Ziva's Bad Day
It started that morning, just after the first bell. Ziva was at her locker, getting her Biology book, when the solid smack on her backside made her jump, stinging through the fabric of her skirt. She yelped and turned and looked around, but no one else seemed to have noticed. The hall was filled with students hurrying to class. It could have been any one of them.
Blushing and furious, she slammed her locker closed and hurried to class. She was nearly to the door when it happened again, a firm spank popped on her bottom, its sound lost in the hubbub of the crowd. She yelped again, but again, when she turned to find the culprit, she found only the uncaring crowd. None looked mischievous, none looked guilty.
A faint sting in her bottom and blush in her cheeks, she quickly found her seat in Biology. At least that way there was no way for the culprit to strike again. And over the course of the next forty-five minutes, the sting faded, and so did the memory of those two phantom spanks.
But between first period Biology and second period Art, threading her way through the press of high school kids on their way to class or to their lockers or just taking a few moments to chat with friends, she was spanked thrice more. Three solid swats in the space of the three minute passing period, and she never did see who did it. By the time she was sitting at her table in Art, her cheeks were hotly flushed and tears threatened at the edge of the sills of her eyes.
Her bottom stung when she sat.
“Ziva, is something wrong?” Mrs. Prussing asked.
Ziva took a quick breath and plastered a smile on her face. “No, I’m fine.”
What else could she have said? Who would believe she was being spanked in the crowded hall for no reason and that no one else had seen it happen?
During the passing period between Art and Math, she was spanked seven times, each a sharp, hard spank that stung like a moment of fire and pulled the tears from her eyes. She had stopped gasping in surprise and instead just grunted in pain. She had stopped looking around for the culprit, instead just keeping her eyes forward and walking as quickly as she could.
After the start of class, Ziva asked Mr. Lacy for a pass and went to the bathroom. The halls were empty and she wasn’t spanked.
Once in the bathroom, after making certain it was empty, she flipped up her skirt in back and pulled down her panties. Twisting, she could see her butt in the mirror. It was all splotchy pink, evidence that the spankings had happened and weren’t a figment of her imagination as she’d begun to fear. Softly, she ran the tips of her fingers of one hand over the splotchly, pink marks. They were still sensitive.
She heard them coming the moment before the door opened. She spun to face the mirror properly and let her skirt fall. She blushed uncontrollably. She recognized them, Kelly and Jenny, girls he knew and was friendly with, if not friends. They didn’t seem to have noticed what she was doing just before they came in. That her panties were still down in back made her blush deeper.
“Hey,” said Jenny. “You’re Ziva, right?”
“It’s you,” Kelly said. “You’re the one who pissed off Sarah Baker.” She was smiling like a cat. “Good for you.”
“Yeah,” said Jenny, “but watch your back. She’s a vindictive bitch, and she’s got a lot of little bitches to help her take revenge.”
Still talking, but now to each other, the girls each took a stall.
Ziva made sure to stay behind class and ask Mr. Lacy several questions, so that the bell rang before she was done and he had to write her a pass to her next class. When she went, the halls were mostly empty and she wasn’t spanked once. She sat down in English with little pain and with a sigh of relief.
She repeated the tactic with Ms. Darien between fourth and lunch and by the time she got to the cafeteria, the halls were scattered with people, not the crowd that might give a vindictive spanker cover. She lingered over her chicken tetrazzini and french fries, trying to remember where she’d heard the name Sarah Baker before.
When the bell rang, she started and got quickly to her feet. But when she got to the hallways, headed for fifth period chemistry, the halls were once again crowded. She hunched her shoulders and ducked her head, trying to hide in the sea of students.
It did her no good.
The first one caught her off guard. She gasped and yelped and put her hands over her bottom. But, as she had grown accustomed to, she didn’t see who’d done it. The next she was ready for, keeping her eyes forward, her shoulders hunched, her cry muffled. The third brought tears leaping from her eyes.
She walked faster, weaving through the crowd, but by the time she made it to fifth period, her bottom was throbbing and her was crying uncontrollable. She went immediately to her desk, put her head down on her arms, and tried desperately to stop her tears.
She took a deep breath before looking up at her Computer Aps teacher. Mrs. Poling was a kindly woman, and she looked concerned as Ziva wiped away tears.
“I’m fine. I… I just don’t feel very good.”
“Do you need to go see the nurse?”
With a sense of relief that melted her knees, she nodded, more tears escaping down her cheeks. Of course, the nurse’s would be a perfect place to hide.
“Oh, I’m sorry; I forgot,” Mrs. Poling said. “She’s out today. Do you maybe need to go home?”
The relief turned to despair. Her parents were both at work and it would be next to impossible for them to come fetch her. She was stuck.
Ziva shook her head. “I’ll be okay.”
And then, at the end of class, Mrs. Poling chivved them all out quickly, explaining she had a meeting to get to and apologizing to those students, include Ziva, who had hung back to ask questions.
“We’ll get to it next time, all right?”
And just like that, she was in the crowded hallway again. Her breath came quick and short now. Her vision began to blur. With sudden, wild abandon, she sprinted through the halls, heedless of who she bumped into. She was nearly to her sixth period class, her heart pounding with the exertion and fear, when someone caught her from behind. She felt something tug at her, but she refused to stop. Then, quite suddenly, she was brought up short about the waist, and next thing she knew, her skirt was down around her ankles. She stumbled, nearly doubling over to keep her feet, thrusting her bottom up high. A trio of quick spanks in sharp succession sprawled her face down in the hallway. A peal of cruel laughter pierced her ears.
Though up until now her spanking torment had gone unnoticed by the crowd in the halls, a freshman girl with her skirt around her ankles, face down, pale pin panties on display, certainly got their attention. A mixture of snickers and gasps rippled through them.
Ziva scrambled for her skirt, dropping her backpack in the process. She jerked the skirt to her knees and wiggled it up over her thighs. She grabbed up her backpack and sprinted away.
She ended up in the bathroom, locking herself in a stall, pulling her feet up as she sat on the stool, and sobbing as quietly as she could. She stayed there through sixth, and ignored the bell for seventh and then eighth. She hadn’t intended it, and she hated to skip class, but if it avoided further spankings, it was worth it.
With ten minutes left, Ziva finally began to relax. She could slip out and meet her brother in the parking lot before the halls filled. She could wait by his car in fact. At this point, she’d already skipped two classes, slipping out to the parking lot early would be nothing. Once in her brother’s car, she’d be safe. He’d protect her. She could tell him what had happened all day. He was well liked. He’d make sure that whoever this Sarah Baker person was, she wouldn’t ever do it again.
With a bit of a smile, Ziva shouldered her backpack and opened her stall to hurry to the parking lot. Just as she did, the bathroom door opened.
Sarah Baker was a tall brunette with a high ponytail and a stern look and a contemptuous sneer.
“So, this is where you’ve been hiding.”
Ziva swallowed hard. For a moment, she considered pushing past her for the door, but then several more girls followed Sarah in. The all pressed in around her, each taking a turn to spank her again and again. Someone hiked her skirt up and several more spanks landed with just her little paink panties for protection. She cried out and they mocked her. She tried to protect herself with her hands and they held her by the wrists.
“Enough,” Sarah’s voice cut through it all. Ziva stumbled back against the wall, crying, rubbing her bottom.
Sarah moved through the crowd to stand at the head of the group. Ziva wondered if she had delivered any of those spanks herself or if she’d just stood back and watched.
“Now, I want you to apologize to me,” Sarah said.
“I’m sorry,” Ziva said quickly, anything to end the torment.
Sarah smiled at her sweetly. “What was that, dear? Sorry for what?”
“I don’t know!” Ziva wailed. “Please, don’t spank me any more!”
The girls laughed and made high-pitched baby sounds. Ziva hid her face. She felt Sarah approach, but didn’t move. Sarah grabed Ziva’s wrists and pulled them away from her face so that she could sneer at her, nose to nose.
“You kissed my boyfriend, you little bitch.”
Ziva gasped. “No I didn’t,” she said before she could think. She’d not yet had her first kiss. This was all a terrible misunderstanding.
“Don’t lie to me. I saw you with him. You kissed him.”
“David,” Sarah said with a sneer, as though it should have been terribly obvious. “My boyfriend.”
Sudden comprehension dawned on her. A hysterical giggle escaped her before she could throttle it. She didn’t want to provoke the nasty girl. Sarah’s sneer twisted nastily, but before she could do anything Ziva held up her hands and spoke quickly.
“David Renah? David’s my brother. I’m Ziva Renah.”
That brought Sarah up short. Her sneer turned to a look of surprise. The girls behind her fell silent.
Ziva saw her chance and escaped.
None of the girls stopped her.