Spanked by the Female Gym Teacher

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© Guyspencer 2012

Spanked by the Female Gym Teacher

It was my last year at Emerson Elementary School, but this particular afternoon was starting out very badly.  As the school secretary escorted me down the temporarily deserted hallway, I was praying that nobody would see us.  From the way she kept her hand firmly around my forearm, it would be obvious to anyone that I was in big trouble. 

We made it past the Home Economics classroom and then to the end of the front hallway.  Turning into the north hall, I was delighted to see that it was empty.  But at any moment, any of several classroom doors might open and…

I was both relieved and distressed when we arrived at the gym.  This was where my fate awaited, but at least we would be out of the hall.  As usual, our dual-use gym had a mixture of smells.  Yes, there were the usual gym odors, floor varnish mixed with sweat, all spiced by the bouquet of moldering gym clothing.  But our gym was different!  The east end of the gym held the changing rooms, equipment room and teacher’s office, but the other end was dominated by the school’s kitchen.  The kitchen’s smells varied from day-to-day, but they always dueled with the native gym odors.  The gym had big picnic-style tables that folded into the walls.  For two hours daily, our gym became our school cafeteria.

It was early afternoon, so we happened to arrive just as Mr. Frisch, our friendly janitor with the German accent, was folding the tables back into the walls.  Seeing my predicament, he looked at me with a mixture of surprise and pity. 

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At Emerson Elementary school, I was known as a “good kid”.  But today I had stupidly and deservedly gotten myself into deep trouble.  It was long division that pushed me over the edge!  Frankly, learning it seemed impossible to me.  We had a quiz that day.  The first seven problems I managed to do because they were straightforward.  Unfortunately, the last three questions involved a complex remainder that totally stumped me.  So I did the stupid thing, I copied from my friend Jim’s paper.  First, I wasn’t sneaky, so the teacher saw me do it, and second, Jim was worse at math than I was!  So I ended up with three wrong answers, Jim’s wrong answers.

Naturally, my teacher wrote a note and told me to take it to the office.  It was one of the longest walks of my young life!  With great trepidation, I opened the door and walked in.  The entrance to the school office was guarded by a long counter.  Behind the counter the school Secretary, Mrs. Bray held court.   Mrs. Bray was a skinny, homely, unexciting lady.  Though not unkind, but she was firm and businesslike with us students.  In her role as gatekeeper, Mrs. Bray exerted huge influence over our fate when we were “sent to the office”.  She always read the note first, and passed a sort of judgment, deciding if we should see the Principal herself or just her Assistant.  She also exerted influence in another way.  The Principal and Assistant Principal shared a single paddle, which resided in Mrs. Bray’s desk drawer.  When she delivered us to be “dealt with”, she might, or might not, automatically bring along the paddle.  That decision may or may not be a kindness, because the school’s most feared punishment didn’t involve the paddle, but rather a hand spanking applied to a bare bottom.  The paddle was only used for “swats”, an intermediate punishment.

Mrs. Bray accepted my note, and then read it with a “tut-tut”.  “What do you have to say for yourself young man?” She asked.

There was nothing I could say.  I just looked at the floor.

“So it’s true then,” she decided.  She pulled a pencil from her tight hair bun, made a notation in the margin, and then demanded, “Look at me!” 

Unwillingly, I did.

“This is terrible Guy!  This will really upset your parents.  You know that cheating is one thing that Mrs. Kielander (our Principal) absolutely won’t tolerate.”

It wasn’t lost on me that Mrs. Bray mentioned my parents.  She attended our church, so she knew my parents and saw them regularly.  She was telling me that my parents would definitely hear of my crime.

She opened a file drawer, searched, and then pulled out a file.  It had my name on it.  My eyes filled with tears as she opened it to a certain page and made the damming notation.  I assumed that my permanent file now had me forever branded as a cheater.  After neatly punching two holes in the note, she fastened it inside my file before carefully replacing it.

Then she pronounced sentence, sort of.  Mrs. Bray announced that Mrs. Kielander and her Assistant were downtown for a conference.  She would deliver me to Mr. Dickens, the male gym teacher, to be “dealt with”.

So now you know why the school secretary was escorting me to the gym.

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The gym office had big windows so the gym teachers could always observe what was happening in their gym.  As we approached the office I was initially hopeful to see that Mr. Dickens wasn’t there.  However, the female gym teacher, Miss Epps sat behind her desk. 

Over half a century later, I can still picture Miss Epps like it was yesterday.  She was a dour lady with a sinewy and athletic body.  She kept her hair short and had a mannish walk, but I was far too young to understand the possible implications of her mannerisms.  In the late 1950’s I’m not even sure if the word “lesbian” was in the popular lexicon, it certainly wasn’t in mine.    Since it was quite unthinkable back then for any professional woman to report to work in shorts, her favorite garment was kulats.  The ones that she wore looked so much like a normal skirt that I only noticed because she had once spread her legs wide in response to a query from a girl.  Only then did I see daylight between the two halves of her skirt.  It seemed a bit risqué at the time, so I didn’t mention it to my parents. 

I don’t think Miss Epps hated us boys, it’s just that she lacked interest in us.  Still, we sometimes had combined boy/girl gym classes when one gym teacher was out, so we had regular contact with her.

All too soon, we were standing in front of Miss Epps’s desk and Mrs. Bray & Miss Epps were discussing me as if I wasn’t in the room.  First, Miss Epps reminded the secretary of something she should have remembered; Mr. Dickens was out for the rest of the day with family issues.  When told what I had done, Miss Epps gasped appropriately and regarded me with a raised eyebrow.  Then the two conferred, deciding my fate:

Secretary, “You know the punishment that Mrs. Kielander always gives cheaters…”

Miss Epps, “Oh yes!  She’s very adamant about that.”

Secretary, “What do we do now?  Are you allowed to do it?”

Miss Epps, “Well you know I prefer to deal only with the girls and leave the boys to Mr. Dickens, but there’s no rule that says I can’t, and it wouldn’t be fair to make the boy wait until tomorrow.”

Secretary, “So you’ll do it then?”

Miss Epps (with apparent reluctance), “We can’t justify anything else.  I have time before my next class, so I’ll deal with him and then send him back to you.”

Secretary (with relief), “Thanks; I’m really quite sure that’s what Mrs. Kielander would want us to do.”

The emotions I felt during that conversation were literally indescribable.  I felt physically sick.  My knees were shaky and my mouth was dry.  Neither of the ladies had used the word “spanking” but I was pretty sure that’s what they meant.  A paddling is done over the clothing, so there would be little concern over my gender.  However, at least in my school, a spanking was a very different thing.  A few teachers were empowered to paddle, but spankings were the school’s ultimate punishment.  Spankings were a very private event that happened only in the school office or in the gym storage room, because spankings were always given bare bottom. 

Thinking back from the safety of decades of time, it seems odd to me that my feelings were entirely of fear and mortification without the slightest sexual interest.  Back then, all sexual knowledge was carefully and successfully hidden from us kids, but ignorance didn’t stop changes from happening to my body, or inside my head.  At that age, I probably had a sparse mustache of pubic hair over my penis, but had no idea of puberty’s huge portent for my future life.  Yes, I had discovered that it felt good to massage myself under the sheets, and I usually fanaticized about spankings whilst doing that.  But now, faced with the prospect of a very real spanking, I felt no sexual interest.

With a final “thank you” Mrs. Bray left me alone with Miss Epps.  I was so scared that my teeth actually chattered.  The tears that dripped off my chin had no effect on the lady.  She was silent for a long time, watching me like a snake in a cage watches a sacrificial mouse.

Finally she spoke, “You’ve been at this school since kindergarten Guy, and you’ve always been a good boy.  What happened?”  I couldn’t offer the slightest defense.  All I could do was shrug and sob.  I was surprised that she even knew my name.  Also surprising was her almost kind tone of voice.

“Well I think it’s best that we get your punishment out of the way.  Perhaps after that we could have a nice talk OK?”  I don’t remember how I responded to that question, but it surely wasn’t rational.

Then she instructed me to remove my shoes.  Sitting in a handy chair, I obeyed.  This actually wasn’t an unusual request from the gym teachers.  Shoes weren’t kind to the shellacked wooden gym floor.  On reflection however, I think she may have been afraid of me bolting.  Being shoeless would greatly limit my range.

Having decided that this wasn’t the time for talking, she picked up a folding wooden chair, and then made me precede her out her office door.  Since she picked up the chair and not her paddle, it was now clear that I was to be spanked, rather than just suffer a few paddle swats.  Just as I feared, we turned left and walked the ten feet to the storage room door.  Using the keys that always dangled from her waist, she opened the door and snapped on the light.  Dumbly, I peered into my punishment cell.

I knew the gym storage room pretty well.  It was like a long windowless walk-in closet.  At the far end were shelves full of basketballs and other things that can’t conveniently hang on hooks.  Both walls were lined with hooks holding things like baseball gloves.  The odor of the place was heavy with leather, Neatsfoot oil, rubber balls, and sweat.

Besides storage of sporting gear, the gym storage room was the private place where the gym teachers took students for punishment.  I had never heard an actual spanking happen there, but I had overheard several students, both male and female get paddled there.  Sometimes the sounds were quite dreadful.  Now I was going in there to be spanked.  I truly hoped that no students would walk into the gym while it was happening!  It was bad enough that the janitor was still there.

I don’t remember following her into the storeroom, but the next thing I remember the door was firmly closed behind us and she was sitting on that folding chair.  She knew just what to do, so she had obviously done this before.  I wondered if I was the first boy she had ever spanked.

She had to repeat herself to penetrate my addled brain, but was remarkably patient.  It would have been easier if she had been nasty to me, because then I could hate her.  First she made me stand in front of her, and then she pinioned me there with her eyes.

She asked me why I was about to be punished, “B…b…because I cheated on my test?”

“Close,” she replied, “This is a school, and we’re here to teach you things.  We’ve discovered that you need to learn not to cheat.  Unfortunately it will be a painful lesson, but you’re a smart boy so I think you’ll remember it for the rest of your life.” 

“So tell me again; why are you being punished?”

I blubbered the correct answer, “To teach me not to cheat.”

“Good boy,” she said, “good boy.”

Then she gently pulled me around to her right hip before telling me to undo my pants and then lower them below my knees.   In a fog, my eyes swimming with tears, I obeyed.  I unzipped, unbuckled, unbuttoned, and then finally dropped my pants to my ankles.

Her hands circled my waist.  “Look me in the eye,” she commanded. 

Thinking about it later, I think she wanted me to see that she wasn’t looking down at my nakedness.  As we stared into each other’s eyes, I felt my underpants descend to meet my pants.  Almost immediately, a hand on my back urged me across her bony lap.  I was bare bottom across her lap, but she clearly had avoided the sight of my boyish groin.  At least, for now!

While the preliminaries had been far gentler and more considerate than I expected, I can’t say the same about the spanking.  Miss Epps had said that she meant to deliver an unforgettable lesson, and that’s just what she did.  I wish I could claim to have taken my well-earned punishment “like a man,” but it didn’t happen.  As she toasted my buns, I screamed, begged and yelled like some first-grader.  I must also have struggled, but I was no match for Miss Epps.

Due to an acoustic anomaly in our school, sound carried from the Principal’s office to our Social Studies classroom, so I have heard Mrs. Kielander spank a few kids over the years.  Her spankings are short, almost violent affairs.  Usually we hear nothing until the spanking starts, then we hear several sharp, fast, slaps before the spanked student suddenly starts crying, or screaming.  After that, the student’s voice almost drowns out the spanks.  Her spankings are hard, and famously leave her victims sore and squirming in their hard seats for the rest of the day, but they didn’t last much more than a minute.  The spanking I got from Miss Epps was nothing like that.

She spanked me hard but not terribly fast, and continued until my crying and “carrying-on” reached some threshold.  Then she stopped!  She would patiently wait for me to calm down, occasionally reminding me that we “weren’t through.”  When I had quieted sufficiently, she would remind me the reason for the spanking, and then start again!  I don’t know how many times we went through that cycle, but my punishment seemed to go on forever.  Finally she finished off the job with a series of extra-hard spanks that had me frantically screeching.

By now, my pants were half kicked off, but my underpants still bound my ankles together.  She reached down, pulled up my underpants as far as they would go, and then urged me to raise my bottom, “so I can make you decent so I can let you up.” 

Finally, still bawling, I was allowed back on my feet.  To my surprise, she actually pulled me into a long hug.  Then she did me a small kindness:  Seeing that I needed time to recover, she left me in the storeroom.  She told me to take as long as I needed, but then to see her in the office. 

Twenty minutes later, I finally slinked out of that storeroom.  Miss Epps produced a damp washcloth and gently washed the tears from my face.  Then she sat me down (actually I stood) for a sincere discussion of the importance of honesty and the pitfalls of cheating.  Yes, it was truly a “discussion”, and not a lecture.  A classic “teaching moment,” that little talk did me a world of good. 

My problems weren’t over.  I still had to face Mrs. Bray, my teacher, my class, those hard classroom chairs, and the wrath of my parents. 

It’s odd how our brain indexes life’s events.  Even today, a sniff of a well-used, well-oiled baseball glove triggers an image of that gym storeroom.  Thoughts of the storeroom always trigger memories of that spanking and the shameful indiscretion that caused it.

There was one near-daily thought that I had more trouble processing.  It had to do with Miss Epps’s kulats.  Whenever I saw her in that garment (which was almost always) it triggered a thought so personal that I couldn’t share it, nor could I shake it.  I could only deal with this particular thought under the sheets in the privacy of my bedroom. 

You see; it’s an indisputable fact that my bare penis spent some fifteen minutes touching Miss Epps kulats!  How is a boy supposed to deal with that memory?

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Sue’s Gym Storeroom Paddling

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© Guyspencer 2012

Sue’s Gym Storeroom Paddling

This story came to my mind by a strange route.  In a moment of web idleness, I decided to check to see if my old elementary school still existed…it does.  It even had a web page of sorts, which refreshed my memory of the address.  The next step was Google Earth to see if it still looks the same as it did so many decades ago.  Amazingly, it does.  Looking at the familiar form of the school, I was able to take a mental walk through the halls.  It was the gym and playing fields that really triggered memories for me.

Our gym was actually what they now call by some fancy name such as “multi-purpose room”.  As you walked in the door, the right side belonged to the two gym teachers, but the left side opened up into a huge kitchen where anonymous ladies toiled to prepare lunches for those who could afford them.  The rest of us brought our lunch in brown bags and bought government-subsidized milk in strange little triangular cartons for a mere two cents. 

The bulk of the space was a vast wooden-floored no-man’s land that was sometimes gym and sometimes cafeteria.  Huge metal picnic-style tables cleverly folded out of the south wall when we needed a cafeteria, and equally ingenious bleachers could be pulled from the north wall to be used for games and certain school functions.

Gym class for us older kids was a “double-period”.  Except for the feared dance classes, and the occasional day when one gym teacher was absent, boys and girls were usually separated into distinct classes   Miss Epps was the female gym teacher, while Mr. Dickens was in charge of us boys.

Thinking back to her dress, hair style, and mannerisms, it’s pretty clear that Miss Epps was a lesbian.  Perhaps that’s the reason she showed little interest in us boys.  Also thinking back, I’m 100% sure that Mr. Dickens was a spanko.  He often mentioned spanking and paddling when talking to us, and even described the spankings he gave his own children, usually disguising their descriptions as moral lessons. 

Outside of the Principal’s office, there were only three staff members who seemed to be deputized to apply correction to our bottoms; the two gym teachers, and Mr. Teede, the boy’s shop teacher. Of course, Mr. Teede was the maker of the school’s paddles, which explains why he had one.

The school’s ultimate punishment was a spanking, a hand spanking to the bare bottom.  Paddlings (over clothing) were far more common than spankings, but were considered a lesser punishment.  By far, most spankings occurred in the Principal’s office, but Mr. Dickens loved to remind us that gym teachers were also empowered to spank.  In the gym, corporal punishments happened in the only truly private place available, in the gym storeroom, a big windowless closet.  

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There is one day that stands out in my mind, even though it’s been half a century.  That day’s gym activity was softball, played on an outside field.  Two diamonds were set up in opposite corners of the field, one for each gender.  The fields were marked with chalk lines that the teachers made with a special cart.  Another cart held all the softball equipment; the dusty bags we used for bases, the bats, the gloves and the balls. 

     

Most boys thought of softball as “sissy baseball” but I was quite indifferent.  Totally hopeless at most sports, I was always the last chosen when teams were formed, and ended up at the end of the batting order.  No wonder!  I rarely managed to hit a ball with a bat.

Our class period was well past the halfway point when it happened:  There was a sudden ruckus on the girl’s diamond.  Some of the boys claimed to have seen what happened, but all I noticed was a bunch of girls milling around a girl who was lying on the ground.  Several of the girls were pointing indignantly at one of their number, while others bent over the downed girl.

The news quickly spread all over the field, Sue Smothers had deliberately tripped Jane Evans while the teams were changing sides.  Jane was bleeding!

We saw Miss Epps wade into the crowd.  Soon she had things sorted out.  Jane was on her feet, but even from across the field we could see blood streaming down her face.  Miss Epps yelled at Sue, telling her to stay with Mr. Dickens until she had time to “deal with her”.  She yelled instructions to her class.  They were to pick up the equipment and then go change.  Then, supporting Jane, she started off for the school, presumably to deliver Jane to the school nurse.

Sue’s penchant for tripping people was well known by all.  It was her favorite trick.  Even though she had been called down for it by several teachers, and even received a paddle swat once, somehow she couldn’t shake the idea that this was a very clever thing to do.  However, this was the first time that anyone had actually been injured by her antics.  This raised things to a whole new level!

Mr. Dickens made Sue sit by the fence as the boys played out our last inning, and then collected the sporting equipment and neatly stacked it in the cart.  Finally us boys, the cart, Mr. Dickens, and Sue all headed for the gym to change clothes.

Inside the gym, Mr. Dickens sent Sue to wait in the office.  The office had large windows, so he could easily keep an eye on her.  Moments later, Miss Epps arrived from the nurse’s office.  She was livid!  Jane had a bloody nose and deep scratches on her face.  Her mother had been called.

She marched into the office to confront Sue.  There had been enough witnesses and enough prior history that there was really nothing that Sue could say in her own defense.  Besides, as far as we could tell, Miss Epps wasn’t letting her get a word in edgewise!

Spellbound, we all watched the show.  Soon Miss Epps marched Sue out the office door and towards the storeroom.  The paddle in her hand made her intentions clear.

In the silence that followed, Mr. Dickens herded us boys into our changing room.

I was halfway through changing when I noticed half the boys gathered under a certain vent.  The vent obviously connected to the storeroom, because you could hear everything that was happening there.  Uncharacteristically, the boy’s changing room suddenly went dead quiet.

We could clearly hear Miss Epps, “Bend over.  Hands against the wall. Stick out that butt!  You’ve got six coming young lady!”

We all gasped.  Four was the most we had ever heard of anyone getting!  The usual punishment was just one or two strokes!

Hearing sentence pronounced must have pushed Sue over the edge.  She immediately dropped her brave (or was it stunned?) front in favor of a fervent and loud appeal for mercy.  On reflection, Miss Epps was probably a bit out of control, and had no business punishing anyone until the situation calmed down, but this was another age.  Back then, a teacher’s authority was unquestioned.  Especially one with a paddle in her hand!

We clearly heard the paddle hit.  Sue didn’t take it well.  She started screeching.  She must have jumped up, because Miss Epps ordered her back into position.  After a breathless silence, we heard the next paddle stroke.  Sue’s pained reaction was even louder.  Sue must have jumped up again, because Miss Epps loudly ordered her back into position.  By now, Sue was howling continuously.  All dressing activity in the boy’s dressing room had ceased.  We were all totally transfixed by the drama in the storeroom.

Miss Epps next statement astounded us! “I’m tired of this Missy.  You’ve got one more chance to stay in position.  If I have to hold you, you get the rest of your swats on your bare butt!”  Sue started begging again, complaining about her burning bottom.

Then we heard the third paddle stroke.  To me, it seemed louder than the first two. 

Sue took that one no better that the first two.  The sounds coming from that vent were truly horrendous.  Even today, I believe that Sue deserved a good paddling, but the reality of listening to her punishment was sobering.

Predictably, Sue failed to say in position.  We could tell because Miss Epps stridently commanded her to take down her shorts and panties.  Sue loudly demurred, so I suspect she received some help getting them down.

Just then, Mr. Dickens walked into the dressing room.  “What’s keeping you boys?  If you are so interested in what happens in that storeroom, there will be a vacancy in a few minutes. I’ll be happy to give you a demonstration.”  Naturally, we all jumped away from the vent and quickly started dressing. 

But then we all heard the paddle fall again, only this time it sounded different!  It was the high cracking sound of wood meeting bare girl-flesh.

POP-POP-POP!

Miss Epps gave Sue the last three strokes all together.  Sue screamed as the paddle did its work, and then started bawling inconsolably. 

Everything stopped in our dressing room.  Mr. Dickens stopped and stared at the vent just like the rest of us.  I have no doubt that perve was picturing Sue’s rounded paddle-marked bare bottom.

By then we had all heard quite enough.  The bell rang, so we happily escaped the gym to go to our next class.

All in all, it was just another day in gym class.

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Disciplinary Charter School (DCS)

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© Guyspencer 2012

Disciplinary Charter School (DCS)

Author Note: In many parts of the United States there is a hybrid type of school that is halfway between public and private.  These are “charter” schools.  Governed by autonomous boards, they are financed largely with public funds, but freed from many of the regulations that govern (and some say hinder) public schools.  Charter schools are judged mainly by their results and rarely by their methods.  These schools often specialize in a certain subject area, such as vocational job training, military, or medical.  Alternatively, they may specialize in a certain type of student, such as students with bad disciplinary records.  While a few lucky charter schools have new purpose-built campuses, most “make do” with old unused public buildings or cheap rented space in old supermarkets, large storefronts, or empty shopping malls. 

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The mixed group of teenaged prospective students waited nervously outside the front door of the old shopping mall.  Most were old enough to remember when this was the most popular mall in town.  But that was before Wal-Mart, the Internet, and a worldwide recession had combined to gradually strangle it out of existence, one store at a time.

At precisely 2 PM, a uniformed guard appeared at the door.  “You people are all here for the tour and orientation?” he asked.  Everybody nodded eagerly.  Out of hundreds of applicants, these 20 were the only ones invited for the tour and presentation.  Still, not everybody here would “make the cut”.

Calling names from a list, the guard processed the “prospects” into the building.  Each ID was checked.  Then each passed through a metal detector, was sniffed by a drug dog, and was issued a temporary neck tag.  Inside, the group was joined by six others.  These six teens were wearing uniforms from the local reformatory.  Their neck tags had red borders.

Their arrival had purposely been timed to coincide with class change time, so they got to see the organized chaos of 500 students efficiently crisscrossing the mall as all moved to their next class.  Although the school had no prescribed uniform, most students wore a t-shirt in the yellow and blue school colors with the stylized “DCS” logo.  They happened to be standing near the entrance of one classroom, so they noticed that each student swiped his or her neck tag at the entrance as they entered.  Each time, the box beeped and flashed.  It didn’t take a genius to figure out that this is how the whereabouts of each student was continually monitored.  Just as the last student entered the last classroom, a bell rang.  The next class period had just started, and every student had been automatically accounted for...save one.

The prospects observed a small drama as one student rushed up seconds after the bell.  When he swiped his card, a buzzer sounded.  The boy’s face turned red as an electronic voice informed him that he had three minutes to report to the administrative office to answer for his tardiness.  With slumped shoulders, the boy headed to the office, and to his fate.

Except that everything was clean and neat, few obvious changes had been made to the shopping mall to convert it into a high school.  Externally, the classrooms looked much like the original storefronts.  In a little stroke of cleverness, the ex-Radio Shack store was the IT classroom. 

Captain Wilson, the head of the school’s security guard detail led the tour.  They were allowed to peek into several classrooms, walked through the immaculate food court with is several eateries, and were shown the empty Sears store that had been repurposed into a huge gym with indoor playing fields.  Then they were shown the dormitory areas, comfortable accommodations for inmate students and boarding students.  Finally, they were herded into a classroom where they were met by Sandra Evens, the school’s Principal.

Ms. Evans wasn’t a traditional educator; she was actually a retired army officer.  A highly decorated field officer who had become somewhat famous in Desert Storm combat, she ran her school with a velvet-lined iron fist.  Sandra was a compact lady, but definitely not petite.  Ms. Evans was curved everywhere a woman should be curved, but under those curves lurked a surprising physical toughness.  In fact, she still maintained herself Army-tough in the special gym that she had installed for her security guards, who were themselves all retired elite military warriors, each still in excellent shape.

She stood before the group.  She had no need to ask the group for silence, because there was something about her presence that demanded the attention of those around her.  The group, including the security guards, seemed to hold its collective breath waiting for her to speak.  She stood quietly, taking the time to look each prospect in the eye before she spoke.  In spite of everything, she noticed that she lacked the complete attention of two of the prospects.  She pointed them out; “Please escort those two off the campus,” she ordered the guards “they’re not the type of students we want here at DCS.”   If she hadn’t enjoyed everybody’s undivided attention before, she did now.

“Good afternoon everybody.” she said, “I’m Sandra Evans, Principal of Disciplinary Charter School.  At this school we specialize in second chances.  Let’s not beat around the bush, if you are here, it’s because you’ve screwed up your first chance, which was to succeed at a normal school.  So if you are lucky enough and good enough to be accepted here, you get a free second chance to succeed.  I know that most of you want in here because you have heard good things about DCS.  We have an amazing campus, the best equipment, and the best teachers.  If you graduate here, you will either already be qualified for placement in a good job, or you will have nearly a 100% chance of being accepted into college with an excellent scholarship.  In short, if you are accepted here and finish our program, you will have an excellent chance for a successful life.  Any questions so far?”

Nobody had any questions for the Principal, so she continued…

“We specialize in helping bright and motivated students who happen to have troubled backgrounds succeed.  We are a school of rules and a school of structure.  Why?  Because we’ve learned that’s what students like you need.  Before you can be accepted here, you must memorize and wholeheartedly agree to our rules. As soon as I’m done with this presentation, Captain Wilson will teach you our rules.  That class will immediately be followed by a comprehensive exam.  Those of you who pass that exam will receive further consideration for enrollment.    Questions?”

A few mouths hung open, but nobody ventured a question. 

“Now before you learn about the rules, I want you all to know what happens if you don’t follow them.  After you watch these two videos, there will be some of you who won’t wish to continue.  That’s fine with us, because we only want those of you who are willing to play by our rules…all of them!”

At the signal from the Principal, the lights went out.  “You are about to see two videos.  The first shows an example of ‘pops’, which is what we call our minimum corporal punishment procedure.  ‘Pops’ are nothing more than a few paddle swats to your bare bottom.  Both of these videos are file footage of actual students receiving real punishments.  Both students you will see are graduates who have kindly given us permission, even though we technically don’t need permission for official use of our surveillance and file videos.” 

On a huge TV screen, a still picture came on.  It showed the Principal sitting behind a desk; a girl was standing in front of it. 

Ms. Evans explained to the group, “This is my office.  If you ever see the inside of it, it’s probably because you haven’t lived up to our rules, but that’s unlikely to be the end of the world for you.  It just means that you are about to learn a sharp lesson.  This girl was there to be punished for tardiness.  We don’t tolerate tardiness.  You are about to see her receive three pops.  Three pops is our minimum punishment.”

Suddenly the still picture turned into a video.  The picture zoomed in on the girl’s face.  She looked very unhappy, but also obedient and apologetic.  The Principal stood, brandished a long, wicked-looking Lexan paddle.  She ordered the girl to move a certain chair into the middle of the office.  That done, she positioned the girl in front of the chair before ordering her to kick off her shoes and then ordered,  “drop them”.  Obviously familiar with the procedure, the girl kicked off her shoes and stowed them under the chair.  Then all the prospects gasped as the girl obediently reached to her waist to undo her belt and open her jeans.  With a bit of effort and wriggling, she lowered the jeans to her knees.  The pull from her tight jeans had pulled her panties halfway down, exposing the top half of her full buttocks.   Her hands returned for her panties, which she pushed down to meet her jeans, leaving her bottom and the back of her thighs vulnerable to the bite of the paddle.  Finally, the girl raised the back of her yellow T-shirt. Slack jawed, the boys in the room squirmed uncomfortably at this sudden and unexpected display of female charms.  However, the display of the girl’s secrets had only begun!  In a voice that was firm but not harsh, the Principal instructed the girl to spread her legs as much as her bunched pants would allow, and then to bend over and grip the seat of the chair.  The camera zoomed in on the target area, leaving none of the girl’s most private bits to the imagination. 

“Tell us why we are here” the Principal ordered. 

“Because I was tardy twice this week” the girl responded. 

“That’s good”, the Principal replied, “Keep that in mind as I make your bottom sting, and then perhaps we won’t need to repeat this lesson.”

At that, the Principal placed a restraining hand on the girl’s back, raised the paddle high, and delivered a stunning blow to the fullest part of the girl’s bottom.  The girl gave a high-pitched squeal, and her head snapped up, but the Principal’s hand kept her in place.

The camera zoomed in even further to treat the group to a full-screen image of a paddle-shaped red mark blooming across the center of the girls jiggling buttocks.  Little white circles coincided with the holes in the paddle.  Then, without warning, the paddle impacted again, but this time it was half a paddle width lower on her bottom.  The girl screeched, but stayed in place.  Her movements were now so urgent that the camera had to zoom back to keep the target framed, but the group could clearly see the area where the two paddle marks overlapped was now an angry shade of red.

It seemed impossible that the third “pop” could be harder than its predecessors, but it clearly was.  Its force actually pushed the girl forward, so that her knees banged against the chair.  This one landed higher, so that it overlapped with the top half of the mark left by the first stroke.  The Principal restrained the keening girl so that the camera could register the full visual impact of the nasty paddle stroke.  Finally, she allowed the girl up.  As the scene faded out, the girl was massaging her bare bottom with tears flowing down her cheeks. 

The lights came up in the room.  The Principal was the master of the pregnant pause.  There was dead quiet as she scanned faces, evaluating the effect of the scene on each prospective student.  Fear was ok, but if she saw outrage or disinterest, she made a note of the prospect’s name.  That person was unlikely to be accepted.

“Does anyone care to leave before we continue?” she asked.  There were no takers.

“Then we shall will continue,” she said in a brisk voice.  “The other, more severe but less common punishment is a plain old spanking, much like you may have received from your parents.  These are usually private affairs that happen in my office, but occasionally it is necessary for one to happen in front of the entire school body.  In that case we call it a “screening” because the spanking happens behind a small translucent modesty screen.  The spanking you will now see happened in my office.  The offense was fighting.”

She snapped her fingers.  Instantly the lights went out and a still picture appeared on the screen.  Again the scene showed her sitting at her desk, but now there was a large boy standing in front of her.   He looked tough, and obviously larger and heavier than her.  He wore droopy jeans and the ubiquitous school T-shirt.

Speaking to the group, the Principal set the scene.  “We’ll call this student ‘Sam’.  Sam had an anger management problem, which is why he ended up with us.  At DCS he did well, except for a tendency to solve disagreements by fighting.  In this scene, I have already privately dealt with the other participant, who I also spanked.  As this scene opens, I’ve been talking with Sam for about 30 minutes.  It’s now time for his spanking.  We’ll be using that same chair you saw before.  You will notice a small paddle in a holder at the back of the chair.  I decide on a case-by-case basis if that’s needed.  Usually my hand is quite sufficient.  OK, here we go…”

The video rolled, the Principal spoke to the boy, “We’re not going to have any trouble with your punishment are we Sam?  After all, George took his punishment like a man.  We certainly can’t expect any less from a tough guy like you can we?”  (Ms. Evans considered peer pressure to be one of her most powerful tools.  She used it slavishly.)

The video was plenty clear enough to show Sam’s face turn red.  “No ma-am, I’ll cooperate with my punishment.”

“I’m really happy to hear that,” the Principal enthused, “So you’re sure we won’t need the guards?”

“No ma-am, I’ll be good.”

“Do you need to use my bathroom before we start?  You’ll be across my lap for quite a while.”

The boy’s face get even redder, he shook his head “No”.

“In that case, you know the routine.  Please place the spanking chair and then prepare yourself.”

The boy moved the chair to the center of the floor in front of the Principal’s desk.  He removed his shoes, and then placed them neatly under the chair.  Then he unbuckled his belt, undid his pants, and stepped out of them.  After neatly folding his pants, he bent over to place them neatly on top of his shoes.  Now the boy looked truly reluctant.  He stalled a moment, looking hopefully at the Principal.

“Continue” she ordered.

With a sigh, the boy lowered his underpants, and then stepped out of them.  He folded the briefs in half, and then bent over again to place them under the chair.  It’s obvious to all watching the video that this procedure is designed with embarrassment in mind.  As if there were any doubt, the camera zoomed in to prove that the enforced bending over removed all vestiges of privacy.   

One final step remained, the boy pulled up the hem of his T-shirt.  He was now naked from his navel to the top of his white socks.  He stood next to the chair, meekly awaiting his fate. 

The camera showed a well-developed “boy” who was obviously well on the way to adulthood.  He had thick pubic hair, and chest hair could be seen peeking out from under his T-shirt.   Fortunately for him, his man-sized penis was still mostly flaccid. 

After a suitable pause, the Principal rose from her desk and walked purposely to the waiting chair.  As she seated herself, the boy automatically moved to her right side.  The camera zoomed in on his face.  His eyes were wet with tears, although he was obviously struggling to suppress them.  The Principal took his hand, and expertly guided him into place.  His final position presented his bottom high, with his manhood suspended between her slightly spread legs so it wouldn’t be mashed against her thigh.  That last was a good thing.  Even though the camera couldn’t show it, Sam’s penis had jumped to attention as soon as it touched the soft fabric of the Principal’s skirt.   Sandra didn’t know or care about the erectile state of Sam’s penis.  In her job, the sight of undraped students was just part of the everyday scenery.  Besides, she hadn’t yet seen an erection survive one of her spankings.

“Tell me why we’re here Sam,” she ordered.

Upended, with his head near the carpet, his voice sounded different, higher, “Because…because I lost my temper and got into another fight.”

“Good answer,” she agreed, “You get this spanking privately, but if this happens again, you can expect a screening.  To help prevent that, we’re going to find you some anger management training.  OK?”

“Yes ma-am,” squeaked the boy.

Then one last reminder, “It’s OK to make all the noise you want, and some wiggling is OK, but fighting me is not OK!”

Sandra Evans wasn’t a mean lady, but she believed that a spanking must be a memorable event to be effective.  Her spankings were long, and always hard enough to temporarily reduce the toughest, most macho student to a sniveling wreck, but they were never more severe than the situation called for.

Her first spanks were firm and slow.  Yes, she could have started harder and faster, but she felt it best to allow the boy the dignity of suffering the first couple minutes in silence, a feat Sam managed with only a bit of involuntary wiggling and clenching.  But then she slowly dialed up the heat!

Finally the first noise escaped the boy’s lips, a combination grunt and moan which the boy quickly repressed.  Now the boy’s feet conspired to betray his distress.  His toes pointed, and then dug into the carpet, their purchase imparting a new movement to his slowly reddening bottom.

Still spanking with only her hand, she dialed up the corporal correction just a bit more; slightly harder, and slightly faster. 

Finally the first plea escaped! “I’m sorry…I won’t do it again.”

She paused for a moment, “I’m glad you’re sorry Sam, that’s important.  But you’ve been sorry before.  We need to be sure this time, don’t we?”

“Yes ma-am,” he choked.  

The spanking started again, just a bit harder and faster than before.  Now she started gradually increasing the target area, ensuring that she spanked all the way to the top of his crack, and then around the fullness of each cheek almost to his hips, before finally moving down to the tender, untouched flesh of his sit spots and thighs.

This finally pushed the boy over the edge; his entreaties gradually became incoherent, dissolving into frank sobs and tears.  The tears obviously had no effect on the Principal, who continued the punishment for several more minutes. 

The group watching the video squirmed as the boy’s punishment seemed to go on forever.

Finally, the spanks slowed down as the Principal started questioning the boy, “Have you really learned your lesson this time?  What are you going to do the next time you feel yourself get angry?  Do you understand why we don’t allow violence here as DCS?”

Each time, the boy sobbed out some sort of answer, which eventually seemed to satisfy the lady.

Finally she stopped long enough to reposition the boy for his ending spanks.  She threw one leg over his legs, and then firmly secured his right wrist at his waist.  Starting low on his left thigh, she rained down five firm spanks, and then added five scorchers to his sit spot, and then the boy wailed as she delivered five full-strength spanks to the meatiest part of his left buttock.   After an appropriate pause to allow the student to come back to his senses to fully appreciate what was about to happen, she repeated the entire painful process on his other side.

Then she abruptly stopped.  She waved her obviously stinging right hand in the air to cool it, before massaging it with her left hand.  Finally, she allowed the sobbing boy to his feet.  Unashamed, he danced and rubbed his bottom, his male bits flopping in the breeze.

Calmly, the Principal stood and walked back behind her desk.  The video continued to run as the tearful boy dressed himself and then replaced the chair to its normal place at the office wall.

Finally, thankfully, the grim video ended, and the lights came up in the room.  It wasn’t lost on any of the group that this lady had reduced that large, tough boy to tears, and never even bothered to use her paddle!

The Principal silently regarded the group for what seemed like an eternity.  She fixed each prospective student with her gaze before picking up a pen and making some notes.  Finally she spoke, “Few of you who are accepted here at DCS will escape without getting ‘pops” at least once.  That’s just human nature.  However, only a few of you will misbehave badly enough to get spanked.  Still, it’s something that every student here is potentially subject to if you break our rules.  Usually at this point there are some who wish to withdraw their applications.   Raise your hands if you wish to leave.

Four hands raised, two of them were inmates who obviously had decided that life was safer in the reformatory.  A guard took the four out of the classroom, the two inmates to be transported back to their reformatory cells, and the other two to be escorted out the front door.

The Principal left the room to allow Captain Wilson to deliver a presentation to the group about DCS’s rules and regulations.  Since the regulations were uniformly fair and mostly obvious, and since only the brightest applicants were allowed to make it this far in the selection procedure, they all passed the subsequent quiz.

The Principal returned to the room just in time to congratulate the successful applicants, to hand out DCS T-shirts, and to remind them not to be late for their first day of class.

For each of them, it was a promise of a new beginning for their young lives, and a likely portal to a happy and secure adulthood.  But that’s another story.

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Appointment for Contrition, Part 8

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© Guyspencer 2012

Appointment for Contrition, Part 8

After his meeting with Reverend Februs and Sara at Central Baptist Church, Dr. Lee rushed back to his church office in the hopes of making some progress on Sunday’s sermon before his first Contrition Appointment of the day.  As he sat, a painful twinge served as an unpleasant reminder of the paddling he had received last night from Sister March.

He finally had ideas flowing for his sermon, when (to his guilty consternation) Sister Gilbert arrived 20 minutes early for her Contrition Appointment. 

Sister Gilbert was a matronly, full-figured lady in her 50’s.  There had always been sadness about her that Dr. Lee couldn’t put a finger on.  She had grown children who lived nearby and had an obviously devoted husband, so there was no obvious reason for her unhappiness.

She seemed quite nervous.   “I hope you don’t mind me being so early,” she said, “but I thought we, errr, might need some extra time.”

Reluctantly, he put the sermon out of sight so that he could properly concentrate on what the lady was saying.

“It’s about our Lady’s Circle meeting last week.  Remember how Sara said that her, umm…punishment cleared the guilt out of her head?  Well I’ve been carrying terrible guilt around for years.  I betrayed some wonderful people years ago, people who had put all of their trust in me, and now there’s no way for me to make amends to them.  I’m truly sorry, and I feel the need to suffer some type of punishment.  When we had that vote about sp-sp-spanking last Wednesday, it was like God was speaking straight to me.   So here I am.”

Dr. Lee spoke carefully, “Let’s be sure that we both understand what we are talking about.  You are requesting a spanking…correct?”

The lady swallowed before nodding her head in the affirmative.

“Before we proceed further, you must first be totally contrite, truly sorry for what you did and willing to do whatever it takes to obtain forgiveness.  You must bare yourself; bare your soul, bare your heart, and yes… bare your body.  Nothing must be held back; therefore you must relinquish all control.  Especially you must relinquish the option of changing your mind, because spankings hurt, so it’s perfectly human to want your spanking to stop before it’s over.   Do you still wish to proceed?”  

She looked him straight in the eye, with the first tears running down her face.  “Tell me what to do Pastor Lee.  I’m very serious about this.”

He sighed inwardly.  He wasn’t really ready for this.  He had expected to have time to discuss the finer points of his “Contrition” spanking procedures with Sister March and perhaps have the entire procedure discussed at a Lady’s Circle meeting.  But here was a lady presenting herself to be spanked; almost insisting on it.

“OK.” he said,” I believe that you are serious about this.  Soon we will need to figure out a better way to do this, but here is how we will proceed today.  First, do you need to visit the ladies room before we start?”

Her cheeks colored at the intimate question, “No, I’ll be OK.”

“Then I will leave you alone (he looked at his watch) for five minutes.  When I return, I expect to find you sitting in that chair just as you are now, except that you will have used your privacy to remove all but your wedding ring.”

Her face turned white, and then beet red.  “Surely you can’t mean…”

He interrupted, “Yes, I mean just that. If you are truly contrite, you must give up control and hold nothing back.”

“But my body!  It’s old, I’m overweight…”

He interrupted again, “There’s no beauty contest here.  Baring your body will help you bare your soul.  As your pastor, I’m far more interested in the later.”

“This is your last chance to back out.” he warned, “Either way, I’m still your Pastor and I’m still here for you.  What will it be?” 

There was a long silence, and then finally the answer, “Can I have those five minutes please?”

The Pastor left, and then paced restlessly around the church the requisite five minutes.  At the appointed time, he entered his office without knocking.  There was a pile of clothing on the floor.  She sat naked in the chair, one arm across her substantial breasts, a hand covering her lowest curls.

“Relax,” Dr. Lee soothed, “we’re here about your soul and your guilt, not your body.”

Reluctantly, her arms dropped to her sides.

“Ok,” he said, “sitting behind his desk.  You have bared your body, now bare your soul.  Tell me everything about why you are here, even the painful parts, even the parts that you would rather not remember; everything.”

Gradually she sobbed out the entire painful story.  He asked probing questions, many of which were painful for her to answer.  When the entire story was finally out, the Pastor agreed that she certainly deserved to be spanked.  In fact, she should have been spanked years ago, but he couldn’t help that.  

It seemed that Sister Gilbert had been given fiduciary responsibility for her parent’s affairs in the months before their deaths.  In the process, she had stolen some money from their accounts.  Although she had unsuccessfully tried to rationalize that she was somehow “owed” the money, she had been racked by terrible guilt.  After her parents had died, (only weeks apart) she had quietly repaid the money to the estate.  Unfortunately there was never an opportunity for her to make amends with her parents.  Now, years later, she was still troubled by guilt.

“Sister Gilbert,” he intoned gravely.  “Lead us in prayer.  Ask your Lord for forgiveness.” 

She said a tearful prayer.

Dr. Lee pronounced sentence; “Our God is both compassionate and all-knowing.  I feel that he sees your pain, your contrition and your guilt and has long ago forgiven you.  The reason for your sadness is that you are too good a person to forgive yourself.  So you are correct; you need to suffer a true punishment for your sin so that you can let go of your own guilt.  Kindly stand, and then slide your chair to the center of the room.”

As the lady obeyed, the Pastor received his first glimpse of her magnificent rump, two round, firm, white melons divided by an impressive cleft.  

He went to a cupboard and retrieved the pillow.  He had remained mostly soft “down there”, but it was best to play safe.  Like a king claiming his throne, he sat in the chair.  He found it still warm from so lately being covered by Sister Gilbert’s bare bottom.  He laid the pillow across his lap before motioning Sister Gilbert to stand in front of him.  Now he got his first sniff of her.  Her old-fashioned powdery fragrance gave him a flashback to hazy memories of his teachers in his early years at school.   Back then, it had occasionally been him across their laps.  Now the situation was reversed.

“Sister Gilbert,” he ordered, “Tell us why you are about to be punished.”

She choked out a satisfactory answer; “Because I violated a sacred trust by taking money that wasn’t mine, and because I’ve hid the truth all of these years.”

That raised a question in the Pastor’s mind, “Did you keep this from your husband also?”

She nodded miserably, “Until last night.”

“So he knows that you’re here and he expects you to be spanked?”

“Yes to both questions.” she said.  “But that won’t be the end of it.  Keeping it from him was the same as lying to him, lying for many years.  That’s a separate issue to be settled between him and me.  He’s a good man, but he has promised me a spanking after my bottom heals from whatever you do today.”

This was the first time any of the ladies in his church had mentioned being spanked by their husbands, so naturally Dr. Lee was curious, but he confined himself to a relevant question:  “And that second spanking will settle things between the two of you?  Life goes back to normal after that?”     

“Yes,” she said, “And the sooner the better.”

He patted the pillow in his lap, “Then let’s do our part.  Put yourself into position, with your bottom nice and high.

As her head descended, she felt the sensation of her hair hanging down towards the floor, and of gravity pulling at her breasts in an unaccustomed direction.  He felt his hands on her hips gently but firmly guide her into position.  Then she heard his voice, deceptively soft, almost apologetic.  He asked for her right hand. 

“Here we go.” he warned, and then he planted four solid spanks on each cheek without alternating sides. 

She squealed then wailed “Owwwww”. 

He paused to watch the hand prints merge together into two pink blobs.  In the same soft voice he advised, “Don’t hold it in Sister Gilbert.  It’s OK to cry or to make any noises you wish, and it’ll help flush the guilt out of your system.”

At that, she started openly sobbing.  Dr. Lee took that as his cue to start the spanking in earnest.  Soon Sister Gilbert was doing a horizontal dance across her Pastor’s lap, as her buttocks did an impressive fandango of their own.  They were flattening and rippling with each spank, and then springing back into shape in the short interval between spanks with a delectable bounce.   The Pastor couldn’t see them, but her breasts were flopping impressively.

Borrowing pages from Reverend Februs’s playbook, he paused for a short question and answer period, and then restarted the spanking, only this time concentrating on the backs of her well-padded thighs.  Her urgent reactions confirmed the sensitivity of that area.  As with Sara earlier, Sister Gilbert’s involuntary leg kicks provided the occasional opening for spanks in her inner thigh area.  Her shrieks turned to frank screams.

After a pause for another Q&A session, Dr. Lee switched his target back to Sister Gilbert’s bottom.   After a couple minutes of that treatment, they were both nearly out of breath, so Dr. Lee took a long pause.

Using the last of the tricks he had learned from his colleague that morning, he warned: “This will be the hardest part of your spanking, but also the end.  When it’s over, you will have been properly punished and there will be no further reason to feel guilty.  Are you ready?”

“Mphnnnt” she said

The sound really didn’t mean much to Dr. Lee, except that it didn’t sound anything like “No”, so he tightened his hold around her torso and started vigorously spanking Sister Gilbert’s hind parts.  Shocked by the sudden intensity, it took her a few seconds to catch her breath.  Finally she managed a proper shriek.  She bucked and twisted and kicked, but the strong young Pastor easily held her down.  The spanking went on and on, coloring her bottom cheeks and thighs to a red so dark that he was afraid of bruising.  Finally, after several minutes of uninterrupted vigorous spanking he stopped just as quickly as he had started.  After a brief “quality control check” for any spots he may have missed, he decided that the job had been properly done.  He had just delivered the first official “Contrition Spanking” to a Ladies’ Circle member. 

As he rubbed the lady’s back and cooed soft, calming words to her, it occurred to him that for all the noise she made, never once did Sister Gilbert beg him to stop.  Suddenly his respect for her took a huge jump.

He helped her up, making sure that she was steady on her feet before releasing her.  Sobbing, she jogged in place, one hand on each cheek.  As he had before with Sara, he placed the pillow on the chair, and finally induced her to sit for a short post-spanking interview and a final prayer.  When the interview and prayer were done, it was almost time for his next appointment.

He stood, gave her a chaste hug across her shoulders, and then told her that he would leave so that she could get dressed.  “Why?” she said picking up her panties, “You’ve seen it all by now.   Please stay.  I’d feel better with you here.”  Dr. Lee agreed, sitting down behind his desk.  Uncomfortably, he watched the lady dress.  It was at that moment that he got the idea for the white “Truth Gowns”.   They would make for a much better procedure.

---------------

To his relief, Dr. Lee’s next two appointments were much less dramatic, but still time consuming.  It was dark before he had made sufficient progress on his sermon.  He went home to a late supper and to bring Sister March up on events.  As promised, he saw Sara that evening to loan her a clock radio.  Her latest spanking seemed to have helped, she seemed organized and determined to get things right.

---------------

The next few weeks went by in a blur of activity. 

Two days later, Dr. Lee had his first opportunity to wield the paddle when, Sister March nervously presented herself for “paddling practice”.   She handed him the paddle, dropped her robe, and then placed her nude body across his lap.  As she had done with him, he started off with a moderately hard hand spanking before switching to the paddle.  Sister March found the pain excruciating.  Despite herself, she howled and twisted in agony.  Exactly as she had feared, her loud and violent reaction to the sting of the paddle made the gentle Pastor stop the paddling too soon.  It would take several painful sessions over several weeks before she declared him sufficiently skilled with the paddle.  The Pastor was very glad when that finally happened, because he had insisted on receiving a paddling for each one he gave her.  By now, Dr. Lee had great respect for the power of that paddle.  He would use it when the proper time came, but never abuse it.

Meanwhile, Dr. Lee described his idea for a white “Truth Gown” to Sister March.  It wouldn’t be just for spankings, but would be worn to all Contrition Appointments as a symbol of openness, contrition, and piety.  That way, everybody would be exactly the same.  Further, there would be no embarrassing “strip-tease” if there were to be a spanking because the gown could simply be doffed in seconds and then quickly put back on afterwards. 

Sister March agreed.  She used her seamstress skills to design and make a gown.  The next Wednesday it was shown to the entire group, who unanimously voted to adopt them.  Over the next week, Sister March worked feverishly to produce one for each lady’s Circle member. 

The entire Contrition Protocol wasn’t quite yet in place.  For example, Intervention Gatherings hadn’t even been thought of yet, and the strap had yet to be introduced.  These things were still in the fuzzy future.

Increasingly on Dr. Lee’s mind was his desire for a mate.  He took every opportunity to visit nearby churches in the hope of meeting a suitable young lady, but no luck yet.

In another matter, two teenage girls in the church were about to achieve the magic age of 18.  At 18 they would be eligible for confirmation, and to be recognized as adults and full members of the church.  Already they were attending confirmation classes with Dr. Lee.  The Lady’s Circle group was abuzz with plans for their Confirmation Ceremony and discussions as to how to handle their first Contrition Appointments.   

Dr. Lee treated the girls carefully, always with a veneer of practiced professional detachment.  As near-adults, he didn’t speak to them as children, but they remained children in the eyes of the church until the moment of their confirmation.  Everyone in the church knew that following their confirmation certain social barriers between the girls and their young Pastor would fall because the girls would suddenly be marriage-eligible adults.  Things would be much different!

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Appointment for Contrition, Part 7

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© Guyspencer 2012

Appointment for Contrition, Part 7

After receiving the distressing phone call from Reverend Februs, Dr. Lee had driven straight to Central Baptist Church.  He arrived moments after Sara.  The two clergymen confronted Sara in the privacy of the church office.  As always, they started with a prayer, asking for guidance in this matter.

As before, Sara was wearing her simple uniform of staff T-shirt, cargo shorts, tennis shoes, and baseball hat.  As before, she looked natural, refreshing, and (frankly) ravishing.  His heart started to melt, but he steeled himself to his job.

Dr. Lee turned to Sara.  “I can’t believe it Sara!  Over the last two weeks you have been so unreliable, that the Reverend here is considering firing you; firing you from a volunteer job!  Are you really so unreliable that you can’t even hold a volunteer job?”

Her face melted as if she had been struck.  Tears immediately gushed.  “Please Reverend Februs, please give me another chance.  I’m not used to getting up so early in the morning, but I’m a fast learner.  I promise I’ll do better!”

“But you promised me the same thing before” he explained in a reasonable tone of voice, “Yet here we are.  We have responsibilities to these children and we have state staffing ratios we must maintain.  An unreliable employee is worse than useless to me.”

“Please Reverend Februs, Please!  You don’t understand how much I’ve come to like it here.  I never knew I liked kids so much.  They love me and I love them.  I’m a natural here.  I know I deserve to be punished, but please give me a chance to make this right.”

Dr. Lee spoke up, “It’s very appropriate that you should mention punishment Sara, because that’s exactly what I’m here to propose.  If Reverend Februs can be talked into giving you another chance, I propose to punish you right here and now, using a method you are intimately familiar with.  To remedy your tardiness problem, I will loan you a clock radio, which you will place in your bedroom, but out of reach from your bed.  You will adjust it to play loud, irritating music if you don’t get out of bed on time.  At 8:10 every morning, you will dial Sister March and wish her a good morning just to be doubly sure you are awake.  Do you think that will work?

“Yes!” she cried, “Oh yes please!”

He turned to Reverend Februs.  “And sir, will you accept that as a solution?”

With a show of reluctance, the Reverend nodded agreement.  “I guess this means I should leave you two alone for a few minutes?”

“No sir,” Dr. Lee replied, “I think it’s perfectly appropriate and fair for you to remain. “

Sara blushed scarlet, but said nothing.

Dr. Lee continued, “Besides being a man of God, you’re also both a married man and a father, so you know what a bare bottom looks like, and I suspect you are familiar with spankings.”

“The bible tells us to not spare the rod,” he replied, “Yes, I spank my children when it’s required, and I counsel the parents in my congregation to do the same.”

“In that case Sara,” Dr. Lee said, as he moved a chair purposely to the middle of the room, “you may remove your shoes.”

She bent over to untie her shoes, and then kicked them off.  By now, Dr. Lee was sitting in the chair.  Automatically, she walked over to face him, her cheeks wet with tears.

“Don’t be too rough on yourself.”  Dr. Lee soothed.  “You’re a wonderful person.  You said yourself that you are good with the kids, and Reverend Februs agrees.  If I believed that expecting you to arrive to work on time was too much to ask, I would never punish you for it.  You are allowing those clouds in your brain to sabotage you.  I won’t allow it, and neither will Reverend Februs.  It may not feel like it right now, but were both here to help you.”

With tears still flowing, Sara nodded her understanding.

“Sara, Is there anything else we need to discuss before we begin?”

Sniffling, she shook her head. 

“Come around to my side and then uncover your bottom for me.”

She obeyed, unbuttoning her shorts before hooking her thumbs into both her shorts and panties to push them down to mid-thigh.  He took her hand to guide her over his lap.  The chair was somewhat low, so her toes dug into the carpet.  Her legs bent at the knees.

Reverend Februs watched the scene from behind his desk.  For better or worse, Sara’s feet were pointed directly at him.  His view of the proceedings couldn’t be better.  He wondered what his wife would think of this.  A thought formed in his mind.  When he started spanking the ladies from the Ladies Circle he soon planned to form at his own church (he had no doubt it would happen) he would recruit his wife as the “designated witness”. 

As he watched the first few spanks redden Sara’s bottom, Reverend Februs did his very best to maintain a professional state of mind, but still he felt a pressure in his groin. As Sara began to protest loudly, and then start to buck and kick, the most private parts of Sara’s gorgeous anatomy became known to the Reverend.  He could have closed his eyes, perhaps to say a prayer to help Sara through her ordeal, but somehow the thought never occurred to the good Reverend.

Dr. Lee delivered a vigorous spanking, but not a terribly long one.  Perhaps the pain of his own paddled bottom, made temporarily worse by the hard chair and Sara’s weight on his lap, generated some sort of sympathy.  Still Sara was bawling, twisting, kicking, and bicycling her legs in response to the spanks.  It wasn’t in Dr. Lee’s plans, but her bent legs, her antics, and gravity combined forces to overcome friction.  Obeying the laws of physics, her pants and panties descended to the backs of her knees.

After only about two minutes of vigorous spanking, Dr. Lee stopped.  Rather too quickly, he allowed the bawling lady to her feet.  Gravity finished the job of depantsing her!  Sara’s pants and panties dropped to her ankles.  Surprised and hurting, Sara nearly tripped.  Fortunately, one foot came clear of the mess.  Squalling and rubbing her bottom, Sara danced around the room with the clothing clinging to her one ankle.  Finally she kicked herself free of the mess.  It had been Dr. Lee’s honest intent to only bare Sara’s bottom and then quickly restore her clothing afterwards, but in his inexperience he had lost control of the situation.  Now Sara danced around the room clad only in her bra and a T-shirt that was too short to cover anything below her waist.

It was far too late to worry about modesty, so Dr. Lee simply concentrated on helping Sara calm down.  Finally he managed it. 

When the time seemed to be right he asked, “Sara is there anything you wish to say to Reverend Februs?”

She paused to think.  New tears dampened her pretty cheeks.

Reverend Februs filled the silence by offering Sara a tissue.  She thanked him, and then honked loudly into it to clear her nose.  He offered her a fresh one for her tears.

By now, the red-bottomed lady was visibly shaking.  She finally addressed Reverend Februs, “I’m tempted to tell you that there’s no way for me to express my sorrow at my behavior, or to show you how serious I am about improving.  But the truth is that there’s a perfectly obvious way for me to do both of those things.  It just scares me a bit.”

Puzzlement showed on the faces of both clergymen.

Sara walked around to the back of Reverend Februs’s desk.  “Reverend, would you please push your chair away from your desk?”

Suddenly both men simultaneously caught her intent.  The Reverend looked at Dr. Lee for guidance.

Dr. Lee thought through the possibilities quickly, “Are you sure this is what you want to do Sara?  Your bottom must already be pretty tender.”

“Yes it hurts.” she admitted, “But not half as much as it did after you spanked me before.  I think that there’s still something to be settled between me and Reverend Februs.  It scares me; I know I’ll be regretting it shortly, but this feels like the right thing to do.”

Dr. Lee nodded significantly at the Reverend.  With a show of reluctance, He pushed his chair away from his desk.

“W-when you start sp-spanking me, I’ll probably beg you to stop, but p-please don’t,” she begged, “At least, not until you’ve done a good job and all is settled between us.”

Solemnly, the man nodded his agreement.  “It may not seem like it over the next few minutes Sara, but I’m your friend, and so is Dr. Lee.  Both of us want only what’s best for you, but I also must think of our children and their parents.  That’s why you must learn this lesson and learn it well!”

Soberly and tearfully, she nodded her agreement.

“Well,” he continued looking at her nakedness, you seem to be properly dressed for the occasion, so let’s get started.”

 He patted his lap.  Sara put her still-red, still-bare bottom into the correct place for further attention.  She closed her eyes, gripped the chair legs tightly, and steeled herself for what was to come.

Perhaps it was a protective gesture towards Sara, perhaps it was to assert his continuing authority over her, or perhaps it was for some more basic motivation; but Dr. Lee walked behind the desk, selecting a vantage that just happened to afford an optimal view.  Recently, Dr. Lee had experienced spanking from both the top and bottom perspective, but this was his first time as an observer.

---------------

Reverend Februs had a very conversational spanking style.  He believed in combining a spanking with a sort of sermon/lecture/quiz.

He started out with a moderate, peppering all over her bottom.  It was designed to gain her attention, to ensure her tears were flowing well, and to reawaken every nerve ending in her bottom. 

She squirmed as the sting built.  Fascinated, Dr. Lee watched Sara’s buttocks flatten with each blow, and then jiggle back into their natural enticing shape.  As the Reverend worked, they quickly took on a darker hue.

The Reverend stopped to review with Sara the reasons for her punishment.  He did it in the form of a series of questions.  He punctuated each question with a spank, and then spanked for each of Sara’s answer that displeased him or didn’t come fast enough. 

When he felt that subject had been sufficiently covered, he segued into the next subject by applying about 30 seconds of vigorous spanking.  She kicked, squealed, and scissored her legs, unknowingly favoring Dr. Lee with intimate, albeit fleeting, peeks of her most personal charms.

The Reverend continued this pattern for perhaps fifteen minutes, mini conversations followed by mini spankings.  He never raised his voice, forcing Sara to curtail her own vocalizations so that she could hear and answer his constant barrage of questions.  Dr. Lee soon came to understand that he was watching a master in action.  He wondered how Reverend Februs had gotten so much spanking practice; surely not from just spanking his children?

In the meantime, Sara’s bottom continued to turn a deeper shade of red.  Also the Reverend concentrated on her upper thighs, previously untouched by Pastor Lee’s spanking.  Those spanks to her thighs made Sara kick or scissor her legs, which naturally spread her thighs apart, which in turn presented the Reverend with opportunities to land spanks on her tender inner thighs, opportunities he seldom overlooked.    

Finally he stopped, stopped just long enough to explain his next move to Sara, “OK Sara, you’re probably tired of hearing me talk and especially tired of answering my questions, so I’m about to shut up and just spank for a while.  When I’m done, all will be square between us.  I’ll accept you back as a worker, and you will be the reliable asset that this daycare really needs.  Is that fair enough?”

Her answer came filtered through her sobs, “Y-Y-yes sir.” 

“This will be the hardest part of your spanking” he warned.  “Make all the noise you want.  Get it out of your system.”

“Oh no!” she wailed, but it was too late, the Reverend had already started spanking.

She wailed, she kicked, she twisted, she screeched.  None of it made the slightest difference.  The Reverend simply held her down and expertly delivered a continuous volley of spanks to her buttocks, sit spots, upper thighs, and occasionally her inner thighs.  It was all over in about two minutes.  Dr. Lee could see that Sara had been spanked just short of bruising.  It was a perfect job!

He kept the anguished lady over his lap for a further five minutes, rubbing her back, and calming her in that same level tone of voice.  Finally, when the time seemed right, he allowed her up.  At first, she ignored the proffered tissue, while she did her now-familiar post-spanking prance and ass-rub.  At last she stopped to cry out her last few tears, and finally accepted a tissue and used it to clear her nose.

Reverend Februs stood to give her a chaste, sideways hug.  Squeamishly, shyly, Dr. Lee copied the gesture.  Yet again, he dreamed of the day he would finally find a wife; hopefully a wonderful, desirable young lady much like Sara.  The Reverend pointed Sara to his tiny private washroom.  “Why don’t you go in there to get yourself dressed and cleaned up Sara?”  With mumbled thanks, Sara gathered her clothes before shambling into the washroom and closing the door behind her.

“That was a masterful performance” Dr. Lee said in a low voice calculated to not carry into the washroom.  “I think I learned a few things just watching you.”  The Reverend actually blushed, but didn’t elaborate on how he had come to be such an accomplished spanker.

When Sara came out wearing her staff shorts and T-shirt, he noticed that no spank marks showed below her uniform shorts.  The Reverend had known exactly how far down to spank.  Suddenly, Dr. Lee wondered how many daycare employees had been spanked in this office.  Regardless, the man seemed fair enough in his dealings with Sara, and the other employees seemed to worship him.

With a final few words, the men sent Sara off to her job.  Lee & Februs shook hands and parted.  They agreed that they expected no further tardiness problems from Sara.

Dr. Lee soon left for his office.  He had only had one more hour to work undisturbed on his sermon before the first of three Contrition Appointments scheduled for that afternoon.  Little did he know that he still had another lady to spank that day!

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