Billy was a normal, active fourth grader, who occasinally got into trouble, occasinally that trouble was at school. He had actually been to see Mr. Sawyer, the principal twice so far this year, having been sent by his teacher, Miss Marsh, and by the playground attendent, Mrs. Calloway. Both times, Mr. Sawyer had told him that the "next time" he came in, he was going to get the paddle. It was with real concern in his mind that he was again sent to the principal's office by Miss Marsh. His face bloomed when he heard that Mr. Sawyer was on vacation. It was only later, sitting in a chair outside the office, that he learned an associate principal would see him.
He felt pretty confident that nobody would paddle him, but just in case, he placed his handkerchief in his back pocket, and a folded piece of homework paper in the other.
He was called into the office by not one, but two people. The first, a young lady, said she was Miss Wentworth, the associate principal. She didn't say who the other person was. Later he learned it was her fiance', there to help her.
She read his file, and simply said "well, it looks like you are to get the paddle this time. I want you to go into the bathroom there, and relieve yourself." He walked into the bathroom, and shut the door. Try as he could, he could not go. He finally flushed the toilet, so it would sound like he had gone. He opened the door, and found her standing with a BIG paddle, with holes in it. "Take off your trousers and underpants, and bend over please."
Whoa! This was not what he had in mind. He started to complain, to refuse, finally to beg, but she would only tell him that any more delay would get him a worse paddling. Slowly, he kicked off his shoes, then undid his belt, and oh, so slowly unzipped his pants. He unbuttoned the top button, and they dropped down. He had on his underoos, and saw her smile, and actually wink at the man. Then, he pulled out the elastic of his underwear, and pulled it down, and finally off. He bent over, grabbing his knees, having to move his legs apart so he wouldn't fall. Here he was a little red headed kid, about to be a little red butted kid, if he could guess.
She moved beside him, and he could see her arm move, by looking past his own balls through his legs. Soon, there was a terrible noise, followed by intense pain in his butt! He stood up, grabbing his cheeks, and screamed out. "No!". She simply waited, until he had calmed down, and said. "You are going to get ten strokes. If you stand again, that stroke won't count. You have nine more coming. He slowly bent, and again, the paddle hit. Holding onto his knees, he did manage to stay down, although he squeezed his legs and cheeks together, squeezing his sack out into plain view, as he twisted in pain. The third stroke fell, and again he twisted and screamed out. Then, there was a pause, and the paddle hit again, except this time he was knocked down. When he stood, he saw that the man had the paddle in his hand. "That one doesn't count" he said with a smile. The boy knew this wasn't right, but what could he do? He slowly stood, and again waited for his fourth stroke. Again, he was knocked down. This happened four more times, so that he received sixteen strokes instead of the ten he (probably) deserved. When they were finished, the principal told him to go in and wash his face. He went into the bathroom, but didn't close the door all the way, by accident. He washed his tear and snot stained face, and then was holding a paper towel agains his horribly swollen buttocks, when, of curiosity, he looked through the edge of the door. The man's penis was pushing so hard against his trousers, it looked like he would split them!
He made a noise, and walked out, his butt too sore to even rub. Slowly, he dressed, having turned his back to them. As he bent to pull on his underoos, he saw the man rubbing himself, and the lady running her hands up and down the board. He limped from the room, crying. It wasn't until years later that he figured out what must have happened in that room when he left.