I knew that this day was not going to be good. My step-mother was also my algebra teacher and I had not prepared for her test today. But that was the least of my worries. A few of my friends and I had made arrangement to spike the tea of one of our stricter teachers, and that we did. It turned out to be a disaster when the teacher passed out during his class and was taken to the local hospital. We, of course, had been caught by a sneaky freshman that was also the brother of one of us that spiked the tea. While sitting in the assitant principal's office we knew that the end was in site.
It was decided by the assistant principal and each parent, including my step-mother that we would accept a 3-day suspension, be required to perform 100 hours of school maintenance work, and receive corporal punishment either at school or home. All of the parents, with the exception of one single mother, chose to handle the corporal punishment at home. This was not good for me. My father was on a trip to Portugal and would not be home for another week. I knew that each parent had given their word concerning the corporal punishment and my step-mother was probably the most angered of the 4 parents.
Lucky for me, my step-mother was also my transportation home. As we left the school house that day it became obvious that my step-mother, Joan, was carrying the assistant principal's rather large paddle along with her stack of books. Seeing her carry that through the parking lot and placing it in the back seat of the car was only the beginning of my embarrassment. Needless to say, the ride home was rather quiet and uneventful. After 10 minutes of riding in silence I decided to pose the question, "Why didn't you just let Mr. Franklin take care of my paddling at school?" The answer, much to my dissatisfaction, was something to the effect that there was a lot more room for damage in the privacy of home. That statement, made quickly and sternly, caused a chill to run up my stomach. I knew that pain was soon to come.
Once home, Joan asked me to bring her supplies and the paddle into the house and to be sure the garbage was emptied throughout the house and the animals fed for the day. Once that was completed, as she worked in the kitchen, several other chores were assigned and completed without haste. She was dragging this out and I the pain was agonizing. I knew that I had no choice but to accept the punishment because my Dad would make matters much worse if I did not cooperate. The wrath of Dad was definitely something that I did not want to experience under any circumstances.
Once completed with my tasks I proceeded to my room to settle down and wait for my first paddling from my teacher step-mother. My stomach was in knots and I soon realized how sorry I was to have played this practical joke. More than anything I was afraid of the pain that was soon to come my way. Little did I know what Joan had in store for me. As I lay waiting Joan called for me to come to supper and we ate in silence as quickly as possible. Once that was over I headed back to my room to await further pain and agony.
After about an hour from the time dinner was concluded I heard my step-mother coming toward my room and I braced for the worse. Bearing that not-to-large, but somewhat thick, paddle Joan entered the room and shut the door. "You know," she said, "what is fixing to happen and there is no reason for discussion is there?" I, of course, was not going to argue. I was 17 and fixing to be paddled like a 6 year old child. I had counted on about 15 licks while bent over holding my knees. I had even added a pair of underwear to help alleve some of the pain. Once the general introduction was completed Joan told me that I would need to lower my jeans and stretch across my bed. That was not what I wanted to hear and an immediate protest was forthcoming from my mouth when she raised her hand as if to say don't bother arguing. I stared in disbelief and she nodded for me to proceed with this embarrasing act of having to unhook my belt, unsnap my pants, lower my zipper, and push down my jeans to below my buttocks. I certainly had not expected this. Once that was completed and I was safely across my bed Joan took one rather firm and direct swat across the center of my buttocks. I screamed loudly and immediately put my hands across my backside. It was then that the horror actually took place. Joan looked at my buttocks closely and immediately asked how many pairs of underwear I had on. I had no choice but to say "two I think" and remove my hands from my backside and place them in front of me as if ready to take another blow. Joan was hesitating. Finally, she said "get up and pull them down." "No Way" I screamed as I lay there waiting for another lick. "I'm too old for this already and I'm certainly too old to pull down my underwear." Joan was ready. "I'm counting to 10 and for each second it takes you to get your underwear down to the floor I will add another lick to what you are already going to get." The words were spoken, the decision was mine as she began to count. I began to beg and plead with my step-mother not to make me pull down my underwear and to just give me some extra licks if I pulled down just one of the pair. She just continued counting. The tears began to flow. My algebra teacher was fixing to see my bare behind and to also cause great harm to it. Being in shock and misery I was determined to try again and pleaded with Joan to sit down and talk with me about this proposal. She continued to count. Time was running out. A decision had to be made. It was. I would continue to plead. I asked Joan to stop, she complied. "Joan," I said, "I know I did wrong at school, I know you are going to paddle me, and I know I shoudn't have put on extra underwear, but spanking me on the bare bottom is asking too much. Can we wait until Dad gets home?" Joan was ready. "You have made your bed and we are going to settle this matter right now. You are simply going to do what I asked and take your punishment. I'm sure your butt is no different from any other, I'm sure that the paddling will hurt worse. But, a paddling is designed to cause pain and I like being able to see the damage being done. Paddlings were made to be applied to a bottom not to layers of clothing anyway. Take care of it now and we'll forget the delay." What was I to do? Begging was out of the question. I felt like throwing up. So, I turned around, stuck my fingers in the elastic straps, and slowly pulled the underwear down to just below my buttocks. There, on display for my step-mother of three years and my algebra teacher were two, big butt cheeks ready to be swatted. It was embarrasing. Thinking that she would see these cheeks jiggle and turn red was too much to take without tears. Knowing that she saw the hair coming out of my crack and the light layer of hair that covered both cheeks was worse than anything I had ever experienced. Now she knew. The paddling proceeded with swat after swat coming with short intervals between each. She spread them out but mostly struck across the center of both cheeks. I clinched my teeth and yelped with each swat. It only took five before the crying started. Once she reached lick #10 I could take it no longer and put my hands on my backside to catch the next blow. They stopped. I cried. I looked back to see my hairy buttocks redder than I had anticipated and I was shocked. "You've got five more so move your hands," she stated and I complied. Those five were pure torture but I took them like a man. Once completed, she walked out of the room and left me crying and weeping bitterly as I lay across my bed. It was over. It had been worse than expected, extremely embarrassing. Why had this happened? How could this have happened? I showered and watched TV on my stomach for the rest of the evening. I had learned my lesson.