Respect the Dojo

Sharon pulled up to the dojo and slammed her car into park. She glanced at the clock on her dashboard. 7:05. Five minutes late! Grabbing her belt with one hand, she opened her door with the other and squeezed out. She jogged the short distance to the door. Through the glass, she could see the class, their backs to her, doing jumping jacks to warm up. As she rushed through the door she ventured a glance at the instructor – it was Mr. Flores, and he was looking right at her as he lead the class in their warm up. He was average height, but powerfully built from years of martial arts. He had dark hair and dark eyes. His hair was in a crew cut; his eyes were watching her. She huffed an exasperated sigh as she simultaneously attempted to take her shoes off and tie her belt. Finally, she was presentable. She crept onto the mat sheepishly and bowed. As a brown belt, she should be in the front line, next to the black belt, but her spot was taken. Unsure of the procedure, she looked at Mr. Flores and braced herself for a scolding.

“Come on in,” was all he said, and indicated a spot.

She gratefully scurried to the place he’d indicated and started doing jumping jacks with the others. She’d never been late to one of Mr. Flores’ classes before. He was a new instructor, and so far she was very impressed by him. He had years of experience as a police officer on the NYPD and stressed practical, efficient techniques. Sharon was often the only woman in the class, and Mr. Flores made sure to tell her stories of women that had been beaten or raped because they hesitated or made the wrong move in an attack. He was tough on her, but she appreciated learning to really defend herself. Often he would come after her with the ferocity of a real attacker, hard and fast and mean, so she would know what it really felt like to have an angry, determined man barreling down on her. She’d been sure that he would come down hard on her for being late, but he didn’t seem to mind. As they moved from jumping jacks to push ups, she thought about why she was late. It had been a long and difficult day. She’d had to work late after her boss yelled at her for a mistake. Then she’d gotten stuck in traffic. She felt like the world kept pushing her around, and she was sick of it. She knew that karate would help take her mind off her stress, but it was stressful to be late.

When the warm-up was over, Mr. Flores began to demonstrate a technique for the class. It started with a lapel grab. Sharon watched at first, but her attention soon wandered back to the events of the day. When it was time to do the technique, she realized that she hadn’t actually seen it. She looked around for a partner and realized that everyone else had paired up, leaving her to work with Mr. Flores. He walked over to her. “Let’s see it,” he said. He grabbed her gi roughly. She had one second to stare dumbly at him before his other fist flew towards her face. Surprised, she jerked backwards, but he had a good hold on her lapel. Too late, she realized this and tried to get a high block up, but she only succeeded in moving his arm up slightly. Mr. Flores opened his hand just in time to slap her in the face instead of punching her. It wasn’t very hard, but it stung nonetheless. He let go of her lapel and allowed her to rub her face.

“Are you asleep, Sharon?” he chided her. “What did I just say? I just told the class that if someone grabs your shirt, they are most likely going to punch you in the face. That’s why you were supposed to block as you went into the technique. What happened?”

Burning with embarrassment, Sharon looked down. “Sir, I guess I wasn’t paying attention when you demonstrated the technique.”

“You must always pay attention, Sharon,” he replied. “Lack of focus can get you killed. This time it just got you slapped, which is what you deserved.”
Sharon schooled her face to keep from reacting.

“Yes, sir,” was all she said.

Mr. Flores sighed and showed her the technique again. Every time they did it, he grabbed her hard and punched her fast, so that she had to work very hard to block him in time while still keeping her balance. She felt that it was a little unfair; she’d had a terrible day, and now she was getting slapped and pushed around in karate as well.

When they finished practicing the technique, she was sweating. Mr. Flores called the class around to demonstrate another technique. This time he used Sharon as the guinea pig for the demonstration. The attack was a choke from the front while being pushed backwards. When Sharon was in class, he always tended to choose attacks that a big, strong man might use on a woman. Mr. Flores explained to the class that attackers never just grab a person around the throat to choke them; they normally push them backwards as well, into a wall or a car. He explained how it was important to tuck your chin so that your head would not slam into whatever was behind you. As he talked, Sharon found her attention drifting again. Without much warning, Mr. Flores suddenly grabbed her around the neck with both hands and forced her backwards. She was shocked and irritated; he was actually choking her, and pushing her back hard!

It was too much; she’d been pushed around too much today. Without second-guessing herself, she dropped down while twisting out of his way, sticking her foot in front of him for good measure. Because he had really been pushing, his momentum carried him forward. Sharon’s foot tripped him, sending him tumbling… into the wall he’d been pushing her towards. Time slowed down as Sharon realized the gravity of what she’d done. Mr. Flores crashed into the wall, completely surprised by her actions and lacking enough room to roll or soften the fall. Belatedly she realized that he’d been pushing her back towards the wall to display the technique of tucking one’s chin. Time returned to normal speed as a collective gasp rose from the other students. The world froze for one full second. Then Sharon jumped to her feet.

“Sir, I am so, so sorry,” she stammered as he got up. “I didn’t mean-” she stopped short when she saw the look on his face.

Murder danced in his eyes. Her stomach sank. What had she been thinking? Mr. Flores straightened up and took stock of himself. In another second, he was on top of her. His hand grabbed the back of her neck in a vice grip and he forcibly walked her toward the back room. When she reached the edge of the mat he drew her head close to his face.

“Wait for me in the office,” he said tersely.

Then he released her and marched back to the front of the mat. She glanced quickly around the room to see that everyone’s eyes were the size of saucers. Blushing furiously, she bowed out and slinked down the stairs to the office. She shut the door behind her and breathed for the first time since she’d seen Mr. Flores crashing into that wall. She glanced at the clock. 20 minutes until the end of class. She had 20 minutes left to live, and she was going to spend it in this office.

Through the door, she heard Mr. Flores explaining to the class that when an instructor is displaying a technique with you, you are not supposed to surprise them with anything other than what you were told to do. Then he carried on with the class, using another member to demonstrate. As the clock ticked loudly on the wall, Sharon’s mind raced. What the hell was wrong with her? Mr. Flores was tough on her because he wanted to train her well. And he’d been demonstrating a technique and she’d pulled that stunt in front of the whole class. There was no way he could let that stand. Respect was one of the principles of their dojo, respect for the instructor being paramount. She’d seen Mr. Flores throw a white belt for getting an attitude with him. He was always quick to punish disrespect. What was he going to do to her?

Time passed far too quickly for Sharon’s taste, and soon she heard the class wrapping up. Then she heard everyone’s footsteps as they gathered their belongings and left. Most of the time some students would stick around to ask the instructor questions or practice techniques, but today everyone fled as soon as the class was over. Soon it was silent. Where was he? She sat on the couch, her heart racing.

After a painfully long wait, she heard soft footsteps approach the office. Her heart sank as the door opened. Mr. Flores appeared in the doorway. Sharon couldn’t look at him and bowed her head. He walked into the office and stood in front of her, arms crossed. She knew better than to speak first; in this kind of situation you were supposed to speak only when spoken to.


She still didn’t look up. “Yes, sir?”

“I’m giving you one opportunity to tell me exactly what you were thinking back there.”

She gulped. “Sir, I am so sorry. I was completely out of line. I… I’ve had a really bad day.” It sounded so lame now. “I was embarrassed when you slapped me, and then you were really pushing me and I just… reacted.” She stopped talking.

Mr. Flores waited 10 full seconds before speaking. “You arrived late. That by itself is disrespectful. You lacked any kind of focus, and then, to top it off, you pulled that stunt. In front of the class.”

“I know,” she said quietly.

Mr. Flores sighed. “Sharon, I’ve seen students get dismissed from dojos for things like this. If I report this to the grand master and put it in his hands, I’m sure that’s what he’ll do.”

Sharon finally looked up at him. “Please, sir, sometimes this dojo is all that keeps me going.”

He stared into her eyes. “Sharon, I’ve seen that you’re a good student. Sometimes you lack focus or good judgment, but I don’t think you should be dismissed from the dojo. But I cannot let your actions go unpunished. If you choose to stay, you must submit to my discipline.”

Sharon dropped her eyes again. “Thank you, sir,” she replied, “I’ll take any punishment you think I should have.”

“Alright, Sharon. Stand up and go to the back room.”

Without a word, she got up, left the office, and moved into the back room. Her stomach did flip-flops. The back room was beyond the main training area, and it was a place for students to practice while other classes were going on. Unlike the main area, it had no windows. Both areas had mirrors on all the walls to allow the students to check themselves when doing kicks, punches, and stances. Sharon stood in the middle of the room and waited.

After a few minutes, Mr. Flores walked into the room carrying a chair.

“Ready stance,” he told her.

Sharon complied and got into a ready stance, the position they were supposed to be in while the instructor was talking about something. Her feet were shoulder width apart with her knees slightly bent and her back straight. She looked straight at herself in the mirror in front of her. Her fists were in front of her belt. Without moving her head, she glanced at Mr. Flores’ reflection in the mirror. Her heart stopped when she noticed that he was also carrying a belt. He placed both items off to the side and came to stand in front of her.

“Sharon, you disrespected me and you disrespected this dojo. I cannot allow those actions to go unpunished. You will learn to respect and obey me as your instructor.”

“Yes, sir,” she replied, still looking straight ahead.

Mr. Flores regarded her for a few seconds. Then he walked over the chair and sat down in it.

“Come here.”

Sharon broke out of the stance and walked to him.

“Get over my knee, Sharon.”

She hesitated, unsure if she really wanted to go through with this.

“Sharon. Get over my knee now, or I will have to make you.”

His tone left no room for argument. Feeling like she was in a dream, she placed herself over his lap. He flipped up the bottom of her gi top over her back, then placed one arm over her back, pinning her to him.

“Let’s not waste any time,” he told her. “First, you came into my class late. This first spanking is punishment for that.”

Sharon didn’t reply. His hand came crashing down on her bottom with a resounding SMACK. She jumped, unable to control herself. Mr. Flores tightened his hold on her and fell into a rhythm of spanking first one cheek, then the other. It hurt, but mostly she burned with shame that she was actually over her instructor’s knee, being spanked like a child. As he spanked her, he began to talk.

“I expect you to arrive with enough time to put your belt on and make yourself presentable for class. Is that clear?” SMACK.

“Yes sir!” she assured him.

After another minute, he stopped. “Now,” he said, “you must be punished for your lack of attention and focus.”

“Yes, sir.”

Suddenly his arm was gone from her back. Before she realized what was happening, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her pants and was pulling them down over her hips.

“Sir!” she cried out, struggling, “Please, you can’t!”

Mr. Flores silenced her with a hard smack. “You said you’d take any punishment I deemed necessary, Sharon. Now is that still true, or would you like to quit the dojo?”

Sharon stopped struggling. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry.”

Without another word, he finished pulling her pants down. Now her lacy purple panties were exposed, and she knew they offered almost no protection for her already aching backside. His arm was back around her, holding her tight.

“You must always focus in class,” he told her. SMACK. She jumped at the more intense pain. “It is disrespectful when you don’t pay attention to your instructor.” SMACK. “And it will get you seriously hurt or killed in a fight.” SMACK. “Is that clear?” SMACK.

“Yes, sir, I understand,” she assured him.

She hoped that was it, but he fell back into a rhythm of spanking her. His hand fell again and again. When she started to squirm with discomfort, he pinned her tighter to himself. At one point she looked up at the mirror and saw herself, red bottom and purple panties under his hand. Finally he stopped.

“Stand up,” he commanded.

Struggling not to cry from shame and pain, she stood up, pants down around her ankles. Mr. Flores stood up as well. He grabbed her shoulder and moved her behind the chair.

“Bend over the back of the chair,” he ordered. “Put your hands on the seat.”

“Sir, please-“

His eyes flashed. “Do it now.”

Meekly she resigned herself to seeing this through. She bent over the chair, causing her ass to stick out. Mr. Flores grabbed her panties and pulled them down. Sharon knew better than to argue; she only had to endure this last punishment, and it would be over.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him retrieve the belt from the floor. He stalked over and stood just behind her, slightly to her left.

“That stunt you pulled during the demonstration was completely out of line. You showed extreme disrespect for me, your classmates, and this dojo. I’m going to punish you severely for your poor judgment.”

Sharon fought to keep from visibly gulping. Unfortunately, the wall-to-wall mirrors afforded her a clear view of exactly what was going on behind her. She tensed in terror as she saw his arm draw back, the belt dangling menacingly from his hand. Then he whipped it forward, laying the belt directly across her bare ass.


The sound was incredible. She had never been spanked with a belt before. She couldn’t believe the fire that tore across her skin. Somehow, she managed not to jump up, but it was a near thing. She saw his arm raise again and choked back a sob; he was going to keep going? Indeed he was. He settled into a steady rhythm of reprimanding her as he spanked.

“What kind of example were you setting for the younger students?”
“Disrespect can erode the foundation of a dojo.”
“And your disrespect in this dojo will get you killed in the streets.”
“I will not allow you to make a joke of what we learn here.”
Sharon couldn’t take it anymore. “No, sir, please, I don’t think it’s a joke at all!” She assured him, hoping for leniency. He didn’t let up.
“I certainly couldn’t tell that by your behavior tonight.”
“Please, please, I’ll never do it again!” She found herself begging.
He chuckled. “Oh, I’m sure you won’t.”
“And if you ever do try something like that again, I’ll spank you right in front of the whole class, young lady. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, yes, I understand!” She answered desperately.
“Count yourself lucky that I decided to punish you in private this time.”
“Yes sir, thank you sir!”

Finally, he threw the belt to the floor. She stayed exactly where she was, quivering. She wasn’t sure if it was over or if he was going to punish her in some new way. Her whole world stopped as she waited to find out.

“You can stand up now, Sharon,” he told her.

She straightened up and glanced over her shoulder at the mirror. Her face was red with shame and embarrassment, but her bottom was purple and crisscrossed with angry welts.

“Ready stance.” He ordered her.

She scurried to obey, terrified of provoking him to further anger. She stood in the center of the room, naked from the waist down, with her well-punished bottom showing in the mirrors. He placed himself in front of her. She was uncomfortably aware of the fact that she was completely on display to him, but there was nothing she could do about it.

“I hope you’ve truly learned your lesson today, young lady,” he told her. “And hopefully the next time you piss off a big, angry man, you’ll have learned enough from me to defend yourself. But that will only happen if you focus in class and give our art and our dojo the respect that they deserve.”

“Yes sir,” she managed to get out.

“And I meant what I said – next time, it’s a spanking in front of everyone.”

This time she did gulp. “I understand, sir.”

“Alright, Sharon, get dressed and go home. I expect to see you here on time tomorrow.”

“Absolutely, sir,” she promised.

With that, he turned and went back into the office. She took advantage of the opportunity to get dressed in private, wincing as she pulled her pants on over her tender bottom.

As she left the dojo, she realized that her stress had completely evaporated.