A Return to High School

by Susan Thomas

  "No, into that corner with you, hands on head. You'll stand there for five minutes and think about why you were spanked."

  I did as I was told with a strange mixture of feelings. I had nothing on below my middle and my bottom was hot and stinging. I put my hands on my head and realized I was getting exactly what I had paid for. Now, what would they want to hear from a sixteen-year-old about why she was spanked?

  When I was allowed out and asked the question I replied, "Well I guess I got spanked because I didn't get ready and get into bed for lights out at the time you said. I guess that is sort of disobedience but I didn't mean to be disobedient... like I wasn't really being awkward, I just sort of got lost in my stuff."

  "And we accept that, Karen, but you told us you were no longer used to obeying rules. Well, now that has to change. When we say lights out we mean it. Is that clear?"

  "Yes, dad."

  Not long after, I was in bed with the lights with my first hot, sore, spanked bottom; it was a source of wonderment to me. The next morning, I heard movement downstairs, the smell of coffee and breakfast being cooked. I got up. It was the first normal morning of our new life, and I relaxed and went down exactly as I was used to. That is, still wearing the long T-shirt I always wear in bed. I padded down with bare feet and walked into the kitchen.

  "Hey, that smells good," I called.

  Suddenly, there was a really hard smack on my bottom. I yelped and leapt forward before swinging round.

  "That hurt! What was it for?"

  There was mom standing, one hand on her hip, the other with a wooden spoon in it. "Karen, you do not ever come down to breakfast in that state. Look at you, a T-shirt and nothing else. Great heavens child, you're not even wearing panties."

  "But this is how I always..."

  "No! This is a new family, remember. New rules. New life. You come down like that again young lady and this spoon will be making several trips to your bottom."

  It dawned on me what was happening. She was going to be a home-based mom in my set up, and she was setting out her stall. I looked at dad and he was grinning at me. I guessed I wasn't the only one that had some rules laid down. He winked at me. I suppressed a smile... never was there a better illustration of 'be careful what you wish for'.

  "OK, mom, I'll go change... scrap sloppy dressing for breakfast. Should I wear a dress, high heels and make up?"

  She spun round as dad burst into laughter but I was already running up the stairs. I came down in shorts and top with trainers on. The weather was good and it was summer and a good many weeks before school started. We sat eating breakfast and I realized that this sort of normal experience last happened to me when I was fifteen. It felt good, very good indeed. The good feeling lasted right through to clearing up. As we cleared away and loaded the dishwasher somehow my hands lost contact with the small pile of plates I was holding. They dropped to the floor but only one broke.

  "Oh shit! I dropped the shitting lot."

  The next second I heard mom's voice, cross but controlled. "Karen I will not have that foul language. Accidents happen but no need for foul language. Go stand in the corner."

  I looked at her. She was not a woman to be argued with and dad was clearly going to back her so I went to stand in the corner thinking that it was a fairly easy punishment. I should have realized that that wasn't it. I'd not been standing there long when mom turned me round and told me to open my mouth. In her hand was one of the complimentary bars of soap you get in hotels and motels. She'd picked one up from our journey.

  "Open your mouth, Karen."

  "No, mom, please not that. I'm sorry OK, I'm just used to..."

  "Karen, open your mouth, you are having this in it for five minutes but you can have a spanking as well."

  I could see dad standing watching, not happy but determined just like last night. I opened my mouth and she put the small bar in it.

  "Bite on it."

  It was strange biting into the bar. A texture like no other I had ever had in my mouth. At first it was completely tasteless but five minute is longer than you think. My tongue wouldn't leave it alone but kept wiping over it. Saliva began to build in my mouth but I was reluctant to swallow so it began to dribble out of my mouth. I wiped it with my hand. Soon a strange taste began to make itself felt... it was so odd I can't describe it and it increased with the saliva and the tongue movements. After a while, a tingling sensation began on my tongue... not burning exactly but a sort of cross between tingling and burning, and I could feel the taste begin to run down the back of my throat. The urge to swallow became irresistible and it was revolting.

  "OK, Karen, open."

  Mom removed the bar, but I wasn't allowed to wash my mouth out at first, just spit into some tissues.

  "How does that taste?"

  "Horrible... disgusting."

  "That is what your foul language does to our ears. Now you may rinse."

  Actually, rinsing made it worse. The water activated the soap taste and for about another five or ten minutes all I could taste was soap. I looked at my new mom and had a flashback to my own mom. She had been strict with me, just not into spanking, and she too had hated foul language, though she had never put soap in my mouth! Now my new one had that same anxious expression on her face that my mom used to get. It sort of said, 'I hate falling out with you but I am not letting you get away with that. It's for your own good' and I wanted her to know it was OK even if I hated the soap. I went up to her and put my arms around her and hugged her tight.

  "Look, I'm sorry, right. I really didn't mean to upset you and I am trying."

  She was very happy with that.

  I kept out of trouble the whole rest of that day and when the mail came there was a letter inviting my dad to an interview for the job I had set up. I had asked for it to arrive after we got here and he was delighted but then nervous. He got more nervous as the day wore on and so I made sure I was in bed with lights out at the time he set. The next morning he was all jitters and eventually dithering in the hall waiting to go. Mom tried calming him but he seemed to be getting worse. I could hardly tell him the whole interview was a set up and the job was already his. Then I noticed his tie wasn't right and I didn't like the way he'd done his hair so I got a brush and came back.

  "OK dad, calm. You're going to get it; they'd be idiots not to take you. Shall I write a reference saying you spank real hard?"

  He had to laugh so then I straightened his tie and brushed his hair in a better way.

  "Now you look good. Shoulders back, deep breaths and say after me, 'I am perfect for this job, I am going to get it'."

  I made him do it too and mom looked really happy at all this. I knew she'd always wanted kids and was now delighted with her so-called daughter. When he'd gone, I asked her if I could go off and make something for him. She looked a bit surprised but agreed my chores could wait. I am good at cartoons so I made a card with a superhero-type character called Dynamic Dad holding a huge cup and "Congratulations... great work" and I even signed it with, "Love, Karen."

  When I'd finished I went to do my chores. I am not patient with housework... I do it but if something goes wrong I get real frustrated. You have to remember I'd been looking after stuff like laundry since I was really sixteen... seven long years. I had no problem with being given chores but I started doing it my way... you know: fast, efficient and get it all done and move on. Then I made a mistake. The new washing machine was far more up to date than the one I'd had before my Great Uncle's inheritance. This one had two zillion programs and a control panel like a jumbo jet and I made a mistake. I put the delicate stuff on a hot wash. No big deal, easy to cancel but I let rip.

  "Oh fuck! Fuckety-fuckety fuck."

  My new mom was ironing stuff from yesterday's wash (we had built up a fair bit with the move) and she heard.

  "Karen!"

  I literally put my hands to my head and groaned. "Oh heck! I'm sorry mom, old habits die hard. Please just let this one go..."

&nb
sp; Do moms get some sort of instruction on telling off and strictness? Every mom I've ever heard seems to have that tone off just right.

  "No, Karen, you have been told about your mouth several times. Go stand in the corner while I get ready."

  When I was told to turn round she had both that same soap bar and a hairbrush. I admit it - at that point getting spanked didn't have any attraction at all, and as for the soap! I begged, unashamedly begged, to be let off but the kings of the Medes and Persians were more flexible than the Dragon Mom I had chosen.

  "Which do you want first, Karen, soap or spanking?"

  When it became clear I wasn't going to get away without both, I chose the soap first. It was as bad as the day before, worse in a way, because afterwards I was getting spanked as well. After mom let me spit out she asked, "Is that nice?"

  "No, it's disgusting."

  "Just like those words. Stop using that kind of language, young lady. Now get your shorts and panties down."

  With the strong taste of soap in my mouth I did as she told me. My previous desire to discover exactly what it was like to be spanked with a hairbrush was about to be satisfied, not that I was now so keen. She pulled out a kitchen chair and told me to bend over it and she stood behind me. I was scared but also excited and then there was a hard blow on the right cheek of my bottom. It hurt! An intense harsh sting that made me yelp loudly and stand up clutching my bum.

  Mom stood tapping the hairbrush on her hand. "Bend over Karen, unless you want extras."

  "It hurts."

  "It's meant to."

  I bent over. Smack, the brush landed on my left cheek. I jerked and almost danced around while still bent over and holding the chair. Smack, on my right cheek.

  "Not so hard please. Go easy, you've made your point."

  Smack and smack were the only reply, one to each cheek in quick succession and making me writhe around. Each smack of the brush had that same harsh sting and left my bottom hot, stinging and throbbing. Why had I ever thought being spanked sounded exciting? Mom continued smacking the brush down on my bare bottom, making me dance a crazy bent-over dance while holding onto to the chair. Suddenly, I could take no more. I leapt up and turned around, my hands clutching my throbbing bum.

  "Please stop, it hurts. I can't take any more. I'm sorry... really. I will try, I promise."

  She looked at me and I realized that she wasn't happy spanking me. In fact, although determined, she seemed only too eager to stop. She pulled tissues from her apron pocket and reached out and began wiping tears from my face. I hadn't even realized I was crying.

  We stood looking at each other and suddenly she began to hug me tightly, after a while releasing me and asking, "What happened to your parents, Karen?"

  I didn't need to lie. "They got sick within months of each other. Cancer. Both had a terminal diagnosis but the doctors tried. They died three weeks apart."

  She hugged me tightly again and said nothing, but took me and washed my face for me like I was six or something. It was actually a nice feeling being mothered, and I stood obediently while she did it and then brushed my hair. We got on with our jobs, with my bottom hot and throbbing but gradually losing the harshness and slowly the feeling becoming almost pleasant. Then we heard the sound of a car drawing up and a few seconds later a key in the lock. Mom rushed to the hall with me following. Dad was carrying a huge cake, flowers and a bottle of wine.

  "I got it," he announced proudly.

  Mom screeched and threw herself at him, and I smiled quietly to myself and went and got the card I'd made. He was stunned and touched I had made it for him, and kept looking at it again and again. Finally, it ended up in pride of place in the living room so that all our new neighbors could see. Some while later dad asked how we had got on.

  "Well Karen had a little outbreak of foul mouth at the washing machine. She was soaped again and spanked. I have to say she was a very good girl. She did beg me not to do it of course, but I had no attitude from her, and she obeyed me and took it."

  He was pleased with me, and now that we were finally sorted from the move I was told that the next day I would be allowed to go out and do my own thing. They told me that a weekday curfew was 9 pm and at weekends 10 pm. Now that was strict in my book, but for any special events a new time could be negotiated. Again lights out was 10:30 which I thought very early, but dad said a teenage girl needed her sleep and that was that.

  In bed I thought about my situation. I had discovered that in fact being spanked was not fun at all, and being sixteen and strictly disciplined was really quite tough, and I had two years of it if I stuck it out. On the other hand, retaking those missing years of high school, and maybe college after, was something I really wanted to do and had the money for. Having 'parents' again was nice and I really liked them. I could also see they were vulnerable and got worried too, which perhaps if I really was sixteen I wouldn't have seen. We could help each other. Besides the strict discipline was good for me, I could sense it. I had done pretty much what I wanted for a long time and done some stupid stuff. To be pulled up and made to live a disciplined life was no bad thing. How it would all work out later in the years to come was another issue.

  The next day, I went to the swimming pool. I had been on the school team when my real parents got sick. Not as great as it sounds, we would never have won major championships but it was enjoyable. I had checked out this school and the team was much the same so I thought I'd give it a go as I had kept my swimming up. I began to swim lengths, really putting some effort in, and when I took a break found three girls standing on the side looking at me.

  "Hi, we've not seen you before, are you visiting?"

  "No, we just moved in."

  Their names were Crystal, Janice and Katerina and they seemed to latch on to me. They seemed very young to my way of thinking, but they were sixteen and to be in the eleventh grade like me. Knowing them in the end got me three belt whippings, but I'll explain later. They wanted me to try for the school swimming team and were very welcoming. We decided to get dressed and go off for a burger, and in the changing room they saw the marks my mom's hairbrush had left on my bottom.

  "You get spanked?"

  "Yes, I used bad words at the washing machine and mom soaped me and spanked me with a hairbrush."

  My research of the area had told me most kids of this age, particularly girls, got spanked so they shouldn't be shocked and they weren't. Crystal was like me. All her spankings were on the bare and both her parents spanked. Janice got spanked on the bare bottom by her mom, but her dad let her keep panties on and rarely spanked her anyway. Katerina's dad switched her and often spanked her... always on the bare bottom. They all thought how unreasonable their parents were and sounded so young and immature to me that listening to them I thought they probably deserved each and every spanking.

  "Well I deserved what I got I guess. I didn't like it but mom is hot on stuff like that so..."

  I began to hang out a bit with my new friends but felt more like an older sister than anything. They were mad on boys and I realized I'd not thought about this issue. To go out with a boy of school age would in reality be almost like cradle-snatching, besides I know what teenage boys want most! Even to go out with someone at college would be a bit weird for me, but anyone in their twenties wanting to date a sixteen year old would be a real creepy character. I decided I could live without sex for a while and created a boyfriend 'back home', saying that we had sworn loyalty until we could be together. I showed a picture of a former boyfriend to back up my claim.

  ---oOo---

  Mom didn't go in much for sort of set piece spankings or at least not before school started in September. I had the one hairbrush spanking and that was it from her. What she was inclined to do was swat my behind quickly and not always with her hand... a wooden spoon or anything useful for spanking would whip across and make contact with my poor butt. It was always for a good reason; she was teaching me what the limits were. Equally, she was very kind, loving
and sensitive and I became quickly very fond of her... but just learnt not to mess her about. I was also sent to stand in the corner usually along with her saying, "You go stand in that corner and think about your behavior." Although it may sound very restrictive I quite liked it. Someone else was taking charge of my life; I was just so weary of having to set my own standards and make all my own decisions.

  Dad now was another matter. He was very strict with me. Don't get me wrong, I got fond of him too and he was kind, but if he saw any bad behavior I was always in danger of going over his knee for a spanking... always on my bare butt. One was about a bikini. He told me it was immodest and it was. It was the sort of thing designed to get every male within a mile staring. What he meant was, "Don't wear it again." He organized a barbecue for all our new neighbors who had been very hospitable and helpful, and just before they arrived I appeared in the yard wearing it. He told me to go change immediately and I made the mistake of arguing. He pulled my bikini bottoms down and had me over his lap faster than I could think. The spanking ended just before the first guest arrived, and half-naked I ran upstairs with a very sore butt to get changed.

  My 'parents' had to enroll me at the high school and to assist I had a birth certificate and other papers that showed me to be the sixteen-year-old daughter of Sam and Mary Wheeler. I had been told by the man that made my papers that they would stand any examination except a full-scale police enquiry. I even had a passport that would suffice for travel as long as I wasn't on any 'watch' lists. To avoid the fact that I wasn't who I said I was, and was older by seven years, I claimed to have been home schooled, so there were no school records. When school returned I would be Karen Wheeler, eleventh grade, and according to the girls I met all too easily told to bend over for paddle swats.

  Enrolling made me realize that it had been a long time since I was at school, and I'd not been that keen a student anyway. I bought some revision books on math and science from a shop in town and then sat down to look. As I flipped through the pages I despaired. I couldn't manage any of it. Graduate! No chance and I sat stupidly with tears beginning to run down my face. I had been a total fool to do this.