Pineville High’s Celebrity Student, Part 2

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Pineville High’s Celebrity Student, Part 2

 

I reluctantly put one foot in front of the other, each step taking me a bit closer to home, and each one taking me closer to certain ass-reddening retribution.

The remaining school day, after my trip over the Principal's lap, hadn't been all bad. After spanking me, the Principal had allowed Nancy, Sue, and Alice to escort me to the girl's room to clean me up. Naturally, they wanted a closer look at “the damage”. Never before have I felt so close to someone my own age! Looking at their sore and swollen hands, I'm still unsure who got the worst punishment, but I surely couldn't have played the piano for at least several days after having had my palms strapped like they did. I have a concert scheduled this weekend. So fortunately my ass is sore, not my hands.

As I walk towards my fate, I know I'm not alone. All four of us are carrying a “sign and return” note from the Principal. Naturally, that mattered little to me because my mother already knew, but Sue and Alice turned absolutely white when the secretary handed them their notes! Nancy pretended it was no big deal, but her parents are no pushovers.

But even though I expect that all four of us will be “facing the music” in our own homes tonight, it's the fate of my own bottom that's on my mind.

Darn! I'm halfway home.

In case you haven't guessed, my family lives by the old rule, “spanked at school, spanked at home.”

Yep, even though I'm sort of a celebrity, even though I appeared on a big network morning show just last month, and even though I'm scheduled to play before an audience of thousands this weekend, I expect to be spanked tonight. And that will be my second spanking today!

If you ask my folks (reporters do regularly) they will explain that I'm subject to the same rules as my brother and sisters. That's mostly true. I'm honestly not treated like a celebrity at home, and you already know that I can get spanked. However, my age and physical development do earn me one special deal; mother is my exclusive spanker. Also, unlike my siblings, father isn't in the room when it happens.

Just two blocks to go. No rush!

One thing really bothers me about this whole deal. “Spanked at school, spanked at home” has always been the rule in my house. But tonight I'm not going to be spanked just because of some silly rule. You see, I really deserve to be spanked!

Yes, I've already been punished, but let's review for a moment: First I scammed my way out of study hall by forging a pass. Then I hid out in the girl's bathroom with my friends. Then I endangered my school building and everyone in it by flaunting fire regulations. And finally I smoked a cigarette, knowing it was strictly forbidden both by the school and my parents.

And oh yes! In the process of my misbehavior, I triggered a fire alarm that disrupted the entire school.

By my count, that's at least four spankings I've earned. My guess is I'll get off with only one more spanking, but I predict it will be a doozy!

I'm confused about something: I told you that I deserve to be spanked, but deep inside I'm not all that sorry! You see, I did the things that I did so that I could be with my friends, and now we're tighter than ever!

But I wonder how I'll feel after tonight's spanking?.

I love my father. He is loving, fair, and fun. But I have a special relationship with my mother. You see, my mother helped me be who I wanted to be. That is, she helped me fulfill my dream of being a concert pianist, even though I'm so young. My father was always proud of my talent, but he just couldn't believe that thousands would pay to hear a little girl play. It was mother who took me to all those piano recitals and competitions that finally got me noticed.

It's also mother who accompanies me to most of my appearances. My brother often tags along, but dad usually stays home with the kids to keep home life as normal as possible.

I've already said that mother is the one who will spank me, so you're probably wondering if she will let me off easy. Not in your life! In fact, she usually spanks me extra hard to prove that I get no special deal.

Well, I'm home now so I'd better get inside. Wish me luck! 

 

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Ann Perkins, Melva's mother, always made it a point to cheerfully and lovingly greet her children, even when she was angry at them. She insists that children should always feel loved, even when they have misbehaved. So she put on a cheerful face and greeted her errant daughter at the door with a massive hug.

It didn't work, Melva almost immediately started crying and apologizing. Ann reassured her daughter, and then suggested that they go into the kitchen to “talk privately”.

Together they did a bit of supper prep, giving Melva a chance to calm down. Finally, they sat at the kitchen table for their “talk”.

Ann explained to Melva that she had anticipated that her friendship with Nancy, Sue, and Alice would eventually get her into some sort of trouble, “But smoking? What were you thinking? Smoking is not only nasty and bad for you, your school isn't fireproof. Don't you realize the danger?”

Melva sobbed an apology. She told her mother that she honestly hadn't considered the fire danger, but she “understood now and was really sorry and it wouldn't happen again.” Melva was similarly contrite about the cigarette she had tried, saying she had hated the taste of the cigarette, and that her mouth still tasted nasty. “Mommy, that was my first cigarette ever! I hated it and it made me cough, so you can believe it will be my last cigarette ever.”

Relieved, Ann hugged her daughter. “OK, that's good to hear, but it won't save your bottom!”

“I know mom,” Melva agreed soberly, “I know the rules. I misbehaved, so I deserve to be spanked.”

“And spanked you will be,” Ann promised, “I'm afraid you've earned a dose of the hairbrush.”

Melva had expected no less than the hairbrush, but hearing her mother's pronouncement inspired a new gush of tears.

Then the subject turned to when Melva's punishment would happen. First, Ann needed some idea of the condition of Melva's bottom. Assuming that Melva would answer honestly, she simply asked.

“It's still a little tender when I sit,” Melva admitted, “but I checked it in a mirror this afternoon and the red is gone. There are some little marks from the Principal's strap.”

Still taking the direct approach, Ann gave Melva her choice; a bedtime spanking or a before-supper spanking. Unsurprisingly, Melva tearfully asked to get it over with as quickly as possible.

But before Melva could be spanked, there was an embarrassing but important family ritual to be observed. In the Perkins household, spankings were never a mystery. The reason and the “lesson” involved with any spanking were always announced in advance. Spankings were always private, but their home's air ducts conducted sound, so everybody heard.

At her mother's instruction, Melva called her brother and two sisters down to the living room. Obviously puzzled, they arrived quickly. Tearfully, Melva announced that she was about to be spanked and that she would “get the hairbrush”.

This startled the kids. As the oldest child, Melva rarely did anything bad enough to earn a spanking. The idea of her earning her parent's most severe punishment was downright shocking. But then Melva explained what she had done, stressing the danger and stupidity of risking fire in the school, and how nasty that cigarette had tasted and how it had made her cough. Ann smiled in gratitude as she heard Melva describe “how nasty” that cigarette had been.

Then, Melva blushed as she described the spanking the Principal had given her.

Finally Ann released her with the words, “OK go to my bedroom and get everything ready; the chair, the hairbrush, and then get undressed. I will talk to your brother and sisters a bit more and then do a little more on supper. After that, I'll be in to spank you.

“Yes Ma-am,” Melva sobbed. To escape everybody's gaze, she rushed from the room.

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So now you know how I ended up on my parent's bedroom before supper.

For the second time that day, I found myself morosely sitting in somebody's private en-suite bathroom emptying my bladder in preparation for a spanking. Yes, I know that detail hadn't been included in mother's instructions, but surely she wouldn't appreciate me piddling in her lap.

That done, I pulled the chair from mother's makeup table and placed it in the middle of the room. I found our old hardwood hairbrush atop my parent's dresser, and placed it on the chair. Then I kicked off my shoes, removed my skirt and slip, and then my blouse. That left me in my stockings, panties, and bra. After a bit of thought, I removed my stockings. Now there was nothing to do but sit on the bed and wait.

I heard a clink from the kitchen, and knew that my mother was working in there. Doubtless she had spent a few minutes with my brother and sisters. She probably reiterated what I had said, and then reminded them of the house rules for a spanking. Briefly they are, “no friends, TV, music, or telephone”. Once any spanking started, we are supposed supposed to “listen respectfully” and contemplate the lesson our sibling was so painfully learning, so that we need never be spanked for the same thing. I've got to admit, it's a system that works pretty good. But today, it would be me who was so painfully providing a lesson for my siblings.

Even though I knew my mother really had things to do, I also recognized the adult habit of purposely delaying a spanking to make it more memorable. So I sat and waited.

The hairbrush drew my attention. I had laid it bristles-down, so now I was looking at the dark varnished surface that would soon impact my bottom. The hairbrush is generations old, I wondered how many bottoms it had visited. Finally I reached out and turned it over. I would rather see the bristles!

I heard our family car pull into the driveway, meaning that daddy was home. I wondered if he would see me before my spanking. Part of me wanted his comfort, but the other part of me was ashamed to face him.

I heard the front door slam, and then there was a long silence in the house. I guessed that my parents were talking about me.

Waiting is hard! I listened to the silence so intently that I forgot to breathe. Finally I heard footsteps and then a knock.

The door opened slightly. Daddy's voice, “Melva are you decent? Can I come in for a minute?”

My words came out in a blubber, “I'm in my undies, but OK.”

Daddy came in to give me a hug and a kiss. I sobbed a bit, but then pulled myself together.

Finally I found my voice, “I'm sorry daddy.”

“Me too,” he replied in a husky voice, “Your mother has already scolded you, so I won't repeat that. I just want to say that even though your mother will spank you, that punishment comes from both of us. Understand?

I nodded.

And then he used the words I've always found so comforting at times like this: “But once your spanking is over, you'll be forgiven and you'll be our good girl again. OK?”

I nodded again. We hugged again.

He left me with a final promise, “I'll be in later to help comfort you, I love you sweetheart, but you need this.”

And then, I was back to waiting and watching that door that daddy had closed behind him. I was sad, but holding it together.

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My mother walks softly, so I jumped when she entered without knocking. She was carrying one of my nightgowns. I suppose that's for after my spanking.

My spanking… Suddenly it hit me that it was imminent. Tears came to my eyes, my chin quivered. Mother held out her arms and I buried my face to settle in for a serious cry. Patiently, she held me and waited until I cried it out of my system.

When she sensed that I had finally calmed she asked gently, “OK now?”

Face still buried, I nodded. And then I finally looked up at her. She gently wiped my tears and then said, “Rather than listen to me scold you again, just explain why you're about to be punished”

I choked out a short reiteration of today's various “crimes”.

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Allow me to explain about panties: My parents only spank on bare flesh, but they rarely require us to remove our panties altogether. There is no definite rule, but as we go over the parental lap, the position of our panties (or underpants in the case of my brother) generally corresponds to the seriousness of the spanking about to happen. For a short “reminder” spanking, they might only be pulled down in the back. More normally, they are at mid-thigh, fully exposing buttocks and sit spots. Sometimes they are placed just a bit lower, say in the hollows of our knees. In that case, we can expect that our entire buttocks and thighs will soon be frying hot.

But it's only for the worst offenses that we are required to doff our panties entirely. The absence of those panties means that there is nothing to restrain our legs from scissoring apart, which will inevitably expose our tender inner thighs as a target area. I hate that!

The only thing worse than a panties-off spanking is a panties-off spanking followed by the hairbrush. And that's what is on today's menu for me.

So now you know what I expect mother to say next.

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She doesn't disappoint. She purposely sat down in that chair that I had positioned for her, tucked the hairbrush behind her, and then spoke in a sorrowful but firm voice, “Take off your panties Melva.”

It wasn't about humiliation. After all, mother helps me in my dressing room before every performance, seeing me naked regularly. No, this was about the spanking! So I obeyed. I pushed my panties to the floor. Bending over, I stepped out of them. As I did so, I distinctly remember seeing a tear drop into them.

I straightened up, and then forced myself to look into her eyes. They glimmered with tears.

I had seen that look on her face only a few times before, a mixture of sadness and determination. It's always bad news for my bottom!

She reached out, hugged me quickly, and then guided me across her lap. Her hands firmly on my hips, she adjusted my position while I did my best to cooperate. I gripped the chair legs “white knuckle” tight.

Strangely, I found myself thinking about my mother's view. Without bragging, I know I'm pretty good looking for somebody my age. Strangely, that makes it harder for me to make friends because other kids think I must be “stuck up”. Also, I've heard guys say things behind my back that I wasn't supposed to hear, so I know they like my bottom. Even mother has joked that I have a “spankable bottom”. But that's no joke today!

Anyhow, for the next few minutes mother will have a perfect view of my bottom.

I wonder if she'll say anything else before starting?

She didn't. I could feel her left arm draped across the small of my back. Her right hand cupped my bottom. Suddenly I felt her tense and that hand disappeared. I didn't have time to think, it happened before I could even breathe. I heard a huge “POP”. Just as my brain was identifying that sound, my right buttock exploded into incandescent pain. I shrieked.

My spanking wasn't even thirty seconds old when I had absorbed four hard, deliberate spanks to the fullness of each buttock, and I was bawling like a hurt toddler! I must have bucked and struggled, but mother controlled me. So only seconds into my spanking, I had totally lost it.

I didn't know what to expect because mother has no “standard” spanking technique. Often she starts off slow and easy, and then gradually builds up to a crescendo, but today she took a different tack. I suppose each spanking she gives is tailored for the situation, and calculated to keep us guessing.

So surely my brother and sisters heard everything. Mother's spanks were loud and hard, and I was shrieking and yelling loud enough to wake the dead!

After her opening gambit she continued on, peppering my buttocks and sit spots randomly. I never knew where the next spank would land! Sometimes she would land two or three on the same spot, but there was really no telling. At first I just bawled, but then to my later mortification, I got vocal.

Once my parents have decided my punishment, there really is nothing I can do to change it. They are loving, but rigid. So it's useless for me to beg, whine, apologize, promise eternal goodness, or try to bargain away my punishment. But today I tried all of those things, and did so loudly! I must have sounded like a juvenile brat!

It was when her target area strayed below my sit spots that I mercifully descended into pure incoherence. I had long ago lost control of my legs, so as they kicked they also obligingly offered openings for mother to spank the tender flesh of my inner thighs. She never seemed to miss a chance. It hurt like hell!

By now I was exhausted and hoarse from shrieking. All I could manage was a pitiful keening sound. My face was a mess. Tears, drool and snot mixed freely. Since my head was mostly upside down, the nasty mixture actually dribbled into my hair.

Finally mother apparently decided that my bottom and thighs were sufficiently red. By now, my spanking was mostly done, but the worst was yet to come. Tucked behind my mother's back, that wooden hairbrush waited.

So she stopped spanking me and then waited patiently until my crying and wailing diminished sufficiently for me to cooperate with a repositioning that left my legs and right arm restrained. I felt her lean to reach for the hairbrush.

They said I started shrieking even before the first blow, and I don't doubt it because I knew what to expect.

Mother always uses the hairbrush quickly, so it was all over in a minute or two. But oh gosh it hurt! Mother used that brush to totally obliterate those marks the Principal's strap left on my bottom. Now I had whole new marks, ones that would make sitting a trial for the next few days.

But finally my punishment was over!

I did the usual things that spanked kids do. I clung to my mother for a bit. Finally my cries subsided into mere hiccups. When finally back on my feet, I suppose I did a “spank dance”. Then I crawled into my mother's forgiving arms.

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Mother kept me all to herself for a few minutes before urging me to “get myself decent”. She wanted me to put on panties, but I begged off. So she helped me into that nightgown that she had thoughtfully brought. With me decently covered, she called in daddy.

We all three perched on the edge of the bed, me kneeling to keep my weight off of my stinging bottom, and with my parents sitting to either side. As always after a spanking, I basked in a blast of love and forgiveness from my parents. After a few minutes of that, mother reluctantly left to put supper on the table, whilst daddy continued with post-spanking duties.

I would rather have eaten in my room, but my parents insisted that I join the family for supper so that my siblings could see that I was OK. Mother placed a big pillow on my chair, so I sat there looking down at my family, feeling like a queen on her throne.

My homework could wait, so I received permission to shower and then go to bed early. That cool shower felt good on my bottom.

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The next morning was Friday. Nancy, Sue, Alice and I had a brief audience with the Principal before class to hand in our signed parental notes. All of us had suffered spankings the evening before. Except for poor Sue that is, who had been whipped with her father's belt. Since all but me had sore hands plus sore bottoms, I still don't know who received the worst deal. Still, we were beyond caring about such things.

Happy with the results of his letters, the Principal only lectured us briefly before sending us back to class. “I hope you four are smarter now. Perhaps now you girls can stop getting into trouble. You're all nice girls from good families, so let start fresh, OK?”

He actually shook our hands before dismissing us, but was appropriately gentle with the girl's punished hands.

Naturally all four of us squirmed our way through that day's classes, but we were young and healed fast.

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That weekend I had an appearance scheduled with the Dallas Symphony Orchestra.

As usual, mother made everything easy for me. By the time I got home from school, she had everything packed and ready. As is typical, my mother, brother, and my beloved little pug dog accompanied me. There was a private jet waiting at the airport. I happily settled into a soft seat and worked on homework as the jet rushed us 1000 miles to Dallas.

The concert was Saturday evening. With my mother and brother in the wings to cheer me on, I stepped from behind the curtain to thunderous applause. I felt a wave of love from the audience. This is what I live for! I will always do this!

As usual, I was wearing a formal, flaring dress with heals. To walk, I must lift the hem. Being careful not to trip, I swept to the piano. After respectfully bowing to the conductor and the orchestra, I sat to play.

First I played a couple of crowd-pleasing shorts to warm up both my fingers and the orchestra, and then I tackled the difficult Rachmaninoff's Rhapsody.

I received great reviews that night, but thankfully the media didn't mention that satin pillow on my piano bench.

THE END

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