ll see you in a few hours.”
“Bye, Heath,” and with that he hung up.
I shuddered and started thinking about what had happened the last time. Why hadn’t I thought about what would happen until now? Was I stupid? Did I really think I could get away without even trying to improve? He was right. I was smart. So what the hell was I doing with my time?
Youtube videos. Crazy cat antics. Ellen DeGeneres. The books that I wasn’t supposed to read. Japanese mangas. Stardust. American Gods. Carrie. Eat Pray Love. National Geographic. Stories about the dying rainforest. Calvin and Hobbes. Facebook. The New Yorker. Literary magazines. The occasional fairy tale. Chinese dramas. He couldn’t argue that most of what I was doing was educational, could he?
I guessed that Heath would have a different answer to that.
“You are so much better than this.” I kept hearing Heath’s voice in my head, the entire day, replaying the last time I had seen him even as I was sitting in class. I tried to pay attention. But I couldn’t. It didn’t even matter that this was my favorite class. I just couldn’t get myself to participate in the discussion on The Picture of Dorian Gray, which was a book I loved. I hoped my teacher didn’t notice. If he asked, I’d just claim that I’d been having a bad day, which wasn’t really far from the truth. But it was about to get a lot worse.
“Get up,” Heath demanded, “and get me the paddle.”
“No,” I whined.
“Do you want something else too, Kristy? Because it’s about to be a lot worse if you don’t do as I say. Now go get me the paddle and come back here,” he smacked me twice as he stood me up. I complied and went over to the drawer where he kept his implements for me, drawing out the paddle I knew he would want, long and thick, 8 holes, 4 on each side, and handed it to him. “Good girl. Back over my knee.” He guided me over his lap and restrained my legs. I started crying, and reached out for his left hand for comfort. “I’m only doing this for your own good, Kris. I promise,” and with that he raised the paddle, and I screamed out in bloody murder, squeezing his hand and trying not to reach back.
“I expect you to be here by 5:00,” he said to me over the phone as I was packing my duffel bag. I’d undoubtedly be spending the night. “Call me if you’re going to be late. And don’t use your phone while you’re driving. I don’t want you to get into an accident, okay?”
“Okay, Heath. I won’t use my phone unless I’m off the road. I promise.”
“Good. I’ll see you in a bit.”
“Yeah, see you in a bit,” I whispered, and hung up the phone, already remorseful. Though, I doubted that being remorseful would matter any.
Heath lived about 30 minutes away from me, on the other side of town. We’d actually met in an English class. At the time, he was a super senior, having taken the fifth year to complete his degree, and I was a sophomore. We’d hit it off right away, becoming good friends in a matter of about a week. We started hanging out with each other and it was only by accident that the topic of spanking had come up. The fact that he might also be part of the community had never crossed my mind. People like me were so hard to find. I’d given up hope of ever finding a mentor who wasn’t also interested in taking advantage of me. It seemed like they didn’t exist. Then I found Heath and he started mentoring me. Now, I was a junior in college, and it felt like I’d known him forever. After all, there wasn’t much I could think of that he didn’t know about me.
As I drove, I listened to NPR, hoping that maybe I could focus my mind on something other than what I knew was about to happen. On any ordinary day, I’d find the interviews, eclectic music and stories of Middle Eastern conflict fascinating. Growing up, I’d always been the girl with my nose in a book, the attentive listener. I was fascinated with learning everything I could and usually soaked up information like a sponge. Unfortunately, I also had issues with accepting authority. If someone told me to read something or to do something, I automatically didn’t want to do it. That’s something else Heath and I had been working on. I’d recently become more compliant in my spankings, but only because I wanted to be better and didn’t want to disappoint Heath. I’d looked my entire life for someone like him and I didn’t want to screw that up. Not now.
I sighed as I turned down Heath’s road and pulled up to his driveway. Unbuckling my seatbelt, I looked at the clock on my phone. 5:00. Right on time. “Here we go,” I muttered as I grabbed my duffel bag from the passenger side of the car and walked up to the front door of his house. I didn’t even have to knock. He was already standing there, a look of disappointment spread across his face. “Come in,” he said, opening the door to his living room.
“Hi,” I said, giving him a slight smile and looking up at him as if to say, I’m sorry.
He hugged me and rubbed my back, kissing the top of my head. “Go put your stuff in the guest room. Wait for me there. I’ll be in in just a moment.”
I nodded and walked down the hall to a room that was essentially mine. Heath didn’t have any other mentees. If anyone else ever used this room, it was his family when they came to visit, maybe another friend here or there. But seeing as I spent more time with him than anybody else, I doubted if there were too many other people who slept in this room and definitely no one else who got spanked in it. Ugh, that word. I sat down on the bed and started biting my fingernails, realizing what I had coming to me.
“You’re better than this. What happened to the Kris I know?”
“I don’t know.”
“You know what you’re worth, Kristy. So go out and get what you’re worth. Stop fooling around like this,” he lifted his hand and started spanking again.
The door opened and I almost jumped out of my skin. “Oh, hi,” I muttered.
Heath lifted my duffel bag off the bed and sat down next to me. “What am I going to do with you?” I didn’t answer, assuming it was a rhetorical question. “So why haven’t you been answering any of my calls or e-mails?”
“I’ve been busy.” I looked down at my hands, refusing to look him in the eye.
“Really? Too busy to have a few 5 minute conversations with me here and there? I was just calling to check up on you. Were you afraid of something?” I didn’t answer. “Could it be that you haven’t been doing what we agreed upon?” Again, no answer. “I asked you a question, Kristy.”
“No? No what, Kristy?”
“No, I haven’t been doing what I’m supposed to be doing.”
“You’ve been procrastinating?” I nodded. “Did your teacher give you the extension?”
“Well, at least you have that going for you.” He paused. “What else haven’t you been doing? I heard you stayed up late again last night. Is that pretty typical?”
“And how late have you been staying up on a regular basis?”
“Until 4:00 some days. 2:00 on others,” I whispered.
“Is that because you wait to do your homework until the last minute?” I nodded. “Well that stops today. Do you hear me?” I nodded again. “What about eating?”
“Heath, please, do we have to talk about this?”
“Kris, I’m not going to ask you again. Have you been eating like you’re supposed to?” I shook my head. “And why not?”
“I don’t know. I don’t have time.”
“Make the time. Do you hear me?” I nodded. “Okay. Stand up. Go to the corner, hands on your head. Feet against the wall.” I stood up but hesitated. He grabbed my arm and smacked me a few times over my jeans. “You heard me. To the corner, now.”
“Heath, please,” I begged, turning around, “be reasonable.”
“If this isn’t reasonable, Kris, then I don’t know what is. You’ve deliberately disobeyed the rules we agreed upon. And you’ve jeopardized your school, your future and your health yet again. Now stand in the corner, hands on your head, thinking about the punishment I’m about to give you and how you’re going to avoid it in the future. Don’t make me tell you again.” He smacked my bum one more time.
I whined but obeyed him, hands on my head, and stood there, waiting for my imminent doom, thinking about what was about to happen. As I stood there, I heard him rustling around in the drawer, probably trying to find a suitable instrument. 15 minutes went by and I was shaking the whole time.
“You can do better than this. You know you can do better.”
“Okay, Kristy, come here,” he said.
I turned around and walked towards him, only to see that god-awful hairbrush and the evil spoon sitting next to him on the bed. “No,” I whined, stamping my foot on the ground.
“Shh, Kris,” he said, putting a finger up to my lips to hush me. “Stop your squirming. Listen to me, okay? This is what’s going to happen. I’m going to take you over my knee and give you a warm up over your jeans. I’ll lift you up and take your pants down. I’ll spank you over your panties but after that, everything is going to be bare-bottomed.” I whined. “Don’t even try to get out of this. You’ve known you had this coming for a long time. Didn’t you?” I nodded. “Then take it like a big girl, okay?” I nodded again. “I’m also going to spank you with the hairbrush and the belt.” He picked up the spoon. “And I’m going to give you a few strokes with this to remind you of what’s going to happen the next time we have to go over this. But there’s not going to be a next time, is there?”
“Okay, come on. Over my lap.”
“Heath, I’m sorry!”
“I know you are, but that doesn’t change anything.”
“But,” I started.
“Do you want extras?”
“Then over my lap. Now.” He helped me over and restrained my legs with his. Rubbing my back for a bit, he began his lecture again. “Do you remember when you told me what your professors were saying about you?”
“Then you know that you can do better. You’re barely managing a 2.8 and yet your teachers are still telling you that you’d do well in graduate school and that you’re an asset to the department. Can you imagine what they would say if you actually put effort into what you were doing, Kristy?” He began spanking me, from one side to another. I started whimpering. “And what is it with the sleep deprivation and starving yourself? How many hours of sleep should you be getting, Kristy?”
“I don’t know, sir,” I whispered.
“You don’t know, really?” I could tell he was shaking his head at me. “Well, we’ll see if you know after this.” He gave me some really hard spanks. “Do you want to try that again?”
“More than what I’m getting.”
“Let’s try about 6 to 8. How many are you getting now?”
“Probably about 3 to 5.”
“That’s also stopping today. Do you hear me? You’ll be going to bed early tonight.” He started hitting my thighs.
“Heath! Please, stop! I’ll do better! I promise!”
“I know you will, especially after I’m through with you.”
“Heath…” I whined, reaching my hand back to block the spanking.
“Kris, stop it right now. I can go all night, and I will if you don’t stop.”
I put my hands back in front of me and bit down on my lip, trying to stifle my screams as Heath slammed his hand against my backside over and over again.
“Get up,” Heath said after a couple of minutes, grabbing my hands and lifting me up on his own. “Pull down your pants.”
I reluctantly complied, standing on my shaky legs, quivering as I unbuttoned my jeans and pulled them down to my knees. “That’s good,” said Heath, pulling me gently back towards him. “Come on, back over.”
Heath pulled me over his knee, and lifted his hand up again, palm hitting against my already tender flesh repeatedly and I was reminded once again of my last spanking and how I’d managed to end up here, once again. I was getting too old for this crap.
For a moment, I felt him stop, but only to pick up the hairbrush that was sitting next to him. He rammed it down on my backside, and I let out a scream of bloody murder. It was as if I had seen the ghost of Hamlet’s father. “You will start taking care of yourself. You will not wait until midnight to start your papers. You are going to go to sleep early, and you’re going to eat 3 meals a day. Do you understand me?”
I whined, crying into my still trembling hands. He hit me on my right thigh with the hairbrush, with more force than I thought he was capable of mustering. “I said, do you understand me, young lady?”
“Good.” He picked the hairbrush back up and hit me a few more times, before standing me up and having me lean over the bed. At this point, I was racked with sobs, too exhausted to even entertain the thought of fighting him. I just fell into the mattress, waiting for him to lay the first blow of the belt onto my flesh.
Behind me, I heard the sound of his belt jingling, sliding it through the loops of his jeans, the rustling of the leather as he folded it and then the snap as it landed first on my left thigh.
“Ahaooo!” I shrieked, jumping up and reaching my hand back to block the lashes from coming.
Heath pushed me back gently onto the bed. “Stay still, Kris.”
I buried my face in my hands and bit my lip, preparing myself for the next blow. It came, and then quickly after that, the next one. It felt as though time sped up and slowed down all at once. I pushed myself further into the mattress, briefly hoping that maybe if I pushed far and hard enough, I’d find myself elsewhere. No such luck. It was all I could do to keep from reaching back or kicking my legs. Heath, hitting me with the belt, over and over, and my screams, piercing the room… louder than the sounds of the snapping belt against my naked flesh.
And just like that, the slaps stopped, but my screaming continued, piercing the night. “I’m sorry, Heath. I’m sorry,” I sobbed. His hand, gently touching my back, different now, calmer… the anger gone from it. “I’m so—so—rry.” I buried my face in the sheets. “Please,” I struggled to get out as he brushed my hair out of my eyes. “I can’t take anymore.”
He sat down next to me, pulling my hair back and looking at me, concerned. “Okay, we’re done,” he answered. “I’m done.” He rubbed my back, trying to calm me down.
Heath saw me broken and he stopped. Eventually my screaming stopped. I fell asleep with my pants around my legs and Heath’s voice, trying to calm me down.
That year, I finished with a 3.5 GPA, somehow managing to make it to the Dean’s List, despite everything.