The Oklahoma School Surprise


Oklahoma is a 'big' paddling state, no 'surprise' there, I got my share of swats at school in fifth thru seventh grade, just like every other kid, one or two zingers that took the sassy smile off a cheeky kid's face quickly enough. As with most school districts however, paddlings faded away at about 13 or 14 years of age as you matured and your teachers treated you accordingly. There was no 'law' about it, we all knew that paddlings could be given even to seniors if they earned them, it was just not done.

My 'surprise' came when I was sixteen, going on thirty. I decided, as I had done Many times before, that biology was a class I could quite well live without attending, so at 3 p. m. I gave myself early leave by means of walking towards the back gate instead of the science section. I really didn't think anything about it, I was totally confident that I was my own man and far too crafty to get caught, much less detention.

Anyway, out of nowhere, striding in the opposite direction, was Mr Bradley, our Vice Principal, and The Man where punishment was concerned, as I had learned once when I was about 13. I braved it out and smiled at him but years of spotting dishonesty triumphed and he challenged me outright. I didn't bother lying as I knew he would check, and anyway, a detention wasn't going to kill me. His words, which two 8th graders definitely overheard, took the breath from me though.

"Right, Larry, it's time you learned that this school is not here for you to treat like a rooming house. I'm going to swat your tail, HARD, and we'll see if that changes your attitude". You could have knocked me over with a feather. I was sixteen, for Christs sakes. He marched me into his (thankfully) empty classroom and hunted around in the stationery closet for his paddle. He produced this battered old thing which had seen better days, it looked like it had been in Vietnam, and lost. It was stained dark, about 18 inches by 4 at the business end and it looked very heavy, very thick. There were only two holes in it, but they were each a full one inch across. I felt my knees go a bit weak (I hate fear, you don't WANT to be afraid, but it happens despite your efforts to control it). I tried to talk him round to another kind of punishment but before I had finished the sentence he had pulled his chair out and turned it around.

"Bend over this, grab the other side with both hands, and don't try to stand up or let go until you've had five or you'll get 2 extra pops". My legs were weak, and my hands shook a bit at the shock at the turn of events. It was all a kind of a fluke that I was getting paddled at age 16, but nothing I said or did was going to reduce the pain, probably the opposite. I bent over and he put his foot between mine and kind of kicked my feet apart until they were about shoulder width then he moved them in closer to the chair making my body bend into a tighter angle and, I am sure, stretching my pants as tight as possible across my butt. I was wearing a pair of Hanes briefs and a pair of slacks, God, I wish I'd worn jeans that day.

He raised that paddle high and let fly with the first swat, the big holes in the paddle meant it fairly flew into my butt and landed with a CRACK like a starting pistol. I jerked and suddenly the sting hit me. Hard. He took his time then gave me number two. I felt the most incredible thud and a wave of red hot pain went across both cheeks similtaniously, this guy did a professional job. I was now in real pain and feeling very sorry for myself. Then he really put on a show for SWAT number three. It was all I could do not to grab my butt and jump about, I felt hot wet tears drip down my cheeks and realised I was about to disgrace myself; not only had I had to be paddled like a twelve year old, I had cried as well. If I had hoped for relief on the next two swats I was mistaken, they were award winners. On the last stinging swat my entire ass was radiating and numb. I had never felt such intense, localised pain, it stung like hell.

I stood up, very slowly, my legs felt like they had turned to rubber, my stomach was in a knot and my hands went instinctively to each butt cheek to rub the pain away. I felt like a ten year old, I'd been punished like one, and now, instead of being angry or outraged, all I felt was fear, fear that he might give me another swat. I couldn't take my, wattery, eyes off that paddle. I swore to myself then that, no matter what the temptation, I'd NEVER do anything which could result in another paddling from this man.

I cleaned myself up and was sent off to biology with a handritten note explaining my lateness, and it's reward, which my biology teacher thought so cute she read out to the class. My butt stung constantly throught class, I don't mean it 'hurt', I mean it was so sore it was a total distraction to anything that was going on around me. By about two hours, at home and once the 'damage' had been inspected (surprisingly little bruising, but a livid red stripe about 10 inches wide, right across both cheeks), the sting has subsided to a slight ache and a throb when I sat on it.

Before the pain had died down I relived the whole thing in my imagination and I jerked off faster and harder than I had ever done before. I was rock solid in bed all night too and could barely sleep for the boner.

I was too embarassed to tell my folks about my paddling, but my Mom found out three days later and ribbed me about it at dinner. My Dad didn't see the funny side though and said that if it happened again this school year he'd give me something to cry for. The threat was enough. It's been four and a half months now, and no trouble (touch woody :-}) but nowadays I wear jeans and have a second pair of briefs in my locker, just in case I need an extra layer.