"George Quinn, get in here!"
Lip aquiver, George gingerly pushed the door open just enough to peek.
"Now!"
He slipped through the door without a sound and remained just inside the room. Ready to bolt if necessary. Mr. Baker could never make it out of his chair and around the desk before George would make the landing and be halfway down the stairs to the hallway out.
"Come in, please, and close the door behind you."
George's eyes narrowed and he contemplated this last quiet request carefully before turning to close the door. His eyes still fixed on Mr. Baker and his mind still not decided on whether to bolt, he edged close to the front of the large mahogany desk.
"Sir?" He asked in a voice which betrayed him with a slit quaver. George had to consider his reputation, and the headmaster sitting there Sphinx like before him.
"Do you know why you were sent here, George?"
"Ummmmmmmmm. Probably. I think so."
"Probably? The librarian did not tell you clearly? Is there some mix-up here? I have a very clear note from her concerning your behavior."
Silence.
"Well," Mr. Baker said to him with a gentle—if slightly sinister—smile, "would you like to either deny or explain?"
"Nothing wrong was intended, sir. Just surfing in the library with a friend and we just kind of lost track of what we were about I think."
"Ah. Lost track. The cache showed you 'lost track' for about two hours of study time and visited somewhere around 200 sites."
"If you say so, sir."
"If I say so. Well, George, I do so say. In fact, once the library administrators discovered someone using school library computers to access adult _s_e_x_ sites they decided to track for a few nights just to see who and what was going on. Seems you—and your friend perhaps—have a special affinity for a particular adult chat site and a place called :MMSA Stories story archive?. Could you perhaps tell me a little about this :MMSA Stories?"
"Not sure just what that might be," George lied as smoothly as he could.
"I see. You spend more than an hour a night at the site each night for a week but are not quite sure what it is. Maybe you need to search that creative brain of yours a bit harder."
"Yes, sir."
"Well? I asked you what ':MMSA Stories' is and I want you to tell me. What is it and why is that so fascinating for you? And your friend?"
"It's just a story archive for creative writers, sir. I'm sorry if we were not supposed to use the library computers for surfing. Really I am."
"You still have not told me what they write about at this place, George. I note on this log that you seem, too, to frequent a place called Leatherstrap. com. Would that be similar?"
George's face flushed a deep red and he closed his eyes briefly. He heard the desk drawer creak and opened his eyes to see him take the headmaster take the leather strap from the drawer and lay it on the desk.
"Oh, please no, sir," he pleaded quietly.
"Well, you seem so interested in spanking, perhaps you need some RT experience as they say in cyber," Mr. Baker said as he rose from his chair.
George watched as the headmaster took up the supple strap and moved round the desk behind him.
"Bend across the desk, please. We shall make this punishment fit the crime."
George grinned to himself, hoping Mr. Baker had not seen the erection bulging in his slacks. He quickly bent across the big mahogany desk, grabbing hold of the far edge.. And he began to think of all those cyber heroes at :MMSA Stories who took their thrashings like men. The pulsing waves in his heart descended downward through the stomach till they emerged as a tingling between his legs.
"Twenty strokes, George," Mr. Baker announced as he drew the strap high over his right shoulder and took aim.
Would RT be as good as VT George wondered? Then he heard the swish, felt the impact, and, finally, the searing heat of the strap began to diffuse through his buttocks. One down, nineteen to go.