The Day I Lost My Panties
I spent
an unforgettable hour stewing outside my Principal's office. I was
morose, I was tearful, and I had little reason for optimism. Near
the end of my senior year, my high school days were nearly over, yet
I was in big trouble. And yes, it was all my fault.
But
hope springs eternal, and I remember exactly what I was hoping whilst
waiting for the Principal to deal with me, “I hope she paddles my
bottom red”. You might think it strange that a girl would sit
outside her Principal's office hoping for the paddle, but suspension
was the only other alternative, and that would be disastrous.
Suspension
would be a disaster for me because that was a Friday and final exams
were due to start the next Monday. Worse, in this school work missed
during a suspension can't be made up. So I would be slammed with a
“zero” score on several final exams.
And oh
yes! To top things off, I didn't happen to be wearing panties just
then. In this school the paddle is applied over the clothed bottom.
Those missing panties wouldn't make much difference to how I felt the
paddle (if I were lucky enough to get it). Still, for reasons I
can't put into words, my pantyless condition worried me, adding to my
mental stress.
-------------------------
Okay,
you're probably wondering what I did to get into trouble, and how I
become separated from my panties. First, know that I arrived at
school that morning wearing a full set of undies. I'm a good girl!
It's
expected for us seniors to let off steam in our final weeks of
school. Usually “steam release” takes the form of various
harmless pranks. Some pranks are “old” and well-known, like
stealing someone's panties from the gym locker room. Yes, that's
what happened to me. Someone probably asked to go to the toilet
during gym class, but instead nipped my panties from the locker room.
Now usually when that happens we all laugh and then the panties are
returned, and that's probably what whomever stole my panties
intended. Unfortunately, there was a big ruckus in the locker room
that day after gym class, and my panties were probably forgotten in
the general upset. So that's why I was bare under my slacks.
Unfortunately,
I had been the cause of that upset. And as you've probably guessed,
that's why I was in trouble.
It all
started out, if not totally innocently, then at least with good
intentions. I just wanted to cause a few laughs, and certainly
didn't want to hurt anybody. But unfortunately my prank turned into
a debacle. Three girls were injured. Abby Giller, a friend of mine,
cut her foot so badly that she needed stitches.
Oh yes.
I felt bad!
As you
can imagine, no glass is allowed in the gym, shower room, or locker
room. There's even a big sign that says so. Now I see why that's a
good rule, but I wasn't thinking of that at the time!
You
see, I smuggled a water glass into the locker room. Unnoticed, I
filled it with ice water from the drinking fountain. I hung back
from the shower, waiting for girls to emerge. When the first group
did, I splashed them with the water. All I intended was to cause a
few girly screams and perhaps perk up some nipples. But
unfortunately the glass slipped from my fingers and shattered all
over the floor. So while the girls were shrieking and dancing from
the cold water, certain of them stepped on the glass. And then
everybody really screamed!
-------------------------
So now
you know why I was sitting outside our Principal, Mrs Kielander's
office. Enough people saw me do it that there was no question of my
guilt. As soon as the gym teacher had everything sorted out, and had
called Mr Thomas, our school nurse, to deal with the bleeding feet,
she sent me straight to the Principal to be dealt with.
She
made me wait for an hour. During that time, Abby's mother arrived to
take her to the emergency room for stitches. Her and Mr Thomas were
in the Principal's office for some paperwork, and they both glowered
at me as they passed. Yes, I cried. I was a sorry and embarrassed
girl!
-------------------------
You
might think it odd that we had a man for a school nurse, but William
Thomas was perfect for the job! Mr Thomas was well-known in our
state because as a quarterback he single-handedly led our state
college football team through two consecutive championship seasons.
Perhaps oddly for a football player, he graduated from nursing
school, but with an emphasis in sports medicine.
Our
high school had been his first job out of nursing school. They say
that he had planned to study to become a sports medicine
nurse-practitioner, but here at Carter High he found his true
calling. Without extra pay, he took on the job of coaching our
football team, which became feared throughout the state. He also
served as an assistant coach for our other sports teams.
Besides
his football experience, it was his knowledge of sports medicine that
served as the “secret weapon” for our school's sport teams. For
each team, he worked up a scientific program to develop the proper
muscle groups and fitness level to fit that sport. This, along with
diet advice and physical therapy when needed, gave our teams the edge
over the competition.
So as a
first-string volleyball player, I saw Mr Thomas a lot. Believe me,
he was “easy on the eyes”. Yes, our nurse was 200 pounds of
sculptured beefsteak with a handsome face and blond curly hair. When
he married, every girl in the senior class mourned, although no
schoolkid ever had a chance with him.
Oh yes!
As the school nurse, Mr. Thomas was our school's designated corporal
punishment witness. So far that year he had seen me twice in that
capacity. And yes, we were all quite aware that he was a male, but
he was highly respected in our community and was a registered nurse.
Plus we were paddled over our clothing. So no problem.
-------------------------
It
seemed forever before Mrs Kielander called me into her office. I
know that Principals use delay to play mind games with us students,
but later I discovered that our Principal had extra reason to be mad
at me. You see, her job effectiveness was judged partly on the basis
of our school's safety record. Now, instead of receiving an award
for having an accident-free semester, she would have a blot on her
record. I already felt bad, but if I had known how I had rained on
that nice lady's parade I would have been devastated. To her credit,
she never mentioned that. It was years later before I learned that
tidbit.
Once
she called me in, she seemed calm and rational. She sat me down for
a “talk”. The theme of our discussion was “Choices”. She
walked me through the entire incident step-by-step, and at each step
she made me identify the choices that I had made. Then we analyzed
choices, contrasting my good choices against the bad, and then
evaluating alternative choices. Several times I tried to dissolve
into tears, but Mrs Kielander wouldn’t have that. Instead, she
forced me to evaluate the entire incident in a totally rational
manner.
I hated
it. Being forced to confront my string of bad choices made me feel
really stupid!
But I
was being set up to make another choice, and I never saw it coming!
-------------------------
Next
Mrs Kielander explained why she wouldn't simply paddle me, and why I
must be suspended. My behavior had hardly been stellar that
semester, and today I had deliberately and with forethought broken a
rule that resulted in three injured classmates. Seeing it put like
that, I could hardly argue! So now I knew that I had truly screwed
myself!
She
proposed a three day suspension. That would mean three missed final
exams and therefore three “zero” grades. That would devastate my
grade point average, make it impossible for me to graduate with my
class, and ruin my college chances in the deal. All for one silly
stunt!
So I
was obviously devastated and tearful.
But
then the lady threw me a “life line”!
“Fortunately”,
she said speculatively, “Due to recent action by the school board,
you have a choice.”
“Huh?”
I said in a sudden burst of frantic hope, “What it it? I'll do
it!”
“It's
not announced yet,” she explained, “But officially the rules have
changed. At my repeated request, they have finally eliminated all
reference to gender in our discipline regulations. Now boys and
girls shall be treated equally. That seems totally fair. Don't you
agree?”
Given
my desperation, how could I do anything but agree? But I hadn't yet
figured out what I was agreeing to!
-------------------------
Okay
dear reader, you deserve some clarification. At this point in the
story, I hadn't yet caught up with my Principal's reasoning, but it
didn't take me long to do so, and I was appalled when I realized
where this conversation was going.
You
see, earlier I told you that the Principal had two different possible
punishments to choose between for me. She could give me a paddling
over my clothing (six strokes maximum), or a suspension from school.
But that's because I'm a girl. If I were a boy, a third possibility
would be added to the mix, a serious hairbrush spanking.
Over
the years, not many boys have actually been spanked, and those
unfortunates rarely talk about it, so the details of that particular
punishment were fuzzy in my head. All I knew for sure was that
nobody who had been spanked wanted to repeat the experience. In
contrast, many students (including myself unfortunately) had faced
the paddle multiple times. One boy declared that he would take ten
paddlings rather than another of those spankings! So our Principal's
spankings were clearly a ferocious punishment. Is that why girls had
previously been deemed “to delicate” to undergo them?
-------------------------
The
Principal explained, “Usually I decide on a punishment, and you
have no voice in the matter. But possible punishments should always
be known in advance to students, so it wouldn't be fair to force you
to accept a spanking when the change hasn't been announced and it
hasn't been written into the student handbook.”
“Still,
because the school board has actually changed the rule, I do have
authority to spank you. Therefore I'm offering you the choice: You
may be suspended for three days, or you may be spanked. We just
talked about choices, and now you are faced with an important one.
Think through your alternatives, consider the long-term consequences
of both choices, and then choose well!”
And so
I made my choice. I would go down in history as the first girl in my
school to be spanked!
And
then it occurred to me; since I wasn't wearing panties, it would hurt
that much more. But still, there was no way that I could allow
myself to miss three final exams. So I swallowed nervously and kept
my pantyless condition to myself.
-------------------------
The
next part of my school's punishment ritual felt somewhat familiar,
because I'd been through it before. She sent me to the school nurse
for a “pre-punishment checkup”. After hearing my story and then
briefly evaluating the state of my health, Mr. Thomas would solemnly
escort me back to Mrs Keilander's office to witness my punishment.
Mr
Thomas had reason to be angry with me. I had injured three students,
gotten blood on the girl's locker room floor, and upset his entire
morning. Not to mention, he now had three accident reports to write
up.
Not as
subtle as the Principal, he chewed me out as only a coach can do.
Finally he got down to business. Efficiently he checked my vital
signs, and my medical record. I was so healthy that my “medical
record” consisted of a single page. I was a school athlete and
obviously healthy, but still he went through the motions.
Finally
he looked up and blushed slightly, “Since you're to be spanked and
not just paddled, I must have a bit of extra information. Naturally
your answers will be confidential.”
Uneasily,
I nodded and said “It's okay, go ahead then.”
My face
burned as he asked me if my periods were regular and when the last
one was. Not looking him in the eye, I answered, “They are regular
and the last one was last week”.
That
answer seemed to satisfy him. Later I realized that he needed to
know that I wasn't likely to be pregnant and also wasn't on my
period. So those questions made perfect sense.
Then he
stood up to lead me out of the room and on to my bottom's doom.
He
never asked if I was wearing panties, and I didn't volunteer
information!
-------------------------
Well,
as the Principal had made clear to me, I was in trouble due to my own
choices, and I had chosen my own punishment. Still, as I was
escorted towards my imminent spanking, a stew of emotions brewed
inside my young head. First, there was terrible guilt, especially
for my friend Abby who was probably in some cold emergency room
getting stitches in her foot. I worried. Would there be nerve
damage? Infection? How would I face her?
Also I
felt fear and shame, and truthfully I felt sorry for myself.
Balanced against all that mental baggage was relief that I could
still graduate with my class and enter college. Trying to be brave,
I walked calmly to my doom, with only tears and a quivering chin
betraying my inner turmoil. At least, I had forgotten my missing
panties for the moment.
Inside
the Principal's office, I found a plain chair had been moved to the
center of the room, with a biggish and ageless wooden hairbrush
laying on the seat. I'd never seen that hairbrush before, but it was
a school legend! I had heard differing descriptions of it, some
ghastly. It sat bristle down, so I stared at the surface that was
soon to attack my quivering buttocks. The finish of the wood was
dark and satiny.
Still
seated behind her desk, Mrs Kielander spoke, “I've talked to your
mother. She's disappointed in you, but agrees wholeheartedly with
your choice of punishment. She agreed that you will remain in school
for the rest of the day. It will do your classmates good to see what
a spanked girl looks like. You are to go directly home after class.
Naturally, you will return here Monday for exams. Understand?”
Dully,
I nodded. What the Principal didn't say was that my mother had
encouraged her to “do her best” and not to worry about marking my
bottom. Yes, I can always count on my mother for support!
Actually,
although it would hurt to get them, it had occurred to my scheming,
manipulative little teenage brain that a few marks on my bottom
might be in my best interest. Daddy was the designated spanker in
our family, but he was also the more softhearted parent, especially
where his daughter was concerned. Family rules are family rules, so
I would surely go over his lap that night, but I had reason to hope
that some red on my bottom and a few bruises might be enough to
convince him that either I had been spanked enough already, or
perhaps just needed a brief “reminder spanking”.
Briskly,
the Principal stood to walk the few steps to the waiting chair. She
sat, tucked the brush behind her, and then smoothed her skirts. She
pointed to the floor next to her right thigh. So I obediently
shuffled up next to her. From the corner of my eye I saw Mr Thomas
standing with his back to the closed office door, his face impassive.
And
then Mrs Kielander said something amazing! “Kick off your shoes,
put them under the chair, loosen your slacks, and then slide them
below your knees.”
In
desperation I turned to look at Mr Thomas. Yep, he was still there!
I
sobbed, “I can't Mrs Kielander, I just can't”.
“You
can and you will,” the lady ordered firmly.
“But...but
I'm not wearing panties and Mr. Thomas is a...a...”
“Man?”
Mrs Kielander asked.
I
nodded.
The
lady looked at me in amazement, “You don't know do you? You really
don't know!”
“Know
what ma-am?”
“Didn't
any of the boys tell you? Spankings are on the bare bottom, it's the
safest way to give a hard spanking. Surely your explanation for your
missing panties would be entertaining, but it really doesn't matter
because I would make you lower them anyhow. As for Mr Thomas, he's
the school nurse, and school regulations designate the school nurse
as the preferred corporal punishment witness. He's married, he's a
medical professional, and he's here to protect you. I trust him
explicitly. If you cooperate, he will see only what he needs to see,
and will remain over there by the door. Now shall we proceed?”
So
after all that angst, my missing panties were irrelevant. That
irrelevancy offered no relief at the moment, because my pants still
must come down, and then my bottom would be bare. So shakily and
reluctantly, I dropped them as ordered, exposing my nether anatomy to
him and my front to her. Neither of them seemed to take any
particular notice of my teenage feminine charms.
Firmly
but not harshly, she pulled me across her lap, affording me with an
excellent view of her hardwood floor. At my other end, my toes
rested on that same floor. In the middle, my buttocks had assumed a
position of unwanted prominence. I grabbed the chair legs for
support. I remember whiffing a strange amalgam of my Principal's
slightly soapy scent, combined with floor dust. I knew that my bare
bottom was now the highest part of my body, and that the attention of
two adults and the ministrations of a hairbrush would be focused on
it for the next few minutes.
She
spoke in a calm voice, “This will hurt, but you must cooperate.
Keep your feet down and try not to thrash too much. If necessary, Mr
Thomas will help me restrain you. After your spanking, try to
cooperate as I replace your pants so you don't inadvertently display
yourself. After that, you'll be free to rub all you want and all
will be forgiven. Understand?”
I
grunted some response that must have either pleased or displeased
her, because my spanking started immediately.
Naturally
I desperately wished to take my punishment in silent dignity, and
naturally that resolution only survived the first seconds of my
spanking.
My
bottom is no stranger to a hairbrush, but my father always starts out
with his hand. From the first spank, the Principal used that nasty
hairbrush, used it hard! It was too much for me to take, so I
quickly “lose it” completely.
I was
hopeful that the sounds of my disgrace wouldn't reach any classrooms,
but a hallway was nearby. Yes, classes were in session at the
moment. Surely Mrs Kielander wouldn't be so mean as to punish
someone when the halls were full of students. Unfortunately,
typically there was a student or two in the hallways on one errand or
another. Even if I could remain silent, the sounds of the brush
impacting my bottom would be unmistakable to any student in the
hallway or (heaven forbid) who happened to walk into the
administrative office. And frankly, my silence was impossible. So
after the first few swats, my shrill female voice filled Mrs
Kielander's office and certainly spilled into the hallway. Since
word of my idiotic stunt was all over the school by now, it wouldn't
take a genius to guess what was happening and who it was happening
to.
There
is a certain unwritten etiquette involved in taking a spanking. It's
usually considered okay for a spankee to squirm a moderate amount,
and usually she is allowed to cry, screech, or even scream whilst
being spanked. As sounds go, only cursing is typically prohibited.
Also prohibited is gross non-cooperation, meaning you can't fight
your spanker or try to escape, nor are you allowed to protect the
target area with your hand or by curling your legs.
Frankly,
right from the first spank, I was shocked at the pain. Yes, my
father used a hairbrush on us, but nothing like this! For one thing,
my father always started with a “warmup” that stung more than it
hurt. Mrs Kielander started right out with hard strokes of that
heavy hairbrush. Therefore I'm afraid that early in my spanking I
lost all control and violated a cardinal rule of spanking etiquette.
My
slacks were bunched around my ankles, where they effectively tied my
thighs together, protecting my modesty. Also, their hobbling effect
prevented my legs from kicking swimmer-style. Unfortunately those
slacks couldn't prevent my legs from moving together. Back then I
was all legs, a coltish, agile and surprisingly strong young lady.
So in a frantic, and unthinking attempt to protect my bottom from
this corporal assault, I curled my legs up in back, interposing those
bunched-up slacks between my buttocks and that nasty piece of wood.
She
stopped spanking me just long enough to order me to lower my feet and
“not do that again”. I believe I blubbered an apology as I
complied, and then she resumed as if nothing had happened.
Unfortunately it soon happened again, even though I didn't mean for
it to.
She
paused again. There was probably a wordless communication between
her and Mr. Thomas, because I felt firm hands grip my ankles, guide
them down into position, and then restrain them there. Like it or
not, the man would now have a much closer view of the action. The
Principal took advantage of this pause to imprison my right hand and
to pin my torso down firmly. Perhaps she had expected an easy time
holding me because I was “just a girl”, but thanks to my
volleyball background and Mr Thomas's coaching, I was no weakling. I
didn't want to struggle, but this was proving to be my hardest
spanking ever.
With me
restrained top and bottom, the spanking resumed. This time I was
truly helpless. With flagging energy and volume, I screeched and
tried to buck as the spanking progressed towards its conclusion.
Finally she paused. Oddly, I remember her breathing hard. I sobbed
as I waited for whatever was next. She apparently inspected her
work, and perhaps Mr. Thomas had some silent input.
Finally,
without warning, she gave me a dozen final whacks, three to the crown
of each buttock, and three to each sit spot. I bucked and shrieked
anew! Those last swats were awesomely hard, apparently calculated to
leave marks and were probably given at my mother's request.
Immediately
Mr Thomas released my ankles. I couldn't see, but he returned to his
position at the door. She held me down for a time, but finally
helped me up with a warning to “stand still”. And then she
pulled my slacks up and fastened them, restoring my modesty. All Mr
Thomas had seen was my bare bottom.
Patiently,
Mrs Kielander allowed me to “come down” from my punishment. In
that time I used several tissues. She even tenderly washed my face
for me! She gave me a final talk, reminding me of the lesson to be
learned from my punishment and telling me that all was forgiven. Mr
Thomas had disappeared, but returned briefly to deliver a new pair of
cotton panties. (He kept some in his clinic for emergencies.)
Before
returning to class, I was allowed time to “freshen up” in the
girl's room, where I painfully donned those donated panties after a
quick peek in the mirror to evaluate the damage to my neither
regions.
My
remaining classes were hell, but I suppose that was part of my
punishment. I spent them standing, making me look even more pitiful.
As Mrs Kielander intended, my classmates got to see what a
freshly-spanked girl looked like. The girls were supportive, the
boys were awed.
-------------------------
Like I
said, family rules are family rules. I had been punished at school,
so now I had to face my parents and almost certainly be punished
again.
Obeying
orders, I went straight home after class. Mother was stern. After a
short scolding she banished me to my room with instructions to study
for exams.
I was
called for supper, which was a quiet affair. It was hard to face my
father. In a different way, it was hard to face my brothers, who
knew that their big sister was in trouble.
After
supper my parents had a private talk with me. My father made the
same point that Mrs Kielander had earlier, I wasn't in trouble for
the prank itself, but for purposely disregarding the school rule
about glass in the gym area. I had broken that rule with serious
results. One bad result was that my parents would pay Abby's medical
bill, and that wouldn't be cheap!
Finally
they sent me back to my room, but they would be “up later”. I
sobbed, because I knew what would happen then.
-------------------------
Waiting
was hell! Right after my brother's bedtime, they solemnly entered my
room. The family hairbrush came with them.
I gave
Daddy my best sad, pleading and lovable expression. Sometimes that
worked, but today mother would tolerate no paternal manipulation.
He sat
on my bed. Sadly, with butterflies in my tummy, I doffed my pajama
bottoms and laid across his lap. He whistled at the condition of my
bottom! Hope springs eternal. Perhaps he wouldn't spank me after
all?
His
voice tight with emotion, he dashed my hopes, “Sorry Honey, but
family rules are family rules. You really messed up today”.
In the
adjacent bedroom, my brothers clearly heard daddy's palm repeatedly
strike my already-bruised bottom, and they heard me squeal in pained
surprise and then bawl. Therefore, just as my parents intended, the
boys vowed never to misbehave at school.
In a
way Mrs Kielander had done me a favor by giving me those final spanks
that left the impressive marks. Seeing them, daddy had decided to
do only the minimum, so the family hairbrush never came into play.
With a few moderate spanks spread all over my bottom, he simply
re-ignited the sting that Mrs Kielander had previously put there,
making me bawl. That done, he switched his corporal attentions to my
previously unspanked thighs. I hate having my thighs spanked, so I
squealed loudly. But even there he didn't spank too hard. Without
being overly harsh, he had made his point and had fulfilled an
important family rule.
Then my
parents hugged me, wiped my tears, and put me to bed. Their job was
done. My punishment, and my rehabilitation, was complete. Still
teary-eyed, I felt loved, reborn and sleepy.
And a
lesson was learned!
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