flashingpanties

8/1999, Paris Annette Morreau
All rights reserved. This story, or parts thereof,
may not be reproduced in any form without permission

*******************************************************

When the lunch bell rang, Miss Hart wished her students a
hearty appetite, left her sixth grade classroom and strolled
around the campus. Teachers took turns walking around the
asphalt yard to ensure the safety of the children. At least,
that's what the Superintendent said it was. The teachers thought
of it as being on patrol. It was a reminder to the children to
behave themselves or suffer the consequences, which usually
involved an over-the-knee spanking by the teacher who had given
up her lunch hour to watch the little monsters.

Rebecca Hart didn't feel that way. Not most of the time,
anyway. She had only been teaching for five years and she still
loved her students. Although she was not a pushover, she was
fairly lenient. She never hesitated to give a hug to a child who
needed it. Despite guidelines from the school district to the
contrary, she often held a weeping student on her lap until the
tears stopped. Now that she was teaching 12-year olds, her lap
was empty of boys too proud to cry and full of pre-adolescent
girls whose rapidly changing hormones ran the gamut of emotions
from sobbing hysteria to sobbing depression. She handed down
her fair share of spankings when the occasion called for it,
usually after twice the number of warnings that any other teacher
gave.

     Out in the yard, Miss Hart visited the picnic style lunch
tables, chatting with students, licking her full red lips and
rubbing her flat (and empty) tummy over lunches that looked
especially appetizing. She smiled when the children giggled.
With a wave of her hand, she politely refused all offers to share
a sandwich or have a cookie. She walked away from each table,
her dark blue skirt swirling against her knees and softly hugging
her thighs. The girls longed to wear the high heels Miss Hart
walked around in so effortlessly. But it was the way her ample
breasts filled out her snug v-neck sweater, and the way they
jiggled inside that soft cashmere, that the boys noticed.

     One more turn around the yard, the bell will ring, and I
will be finished with yard duty for a month, Miss Hart thought
and my lunch hour will be my own. She ran her slender fingers
through her short blond hair and tousled it. She examined her
new manicure again, admiring the deep red of the polish on her
long oval fingernails. She looked up and drew her attention
toward the first set of tables she had visited. She looked at
the girls and boys who were sitting on the benches, turned away
from the tables and facing one another, talking. She stopped
walking and stared, focusing her attention on just one girl. Amy
Sidwell, one of her sixth grade students.

     Amy sat on a bench wearing a white long-sleeve blouse and
red plaid kilt skirt with red knee socks and black patent leather
shoes. But it was not her outfit that caught Miss Hart's
attention. Amy was swinging her knees out, bringing them back
with a quick slap, and pushing them out again. Miss Hart didn't
have to see the girl's bright blue eyes to know they were
twinkling with mischief, just like her broad smile. The boys
sitting across from her were not looking at the honey blond hair
that fell to Amy's shoulders, nor were they interested in her
impish grin. As she well knew, they were staring intently at the
flashes she afforded them of her panties.

     Miss Hart closed her big brown eyes for a moment and took a
deep breath. Amy had been told time and again not to show her
panties to the boys, or to anyone else for that matter. Miss
Hart knew that Amy had been spanked by her mother for it. Mrs.
Sidwell had told her that. The teacher, herself, had talked to
Amy, had warned her, had stood her in the corner after school.
Had done everything but inform the girl's mother that Amy was at
it again. And here she was, opening her legs, her short skirt
riding high on her slender thighs, and offering brief glimpses of
her panties to a group of boys crowded around the bench.

     Miss Hart strode toward the bench, her face serious, her
eyes never leaving Amy's opening and closing legs. Not until
they were no more than ten feet apart, did Amy glance up and see
her teacher. Her bright blue eyes widened in surprise and she
quickly pulled her legs together, sharply slapping her knees.
She looked away in a move she hoped was casual and began to talk
to one of the boys.

     "Amy?" Miss Hart addressed her student.

     "Oh! Hi Miss Hart," Amy looked up in false surprise and
greeted her teacher.

     "Amy, you needn't pretend you didn't see me walking over
here," Miss Hart said evenly.

     Amy slumped and averted her eyes.
     "We've talked about this," Miss Hart said, pointing to Amy's
now still knees, "and now we are going to go into the classroom
and discuss it again. Come with me, young lady," the teacher
sternly ordered.

     The boys looked at Amy's knees. They lowered their heads
and turned their faces to one another, smiling and making "uh oh"
faces.

     "Oh, do we have to?" Amy whined. "I just forgot." Amy
offered her most innocent look. "I won't do it again," she
promised, shaking her head.

     "Didn't you say that the last time your mommy spanked you?"
Miss Hart asked.

     "Unh!" Amy gasped, her pale face blushing to a deep red.
She quickly glanced at the boys before staring at the ground.

     The boys laughed out loud.

     "Ooooh," one of them taunted.

     "Come with me, Amy. Now," Miss Hart demanded, holding out
her hand.

     Amy stood up and reluctantly took her teacher's hand.

     "We are going to go into the classroom and have a very
serious discussion about what is and what is not proper behavior
for a young lady. "I will even give you a hint. What you were
doing, is not," Miss Hart firmly stated.

     Amy walked hand in hand with her teacher across the campus
and into the building. As they entered Miss Hart's classroom the
bell rang, signaling the end of the lunch period. Miss Hart sat
down at her desk and Amy stood beside her.

     "I will only have a minute to speak to you, Amy, before the
other students come back from lunch, so I'll get right to the
point. You were showing your panties to the boys. Do not
attempt to deny you were doing it. Do you understand me?"

     Amy nodded. "Yes, Miss Hart," she murmured.

     "We've talked about this a number of times, haven't we?"
Miss Hart asked. When Amy nodded she continued. "That is not
only improper behavior for a girl, but it allows boys to see what
they should not see and think that you may be willing to do more
than let them look," the teacher gently explained.
     Amy looked up at her teacher with a questioning frown. Miss
Hart sighed.

     "Amy, I've talked to you about this several times. I've
warned you of what would happen if you continued. Your mother
told me that she has spanked you for this very thing and she
asked me to tell her if I saw you doing it again."

     "No!" Amy squealed. "Please don't tell my mother," she
pleaded. "I promise I'll never do it again. Please don't tell
her. Please!" she begged.

     "I'm sorry, Amy," Miss Hart said. "You have already been
given too many chances. And I promised your mother I would tell
her if it happened again."

     The students began filing into the classroom while Amy stood
at Miss Hart's desk. They looked among themselves wondering what
was going on until the boys who had been sitting on the bench
whispered the information to a few who then passed it on to
others.

     Amy's chin began to quiver and tears filled her eyes. Miss
Hart walked over to the wall phone next to the door in her
classroom and tapped out a number.

     "Hello?" Mrs. Sidwell answered.

     "Hello, Mrs. Sidwell, this is Rebecca Hart," the teacher
said quietly, her back to her students.

     "Oh, hi! Is everything all right?" Amy's mother asked,
concern in her voice.

     "Amy is not hurt or sick," Miss Hart quickly assured the
woman. "I'm afraid she is once again finding it difficult to
keep her knees together. She was sitting on a bench at the lunch
period and several boys were sitting on an opposite bench and,
well, ...." the teacher's voice trailed off.

     "She was showing her panties to them," Mrs. Sidwell
finished. "Ohhh, what am I going to do with that child?" she
asked. "Well, I know what I'm going to do. I also know that you
have threatened her with a spanking if she did not stop that. I
think now is the time to go through with it," she decided.

     "Class is back in session now. Maybe you would ...."

     "After school is out for the day, then. Please keep her
after class and spank her," Mrs. Sidwell asked.
     Miss Hart sighed, not anxious to carry out the assignment.

     "You must go through with it, Rebecca. I know you have told
her several times that you would spank her. If she believes you
won't really do it, she will continue her behavior." In the
ensuing silence, Mrs Sidwell continued. "I also know that there
have been times when you threatened her with telling me, but
didn't do it," she gently admonished. "And you can see where
that led."

"Yes. I see," Miss Hart agreed. "Very well. I'll do it.
After class today."

     "Thank you. I know this is difficult for you. I will give
you plenty of time to spank her and then I will pick her up in
your classroom."

     "Yes, all right. I'll see you then. Goodbye," Miss Hart
said and hung up.

     She turned around and looked at Amy. The expression on her
face was all Amy needed to see to know that she was in more
trouble that she had originally thought. Miss Hart walked over
to her student, put her arm around the girl's shoulder and
whispered to her. Amy moaned and tears spilled out of her eyes.
Miss Hart patted her on the back and told her to take her seat.

     Amy sat down in her chair and looked up at the huge round
clock. One o'clock. Two hours to wait. She folded her arms on
her desk and put her head down. Miss Hart is going to spank me,
she thought, not believing the words. And then mommy will take
me home and spank me again. Amy firmly believed those words.

     Miss Hart began a Geography lecture, using a long wooden
pointer to indicate countries on the map. She tapped it lightly
against the atlas before placing it at her side and allowing it
to graze her thigh.

     Amy stared at the pointer, the strong wood of it just like a
paddle, the paddle Miss Hart and her mother would use on her
bottom today. She looked up at the large clock on the wall of
her classroom. The huge black minute hand sat at 1:15,
deliberately dragging out its sixty seconds of allotted fame.
The bell would ring at 3:00 p.m. exactly. Amy's friends and
classmates would walk out of the classroom and only Amy would
have to stay. And they would all know why she had to stay. They
would probably even stand in the yard outside the windows of the
classroom to hear her get spanked by Miss Hart. She sat
squirming in her chair dreading the movement of the clock's hand,
wanting to delay the inevitable at least as much as she wished
for it her entire ordeal to be over with.

     Miss Hart was still talking about other countries and
customs, seemingly unaware of Amy's discomfort and of the length
of time she had been droning on. Amy looked up at the clock
again. It's stuck, she thought, when she saw that the large
black hands that stood stubbornly at 1:40. She watched the
second hand tick its way around the face of the clock and still
that minute hand would not move. She stared only at the pointed
end of the hand, throwing everything else around her out of
focus, waiting for the hand to move. When it finally it lunged,
noisily and with enormous effort, to 1:41, Amy jumped and gasped.
Miss Hart glanced at her and Amy blushed. She knew that her
teacher had been talking to the class, but she had no idea about
what. She locked her ankles together and squirmed in her chair.

     "I won't think about it," she murmured to herself refusing
to even say the dreaded "S" word.

     Miss Hart went from Geography to History and Amy paid strict
attention if only to keep her mind off what was coming. Then her
teacher glanced in her direction and Amy's heart began to pound
as she was once again reminded of what was to come.

     She looked up at the clock again. An hour to go, Amy
thought anxiously. Why am I waiting for it? If time stood
still, she thought, I would never be spanked. The minute hand
lunged again. Fifty-nine minutes. Time would not stand still,
Amy despaired. It would just seem like it until the moment of
her spanking arrived. And then what? After Miss Hart spanked
her, she would have to go home and, with a bottom still red and
burning, Mommy would spank her again. She pressed her knees
together. I'm just not going to think about it, she resolved.

     She's going to spank me with a paddle, Amy thought, looking
at her pretty teacher. A hard, flat piece of wood was going to
be smacked across her tender, panty-clad bottom. She wondered if
her teacher would spank as hard as her mother. She doubted it;
no one could spank that hard.

     While Miss Hart lectured about historical events, Amy
envisioned herself over the young woman's lap, her skirt raised,
her white nylon panties showing. She blushed at the thought of
it. She saw herself taking the spanking without kicking and
fussing. She decided that she would be still and not make a
sound. She would show her teacher that she could take a spanking.
In the meantime, she just was not going to think about it.

     When the bell finally rang signaling the end of the school
day, Amy jumped as though she had not expected the very thing for
which she had been waiting. For one wild second, she thought
that maybe Miss Hart had forgotten and that Amy could just
quietly walk out of the room. She gathered her books. Her
classmates chatted loudly among themselves as they got their
things together and began filing out of the room.

     "Bye, Miss Hart," the students chorused in groups of three
or four. Amy's friends looked at her with sympathetic
expressions.

     "Bye. Have a good weekend. I'll see you on Monday," Miss
Hart called back to them.

     The boys who had seen Amy's panties, smiled as they walked
past her. "Good luck," one of them whispered insincerely. "Hope
it doesn't hurt too much."

     "I hope it hurts a lot," one of the girls sneered. "Serves
you right."

     Amy sneered back in an urgent whisper. "You're just jealous
'cause you couldn't fit your big fat bottom into pretty panties.
That's why you have to wear your mother's big, fat, ugly cotton
ones." She stuck her tongue out at the girl who, after a stern
look from Miss Hart, stormed out of the classroom.

     One of Amy's friends came up behind her. In a show of
support, she put her hand on her shoulder. "She wears baby
panties, not her mother's. They have little pink rosebuds on
them, she said with exaggerated disdain. 'Course all the buds
are stretched out 'cause of her big fat butt." Both girls
giggled and for that moment, Amy finally forgot about the
spanking she was about to get. She stood up.

     "Amy," Miss Hart said.

     Amy looked up to see the last student walk out of the room
and the teacher pushing her big straight back chair across the
floor. Her heart leaped, her knees trembled.

     "Come here, Amy," Miss Hart instructed when her chair was in
place.

     Amy walked slowly over to Miss Hart who was now sitting in
that big oak chair and smoothing her skirt up her thighs until
her lap was uncovered. The teacher looked up at her student.

     "Amy, I'm sorry I have to spank you. I had hoped it
wouldn't come to this," Miss Hart said genuinely. "Come on now
and get over my knees."
     Amy bent forward and Miss Hart helped her student into the
proper position. She held on to the rungs of the chair; her legs
stretched out behind her. The teacher used both hands to
carefully lift Amy's short skirt up her legs and over her plump
bottom.

     "So, this is what you were showing the boys," Miss Hart
said, looking at the full brief white nylon panties her student
was wearing.

     Amy closed her eyes and blushed.

     "Well, I'm going to spank your bottom right on top of these
pretty panties," Miss Hart promised. "This skimpy nylon is going
to get mighty hot. Maybe you will think of the heat and learn to
keep your legs together when you are wearing a skirt or a dress."

     Miss Hart raised her hand to her shoulder and clapped her
palm against both chubby cheeks. Amy's flesh jiggled inside her
snug panties, but the first spank did not sting or even feel
warm. The teacher quickly raised her hand again and spanked both
cheeks in the same spot, right in the middle, the most cushioned
part of Amy's bottom. The nylon felt cool against Miss Hart's
palm, Amy's bottom firm and supple. She spanked again, targeting
the same place.

     Amy lay still and quiet. She could feel each spank as well
as the slight tingle that followed, but there was no heat. Not
yet. She forgot about her self-made promise not to utter a
sound. Instead, she would kick and scream at the first hint of a
sting and plead with Miss Hart to stop. She knew if she tried
that now, she would not get away with it and it might make Miss
Hart spank harder. In the meantime, the teacher spanked again.
And again. The same fleshy part over and over. Amy felt her
bottom growing a little warmer. The light tingle had almost
become a sting. She squirmed on her teacher's lap.

     "You're panties are warming up, aren't they, Amy?" Miss Hart
asked as she spanked.

     "Yes," Amy admitted, wiggling her bottom.

     "I'm afraid I'm going to have to make them a little warmer."
Miss Hart continued spanking over the thin white nylon pulled
snugly over Amy's chubby bottom. "You have been warned time and
again about showing your panties, haven't you?" the teacher asked
sternly, spanking Amy's full plump arch.

     Amy's bottom felt warm now and there was a slight lingering
sting after each of Miss Hart's relentless spanks.
     "Yes," Amy said, tightening her bottom cheeks.

"And yet you have continued doing it anyway," Miss Hart
scolded. "Is there a boy in this class who has not seen every
pair of panties you own?"

     Miss Hart frowned and spanked harder. Her palm felt the
heat rising from her student's panties. She continued briskly
spanking just the middle of the fleshy dome.

     "Yes," Amy insisted, squirming on her teacher's lap.

     "Yes?" Miss Hart asked, surprised. "There are boys you have
not seen your panties?" she asked as she spanked.

     "Yes! Yes!" Amy vowed. "I haven't shown them to everyone.
Honest!" she cried. She began kicking her legs as the heat in
her bottom intensified.

     Miss Hart spanked up and over Amy's panties until just one
plump cheek received all of the teacher's attention.

     "I find that hard to believe," Miss Hart responded, spanking
over to the other side of Amy's panty-clad bottom. "I've seen
you flash your panties to the boys several times. I talked to
you about it;" she said spanking down Amy's panties to where they
curved under her bottom cheeks. "I told you I would tell your
mother; I threatened to spank you; I warned you," she said,
spanking up one plump cheek. "I know your mother has spanked you
for it and she has asked me to keep an eye on you and spank you
if I ever saw you doing it again," she said, the sting of the
spankings biting her own hand. "I have seen you do it a few
times since then and until right this minute," she chided,
punctuating each word with a sharp spank, "I've done nothing more
than warn you."

     "Owww!" Amy howled. "They were the same boys. Mostly," she
explained."

     "Mostly?" Miss Hart asked. "You just showed your panties to
the same boys time and again," she confirmed while she spanked.
"Perhaps warnings and a few panty warmings by hand were not
enough to help you remember that you are not to show your panties
to anyone. I think the paddle will improve your memory."

     "No! Not the paddle!" Amy begged. She attempted to move
off her teacher's lap.

     Miss Hart grasped the long-handle of the oak paddle from her
desk while she held Amy firmly in place. She felt the weight of
the smooth sturdy wood in her hand. At four inches wide and
twice as long, the paddle would cover much of Amy's plump bottom
with each hearty spank.

     "Oh no you don't, young lady," Miss Hart admonished. "I am
going to paddle your little white panties until they turn pink,"
she promised.

     Miss Hart smacked the thick flat of the wood down on top of
the fleshy target framed by Amy's white panties. Her bottom
already warmed by her teachers strong hand, Amy girl felt the
full impact of the single spank.

     "Owwww!" Amy screeched. Her panties felt like they were on
fire. She lifted her chest up just in time to feel the next hot
smack of the paddle. She again slumped over her teacher's lap
and another slap of the paddle struck her hot pantied cheeks.

     Whaaaccck! The sound cracked like lightning.

     "Owwww!"

     "Do you think you can remember to keep the secret of your
panties to yourself, Amy?" Miss Hart asked as she landed another
smack of the paddle on the white nylon briefs.

     "Owww! Yesssss! " Amy screamed and promised.

     "I'm very sorry, Amy," Miss Hart sympathized. "I know your
bottom hurts, but this is a lesson you must learn. Your behavior
today was really naughty," she scolded."

     Miss Hart paddled back and forth, each panty-clad cheek
taking its turn and feeling its own hot smack.

     "Owwww!" Amy wailed and wildly kicked her legs. "Stooooop!"
she begged before bursting into tears.

     "If you ever give a glimpse of your panties to anyone again,
I shall lift your dress and tie it around your waist with a
string and you will spend the entire school day standing in front
of the class with your panties exposed to everyone," Miss Hart
promised as she paddled. "And that will be after I have paddled
your bottom. Do you understand me?"

     "Yessss! Uhhhhh! Pleeeeease!" Amy shrieked. "Mommy's going
to spank meeeee. Mommy's going to spank me toooo!" she sobbed.

     Miss Hart stopped the paddle before it struck Amy's panties
again.
     "Oh yes. Mommy will give you another good spanking when you
go home, won't she? Very well." Miss Hart put the paddle back
on her desk.

     She could see Amy's red bottom through her white panties.
She placed her soft hand on her student's chubby cheeks and
gently stroked and patted them.

     "You are going to stand in the corner, Amy, until your
mother gets here," she instructed the girl. "And I want you to
think about the spanking I just gave you and the spanking mommy
is going to give you. I also want you to think about how hot and
sore your little bottom feels right now and you should remember
that heat the next time you are tempted to flash your panties to
the boys. Okay?"

     "Yes," Amy wept.

     Miss Hart helped Amy to stand and then sat her gently on her
lap. She wrapped her arms around the girl, hugging and rocking
her.

     "I know you'll be a good girl now, sweetie," Miss Hart
soothed. "I want you to go over to the corner and stand there.
Mommy will be here soon."

     Amy gave her teacher one last hug and eased herself off the
woman's lap. Weeping, she walked to the corner in the front of
the room and hung her head. She reached around to her blazing
bottom.

     "No, no, Amy," Miss Hart gently reproached. "You may not
rub your bottom. I want you to feel the heat. That is the
consequence of your action."

     Miss Hart put her paddle away and glanced over at Amy just
as her student turned her head in an attempt to look at the
clock.

     "It's just three minutes past three, Amy," Miss Hart
informed the girl. "Did you think it was much later?"

     "Yes," Amy murmured.

     "it must have seemed like a very long spanking," the teacher
sympathized.

     "It did," Amy agreed.

     And she also knew that her mother would arrive any minute to
take her home and give her another one. Her bottom was hot and
it felt like a whole swarm of red ants were biting it all over.
Her panties no longer felt cool and soft against her skin. She
had liked showing the boys just a little bit of her panties.
It's not like she showed her whole bottom or her whole front. It
was just a little peek. What was wrong with that? Most of the
girls in her class wore plain ol' cotton panties and they were no
fun to look at. Amy loved stepping into her nylon panties in the
morning. They always felt cool and slippery against her skin.
They were so light it was like wearing nothing at all. She
wondered if her mother would make her go back to wearing cotton
ones. She couldn't bear to think about it. Nothing could be
worse than that.

     "Hello, Mrs. Sidwell," Miss Hart greeted Amy's mother.

     Amy jumped. She turned her head and looked at her mother.
She noticed that her thick hair, honey blond like Amy's, but
streaked with sunny highlights, had been brushed away from her
face and fell softly just past her shoulders.

     "Hi, Miss Hart. Did you spank my naughty girl?" Mrs.
Sidwell asked, deliberately not looking at her daughter.

     "Yes, I did. It was a spanking I think she will remember."

     "I'm quite sure she won't forget the one I'm going to give
her, either," Mrs. Sidwell said a bit more loudly than she needed
to, for Amy's benefit.

     Miss Hart smiled. "Would you like to borrow my paddle?" she
asked.

     "Oh, no thank you. I have a very sturdy one of my own. I've
used it many times on my daughter's little bottom." Mrs. Sidwell
winked at her daughter's pretty teacher.

Amy blushed a bright red and quickly looked at the floor.

     "Amy?" Mrs. Sidwell asked, directing her deep blue eyes at
her daughter for the first time, "what do you have to say for
yourself?"

     Amy looked up at her mother and burst into tears. Mrs.
Sidwell put her arms around her daughter and held her, the girl's
tears spilling onto her pink silk blouse.

     "I'm sorry, Mommyyyyyy," Amy wailed.

     "I know you are, sweetheart," she kissed the top of her
daughter's head. "But this time it's going to take more than
being sorry. I'm going to give you a good spanking when we go
home. You know that, don't you?" she asked, her voice gentle.

     Amy nodded and held her mother a little tighter.

     "Thank you, Miss Hart, for taking care of Amy. I'm going to
take her home now."

     "Well, I can't say it was my pleasure, but I think that by
tomorrow she'll be back to my well-behaved and sunny little girl
and that will be a pleasure." Miss Hart smiled at Amy.

     "Say goodbye to Miss Hart, Amy," Mrs. Sidwell directed her
daughter.

     "'Bye, Miss Hart," Amy murmured.

     "'Bye, honey."

     Mrs. Sidwell took her daughter's hand and walked out of the
room.

     On the way home, Amy folded her hands in her lap, hung her
head, and took brief, sidelong glances at her mother. She looked
her mother's thighs, uncovered by the short black skirt she wore,
and easily remembered every single occasion she had been face
down over those long legs. For her part, Mrs. Sidwell was lost in
her own thoughts about how best to end her daughter's fascination
with showing her panties. She thought she had finally come up
with the solution when she noticed her daughter peeking at her.

     "Sweetheart, I'm not angry with you," Mrs. Sidwell began.
"I am disappointed by your behavior today. "Haven't we talked
about this several times?"

     Amy nodded.

     "Haven't I spanked your bottom on more than one occasion for
showing your panties to the boys in the neighborhood?"

     Amy tried to stifle a sob and nodded again.

     "And yet you continue to disobey me. Don't you think that
is naughty?"

     Amy, now sobbing, nodded her assent. Mrs. Sidwell reached
out and put her hand on her daughter's thigh and patted it.
     "And what does Mommy do when you are naughty?" she asked
gently.

     "You spank me!" Amy cried.

     "That is correct. And when we get home, I'm going to spank
you," she informed her daughter unnecessarily.

     Amy clenched her still-stinging bottom cheeks. She knew the
spanking was coming but could not stop her desperate attempt to
prevent it.

     "So, when you were showing your panties today, you
understood the consequence, didn't you?" Mrs. Sidwell asked, as
she stopped at a red light.

     Amy nodded again, her shoulders heaving with sobs.

     "Did you lift your skirt in front of the boys?"

     "No! No, I didn't do that," Amy quickly explained, hoping
that would make her mother change her mind. "I just opened my
legs."

     The light changed to green. Mrs. Sidwell gasped at her
daughter's revelation. Her high heel shoe slipped off the brake,
found it again and struck it hard before quickly touching the
accelerator.

     "Amy! What a naughty thing to do!" she scolded. "That is
even worse than raising your skirt! Oh, Sweetie! Mommy is going
to have to make sure that you never even think of doing such a
thing again," she said sadly.

     "But, Mommy, I didn't show my whole bottom. They didn't see
all of my panties. Just a little in the front," she clarified,
certain now that nothing would stop her mother from spanking her,
hoping only it would not be as severe as her mother had promised.

     Mrs. Sidwell shook her head. "Oh, Amy," she sighed. She
was at a loss for words even as she pulled into the driveway of
their home.

     Once inside the house, Mrs. Sidwell took her daughter's
hand.

     "Come with me, Amy. I'm going to take you upstairs to
Mommy's bedroom and spank you there." Mother and daughter walked
hand in hand up the stairs and down the hall to the bedroom and
across the room to Mrs. Sidwell's queen size bed, where she sat
down and Amy stood in front of her. The pre-teen did not have to
look to know that the paddle she dreaded was on her mother's
bedside table. Amy, herself, had made the paddle at school when
she was in the third grade. It had been a ping pong paddle. She
had removed the rubber backing and painted it red and placed
small flowered decals on it. Amy had intended her mother to use
it as a trivet for a hot serving dish. When her mother had seen
the paddle, however, she had another idea. She insisted that her
daughter neatly print "Amy's Panty Warmer" on it and ever since
then, that was the only purpose for which it had been used.

     "Sweetheart," Mrs. Sidwell began, "I thought of something
today that I hope will prevent you from ever showing your panties
to anyone again. It's not just a spanking, though you know that
I am going to give you one that you will not forget," she
promised.

     Amy nodded, tears coursing down her cheeks, her mouth turned
down. Her mother picked up a folded pair of red panties that she
had placed on the bed before she went to the school to pick up
her daughter. She held them up to her little girl, allowing them
to unfold in the process. Amy's teary eyes widened.

     "Not those!" she pleaded.

     Mrs. Sidwell nodded. "Yes. These." she insisted.

     Amy's tears began anew. The panties were ruffled, just like
a child's. She had received a pair just like them on her fifth
birthday from one of her aunt's. One of her aunts who had four
sons and no daughters. If she had had any daughters, she would
have known better than to give any girl over the age of two a
pair of ruffled panties. When Amy had opened the present, she
had bluntly expressed her opinion of them.

     "Eeeeooo!" she had screamed, holding the offensive panties
between one of her tiny fingers and a thumb. "These are for
babies! Yuck!" And she tossed them onto the floor before
grabbing the next gift to open. Her aunt had been embarrassed
and hurt. Amy's mother had taken the unopened present out of her
daughter's hand, pulled the girl over her knees and spanked her
in front of her aunt. Thereafter, each year Mrs. Sidwell
purchased several pairs of red panties and sewed ruffles on them.
Whenever her daughter had been particularly naughty, she was made
to wear the panties during and after her spanking. For reasons
Mrs. Sidwell could not fathom, her daughter's behavior improved
significantly when she was made to wear the "rhumba" panties.

"Please, Mommy," Amy wept. "Don't make me wear those. I
promise I'll never show my panties again," she vowed.
     "You certainly will not be tempted to show these, will you?"
Mrs. Sidwell asked. "Now lift your skirt for Mommy."

     Amy's shoulders slumped in defeat. She lifted her skirt up
to her waist. Mrs. Sidwell reached out and pulled her daughter's
white nylon panties down past the soft swell of her just-
beginning-to-develop hips, and down her slender legs.

     "Step out of them, Sweetheart."

     Amy looked fondly at her pretty white panties as she
reluctantly stepped out of them. Mrs. Sidwell held out the red
rhumba panties.

     "Come on now, Amy," she encouraged. "Step into these."

     If it is possible to stomp into a pair of panties, Amy did
so. She lifted each foot quickly and angrily and shoved it into
the panty openings. Mrs. Sidwell hid her smile as she pulled the
panties up her daughter's legs and over her plump bottom with
deliberate slowness. This is going to work, she thought with
satisfaction.

     Amy let go of her skirt and folded her arms across her
chest.

     "There's no need to cover your panties now, Amy. I'm just
going to have to lift that skirt again when you are over my
knees."

     Amy stood silently in front of her mother and looked at the
bed.

     "Lift your skirt," Mrs. Sidwell quietly ordered her
daughter.   "And hold it up."

     Amy angrily and quickly unfolded her arms and lifted her
skirt.

     "Walk over to Mommy's mirror and take a look at your red
ruffled panties," Mrs. Sidwell calmly directed her daughter.

     Amy, angry enough to stomp and careful not to, walked over
to her mother's full length mirror and glared at the hated
panties.

     "Turn to the side, Amy, and look at the ruffles that cover
your bottom"

     While fresh tears ran down her cheeks, Amy turned to the
side and looked at the rows of soft ruffles that covered her
bottom.

     "All right," Mrs. Sidwell said, satisfied. "Do you think you
can remember what they look like? "

     Amy nodded.

     "Good. Come back to me now."

     Amy walked back to her mother, her face blushing pinkly,
tears staining her face.

     "Over my knee, sweetheart, Mrs Sidwell firmly directed,
helping her daughter into position.

     Amy's skirt was still at her waist, her ruffled panties
fully displayed over her mother's lap. The girl's pout was gone
and her mild tantrum not even a memory now that her pantied-
bottom faced her mother. Mrs. Sidwell reached over and picked up
the paddle that her daughter had made. The wood was thinner than
the paddle Miss Hart had used, but the lesson it taught was just
as well-learned. Amy's mother looked at her daughter's panties
and sighed before raising the paddle and smacking the red ruffles
until they flattened.

     "Oooooh!" Amy immediately howled, her bottom still sore
from her encounter with Miss Hart.

     Her mother raised the paddle again and spanked each plump
and ruffled cheek in quick succession, back and forth.

     WHACK!

     "Owwww!"

     In keeping with the paddle, the spanking continued like a
ping pong match. A smack on one plump pantied bottom cheek and a
screech from Amy, and then a smack on the other side and a
matching shriek from the pre-teen.

     SMACK!

     "Uhhhh!" Amy shrieked, her legs already kicking, the ruffles
quivering.

     "If you decide to show your panties to anyone, Amy, these
are the panties that you will be showing," Mrs. Sidwell informed
her daughter as she again landed the paddle on a plump cheek.

     "I won't show them to anyone," Amy vowed. "I never will
again," she shouted into the room. The hot nylon of her panties
reinforced the fire that blazed across her bottom.

     CRAAACK!

     Mrs. Sidwell raised the paddle a little higher and brought
it down in a fiery spank that nipped before it seared.

     "Oooooohowwwww!" Amy wailed, her bare and slender legs
flailing against the scorch in her bottom.

     Mrs. Sidwell held Amy firmly and raised her paddle again.
She spanked in the middle of the panties that covered her
daughter's pudgy bottom. Each solid clap was muffled by the
panties, but Amy felt the feverish scald of every single smack.

     THWAAACCK!

     Amy squealed and winced each time the paddle found its mark.

     Mrs. Sidwell spanked again.

     Amy's legs, heavy from kicking, jerked with each smack of
the rosewood paddle. And she sobbed between each shriek. Her
mother spanked again. Amy's response was a continuous wail.

     SMACK!

     "Owwww. Mommyyyyy! Stoooop!" she pleaded in a roar.

     "I'm sorry, sweetheart, I can't. Mommy knows what you need
and you need this
spanking," Mrs. Sidwell told her daughter while the paddle rose
and fell. "I've warned you and spanked you before but you have
refused to obey me. And now I have to give you a real spanking.
The paddle fell sharply again, heating the panties that covered
her before burning her bottom.

     SMACK!

     Amy lifted her head and wailed.

     "Oh, baby, I know a spanking hurts," Mrs. Sidwell
sympathized even as she raised the paddle again. "I don't want
to spank you, but I do have to teach you to obey me."

     "Ohhh!" Amy wailed. "I wiiilll. I will obey you, Mommyyyy,
I promiiiisse!"
     "Sweetie, I'm going to pull your panties down now and give
you ten more spanks," she said as the paddle found it's tender
target again.

     "Nooooo! Not baaaare! Mommyyyy! Noooo!" Amy pleaded as
she kicked her legs and her mother slipped her fingers into the
waistband of her daughter's ruffled panties.

     Mrs. Sidwell tugged the red panties down and over her
daughter's crimson bottom and slid them down the girl's slender
thighs. At the hollows of the pre-teen's knees, Mrs. Sidwell
neatly arranged the panties and poofed out the ruffles. Amy
clenched her bare bottom cheeks and shivered at the anticipated
first smack of the heavy paddle on her unprotected bottom.

      "I want you to think about why Mommy is spanking you and I
want you to remember how hot your bottom is right now so that you
will not be tempted to show your panties to anyone again."

     Mrs. Sidwell raised the paddle and smacked first one bare
pudgy cheek and then the other, back and forth across the
dividing line, each smack crisp and hot.

     Owwww!" Amy shrieked while her legs flailed and the ruffles
at her knees quivered. Until the first fiery smack of the
paddle, she had thought her panties had been no protection at
all. Now she knew a whole new kind of hot.

     Mrs. Sidwell, ignoring her daughter's howls, continued her
spanking rhythm, one crackling spank on one scarlett cheek, and a
matching one on the other with blinding speed

     "Uhhhh!" Amy bellowed, her chubby round bottom jiggled with
every strike of the round paddle.

     Mrs. Sidwell smacked each red bouncing cheek again. Amy's
kicked, her legs straining against the ruffled panties at her
knees.

     Mrs. Sidwell landed two more resounding smacks on her
daughter's bare hot flesh and put the paddle back on her bedside
table. Amy continued to cry even as her body went limp over her
mother's thighs.

     While Amy's sobs faded into quiet soft weeping, her mother
rested her hand on her daughter's blazing bottom.

     "I know that was a very hard spanking, sweetheart," Mrs.
Sidwell soothed, "but your discipline is not quite over yet."

     "Oh Mommyyyyy, no more pleeeeeese!" Amy begged.

     "No, sweetie, no more spanking today," Mrs. Sidwell assured
her daughter. "You are going to wear these red ruffled panties
for the rest of the day and you are going to wear your other
ruffled panties for the rest of the weekend. If, even after that
spanking I gave you, you are tempted to show your panties to the
neighborhood boys, these are the panties they will see."

     Amy's wailing returned at the thought of having to wear the
much-despised panties for an entire weekend.

     "And," Mrs. Sidwell continued, "I will be giving you a
little reminder spanking each day for the rest of the weekend,
too."

     "More spanking?" Amy cried.

     "A reminder, sweetheart. Mommy's going to spank a little
bit right over your ruffled panties and then I'm going to pull
your panties down and spank a little sting onto your bare bottom.
No paddle for reminder spankings," she said. "Remember?" Mrs.
Sidwell gently pulled her daughter's panties up the girl's legs
and over her tender bottom again.

     "Come on now, sweetie, I want you to get up now. "

     Mrs. Sidwell helped her daughter off her lap. She looked at
the girl's eyes, red and puffy from crying, tears still running
down her blushing cheeks.

     "Oh, baby," Mrs. Sidwell put her arms around her daughter,
placed her gently on her lap and held her in a warm embrace. She
kissed the top of Amy's head, rocked her, and patted the full
ruffles on her bottom until she fell asleep.