[Grand Station, Nebraska; May 17, 1882]
"Do you know why you were sent to my office, Nicholas?"
"No, sir," Nicholas replied, his eyes fastened on the carpet in front of Mr. Gradoske's desk.
"You don't remember your little 'encounter' with Betsy this noon during recess? Behind the bushes at the creek?"
"Yes, sir." So Betsy had told on him after all. Well, there would be hell to pay for this one. The best he could hope was that she wouldn't tell his parents. Nicholas really didn't even want to think about that possibility.
"Would you like to tell me your version of that meeting."
"No, sir."
"I'm not surprised, Nicholas. Betsy says you were back behind the bushes with your pants wide open playing with yourself. Were you doing that, Nicholas?"
"Yes, sir," Nicholas answered after a delay in which he contemplated a total denial and figured it wouldn't work.
"You can imagine the shock for poor Betsy. But I doubt you can imagine the punishment you earned for yourself with such disgusting behavior in public. And I can assure you you'll never do it again after I finish with you, young man."
"Yes, sir."
"I'll give you a little time to think about your punishment because you're going to report back here when school's out this afternoon. Then you can sit here and starting copying out one thousand times 'I will not play with myself'--that assignment you can complete in the coming days at home since you will be suspended from this school for the rest of this week. When I have finished with the day's grading, Nicholas, you and I are going to take a trip out back of the woodshed where you're going to take your pants down for the second time today, this time for a licking with a hickory switch. Do you understand me? And I don't like to resort to such severe punishment. But I've never had anyone do what you did, either."
"Yes, sir." The worst had indeed come to pass. He had heard tales of Mr. Gradoske taking a switch to the older boys on occasion. But the worst of it was that this was going to be known at home. Both Nicholas and his teacher knew that meant a second licking with the razor strop. He'd be writing his lines stand-ing up over the next three days.
"Dismissed!"
* * * *
That afternoon was the longest of young Nicholas Springer's life. And from the looks which came his way from the other students, Mr. Gradoske wasn't the only one Betsy had told. He owed her for this one, and she would pay for it. But that would have to wait till he got through the current crisis. He wasn't sure which to fear more, after school with the principal or when he got home and his father found out. Several times Nicholas seriously contemplated just running away for a few days till the fire had subsided somewhat. Maybe if they figured he was gone forever and then got him back they might be so relieved he wouldn't be punished. Somehow he knew that wouldn't work either. So there was nothing left but watch the minutes tick off the clock till his execution.
At 3:00 pm his teacher dismissed the class and the old bell tolled freedom for everyone but him. He shot one hate-filled look at Betsy as she left and then resolutely made his way down to Mr. Gradoske's office. He was waiting. And already laying on his desk a hickory switch.
"Welcome back. Here is some paper and you can take a seat over there to work on your lines while I finish grading exams. I want one thousand lines, each numbered, each well written: 'I am ashamed I played with myself and will not ever do it again.' You have till the end of next week to turn them in."
Nicholas couldn't take his eyes off the desk. He really meant it! And he got very few lines written during the forty-five minutes it took Mr. Gradoske to complete his work. Worse, he knew he would be at this most of the next few week at home. He could feel the fear of what was soon enough to come in his stomach and he felt the rapid pounding in his chest when he looked at the switch on the desk.
"It's time you and I made our trip, young man," he said, rising from his chair and taking the switch off his desk.
He latched on to Nicholas's shoulder and walked him out the door in front of her, then down the hallway, out the back door, across the baseball field, and behind the woodshed. There were two bales of hay, one on the other, and little doubt about their purpose. He had bent across them before.
"You'll take your pants down for this whipping, young man," he said. "And then bend across and take your well deserved punishment."
Nicholas unbuckled his belt, opened his britches, and let them fall to his feet. He was shocked, embarrassed, and humiliated by the obvious lump standing out in his underwear. He quickly turned his back to his executioner, hoping Mr. Gradoske had not seen.
"Your incorrigible, you little demon!" he hissed at Nicholas. Obviously he had seen. "I told you to take your pants down and I meant it. If you won't, I will, Nicholas Springer."
Nicholas peeled his underwear down to his knees, baring his backside and freeing his still stiff penis to bob wildly when Mr. Gradoske grabbed his shoulder and spun him round to face his teacher once again. There he stood, naked from the waist, his gloriously new-found manhood at full staff, his face blushing a deep scarlet.
"Very, well, then. We'll do this," Mr. Gradoske said. "Take hold and show me how you play with yourself since you seem to be so intent on doing it."
This was more than poor Nicholas could bear and a tear trickled down his cheek. The punishment was enough without humiliation. He stood there, arms at his sides, his penis still betraying him in full erection.
"Did you hear me?! I told you to show me just how you play with it and I mean it."
Still Nicholas stood there. He just couldn't.
"Very, well. Bend across the bale. We'll just see how exciting you find this," he said, brandishing the switch.
Nicholas quickly did as he was ordered, bending across the bales till he touched the dirt on the other side, his bared buttocks offered up to Mr. Gradoske as sacrifice. The stubble from the bales pricked his bared legs as he lay across them. The teacher moved behind him and to the side; when he raised the switch Nicholas closed his eyes and heard the whoosh before he felt the first lick across his backside. It hurt more that anything he'd ever known.
"When I finish with you I don't think you'll be wanting to play with yourself soon." He punctuated the lecture with a second whistling cut that brought Nicholas upright with a howl.
"Now turn around and show me how you play with it."
Shocked that he was still sporting that cursed erection, Nicholas, confused and willing to do anything to buy time from another lick, turned and faced his teacher grabbing his shaft. He closed his eyes and slowly pulled up and down. That indescribably delicious feeling soon began to supplant the horrible fire in his buttocks.
"That's enough. In fact, that's more than enough. I am satisfied now that Betsy was telling the truth. Now you're going to get a whipping I promise you will never forget." He pointed to the bales with the switch and Nicholas, resigned to his fate, once again put himself over the makeshift whipping bench.
"I am going to have a nice talk with your father, young man, because I think he needs to give you a few lessons about proper behavior. It's bad enough for the character when you sneak around in private, but when you start in at recess in public . . .." He finished the sentence by lashing the switch across the two weals already painted on his buttocks.
The lecture continued, Mr. Gradoske underlining his points with the hickory switch. He took his good time and had laid on a dozen stripes before he switched sides and started on the backhand. All the while poor Nicholas bucked, wriggled, wailed, and pleaded but remained in position while Mr. Gradoske gave him the whipping he had promised him. Finally, mercifully, after a dozen wicked licks, he stopped.
Nicholas's backside looked for all the world as is he had sat on a hot fire grate and while there seated had been attacked by a swarm of yellow jackets. At first he could not muster the effort just to straighten up. When he did, there was no erection: it looked more like his pride and joy had gone into hibernation entirely. His tormenter glared at him as he gingerly pulled his briefs and britches up over his scalded posterior.
"You come with me back to the office, Nicholas, because I have a note I'm sending home to your parents."
Nicholas walked back following her, each step bringing a little chafing which only seemed to intensify the fire he felt behind. When they got to the office the teacher handed him the sheets he had written and a sealed envelope addressed to his father.
"You have two days suspension and what free time you can find next week to finish your assignment. You may return to school only after the two days are up and you bring back your parents' signature on this note. Dismissed!"
Nicholas took the long way home, the note in the book he was carrying weighed like a field stone. There had to be some way out of this, but if there was, he could not seem to find it. Mr. Gradoske had covered all the escape routes. First, he could not go back to school for two days so he'd have to explain that. Then, of course, he could not get back in without a note from his parents. Worse, he had to have the one thousand lines written by the end of next week. Running away for a few days looked to be one desperate option. Or maybe he could come down with some dread disease so they would think this not so bad as he faced death itself. Why had that stupid girl been stumbling around in the woods at recess anyway?!! If he lived through this, she would pay, that's for sure!