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The following story is fiction about how zero tolerance leads to injustice and surprising consequences.  The story contains scenes of paddlings.  If this subject is offensive, uninteresting or if you are a minor (i.e., child) please leave now.

This work is copyright by the author and commercial use is prohibited without permission.  Personal/private copies are permitted only if complete including the copyright notice.

The author would appreciate your comments – pro and con, including constructive criticism, and suggestions.  Please take a moment to email.

Zero Tolerance


Bart Trammel was having a terrible day.  It was a Thursday and than meant an early lunch.  Two hours later he was on the toilet for the third time wondering if the flood would ever stop.  He was exhausted by the time he did the paper work and washed his hands.  He was also late for his next class.  That was an additional worry since cranky, holier-than-thou, always right Junkins was more than generous with the paddle.  The man had a long list of rules and even the minor ones called for the paddle.

Bart had a most fleeting thought to go to the school nurse but adolescent boys refuse to admit that they are sick until they collapse.  Bart started up the stairs and heard the crash of shattering glass as he passed the second floor.  He looked down the hall and saw that a masked man was collecting the school trophies from the shattered display case.  He knew, of course, that this should be reported to the office but the crook was between him and the office.  Bart continued up a floor and rushed to his classroom.  The door was locked and he pounded on it.  Junkins took a minute and a half to open it.

"Late again, Trammel." snapped the irritated teacher.  "Once again you have disturbed the class with your tardiness and your excessive banging." he continued angrily.

"But Sir," started the lad but he was immediately silenced.

"QUIET!  You are getting four.  Drop your pants and get over the desk IMMEDIATELY."© YLeeCoyote

"But Sir…"

"Not enough!  Than I'll make that six pops."

Bart did not dare to open his mouth again but instead opened his belt and pants and assumed the required position.  Junkins took his paddle from the wall, walked to where Bart was mooning the class and got into position.  The class was absolutely silent as they watched intently.  Not one of them wanted to be in Bart's shoes but each and everyone of them was giving him their rapt attention.  Several adolescent cocks were stifling in anticipation of the show.

The paddle was raised and brought down hard on the target butt with a loud WHACK.  Every partially hard cock was instantly fully hard and many were making adjustments to be more comfortable.  Five more times the paddle was raised and forcefully lowered to everyone amusement save Bart's.

"Take your seat and not another peep out of you Trammel." snarled Junkins.  Bart did not dare to open his mouth.  After class, he had to run to the john again and he completely forgot about reporting the crime until the deluge was over.

* * * * * * * * * *

The next morning started with a special assembly.  Not only were the principal and the school trustees there but so were the police investigators.  They were interested in whether anyone had seen any intruders.  It turned out that Bart was the only one with any information.  If we had gotten a call immediately perhaps we could have gotten the guy but now…  The police detective let his words trail off into the void.  He was very pessimistic since there had been a couple of similar cases which had very quickly dead-ended.  It was assumed that the loot was melted down into untraceable ingots to be sold for the silver content since the trophies did not have much of a market like regular silver items did.

Bart was questioned closely by the principal about why he did not report what he had seen.  "Sir, I could not get to the office since the crook would have seen me.  I tried to tell Mr. Junkins but he would not allow me to speak.  He has zero tolerance for anything that is not his plan.  I tried but got extra two pops for it.  After class, I had the runs again and by then the school was closed and the custodian was chasing everyone out."

Bart's problem was nothing compared to what hit the fan, when it was discovered that the silver was not covered by insurance.  It was not school property and there was not a policy for them by the sports league.  The school was on the hook for several thousand dollars.

One of the trustees had picked up something during the investigation and checked the school records.  There had been several warnings given to Junkins about what could be called his zero tolerance to deviating from his plan regardless of the circumstances and a whole host of complaints.  It was decided not to renew his contract which was the only good that came of these events.  None of the students felt bad that he was just a few years short for a full pension and would have trouble securing another position for after all was done and said rules were rules as Junkins always taught them.

* * * * * * * * * *

Slowly at first but with increasing speed the news of Junkins' termination spread through the entire school community.  As you can imagine, he had been despised even before for his intolerance and harshness but now even more for he was also blamed for the loss of the trophies that the school was most proud of.  Many students, both past and present, wished that they could subject him to the brutality he was fond of dispensing.  The opportunity came one day when he was late for his last class of the day.

Following standard directions, the assigned student locked the classroom doors immediately when the bell sounded.  A couple of others shouted out: "But Junkins isn't here."

"So what!  He would beat me if I didn't follow his rules." replied the door locker.  "He could be in the closet watching."  This had a strange effect on the class for they all sat quietly wondering about the strange situation.  Five minutes later someone tried to enter and, finding the door locked, pounded on it.

Nobody rushed to open it as Junkins prohibited anyone from doing that until he said to.  After a couple of minutes, someone suggested that it might be a messenger or a substitute and opened the door.  It was Junkins.  He was furious at being locked out and demanded to know why.  "Your orders are to lock the door when the bell sounds, Mr. Junkins.  Also, not to open it until you direct.  We opened it because we thought it might be a messenger or substitute without a key."  The zero tolerance teacher was taken aback.  After a long pause, he started the boring lesson.

The plot was hatched that very day.  At least ten were in on it.  Junkins' route to his bus stop required him to pass an alley.  As he did so that evening he was rushed into it by several bodies.  In the dark all he could see were was that they had covered faces.  As soon as he started to scream, the knot tied in the middle of a bandana was stuffed in his mouth and its ends tied about his head.

"You were very late today.  That earns you six pops."  Several voices were blended so that he could not recognize any of them.  As he was held, other hands yanked open his belt and pants.  Both his pants and underpants were pulled down to his ankles.  He was roughly pushed over a trash can, his jacket and shirt pulled and held in position.

Then came the injury to add to the insult.  Six hard pops were administered to the teacher's naked butt.  Six pops that were delivered with vengeance and turned the target deep red.  If not for the gag his screams would have been heard for blocks.  Then he was released and the attackers fled.

He was enraged.  He was sure that students had attacked him.  Yet, he knew that he could not identify any of them.  He rubbed his sore tail and then pulled up his pants.  Stuffed between his pants and underpants he found a copy of his rules with number 7 – the one about lateness – circled.  When he examined the bandana he saw that it was a item he had seen displayed in cheap stores that he passed daily.

Junkins stared at the rules as he composed himself.  He thought about calling the police.  He did not relish telling, probably several times, how he was paddled nor to have to expose his hot, red posterior to prove his story and even be photographed.  The incident might even get into the news certainly with his name and position and perhaps even a picture.  But then he decided that it would be far too embarrassing, especially to implicate students, and just made his way home.  He stood on the bus even though there were seats available.  He contemplated how much the paddle had hurt and compared it to his memories of being paddled as a student.

The End

© Copyright A.I.L. September 21, 2010

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