Chapter Text
In five years of teaching, Bellamy has had to deal with some pretty awful students. His first job out of college was at a run-down public school in a low socio-economic area, where the student engagement levels were low and he was constantly having to break up fights and confiscate phones, among other things.
Everyone congratulated him when he got the job at Arkadia Girls Grammar. They said the students would be much easier to deal with, the facilities would be better, and the grades would be higher. All of those are somewhat true.
The school has money pumped into it from the government, despite being a private school, and the fees are exorbitant, so yeah, the facilities are much better. Which obviously leads to higher grades. The girls are better behaved, for the most part. Kids being late for class or just not showing up was a common occurrence at his old school, and here it almost never happens. He barely ever has to confiscate phones or yell at the class to stop talking and listen. But he’s not so sure the girls are better behaved. He thinks they’re sneakier. He thinks they’re just much better at not getting caught.
Well, most of them. Everyone in his senior history class, except one Clarke Griffin. He’s constantly giving her detention or sending her to the principal’s office for being late, passing notes, wearing the incorrect uniform, talking out of turn, distracting other students.
It’s not like she doesn’t know how to be sneaky. According to the other teachers, they’ve never had a problem with Clarke. He’s the only one who can’t seem to get her to behave.
He’s lamenting this in the staff room at lunch, after another class that would have been perfect had he not had to send Clarke to Principal Diyoza’s office fifteen minutes in because she was blasting music through her headphones and refused to turn it off.
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that, Bellamy,” Diyoza says, sitting across the table from him, a large cup of coffee in her hands. “I appreciate that you find Clarke difficult, but you can’t keep sending her to me every time you have the slightest problem.”
Bellamy groans. “I know,” he sighs. “I have all these behavioural strategies that I used with the kids at my old school. But nothing works with Clarke.”
“You need some new strategies,” Diyoza tells him. She studies him cautiously. “You know we allow corporal punishment here, right?”
Bellamy flushes. He does know. He’s never once actually thought about using it. “Yes,” he says. “I’d prefer not to do that if I don’t have to. Hitting kids doesn’t really seem right.”
Diyoza shrugs, taking a sip of her coffee. “Whatever works, I say,” she says. “It’s not really about the pain anyway,” she continues. “Most girls are so embarrassed to be spanked in front of their classmates that they don’t want to risk it happening again.”
Bellamy screws up his nose. “You think that would work on Clarke?”
“It could. As far as I know no one’s ever had to use it on her before. She’s normally a model student. She must really hate you,” Diyoza grins.
Bellamy lets out a controlled breath. “I’ll think about it.”
---
The truth is, he wouldn’t even consider it if he wasn’t desperate. But that night, when he’s in his room in the teachers’ housing quarters, he looks up the school rules on his laptop.
He scrolls down to the corporal punishment section.
If a student misbehaves during class, a teacher may use physical punishment at their discretion.
The following guidelines must be abided by when enforcing corporal punishment on a student:
- No implement may be used.
- The palm of the hand must be open.
- No more than ten slaps will be inflicted at any one time.
- The slaps will occur beneath the skirt but over the undergarments.
Bellamy reads the rules three times, his hand scratching at his jaw. He’s pretty sure these rules were written when the school first started up and spanking kids was the norm, and all the teachers were probably nuns or something. Or at least women. But there’s nothing in the rules that says a man can’t do the spanking.
He shuts his laptop quickly. What the hell is he thinking? He can’t spank a student, no matter how irritating he finds them. He’s just going to have to find another way to get Clarke to behave in class.
-
Clarke Griffin is late for class. Again.
She waltzes in, fifteen minutes after the bell, without so much as a Sorry I’m late, Mr Blake. Instead she gives him a smirk and pops her gum before making her way to her desk.
“You’re late.” Bellamy tells her calmly.
“Am I?” she asks innocently. The rest of the class titters in amusement.
“The bell went fifteen minutes ago.”
“Oops,” she shrugs.
He glares at her. She looks him dead in the eye and pops her gum again.
“No gum in class.”
“But I just started this piece,” she whines.
“Put it in the bin, Clarke.”
“Or what?” she snorts. “You’ll send me to Principal Diyoza? You know she gives me chocolate and lets me use my phone.”
Bellamy feels a surge of annoyance. The kind of frustration that has been building for months. He knows he’s losing and he feels like he could scream.
“You show up fifteen minutes late, no books, your shirt untucked, and you’re chewing gum. You think there won’t be a punishment for that?”
Clarke shrugs, uncaring. Bellamy continues.
“If that gum isn’t in the trash by the time I count to three, I’ll be enforcing corporal punishment,” he says.
Clarke stares at him. “You’re going to spank me?” she snorts. “Yeah, right.”
“One,” Bellamy says. The rest of the class watches this exchange with baited breath. He can feel the tension in the room. A couple of girls fidget nervously. Will he actually do it?
Clarke stays put.
“Two.”
She purses her lips at him defiantly. He cocks his head, giving her another couple of moments to change her mind. She doesn’t.
“Three.”
Clarke still doesn’t move.
“Come here, Clarke,” he says. Clarke still doesn’t move, but to his surprise she does look a little unsure. “Clarke.” He repeats. It’s as if something in his voice changes. He doesn’t yell. He never yells. But his commanding voice fills the room, throwing down a challenge. She can’t back down from a challenge. She slides out of her seat and makes her way to the front of the room.
He beckons her over, gesturing for her to stand on the other side of the desk with him. She does. She’s still looking at him like she thinks he won’t do it. His eyes don’t leave hers as he gives her the next instructions.
“Bend over, lift your skirt, and then put your hands on the desk.”
Clarke swallows, her face turning red. Perhaps Diyoza was right about this after all. Clarke keeps looking at him, as if waiting for him to change his mind. He doesn’t. He doesn’t repeat himself, either, just watches her, his arms folded, until she obeys.
Clarke turns to face the class, and bends over. She lifts her skirt. She’s wearing a fucking thong. A little white lacy thing, nestled between her ass cheeks. Not school approved underwear.
Bellamy feels his cock twitch. Fuck. Bad sign. He’s not allowed to be turned on by this. If the sight of a student’s ass in a thong gets him turned on, he probably shouldn’t even be a teacher. And he should definitely not go through with the punishment.
But if he doesn’t, that’s it. Clarke will never respect him. She’ll walk all over him again and again because she knows he’s just bluffing.
He clenches his jaw. “I’m going to give you five slaps,” he says. “Count.”
The rest of the class is dead silent as Bellamy brings his hand down on Clarke’s ass cheek. The sound of his open palm hitting her soft flesh fills the room. She winces. Bellamy pulls his hand away to see a red handprint on her ass. Perhaps that was too hard.
“One,” Clarke says, through gritted teeth.
He smacks her again, the other cheek this time, just as hard. Clarke gasps. The sound makes his cock twitch again. He’s fucking enjoying this, far more than he should.
“Two.”
He hits her again, and again.
“Three. Four.”
Her voice is trembling. So is her ass. She gives a strangled moan on the fifth slap. The sound goes straight to his groin. He’s hard. Rock hard. He glances down to see his erection straining against his pants, the large size of his cock jutting out, making it hard to conceal. From where he’s standing behind Clarke, he knows the class can’t see, but as soon as she moves, twenty-four girls are going to know he got turned on from spanking a student. Not exactly what he was going for.
“Five,” Clarke says. Bellamy folds his hands in front of his crotch and quickly sits down.
“You can go back to your seat now,” he says tersely. “And put your gum in the bin.”
Clarke smooths her skirt back down over her ass and walks back to her desk, spitting her gum into the trash on the way. Bellamy watches her take her seat gingerly. She’s quiet the rest of the class. Which Bellamy teaches from his chair, keeping his hard-on safely hidden behind his desk.
He thinks it will go away once he focuses on something else, but every time he makes eye contact with Clarke it sends another jolt to his cock, and he stays hard for the rest of the lesson.
The bell rings, and the girls pack up their things and leave the classroom.
“Stay where you are, Clarke,” Bellamy says. Strangely enough, Clarke obeys. He waits until they’re the only two left in the classroom. “I’m writing you up for detention for being out of uniform.”
“I’m not out of uniform!” Clarke protests.
“That thong you’re wearing is not school approved.”
“You’re giving me detention for wearing the wrong underwear?” she scoffs. “Who the fuck cares? No one can even see it.”
“Language, Clarke.”
Clarke glares at him. “I bet you fucking liked it. I bet it turned you on, you fucking pervert. That’s the only reason you’re doing this.”
Bellamy’s cock throbs. Something inside him must snap. He stands up, and Clarke’s gaze falls to his erection, her eyes widening, her pretty pink lips falling open in surprise. Struck silent, just like he wanted. He walks towards her, stopping directly in front of her desk, towering over her. She’s eye-level with his raging hard-on. She licks her lips, probably subconsciously. It does something to him.
She looks up, her big blue eyes blinking up at him.
“Promise me you’ll wear the correct uniform from now on, and I won’t send you to detention with Ms Sydney.”
“Ms Sydney?” Clarke scowls. “She hates me.”
“I know.” Diana is the only other teacher in the school who will sympathise with Bellamy about Clarke. Clarke actually behaves for Diana though. Why, Bellamy can’t seem to figure out. “Well?” he prompts.
Clarke purses her lips. “I won’t wear a thong again,” she says.
“Good.”
Her eyes fall on his erection again. “Did you have that the whole time?”
Bellamy tilts his head, raising an eyebrow. “Class is over, Clarke. You can go now.”
-
It doesn’t really hit him, what he’s done, until he makes it back to his quarters at four-thirty. It’s like he’d been running on adrenalin, someone else’s adrenalin, and now he’s just got his own body back. It hits him fucking hard.
He spanked a student. He spanked her pretty hard, and he fucking enjoyed it. He enjoyed it so much he got a fucking erection in class, and then he practically shoved it in her face.
Well, that’s an exaggeration. But he never should have let her know what spanking her did to him. Not only was it way over the line, but what if she uses it against him? Would anyone believe her?
He replays his actions over in his mind. Just thinking about her round ass, bright red and contrasting with her pretty white thong, gets him hard again. He shouldn’t jerk off over this, but he does anyway. He thinks about her ass, sticking out as she bends over his desk. He thinks about spanking her, wondering if maybe she enjoyed it as much as he did. He liked putting her in her place.
He thinks about pulling off her thong and shoving his aching cock into her pussy, and that’s when he comes, spurting his load all over himself within minutes.
He lies there for a moment, feeling ashamed of himself, before cleaning himself up. He decides to eat dinner in his room that night, instead of going to the dining hall. Perhaps some sleep will help him forget any of this ever happened.