She does, but under protest

"It's not fair!" she wails, tears starting to stream down her cheeks as she moves to the desk. "My Daddy..."

"Your Daddy is not here Miss Cummins," Ms. Naylor says sharply. "I strongly suggest you keep your mouth shut and take your punishment. Frankly, you've had this coming for some time."

The brunette teen looks at the headmistress with horrified eyes, then at you and Honey Thibodeaux as if seeking some support. When she sees no help from either of you she looks back at the Dean her voice turning to a pathetic whine.

"Not all thirty! You can't! You just can't!"

"Do what you're told and bend over the desk Miss Cummins," he says sharply. "I think we've all had enough of you telling us what we can't do."

With a little gasp Valerie reaches under her skirt and pulls her panties down to her knees, then puts her hands on the desk.

"He should leave," she says, glaring tearfully at you. "He's just an old perv. He should leave!"

"As one of the complainants, Mr. Carter has the right to administer some of your punishment Miss Cummins. Not only is he not going to leave, but he may well participate."

"No! No he can't! He can't!" she whimpers, a look of utter horror on her face.

"Bend over and pull your skirt up!" Dean Hawkfeather barks, and with a frightened whimper, she obeys, tugging her skirt above her hips to display a round toned rump. You can't help but admire the little brat's sweet teen flesh.

"OWWWWW!" she whines as the first blow of the paddle falls on her unprotected flesh. "Stop! Oh please stop!" The Dean ignores her, landing another stinging blow on her squirming cheeks. "OWWWWWWWW! I can't stand it! Please! Please!" At the third blow she breaks down, sobbing miserably, clinging to the desk and trying to squirm her ass out of the way.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" she squeals, yelping sharply as the fourth blow lands. "Please...I'm so sorry! Please stop!" The Dean steps back, letting her catch her breath before continuing. You see Honey Thibodeaux biting her lip, her eyes glittering with excitement, while Ms. Naylor's face is a mask of stern implacability, the faintest flush of colour rising up her throat.

"That's four," the Dean says, before smacking Valerie again with the paddle.

"OWWWWW! Oh God I can't take thirty! I'll die! I can't stand it! Please Stop! I'm so sorry! Oh God I promise to be good! OWWWWWWW!" The pale flesh of her sweet young rump is marked with the red stripes where the paddle has landed, the flesh almost glowing from the stinging blows. He lands two more blows and Valerie slumps on the desk, sobbing bitterly, whimpering for mercy. You're surprised when the Dean steps back and hand the paddle to you.

"You have the right to administer punishment Mr. Carter," he says. Your eyes flicker between his face, the paddle in his hand and the sobbing girl sprawled over the desk, wanting to spank her sweet little rump until she screams again, but wary of the growing arousal you're starting to feel. With a slow and careful hand you take the paddle.

With your mixed feelings you can't bring yourself to hit her as hard as the Dean, your smack resounding half as loud. Nonetheless, the effect on the girl is electric. She quivers, giving a gasping howl, her sweet teen ass wriggling as you smack her again.

"Please....Please Daddy....I'll be good for you...Please Daddy I'll be so good...I'm so sorry Daddy...please...let me be your good little girl....I'll be so good for you Daddy...."

Startled by her outburst, you step back, looking at her quivering body as she begs for mercy. Seeking guidance, you glance around the room, but see the others are as surprised as you as the words coming from Valerie's mouth.

"Daddy...please don't punish me...not any more...please Daddy...I'll behave...I'm so sorry I was a bad girl....Please Daddy...."

This is making you very uneasy. You give your head a little shake and hold the paddle out to Dean Hawkfeather, declining to participate further. You see Honey Thibodeaux looking on with excited curiosity, while Ms. Naylor looks troubled and concerned.