Mr. Baker, the principle of our school, was talking to me in the hall when we heard the sound of a loud bang coming from the dormitory room over which I, as a senior, was in charge. We both rushed to the door, as did all the other students within ear shot. When we entered, we found three somewhat surprised and sheepish-looking boys trying to pick up the paper-scrap remains of what must have been a small yet noisy firecracker.
The three boys were all seventh graders, one twelve years old and the other two thirteen. During my year of supervising them only Jake Price, one of the thirteen year olds, had ever before given me any trouble. At that time he had been quite impudent in his behavior so I had swatted him several times on his bottom and he had yelped a little, but he then gave me no more trouble.
Now the situation was much more serious. Mr. Baker ordered all the other boys out of the room so that he and I could search the lockers of these three for any other firecrackers. They stood there nervously as we did so. In one of the lockers, the one belonging to Bob Matchet, the other thirteen year old, we found a small box of them. These Mr. Baker confiscated. Then he turned to me as the dormitory supervisor and asked, "What are you going to do about this?"
I told him that I thought such naughty boys deserved a good spanking, and that I was prepared to give that to each of them. The youngest one, Jim Smith, looked particularly distraught at this statement. But Mr. Baker agreed with me and suggested that we all go to his quarters so that the punishment wouldn't be interrupted or viewed by any of the other boys. So we marched the three of them to Mr. Baker's suite. As we passed other boys in the hall, I could see their knowing looks. But our three miscreants carefully avoided any eye contact with any of them.
In his suite, Mr. Baker lectured the three of them on the dangers of lighting firecrackers, particularly inside a building. And then I repeated much of what he had said so that they would be completely clear as to the message. They stood their sheepishly, aware that the painful part of this lesson was yet to come. Finally I pulled a straight-backed chair into the middle of the room and told Jim Smith to drop his trousers in preparation for his punishment. I had decided to start with the youngest one and take on the one I had punished before last.
The twelve year old flushed with embarrassment as he undid his belt to let his trousers fall to his ankles. I told him to step out of the trousers and walk over to where I was sitting on the chair. Mr. Baker was relaxing on his couch watching the whole procedure. The other two boys were standing by the wall nervously awaiting their turns.
Since Jim Smith's underwear looked like it might have been worn for several days, I called attention to that fact, saying that he should change it more often. This brought more color of embarrassment to his face, but he said nothing. I then told him to lean over my knees and prepare himself for some pain. When he was in position, I pulled his shirt tail away from his bottom and then took hold of some of the cloth of the leg holes in his briefs and, with a hard twist, pulled them up so that they cut deeply into the cleft between the buttocks and both his ass cheeks were bared.
It was a lovely sight -- two flesh-colored orbs just waiting to be turned red as my open palm landed on them. I raised my hand for the first swat, which I placed on his left cheek as hard as I could. The boy screamed "Ouch," but stayed in position. I looked at Mr. Baker, who nodded his approval. Then I landed a swat on his right cheek. After a few more swats, Smith was in tears and pleading with me to stop, promising never to touch firecrackers again and to be good all the time for the rest of the school year. But I didn't stop spanking him until I was sure he was in enough pain to have learned his lesson well.
I then told him to stand beside the other two but not yet to put his trousers back on. I think he was glad to be able to leave them off for awhile as he probably didn't want anything touching his raw skin, but I don't know for sure since he was still crying as he walked away from me.
I dealt with Bob Matchet in much the same way, although I spanked him for a longer time because he was the one whose locker contained the contraband objects. The skin on his two buttocks was whiter than that of the twelve year old and so the redness my palm produced was even more pronounced. I think he was trying his best not to crack because it took many more whacks before he was sobbing like a baby. I rather enjoyed seeing him break down like this. It gave me a feeling of power to thus reduce a thirteen year old to tears. When I was finished with him, his fire red buttocks were quite warm to the touch.
The third boy, Jake Price, had apparently learned nothing from the first time I spanked him and so I determined that this time would be different. Again I had the boy remove his trousers and get over my lap where I pulled his briefs into the tight position. He had a better-shaped bottom than the other two, not too fat or too thin, an ass almost perfectly designed for spanking. I went to with a vengeance, as if I were tenderizing a steak before broiling it. Jake not only cried, he screamed, but Mr. Baker did nothing to stop me. Every time I looked at him he just nodded his approval. I think he must have found all this rather exciting because he was carefully holding his hand over the crotch of his trousers. I had also developed a bit of an erection as I laid my strokes on this third boy, and my hand was becoming sore from over use. Finally I stopped the punishment and told Jake Price to line up with the others.
The three of them standing there with tear-stained faces and their underwear pulled tight so that their red buttocks were exposed looked no longer like seventh graders but more like naughty little five-year olds waiting for their father to tell them what to do next. I again gave them a short lecture about the dangers of playing with firecrackers and then told them they could put their trousers back on.
I asked Mr. Baker if he had anything to say to them.
"Yes," he replied, "stay there because we aren't through yet."
I wondered what other punishment he might have in mind. As far as I was concerned, the boys had had enough. I noticed that all three of them were beginning to shake again.
Mr. Baker then turned to me and said, "We haven't yet taken care of the fact that you have not been supervising these boys properly, have you? If you had been doing so, they wouldn't have been able to keep a box of fire crackers in one of their lockers."
I had to admit this was true, but I certainly didn't like the direction in which things were suddenly beginning to turn.
"You need to be punished for your negligence," he said firmly. And then he told one of the boys to take the chair out of the center of the room and replace it with a bar stool that he would find in the bedroom. While Matchet was doing this, Mr. Baker told me to drop my pants just as the boys had done.
"In front of them?" I asked in alarm.
"Of course," he said, "and drop your underwear too. You don't deserve any protection."
No way! I defiantly stood my ground. I wasn't about to let the three I had just punished see me stretched over a stool with my butt fully exposed.
"Hurry up," Mr. Baker said. "I haven't got all day."
I just stood there, not sure how I could get out of this situation.
Mr. Baker turned to the three seventh graders and said, "I guess you had better help him."
In no time six hands and arms were all over me. I could easily handle these boys one at a time, but I was no match for their coordinated assault. Two of them pinned my arms behind me and the third undid my belt and roughly pulled down my pants and underwear. I tried to kick them away, but all I accomplished was to kick the crumpled garments around my ankles across the room.
"Put him over the stool," Mr. Baker told them, and so the three of them roughly pulled me toward it and bent me over it so that my rear was high in the air. I'm sure they were having fun doing this. It must have seemed like a case of justice to them, a chance to get back at the one who had so recently given each of them a spanking.
"Hold onto the legs of the stool," Mr. Baker told me, "and if you let go to try to protect yourself, you will really be sorry."
I slowly did as he told me, realizing that I was about to provide a show that no one in that room would ever forget. I am sure that my face was now as red as the buttocks of the three boys had been before I released them.
Mr. Baker didn't bother to lecture me as he had the boys, but got right down to business. It was a terrible feeling to be naked from the waist down in front of the three I had just finished punishing. They were wide-eyed as they waited to find out what Mr. Baker would do next.
"No spanking by hand for you," he said to me. "You deserve to feel some leather."
With this he brought forth a belt, perhaps an inch wide, that he doubled up before he swung his arm back to let it rip into me. I had never before felt such a shock, like a bolt of electricity striking my posterior and moving up my spine to register in my brain. I was only briefly aware of the fact that this first lash must have left a nasty red stripe across my ass before the second one landed. I have been told that the first stroke in a spanking is the worst and things get easier after that. But that certainly wasn't true this time. Instead of getting less painful as the belt continued to mark my backside with red stripes, each blow seemed to be worse than the previous one. Just like the three boys I began to yelp from the pain. And it was not long before I, too, was sobbing and pleading for Mr. Baker to stop.
But he didn't do so for what seemed the longest time. My backside must have looked like the skin of a zebra, except that my stripes were red and not black. It would be many days before I would be able to sit down comfortably again.
"I hope all of you have learned your lesson," he said to us as we departed from his suite.
I didn't look at the boys, but headed immediately for the bathroom to examine the damage. I knew they would soon be relating every intimate detail of what they had witnessed to the rest of the school. I also knew it would be almost impossible for me to now supervise any of those in my dormitory. Fortunately it was almost the end of the term and I would soon be graduating.