The early demonstrations all had the desired effect of making the rest of the morning go by without event. Still, boys will be boys and more demonstrations would inevitably come.
Tyler was a good-looking young man who looked much like the kid on Home Improvement. Blonde hair, blue eyes, his body was even shapelier than that Tylers. Chris and I had proved to think alike so much already that it should not come as a surprise that both of our eyes kept drifting to Tyler. All through lunch and athletic free time, Tyler just had that magnetic personality that drew other kids to him. It would be interesting to see how he used that.
Tylers fate was sealed when I overheard him telling an inappropriate joke to a group of students. He was noticeably concerned when I appeared out of nowhere and asked him to come with me. Chris and I exchanged smiles; I had won the first privilege.
Tyler was an intelligent boy who knew hed been caught. He quickly tried to apologize.
"Im sorry, sir," he said.
"Not as sorry as youre going to be, Tyler. You should know in view of the show you had earlier that we wont give warnings whenever you do something we all know is wrong," I replied, indicating that he should lead the way into the punishment room.
Head down, he gasped when he entered. On the walls were hanging different sizes of paddles and straps. In the corner on the floor were a couple of buckets filled with rods and next to it filled with what appear to be several rods tied together soaking in water, Tyler would later learn was called a birch. In the center of the room was a piano bench and against the wall was a long bench with straps at each end that were obviously for tying the person to punished down. Tyler had never seen so many instruments of punishment and he was suddenly scared.
I liked the initial scare the room gave. I always let it linger for a moment or two before even trying to calm the boy. Once I thought Tyler was about to burst into tears from panic, I sat down on the piano bench in the middle of the room and motioned him to my side.
"Tyler," I began, "You shall receive two forms of corporal correction this afternoon. The first will be a long, hard spanking by my hand on your bare bottom. The second will probably be a firm paddling on your already-spanked butt. The first spanking will teach you not to tell inappropriate jokes; the paddling I sincerely hope will help you to remember to use that God-given charm for leading others appropriately. Do you understand?"
Nodding that he did, Tyler unfastened and pushed his pants down, then his underwear, both to his ankles. Finally, lowering himself across my lap for his spanking.
Slowly, I moved his white shirttail out of the way to reveal two nicely shaped buttocks. Firmly defined by their involuntary clinching caused by the position, I quickly repositioned him so his buttocks were relaxed, one leg hanging off one side of my knee, the other off the other side.
I have never been a fondler. The spankings I give have always been as punishment for wrongs done. This is one of the reasons why I believe I have spanked so many, young when I was young and older now that Im older. The spankings are real, they hurt, and they are given for real reasons.
I raised my hand and slapped Tylers butt with great force. SMACK! Then the other side, SMACK! Left, right, top, middle, bottom: SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! His bottom bounced nicely, receiving each swat, and only after about the first ten smacks did Tyler begin to show any discomfort.
Either Tyler was spanked frequently at home or he is just one of those delightfully submissive boys that willingly takes whatever his punishment when he knows hes done wrong. Either way, he was a joy to spank!
Again, raising my hand and slapping Tylers bottom with great force: SMACK! Left, right, top, middle, bottom: SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! His bottom was becoming more and more red and Tyler could be heard to start to whimper.
Having failed to mention, Tyler was 13, and he has one of the most spankable bottoms I have ever spanked. Not only its appearance, but its resilience is incredible, bouncing back and remaining soft and firm to the swat.
Again, raising my hand and slapping Tylers bottom with great force: SMACK! Left, right, top, middle, bottom: SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Now, Tyler was really beginning to cry.
"Pppllease, Mr. Stern, I wont tell any more bad jokesss!" Travis cried out.
But I knew that was just his first. And, as he yelled it more in anger than in submission, I knew he had a way to go.
Again, raising my hand and slapping Tylers bottom with great force: SMACK! Left, right, top, middle, bottom: SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! His bottom was now red all over, tears were streaming down his face and Tyler was visibly shaken. Clearly, he had never been spanked like this before.
In a much quieter, trembling voice, "Im sorry, Mr. Stern, please...." and probably when he least expected it, I stopped.
Standing him to his feet, he began to rub his bottom, but I quickly guided him into his next position. Then, as if he just remembered the paddling, Tyler began to cry again. I draped his body across the piano bench just as he had been across my lap. His red bottom was nicely positioned.
I grabbed the ping-pong paddle from the wall and wasted no time, SMACK! The paddle struck Tyler harder than he expected no doubt and he cried out, "Oh, please, Mr. Stern!"
SMACK! Again, raising the paddle and swatting Tylers bottom with great force: SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! His bottom was on the verge of bruising, but I only planned 10 swats. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Tyler was squirming and crying. His bottom was amply punished.
"Stand up, Tyler," came the command he thought he may never hear. Leaving his pants down, he faced me while he rubbed his bottom and continued to cry.
"Tyler," I said, "I hope youve learned from this. I am never as easy the second go around for the same matter. Please do not require this again."
Nodding through his tears, Tyler assured me he wouldnt. Raising his pants, he hobbled over to hug me before we walked into the classroom.
A tear-streaked, red-faced Tyler emerged into a classroom full of boys who had since come in from the playground. Quickly returning to his desk, he tried to neatly tuck in his shirt. Easing himself into his chair, Tyler cried to himself at his desk for another few minutes. None of the boys ever teased each other; they all knew it would soon be them.