The Principal's Bench
The
Principal's Bench
One of
the greatest episodes of my life started out very badly, on the
Principal's bench. You see, I was waiting on a hard wooden bench
outside my Principal's office, and dreading what would happen when
she finally ordered me inside.
-------------------------
As you
have probably guessed, I was in big trouble. As a senior about to
graduate from high school, I should have already learned to control
my temper, but temper control was a problem for me. Already this
year I had ended up in Mrs. Moor's office several times for fighting.
The first time she merely counseled me, for the next incident she
gave me “pops” over my jeans with her long paddle as I bent over
her desk. Gradually my punishments escalated until the last
incident, when I received my “pops” with my pants and underpants
down south of my knees! But “pops” weren't the punishment that
Mrs Moor reserved for the very worst offenders, She made it very
clear that, should I offend again, my next punishment would be far
more embarrassing and painful.
Thus,
that day I sat on that bench with the full knowledge that the only
punishment left for me, short of expulsion, was Mrs. Moor's worst
punishment of all; a pants-down, OTK paddling.
And,
typical for students in my small Christian high school, tonight I
could expect a painful repeat performance courtesy of my parents.
Just
then, I was entirely too wrapped up in my own troubles to feel sorry
for Mary Whitfield, the other occupant of the bench. Since Victory
Baptist is a small school I naturally recognized Mary, although
neither of us wished to be recognized at that moment. Mary had
arrived before me, and was obviously in some sort of big trouble
herself. She sat at the other end of the bench, and was crying
profusely.
Despite
being a senior, I lacked a real girlfriend, having only managed a few
unsatisfactory dates. Mary Whitfield could be described as one of my
“teen crushes” but I had always been too shy to ever let her
know. Now as she sat next to me, I glumly realized that she would
probably associate me with this bad day she was obviously having, so
she would never want to see me again!
-------------------------
Our
school's administrative office was typical for a small school. The
entrance to the outer office was guarded by the clerk's desk. A nice
lady from our church, Mrs. Edwards could almost be described as an
Assistant Principal. Before she had directed me to this hard bench,
I had to explain to her why I had been sent “to the office”, and
then surrender the damming referral slip. Her response was to frown
with disappointment, and then to point me to the dreaded bench, the
bench where where the sobbing Mary Whitfield already waited.
After
several minutes of us sitting on the bench whilst trying to ignore
each other, Mrs. Edwards' phone rang. It was Mrs Moor telling her to
send Mary in, so I cringed as I overheard Mrs. Edwards explain to the
Principal that I was also “on the bench”, referred for “fighting
again”.
And
then, Mary Whitfield tearfully and hesitantly obeyed the clerk's
command to knock on the Principal's door and then enter her feared
lair. Mary closed the door behind her, sealing her own fate.
-------------------------
You
might wonder why a big guy like me fears Mrs Moor, a woman smaller
than me. First, understand that our Principal started her teaching
career as a Physical Education teacher in our town's public high
school. Before that she was a college track star.
In her
PE teacher days, she coached her school's track team, which always
“kicked ass” all around our state. They were so elete that they
didn't even play our little school. Later, she became the Assistant
Principal of that high school, earning a reputation as a
disciplinarian.
All
that time, she had been a member of my church, Victory Baptist. So
when our former Principal retired, Mrs Moor took the job.
Mrs
Moor was married, but without children. That, and her athleticism
had kept her in shape, even though she was twice my age. In fact,
the guys in my school thought she was hot! Somehow her “hotness”
made it even more embarrassing for a guy like me to be punished by
her. And of course, the most embarrassing punishment of all would be
to lay across her lap to have your bare ass walloped!
-------------------------
Meanwhile,
while I stewed on the Principal's bench, Mary was “on the carpet”.
I
listened hard, but only random syllables escaped the feared office.
Still, from the tone of Mrs Moor's voice, she was clearly lecturing
poor Mary. I barely heard Mary's responses, but they sounded mostly
like sobs.
And
then it got quiet!
I
jumped when the clerk's phone rang. She picked it up, listened, and
then replied “Yes Ma-am” before hanging up.
As she
stood to enter the Principal's office, Mrs Edwards fixed me with a
glare that was clearly intended to keep me intimidated and still
until she returned. It worked! I didn't move a muscle as I awaited
events. Of course, I had been punished enough times to know that she
had entered the Principal's office to serve as the required official
witness to Mary's punishment.
Moments
later, I heard Mary wail the irrational, desperate pleas of the
about-to-be-spanked, “No! Please! I'll never do it again, I
promise!”
When I
heard the first paddle sounds, I knew that Mary wasn't just receiving
“pops”. I have siblings and live in a strict family, so I know
the sound of a paddle against bare ass-flesh, and this was that
sound! Also, it wasn't the slow, measured sound of “pops”. No,
this was the quicker sound of a bottom being peppered by a smaller
but still painful weapon. Mary was getting an OTK bare-bottom
paddling!
Just as
Mary didn't go bravely and stoically to her fate, she didn't take her
punishment well. Almost immediately she wailed loudly and her voice
went up the register until she was squealing like the proverbial
stuck pig! In her voice I could hear the jerkiness imparted by the
paddle hitting her bottom and surely some of that jerkiness was
caused by her own kicking and struggling.
Now as
a teenaged boy I had a natural interest in the female body, and like
most of the kids in my church and my school, I was tragically
familiar with the OTK position. Thus, how could I not mentally
picture the scene on the other side of that door?
In my
mind's eye, I clearly saw the shapely young Mary with her school
skirt up high and her panties dangling somewhere below her exquisite
thighs. Helpfully, my mind's eye saw Mary kick off those panties,
freeing her thighs to kick wildly and splay far apart. Even more
helpfully, my mind's eye positioned me in the perfect place to catch
glimpses of never-before-seen (by me) female anatomy.
Yes, I
got hard.
Mary's
paddling seemed to take forever, but not long enough to outlast my
erection.
Her
punishment finally ended, but her crying didn't. Finally the door
opened, and Mrs Edwards led the sobbing girl out, her arm
solicitously around the stricken girl's shoulder. She probably meant
to hide them, but I saw something pink in the lady's hand; Mary's
panties!
As Mrs
Edwards passed the bench, she ordered me into Mrs. Moor's office.
Naturally, given my locked-up stiffie, I preferred to sit. Looking
in my eyes, she spoke with authority, her arm sweeping towards the
open door, “Go. Now!”
Given
the shape she was in, Mary couldn't have seen the bulge in my pants.
However, Mrs Edwards couldn't have missed it. Still, she didn't
blink, but continued to point until I finally shuffled into the
forbidding presence of my Principal. Thinking back, that thin smile
of greeting on Mrs Moor's face was probably a reaction to my
condition. Sometime during the ensuing scolding for losing my
temper, my unwelcome condition resolved itself. The “fight” I
was being punished for hadn't actually come to blows, but only
because of the prompt intervention of a teacher. The other student
in the fight had a previously clean record, so he had been dealt with
by the teacher.
The
chair that the Principal apparently had used to spank Mary still
occupied the middle of the floor. A paddle lay on the chair. I
hadn't seen that paddle before, but had heard of it. Smaller than
the one used for “pops”, it was shaped like a ping-pong paddle
but thicker. It looked more intimidating than a hairbrush, and I had
reason to fear hairbrushes!
Mrs
Moor remarked grimly, “Apparently we are about to have a double
header”.
I don't
remember much of it, but I endured a long lecture. By now I was
thoroughly contrite, so I listened as respectfully as possible,
hoping to mitigate my coming punishment. Knowing that I had no
excuse for my behavior, I offered no excuses, lame or otherwise.
Finally
she paused to offer me a chance to talk. Her lecture hadn't quite
made me cry, but I had a lump in my throat that made talking hard.
Afraid that I would “lose it” if I tried to speak, I simply
mumbled in what I hoped was a respectful manner. After a pregnant
pause she passed judgment, “As I thought, you need a trip over my
lap, and I intend to do an extra-good job. Off with your shoes and
pants.”
Delaying
only slightly, I bent over to untie my shoes, and then kicked them
off. I looked beseechingly at her, “Can I just lower them?”
She
punctuated her answer with a downward gesture, “Off!”
So off
they came, leaving me in shirt, underpants, and socks.
She
dialed her phone and spoke briefly, “I need you again”.
Moments
later, Mrs. Edwards knocked and then entered.
Mrs
Moor sat on her spanking chair holding her paddle. She smoothed her
dress and then pointed imperiously to a spot near her right thigh. I
knew what to do.
Once I
was in the appointed spot, she pulled my arm. With the butterflies
in my stomach protesting vigorously, I allowed myself to be pulled
across her lap. That gave Mrs Moor view of my underpant-covered
bottom. But she made it clear that my underpants had to go, “Lift
up” she ordered, “so Mrs Edwards can arrange your clothing”.
I
lifted my bottom, only to feel practiced fingers grab the elastic of
my underpants and pull them south. I felt the fingers hesitate at my
knees, but Mrs Moor ordered, “Take them right off! I need to do a
good job on this young man.”
So Mrs
Edwards did as ordered. I felt my underpants briefly snag a toenail
and they were gone, a fond memory.
I guess
I did better than Mary, because I managed to remain stoic until my
spanking actually started. But after that, I quickly lost it! Mrs
Moor started out walloping my bare hillocks hard and fast with that
nasty little paddle! Almost immediately, I was squealing.
Truthfully, I was squealing much like Mary had done. Yes, I was
squealing like a girl! It was the ultimate embarrassment.
I know
better, honest I do, but when the sting flared on my bottom, I
reached back in a vain attempt to protect it. That didn't seem to
bother the lady at all. Without missing a beat, she grabbed that
naughty hand and imprisoned it in the small of my back. I suppose my
kicking must have gotten downright violent as she lit that fire in my
behind, because she stopped momentarily to say a few words to Mrs
Edwards. And then I felt the clerk's hands firmly on my ankles. She
pushed my feet down and held them immobile as my spanking resumed.
Easily restraining the top half of me as she worked, Mrs Moor
targeted my sit spots, ensuring that I would squirm miserably through
my afternoon classes.
I don't
know how many spanks I absorbed from that horrible paddle, but my ass
must have been incandescent when she finally stopped. I have no way
to measure, because both the time over her lap and the number of
spanks both seemed infinite at the time. Afterwards, she restrained
me in place for seemingly forever! I desperately wanted to rub the
hurt from my bottom, but she kept me pinned down. Finally, she
helped me to my feet, but steadied me until I demonstrated some
semblance of balance. At long last, she released me so that I could
do the things that freshly-spanked kids do. Still sobbing, I did
three laps around that office in a wild butt-rubbing war dance.
Mrs
Moor clucked gently as she caught me, and restrained me by the
shoulders so that Mrs Edwards could put my underpants back on to
restore my decency. Only then did I notice my exposure, but my face
was too flushed to properly blush.
“Don't
worry”, Mrs Moor said, surprisingly kindly, “We've seen much
worse, and we don't tell.”
Replacing
my trousers was a trial, but sensing that I didn't want to be dressed
like a baby, the ladies kindly allowed me do it. I leaned against a
wall for balance as I painfully pulled them on. The shoes were more
difficult. After an abortive attempt at sitting, I squatted to tie
them.
I was
still a mess when Mrs Edwards led me from the Principal's office. By
then I was starting to realize that I had really disgraced myself
with my babyish antics while being spanked. My only consolation was
that Mary hadn't been there to hear it! Always before, I had taken
my “pops” without disgracing myself too much, but today's
punishment had been on a whole new level.
Mrs
Edwards stopped me at her desk to express hope that “I had learned
something today”. I promised that I had, and then I apologized for
“taking my punishment like a baby”.
“No,”
she said, “Actually you did okay. Nobody takes a spanking like
that quietly, and yours was deservedly worse than most. So don't
feel bad.”
I was
about to leave, but she told me, “One more thing.”
To my
consternation, she turned and called “Mary!”
Shyly,
Mary emerged from the small conference room where Mrs Edwards had
allowed her to go “put herself back together.”
Reading
the horrified look on my face, Mrs Edwards responded, “Yes, Mary
heard your punishment, but you also heard hers! So now you two
should make a solemn agreement, 'It's okay to tell your friends about
your own punishment. But say nothing about the others. Don't even
tell your closest friend.' Deal?”
For the
first time ever, Mary seemed to notice me, and for the first time
ever we locked eyes.
“Deal”
I said, as I held out my hand to her.
“Deal”
Mary repeated as she took my hand. Our skin touched for the first
time ever!
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So we
left the Administrative office together, two freshly spanked teens
who had just shared humiliating experiences. Something about that
emboldened me, so I declared, “I meant it! I won't even tell my
best friend.”
“Thanks,”
she replied, “Same here.”
I don't
know where the sudden courage came from, but I couldn't let this
chance go.
I
babbled, “Can we talk sometime?”
And
then I explained with a blush, “I mean not about this, I never want
to think about this again. But can we talk about other stuff?”
She
seemed surprised, but then smiled and nodded.
On
scraps of notebook paper, we exchanged phone numbers.
But
then it was her turn to blush, “Ummmm, don't call tonight. I won't
be allowed to use the phone.”
“Yes,”
I admitted, “I'll be in the same boat, so I understand.”
And
then we went our separate ways.
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Like
most kids in my school, my parents have a rule, “If you are
punished in school, you will get it even harder at home.” So I
knew what to expect.
Truthfully,
my bottom still hurt that evening, so I begged my parents to wait a
few days before spanking me again. They conferred, and then in
retrospect they did the kindest thing: They took me up to my
bedroom, made me strip, and then my father hairbrush-spanked my
already-red ass whilst I squealed like a girl!
Yes it
hurt, and it throbbed for the next week, but at least it was over!
Also gone were my problems with temper control.
Over
the following weeks I graduated and many exciting things happened,
but the most exciting thing of all was that Mary and I became an
“item”.
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So
forty years later, Mary and I are an aging couple who dote on our
grandchildren. It took time before we could laugh about the event
that brought us together, but we finally did. And then we had an
honest talk about our feelings about spanking. That led to some
pretty good things! Perhaps that's why we've been so happily married
all of these years?
The
church replaced that old school building a few years back, so we were
able to buy the Principal's bench. Only our closest friends know why
that worn thing holds a place of honor in our front foyer.
posted by guy at 6:47 PM
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