Please refer to previous Pender County Academy stories for background.
It was the start of a new school year, and I looked forward to getting out of Miss Chambers class. Although the last few months at school had settled down for me, the thought of her mean streak sent shivers down my back. I had just turned 10, and was going into the 4th grade. Our new teacher was Mr. Williams. He was a short man, who had a bald head, and wore glasses. He impressed me with his pleasantness, until he got done with the necessary first day paperwork, and started in on his rules. The first rule was that he was in charge. The second rule was never forget the first rule. We kind of laughed, until he went to a closet, and brought out a long wooden paddle, with names written on it. He said that if anyone messed up, they would become intimatly aquainted with his paddle, which he called the board of education. He said that even if we did something that would send us to Mr. Ripley's office, we would get it again when we returned to class. (I couldn't help but remember that PCA kids who got in trouble automatically got it "worse" when they got back.)
Mary, the PCA girl from my 3rd grade class, was also in my 4th grade class. She sat in front of me, one row over. Class went well until the first period after lunch, when we were supposed to be writing about the most exciting thing that happened to us during the summer. (I half wondered if he would enjoy hearing about my various punishments.) I put something down about watching movies outside, when Mr. Williams threw a book down so loudly we all jumped in our chairs. I looked up, just as Mary's head was snapping up off of her desk. Mr. Williams asked her if she had had a good nap. She was flustered, and I could see her neck was red.
Mr. Williams asked her to please come up to the front of the class and explain to him and the class why she was sleeping. She slowly walked up, embarassed, and tried to say something, but it was obvious she was in trouble. Mr. Williams said that he had hoped to go all year without having to punish somebody, but that he guessed he couldn't. He then pulled his desk chair out from behind his desk, set it in the middle of the area in front of the blackboard, and went to the closet, where he got his paddle. Poor Mary was sobbing and I could see she was rubbing her butt, as she looked at him. He had her bend over and grab the seat of the chair, and then threw the back of her skirt up, exposing her little girl panties. He then stepped to the side, and sort of lined up the paddle with her butt. He told her if she moved, he would start all over again paddling her. He asked her how old she was. She said 10, in a shaky voice. He then just cracked her with the paddle. She cried out, probably as much in surprise as pain, but held her position. He then smacked her with a sort of upward motion. He continued this for two more strokes. It caused her panties to ride up, exposing the lower part of her butt, which was really red. You could see a little line on both sides, where her thighs began. Once he had a target, Mr. Williams just paddled away, until I guess he had hit her about 10 times. I know all of us kids were scared to death, and could see some of the girls covering their eyes. I guess that they did not think that they would be paddled, at least not in front of the class. Mr. Williams told Mary to get up, which she did. Her hands immediately went to her poor rear end, and I could see her pulling the edges of her panties down as she rubbed herself. He then told her to go sit down, which she did. I could see her jump a little as she sat.
I spoke to her the next day, and she said her dorm captain had taken pity on her, and just spanked her bare butt with her hand when she got back. (I wondered if Ray had ever had such compassion?)
I really liked Mr. Williams, and even was able to help out by cleaning the erasers, and running erands for him. That lead to my seeing Mr. Ripley paddle two kids as I waited outside his glassed in office to drop off some important paper that Mr. Williams needed signed. I remember turning the corner to the office, and hearing a muffled "crack". I skidded to a stop, and slowly peered around into the window. I saw a boy bent over, completely exposed, his bare red butt on display, and his bag hanging low as he was grabbing his ankles and getting the full force of that big black paddle. The boy was older, probably 12 or so, and he was really getting it. I was surprised that a non-PCA kid would get it bare, but he sure was. I stepped back after what ended up being the last swat, and saw the boy as he walked out, tears running down his cheeks, and snot dripping from his nose. I could see Mr. Ripley putting the paddle back as I approached his office door for the "first time". I showed him the papers, and started to leave, when he asked me why I had been staring at the other boy getting a spanking? I tried to think of something to say, but couldn't. He just told me to stand there, and called in a younger boy who was sitting on a bench outside (I had not even noticed him). Mr. Ripley talked to the boy, and then told him to drop his pants and grab his ankles, which caused him to cry. Finally, after threats of many more swats, he undid his little belt, an undid his zipper, which caused his blue jeans to fall to a circle around his ankles. Mr. Ripley then told him to drop his underpants too, and the by slowly pulled the elastic out, and dropped them down, exposing about 1/2 of his butt, but keeping them up in front. Mr. Ripley just walked up to him, and pulled them down to his ankles, telling him that when he said down, he meant all the way down, and that that little stunt was going to earn him another swat. The boy grabbed his little butt with that, forcing his little shriveled up penis and bag out in front. All you could see was the pink tip of his penis, an his little marble like balls in his sack. He was told to bend over, and reminded that if he got up, he would be sorry. The boy slowly bent over removing his hands from his butt as he turned. I was now about 5 feet from him, and could closely study his rear anatomy, something that I had never seriously done before. His cheeks stretched tight, and his crack seperated as he bent over, finally bringing his little brown hole into view, along with the back of his little bag, which was hanging very loose. His little hole looked kind of like a brown circle which just barely stuck out. About that time, Mr. Ripley whacked him, and the boy screamed. He screamed with every swat, and I saw the paddle marks on his butt go from white to pink to red, to brilliant red with little white marks where the paddle holes were. Mr. Ripley finished, and the boy stood up, crying his eyes out. Mr. Ripley waited for him to settle down, (his hands were squeezing the pain out of his butt). When he had settled down, Mr. Ripley reminded him that he had one more coming, for not following orders. The boy just stood there shaking his head "no", with tears flowing from his eyes. Mr. Ripley simply pointed with the paddle, and the boy slowly and painfully bent over again. His butt was now a livid red, and was visibly shaking, as the last stroke hit. He just stayed down in position crying, until Mr. Ripley told him to stand up and get dressed. The boy did this, and left the office, hands on butt.
Mr. Ripley then turned to me and said that since I seemed to like paddling, he was going to give me a gift. He said he knew we PCA kids got it when we got back, so he wasn't going to tell anyone, and then told me to assume the position. I almost wanted to kiss him and thank him for his kindness as I quickly skinned down my pants and underwear, and bent over. The strokes I received hurt, but somehow I didn't even care. I remember looking between my legs at my own little bag, as it slammed forward with every stroke.
Sure, I cried, but I never told a soul!