RedTails : Awakenings
The Ringtailed Terror
By
Scarletdown
Chapter I - A Lunchtime Lesson
Calypso huffed indignantly, pacing up and down the dirt path which meandered through the schoolyard's colorful garden. The swishing of her bushy, ring-striped tail betrayed her impatience as she clasped her dainty paws behind her back and grumbled to herself.
"What's the holdup, Koney? We have a Kalah game to finish before lunch break ends."
She paused to gaze longingly at the game board sitting abandoned on the log table among the bright fragrant flowers. Only five minutes, Koney had assured her. Her daddy needed to talk to her about some little matter and then she would be back in no more than five minutes.
"Hah! Five minutes my ass," the young Furling growled, "Humans have a twisted sense of time. Been almost five minutes and forty seconds already. At this rate, I'll be nearly twelve by the time we finish our game!"
She stared again at the unfinished game as if planning what her next move. The little green, red, amber, and blue tokens lay in their shallow pits, glittering like little gemstones as the light of the midday sun touched them. Her bright green eyes narrowed with righteous indignation as she finally declared, "Two more minutes; that's all I'll give her, then I let Koney have it." Ten seconds later, the feisty Raccoon was stalking up the path, heading around to the front of the schoolhouse to find her overdue friend.
"And I was winning this time too," she grumped.
Calypso partially concealed herself behind a bush a few paces away from the headmaster's window and craned her neck so she could see inside. Sure enough, there was her friend standing in the middle of the room and the headmaster sitting behind his desk. Judging by Koney's stance; feet spread, hands clasped behind her back, and head bowed submissively, the Raccoon guessed that the headmaster must be doing most of the talking and Koney doing most of the listening, acknowledging with the occasional nod of her raven-hair veiled head.
"Oh," Calypso mused to herself, softly so as not to be overheard. She understood now why her girlfriend was running late, "Looks like Koney got herself into trouble again. I wonder what she did this time?"
She was unable to ascertain what the two of them were saying. They were speaking just a little too softly for her to hear more than a low murmur. With her curiosity getting the best of her, Calypso made to move in closer. As she was creeping out of her place of concealment, she was forced to pause and make sense of what she was now witnessing.
"What the hell?" she asked no one in particular, "Now what are they doing?" It looked like they were finished in there, but instead of dismissing Koney so she and Calypso could finish their Kalah game, the headmaster stood up and removed the riding paddle hanging on the wall behind him. He walked solemnly around to the front of the desk, sat down on its smooth hard surface, and patted his knee.
"This must be some sort of Human ritual," the entranced Raccoon deduced as her girlfriend nervously approached the desk and positioned herself face down across her daddy's lap, "Prolly some sort of religious rite." She continued her quiet observation, strangely fascinated by the proceedings unfolding before her eyes.
The headmaster waited a moment or two for his daughter to make a few minor adjustments for comfort, at least as much comfort as her present position would allow. He then he folded up the skirt portion of her tunic, and tucked the hem into her belt so her smooth, plush bottom was exposed. Calypso's eyes went unbelievably wide when he next placed his free hand firmly against the small of Koney's back and brought the riding paddle up high over his head. He held it there for a brief yet interminable moment. Then in one swift motion, the paddle traced a graceful arc down through the air, coming abruptly to rest on the girl's bare butt with a resounding smack, striking evenly across both cheeks.
As far as the stunned Furling could determine, Koney reacted with barely a flinch, "They must do this ritual on a regular basis," she thought. The paddle descended a second time, landing solidly on the right side of Koney's behind and followed by a matching blow on the opposite flank. Calypso rubbed her own furry rump in sympathy as she watched this bizarre, mysterious rear assault her best friend was submitting herself to.
"That's gotta really hurt. Koney must have alotta discipline to take that without squirming or screaming." She kept her gaze fixed on the action focused on her friend's south end. The headmaster's paddle struck again and again, assuming a slow and steady beat, with the resounding slap of bonsai wood against bare, furless flesh echoing throughout the calm midday air.
Wholly entranced, Calypso found herself counting the swats as they came down. The headmaster wielded the riding paddle like an artist with his brush and his daughter's soft ass his canvas. He tirelessly alternated left, right, and across the middle, letting the board rest for a brief moment on the point of impact before bringing it up for the next smack.
On the stroke of ten, Koney was finally starting to squirm on her daddy's lap, "Impressive," Calypso whispered, "Didn't think she would last that long before starting to struggle. Must take alotta endurance." The fifteenth and final swat, noticeably harder than the previous fourteen, at last elicited an audible whimper from the girl. "Whatever this ritual means, I bet Koney just racked up some really good khaea."
The ritual ended with the headmaster gently and affectionately patting Koney's sore bottom and then releasing the hem of her skirt from her belt. He helped her to her feet and gave her a strong fatherly hug, wiping tears from the girl's soft golden-tan face. After a minute or two, he walked Koney to the door and with one final swat of the riding paddle, sent her walking stiffly out to enjoy the remainder of the midday break. Calypso quickly returned to the forgotten Kalah board, her mind swimming with questions. However, she had a feeling that what she just witnessed was intended to be a private affair, and Koney would probably be highly embarrassed if she knew that her friend had secretly watched her get her butt beat.
"About bloody time you got back," Calypso scolded as her friend hobbled down the flower-lined path, "I was starting to think you were gonna blow the entire break yakkin' with yer dad."
Koney gave the uppity Raccoon a pained smile and brushed back a stray lock of hair from her face, "A score of apologies, Calypso-Chan," she offered, her voice soft and carrying an underlying natural gentleness enhanced by her Nasheenese accent, "I did not suspect that I would take so long. Daddy had some important issues he needed to address."
"Issues he needed ta address on yer butt, you mean?" Calypso translated, forgetting her decision moments before to not embarrass her friend. "What was that all about anyway?"
Koney was caught completely off guard by her young friend's rather personal question. She blinked then blushed as Calypso's words hit her, "Oh, blaze," she moaned, burying her face in her hands to conceal the reddening forming in her cheeks, "You saw me get spanked?"
Calypso nodded, "Spanked? Ya mean that thing yer dad did with the riding paddle?" she innocently combed her fingers through her hair as she confessed to watching the entire ordeal, "I always wunnered why he kept that thing on his wall behind the desk."
Koney uncovered her face and smiled sheepishly at her young furry friend, "Yes, Calypso; that is what it's for. Daddy always uses that particular riding paddle whenever he summons me for a spanking. It has actually been in our family and handed down to the first born for countless generations. I suppose you might call it a family heirloom," she added.
"Or in this case," Calypso corrected her, just barely managing to stifle a girlish giggle, "a family rearloom."
"Tushé, Calypso. Tushé," Koney laughed, countering pun with pun.
"But seriously," the Raccoon girl pressed on, eager to learn more about this phenomenon, "What is the story behind this...what did you call it...spanking? Is it a religious ritual of sorts?"
Koney laughed again amused at her young friend's naivety, "No no no, it's not a religious activity, although there are several orders where the members practice spanking in various forms, revering it as a blessed event."
"Then it's more of a family tradition," was Calypso's next guess, her confusion and curiosity still unsated.
Koney nodded thoughtfully, "Yes, I suppose it could be viewed in that light. However, daddy does not spank me merely for the sake of tradition."
The Raccoon, listening intently, gave Koney her full undivided attention as she began an impromptu lesson in familyology.
"When daddy paddles my bottom," she explained, "I am being disciplined because I misbehaved in some fashion. In this case, he spanked me because I was fifteen minutes late for school this morning."
"And is that why he struck yer butt fifteen times?" Calypso asked, "once for each minute you were late?"
"That is a very good guess," Koney replied, "You seem to be quick to pick up on obscure patterns."
Calypso was beaming; feeling quite pleased with her powers of logic and deduction, "Thankses. I thought it was obvious."
"As I was saying," Koney continued, "That was a very good guess. However, it was a very wrong guess as well. The fifteen had a deeper significance than just the number of minutes late."
"Uh-huh," Calypso nodded, still listening intently to her friend.
You see, normally when a student is late for class, she is bent over my daddy's desk and is given five swats, plus one for every three minutes she was late."
"Which means," Calypso added after doing some quick mental math, "had it been me instead of you, the paddle woulda hit ma butt ten times instead of fifteen."
"Not only are you quick with logic, Calypso-Chan," Koney laughed again, "I see you are quick with math as well. Anyway, when daddy spanks me, he always gives me a bare minimum of fifteen swats because of my age. This is a tradition which he initiated three years ago with my sisters, my brother, and myself, one swat for each year."
"Which means next year, the least you can expect is sixteen," Calypso concluded, stating the obvious only to help her keep all the information she was absorbing in order.
"Daddy believes that as we get older," Koney continued, "that we should take on more responsibility and maturity. So when our behavior is immature and irresponsible, then we can expect the consequences to increase in intensity."
Calypso had still more questions to be answered before her curiosity could be sated, "But why spanking?" she pressed on, "Why does your daddy whack your bare bottom instead of giving you more useful punishments like extra chores or more homework?"
"He does that too," Koney assured her, "But no matter what punishment he declares, the paddle is always included as part of the package."
"So you get punished twice each time?" Calypso shook her head, "That doesn't seem fair."
"It is all one punishment," Koney corrected her, "But it is administered in two parts.