by Susan Thomas
---oOo---
I did start secretly spending time at Dave's. At first it was platonic, we told each other what we'd been doing since my real parents died. He told me in great detail what a silly brat I had been when younger and I told him in equal detail what an idiot he'd been. We ended up laughing at our former selves. He told me how much he liked this town and his job, and I told him how being a sixteen-year-old daughter and schoolgirl was lovely in many ways but really tough in others. It didn't take long before the platonic turned to something else and I had a sex life again. This was different though, it wasn't just sex, it was something much nicer, much deeper, and I realized I was falling for Dave and doing so in a big way.
Nice though my sessions were with Dave, they weren't that frequent, what with his duties and the restrictions of my life. We also had to be careful because as far as the town was concerned I was still only sixteen. The rest of the time I was a schoolgirl in a strict school, and although I was now doing well it was real easy to get in trouble and in spite of all my hard work and care I got into trouble.
We had a dress code that contained fourteen separate points, each one with many parts to it. Dress and skirts simply had to be not too tight or too short. Now I ask you, who writes such rubbish? What is too short? What is too short in 2014 wasn't too short in 1964 and was positively obscene in 1914, and who is to judge anyway. Mom didn't think my skirt too short and I didn't either and just to add to the unfairness I had worn it to school before and no-one had said a word. Then one day I ran into Miss Carpenter. I swear that woman sucks lemons every morning for breakfast. She is thin to the point of being emaciated, belongs to a very dour strict church and sees every little fault in anything and everything.
"That skirt is too short, young lady."
"Is it? Well my mom said it was..."
"Don't argue with me, missy. That is too short..."
It didn't take long before I was back in Principal Fagan's office but this time my attitude was more that of my true twenty-three-year-old self.
"So dress code infraction. What do you have to say for yourself?"
"Well sir, the dress code says and I quote, '...skirts and dresses shall not be too tight or too short...' so how do I, or any other girl come to that, know what too short is? My mom thought it OK and I have worn it to school before."
"Miss Carpenter has ruled it too short."
"So a girl has to take a garment to Miss Carpenter to be approved before she can wear it safely?"
"Don't get sassy with me girl."
"Sir, with respect I am not. I am asking a dead serious question. How am I to know this skirt is too short when no other teacher has made a comment even though I have worn it before and my mom has cleared it?"
Then he asked the question that got me a sore butt.
"So why has Miss Carpenter ruled it too short?"
He may have thought that a killer question or something but basically it was dumb. I should have just given a neutral reply or said that perhaps Miss Carpenter was also confused by the vague rule. Except I didn't.
"Oh Miss Carpenter, well she looks at everything with a very bleak look; she sees fault in anything."
"I will not have disrespect towards a member of staff. I will come back to the skirt later, right now you are getting six swats for disrespect. Assume the position."
I was scared. There I have said it. A real Little Miss Chicken. I'd been paddled once before with three swats and that hurt more than I imagined it would but this was six... twice as many. I bent over, my hands braced against the desk again. It seems designed to humiliate, that position.
The force of the first swat again took my breath and then that nasty feeling which made me cry out and then cry out again as it seemed to change and grow. Each swat was worse than the last and I could hear my cries getting louder and more panic-stricken. I made no attempt to be brave this time. After the sixth swat my bottom was at first just numb but with a hint of what was to come bubbling through, then that deep burning throb began.
I confess that when I stood I was crying. How shameful is that at my age... reduced to tears in the principal's office, but six swats from that man really hurt. He sent me to sort myself out with an instruction to come back in fifteen minutes. I washed my face, tidied my hair and walked stiffly back to his office, my butt burning and throbbing mightily.
"Now then, young lady, it is almost lunch break so you are to go home and change out of that skirt. I am taking Miss Carpenter's judgment, but in view of your well-made but disrespectful point I am waiving the swats for a dress code violation. I am in the process of building a student forum to discuss and advise me on matters affecting the student body, you will be on it and the first item will be our dress code. Here is your notification of discipline."
I took the form he gave me and looked at it knowing this meant another spanking for poor Karen. It was quite fair, I knew the score and dad wasn't brutal, it's just that getting spanked is not fun. I may have thought it would be but now I knew better.
Perhaps it was something in my look or perhaps he was just interested but then he asked, "What will your parents say about this?"
"Oh well, dad will spank me. That's our house rule."
"Paddle?"
"No sir, he will use his hand but... well no protection if you see what I mean."
He nodded approvingly and I went home, my lunch break gone with the walk and change of clothes. I'd grab a candy bar at home and that would have to do. When I got home, dad's car was on the drive. I stared - dad didn't usually come home at lunchtime. I let myself in and stopped dead. There was a sound from upstairs and there was no doubt what it was: a spanking was in progress.
The sound was that of a hand smacking crisply down on a bare bottom and by the sound of the yelps it was mom getting spanked. My mind whirled rapidly. It was clearly a happy marriage; they were totally soft on each other. Mom definitely deferred to dad without there being any of the force used by Katerina's dad. So I guessed they must have some sort of domestic discipline arrangement that I wasn't aware of. I had heard of such things and read some articles. I shrugged, it wasn't my business as long as mom was cool with it.
Luckily for me there was a pile of my clothing that had been ironed by mom. She wouldn't put my stuff away, it was left in a pile for me to take up and put away tidily. Perhaps if I was really sixteen that might be another source of conflict, but I had long since learnt it paid to keep my stuff organized. I grabbed some trousers, changed, and after a moment's thought put my skirt on the stairs with the notification of discipline and left the house quietly munching a candy bar.
Principal Fagan approved my trousers and gave me a letter informing me I was on the student forum and when the first meeting was. Sitting on the hard school chairs all afternoon was nasty. I wriggled a lot and got knowing looks from everyone and a few sniggers from the boys, however, they knew better than to mess with me so that was it.
When I got home mom was waiting for me. She was very red-faced and looked embarrassed.
"You came home at lunchtime to change that skirt. What was wrong with it?"
I told her the whole story and she nodded, interested, but her mind was obviously on what I had heard.
"So I guess you heard us, Karen. You must have if you came to the foot of the stairs."
"I did but it's not my business unless dad is abusing you which I doubt is the case."
"No, no Karen, not abuse. This is what I wanted and we have been living this life for years. I get a deep satisfaction out of being submissive like that, and the possibility of getting spanked is just part of it. It's never brutal, not like Katerina's father. I did something really stupid. No, I'm not telling you what and I got spanked, but no harder than you might get. Usually, it makes me feel really good but today I... well I am worried about you."
I just hugged her and told her I got it. Not really sixteen-year-old behavior I guess but what could I do. I was more worried about my own bottom. A strict rule had bee
n set of spanked at school then spanked at home. I could have no complaints about it, I had created the whole scenario, but getting spanked on your bare bottom after six with the paddle is no joke.
Dad was calm as always and didn't mention what he had been doing at lunchtime. "Now Karen. your Principal is quite clear he did not paddle you because of the skirt problem. He paddled you because you were disrespectful about Miss Carpenter. In fact if you had not had such a smart mouth you would have been let off this time. That's right isn't it?"
"Yeah! But I only told the truth. That woman nit-picks the whole time about everything. I just shouldn't have said it."
"I don't like your attitude towards your teacher, Karen. Remember, she may have her own problems at home, but anyway that doesn't alter the fact that the paddling took place and you get spanked. In view of the fact you got six would you like to wait until later tonight or even tomorrow morning?"
I decided to leave my spanking until the morning which might give my butt time to calm down. When I looked in the mirror my butt was really bruised from the paddle, especially in the centre of each cheek. The Principal just doesn't mess around when it comes to swinging that paddle. If only I hadn't been disrespectful I wouldn't be sore now and made more so tomorrow!
My butt was still sore the next morning but not as angrily sore as the night before. I dressed in trousers with proper panties under so as not to upset mom and went down to breakfast. Dad was waiting, looking that same sad grim way he always looked when he had to spank me.
"Karen, shall we get this over before breakfast?"
I sighed my agreement, wondering just what kind of lunacy had overtaken me when I thought getting spanked might be exciting. Dad turned a chair around and sat on it, and I walked over and lowered my trousers and panties. Being over his knee was always the weirdest feeling: so helpless and yet so intimate, but also knowing any moment your butt is going to erupt into hot stinging. Then his hand smacked down.
The very first smack seemed to ignite the results of the paddling, and soon I was kicking and crying as the smacks rained down first here then there, making me wriggle and twist in different directions in a futile attempt to protect my bottom. It was quite fair, I was aware of the rules before we started this arrangement so I couldn't complain on that score, but I did sob and plead for it not to be so hard. I don't think dad spanked me any harder than normal, but my butt was already very sore from the paddle so by the time he had finished I was a wreck. Then he just hauled me tight into him and held me and hugged me like I was eight years old. Soft it may be but I liked him doing that very much.
Any kid at school who didn't know I had been spanked that morning had to be dumb. I had to lower myself carefully onto the hard school chairs and although I had washed my face, my eyes told a clear story of a girl who had been crying. Of course it wasn't unusual in that school. The boys didn't cry so much but they got the paddle at school much more than girls, and from what I picked up, parents weren't easygoing with them either. It was at lunchtime the trouble began to brew.
Crystal, Janine and Katerina were outraged that I'd had six with the paddle and my dad had spanked me. "That skirt was OK, this is all old biddy Carpenter's fault. She is a witch I swear."
Janine was really uptight, and soon Crystal and Katerina were too. They wanted to do something. Well I was really twenty-three at that point though soon I would be twenty-four (my alter ego becoming seventeen) so really I should have poured cold water on their fire but I didn't. I thought Miss Carpenter was nasty and really unkind towards her students. She might have home problems, but home is where she should have left them, so I did nothing.
The three began making all sorts of plans to inflict revenge on that 'Harpy Carpy' as they called her. Some were wildly impossible, some highly illegal and some just plain fun, but eventually a simple and time-honored plan was arrived at - we would soap her windows. Notice the 'we'. I suddenly found I was part of this plan and again Karen did nothing to stop it. Then we learnt that Miss Carpenter was going away for the weekend. Another kid's dad drove a taxi and he was picking her up and taking her to the airport. The game was on and my three friends couldn't stop talking about it with high excitement, and still I did nothing.
We got big old-fashioned bars of soap from the old hardware shop in town, a bucket and Janine's family portable gallon water tank used for camping, and loaded the lot into my car. I parked nearby and very excited (yes me too!) we walked quietly around into Miss Carpenter's back yard. It was a single story so we thought we'd start with all the back windows and hurry the front ones before making our escape. We'd barely started and were making a really good job of it when suddenly there were other people in the yard with us: my mom and dad, Janine and Crystal's parents and Katerina's mom.
Seven stern faces glaring at us. In reality I may have been twenty-three but I felt sixteen and squirmed with embarrassment along with the others. I have never felt so foolish in all my life before. All four of us felt a strong desire to look at our sneakers as the lectures proceeded, each adult having their say even if it meant repeating something. It was made very clear that all four of us were going to be "getting it but good" when they got us home. Dad seemed to be the spokesman and ringleader.
"You are now going to clean off what you have done but you will do more. You will clean all the windows and not just the windows but the frames, the sills, the doors and their frames and steps. You will clean them all and buff them up so there is not one smear or scrap of dust anywhere. We've brought extra cleaning materials. Oh and one more thing, any complaints, any slacking, will be dealt with here in this yard in front of everyone, and you know exactly how it will be dealt with."
They weren't kidding. We washed, dried and polished until that house had never been so clean on the outside, and then when they were finally satisfied, we had to pack everything up to go home. We never found out if Miss Carpenter noticed the cleanliness or whether any of her neighbors told her what had happened. We also never found out just how our parents discovered our plot, they were dead secretive about that. We did find out just what they meant about "getting it but good" but would have preferred not to.
Dad told me that Crystal and Janine were getting the same punishment as me. It had been agreed by the three sets of parents. Katerina was a bit different. There had been no spanking in that house since her dad was arrested, but her mom was mad at what Katerina had done so she was taking a hairbrush to her daughter's bare bottom. The rest of us were first getting spanked on the bare butt and then twenty licks with a belt. Our dads were doing the honors with moms standing by approvingly, ready to help out at any sign of resistance.
We got home and I wasn't sent to my room but right there in the living room told to get ready. I sighed and kicked off my sneakers and my jeans (which were wet from all the cleaning) and then my panties.
Mom had her arms folded across her middle, a sure sign of conflict in her. On the one hand I guessed she felt I deserved a real good spanking and on the other she didn't want me hurt. Dad looked even more stern and sad than he normally did when about to spank me... a sure sign I was going to get it really hard.
"Karen." Dad sounded real stern. "I hope you are ashamed of yourself."
"I am dad. I should have stopped the whole idea. The others look up to me and I could have stopped them but I got carried away."
"Right, nose in that corner and hands on your head. You can think about how nasty and unpleasant you four have been. Whether you agree or not, Miss Carpenter had every right to send you to the Principal to make a judgment. You did not have to be disrespectful about her and had you not done so you would not have been paddled. Then to plan such an unpleasant trick and actually carry it out. We are both ashamed of your behavior."
I began to cry, standing there in the corner. I know that is really quite a strange thing to do at my age but I was crying more for the others. They wouldn't have gone ahead if I had simply put an end to it. For good or ill I was the leader and I had f
ailed them.
"Right, come over here to me. Before I spank you, tell me whose fault this is?"
"Mine dad."
"Not Miss Carpenter's?"
"No, mine."
"Right answer. Now over my knee, young lady, you're in for a long ride."
It's strange being over a man's lap with your bare butt just lying there waiting to be spanked. Before I went into all this I had thought it would be wonderfully exciting but it isn't. It is embarrassing and getting spanked is painful. Oh, the first few smacks aren't so bad but it goes on and on and you have no control over it. That hand keeps right on spanking and wriggle, cry and plead as you might, all that happens is your bottom gets hotter and yet more sore. There is the sheer embarrassment too. It is such a vulnerable and powerless position, rightly so I suppose, and so very exposed. I guess the thinking is that if you behave badly you lose the entitlement to modesty.
The very first smack of dad's hand wrung an "uh" from me. It stung so very much and he followed it with a whole series of hard smacks on the same place which had me twisting and wriggling to try and get that spot out from under. Then he moved to a different spot and did the same thing. That was the pattern for quite a while and I lost the ability to stay still. My whole body writhed around as his hand smacked down hard and fast on my all-too-sensitive bottom.
Then he changed tactic and began smacking his hand down hard randomly, and my bottom jerked and wriggled while I scrabbled around trying hard to hold on to something, anything. In the end I grabbed his ankle and held that tight while he spanked me hard.
It was the hardest spanking he had ever given me and I was crying almost without control afterwards. I deserved it I knew, but it didn't make it any easier to endure. Mom dried my tears and comforted me, but my punishment was by no means over. I stood, my nose in the corner, wriggling like mad with the heat in my bottom. It seemed an eternity to me and one filled with anxiety that a neighbor would come in and see me like that. I guess they all knew I got spanked, but I would still rather they didn't see me like that.
