I went to an inner-city high school in Pennsylvania in the early seventies where although you could get away with quite a lot, they still believed in "swinging the wood" to boys who had went just a bit too far. Usually a teacher who was at wits end would send the wise guy to the office with a note and the Vice Principal would decide the number of swats the boy would receive. (the girls only got detention, although their bad behavior often surpassed the boys) Although I often cut up in class and often cut class, my blond angelic looks kept me from any punishment worse than a tongue lashing, mush to my chagrin.
Although I had been fascinated by seeing the hunky jocks coming back from the office with red-rimmed eyes, gingerly trying to sit down; by far the best paddling encounter I witnessed is the one I will relate now. When I was fifteen in the eleventh grade, one day a week half of our gym class was required to take health instruction while the other half had swim class. One day after class had been underway for about five minutes we were interrupted by the Vice Principal Mr. Kaye and another man who looked like a muscular version of Dennis the Menace's father. Our gym teacher Mr Norman looked up from the desk and asker what was up. Mr Kaye explained that when Mr Norman was absent the preceding Friday, the gentleman with him had been the unfortunate substitute teacher (I didn't know as I had skipped class when I heard he was going to be out!!). Apparently those who did attend class thought the tall, angular man was a likely target of ridicule and proceeded to poke fun at him and generally ran amok during what should have been gym class (the exact nature of what had transpired was never made entirely clear to me, but one thing everyone agreed on was he had been hit on the head several times with a basketball) Mr Kaye explained that they were there now to pay back the guilty parties and the tall man brought out his arm from behind his back and produced a long, inch and a half thick paddle with numerous holes.
I noticed that everyone was looking around at each other nervously and wondering who had been bad enough to be put on the "hit list". The wait wasn't long, Dennis' father pointed out each boy and Mr. Norman bellowed out their names to stand up. "Childers"! a muscular blond boy with tight white Levi's on stood up. "Smith" another more slender blond with tight blue bell bottoms. "Reardon" , a pretty boy with long brown hair and green eyes. Then several others I don't recall and finally "Marino", who sat right next to me. He was eighteen years old, but still was puny and little like an eleven year old (just like those kids on some of those sitcoms) He stood up smirking with his thumbs in the pockets of his black pants. (in my mind I was cowardly screaming "what about me?? I committed a crime too, I cut class")
As luck would have it, I had a clear view to the hall and could see everything perfectly. First Clilders sauntered out. Mr Kaye had pulled a chair out and up against the gray marble wall. He told Childers to bend over and hug the seat of the chair and not get up until he had two swats. Dennis' father wielded the paddle with great relish. SWAT! Suddenly Childers head shot up towards the wall and he didn't look so _c_o_c_k_y anymore SWAT! I could tell he wanted to cry, but his tough guy image would not permit it. As he came back in I tried to imagine those cut, white muscular buns under those white pants, suddenly turning a fire engine red. Smith was next and he did look scared, SWAT SWAT-he came in with a couple tears flowing and both hands rubbing the seat of his blue bells. Some of the less attractive boys went out for their medicine then Reardon, who had the most beautiful Mel Gibson ass. SWAT SWAT. When he came back, he too was on the verge of tears, and I loved the way it took him a couple minutes to get that sweet ass placed just right on the hard wooden chair. He kept shifting from hip to hip and rubbed the seat of his jeans without shame.
Last, but not least was the unrepentant Marino, who still stood smirking. He went out in the hall like a childlike Edward G Robinson in an old prison movie. I could tell the two men thought of this pipsqueek as the ring leader and wanted to burn his ass most of all. Mr Norman informed the class that if we couldn't learn from the ears down, we would start learning from the ass up (I wanted to ask him for private lessons, but didn't dare) Marino assumed the position and Dennis' dad swung his arm so far back I thought he would hit the doorframe. CRAAAACK- I thought the little guy was going to meet up with Neil Armstrong. He made some kind of scurrying motion like a small animal who too late realizes danger, but Mr Kaye grabbed him and put him back in position. There was not an ounce of mercy in swat number two-CRAAAAACK! and his body actually did jerk forward. He came back in bawling like a baby and just stood beside me at his chair furiously rubbing his what must have been scarlet colored little butt. Mr. Norman bellowed at him to sit the hell down, so he could feel the full effect of his ass beating. He shifted from hip to hip much faster than Reardon had, rather like someone trying to sit on a hot skillet. Everyone gave him a "how the mighty" had fallen look and some actually giggled. I was too excited to do anything, but wish I could have been a mouse in that swim class to see them get theirs (maybe bareassed??) One fellow in class, who didn't get paddled, had long light brown hair was I noticed (to my horror) watching ME. I could tell from his knowing grin that he could tell how much I was getting off on the whole thing. Now in retrospect I realize he was too, and we probably could have gone off for some fantastic _s_e_x_ if we were a bit older and wiser.